Split Shine

Oh, for Shine’s sake, this was not the day for Zenda to run out of powder.

She searched her purse again. And again. Still empty. Her gut sank. Nottodaynottodaynottoday! Within a second, her phone was out, and she sent Navi a text: Code Silver.

She just wanted to get out of here and go to the art exhibit with Navi. This could not be the day Mom found out.

“Shut up and shut down,” she whispered to her reflection in the bathroom mirror, as she did every day. Damn, why couldn’t she breathe? All she could see was that stupid forbidden streak of silver.

“Zenda?” Her mom knocked on the door.

Zenda fumbled for the lock. “Mom! I don’t like it when you watch me do my ritual.”

“Do you have a stone for today?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Zenda said, her voice quivering as she reached for the alexandrite stone.

Her mom didn’t hear her anxiety. She sounded preoccupied as she said, “I don’t know what to do with your sister.” Zenda stifled a groan. Jeila was always at it with Mom. Mom’s voice raised a pitch. “Why can’t she just do the ritual for her Shine?”

Probably because Jeila had long since given up on believing the Shine came from the Gods.

But Zenda knew better than to bring that up. It would just fuel their arguments, and Zenda was exhausted listening to them every day.

She let out an awkward cough. “Sorry, Mom.”

“How many times have I told her how rare it is to have precious stones? To have access to the Shine at all?”

Only every day. It was rare to find stones, period. It was even more rare to know that precious stones contained magic. Mom never let her children forget just how lucky they were to be part of a select community that understood how to earn the Gods’ magic for the afterlife. And it all came back to using these stones—stones that Jeila rejected completely. Even at fifteen, Zenda knew that was social suicide.

She heard Mom’s breath build outside the bathroom door. Like clockwork, Mom’s voice cracked. Zenda waited. Two seconds later—yup. There was the weeping. Zenda shook her head. It was amazing how quickly Mom went from ranting to crying. Even though it happened daily, a twinge of tangled sadness and guilt settled in Zenda’s chest—quickly overshadowed by the dread coursing through her veins.

Where was Navi?

If Zenda couldn’t get the makeup, she’d never make it to the art exhibit on time. Not that it would matter if Mom spotted her with silver. Her stomach churned. What was she going to do? If Mom saw—

No. Zenda couldn’t think about that.

“I don’t hear your ritual,” Mom prodded between sniffles.

“Hurry up, Navi,” Zenda whispered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” she called. Quickly, she turned on the faucet and scrubbed her face.

A slow breath escaped as she concentrated on her reflection again to start her ritual. Might as well keep up the ruse till Navi got here.

As soon as her mom heard the beginning of the ritual, she walked away.

The alexandrite stone glinted in the dull fluorescent light. She held it to her lips to complete the ritual. Three words escaped. “Shine in me.”

A command and a plea.

The magical essence obeyed. Thick, translucent liquid oozed from the gem, settling on her fingers, absorbing into her skin like water soaking into earth on a hot day. It tickled as it filtered through her veins.

She pocketed the stone while the essence did its work.

Gold shimmered to life on her face.

“Everyone has a little magic in them,” Zenda quoted quietly. If only her Shine was just gold like it was supposed to be.

Instead, her right cheek lit up with gold.

And her left cheek reflected shiny silver.

Zenda heard a tap tap tap on the bathroom window and let out a breath of relief. She scrambled to open it, tiptoeing on the edge of the bathtub.

“Navi!”

Bright brown eyes shone through the window. A loose hair fell from Navi’s green beanie. “Hiya, babe. I got the goods.”

“Shhhh,” Zenda cried. She grabbed the container of herbs from Navi. “Thank you.”

“For the record, I still think you should just tell your mom,” Navi reproached.

Well, that was easy to say when you had accepting parents. Navi would never understand, and Zenda didn’t have time to talk about it—not if she wanted to see her favorite painting.

“I’ll meet you there,” Zenda said. “Thanks again.”

She waved and shut the window.

Thank goodness for friends who taught her how to cover up the silver. She put the dried herbs in a bowl and mashed them into a fine powder. She dipped her fingers into the powder and dabbed it onto her left cheek. It stung worse than ocean salt in an open wound, but it did the job. The streaks of silver slashing across the left side of her face disappeared and blended in with her bronze skin.

She wasn’t a Split Shine any longer.

At least on the outside. To her community—and her parents—that’s what mattered.

***

As soon as Zenda pulled into the parking lot of the exhibit, she checked her face in the mirror. Was she really brave enough to do this? Her heart hammered against her rib cage, but she was far away from her side of town. Several teenagers passed by, laughing at each other.

Gold shimmered on their cheeks in splotches across their faces. The Shine was funny like that. It manifested itself differently on everyone. One of the girls had a zigzag pattern on her face. Zenda tried to imagine a zigzag pattern on her own face, but all she could think was that she could never pull it off with her dark skin. With her silver, she’d probably look like a zebra.

Z for zebra.

Still, she doubted they’d care.

Not like the private school kids. Her parents had chosen their neighborhood precisely because it was known for strict observance of Shine procedures. The public school kids observed the Shine, but they went to a different church building. Where they went to church wasn’t nearly as relevant as how they viewed the Shine. Zenda still couldn’t get over how they walked around with ease, some with only speckles of gold, some with streaks of silver. Some even enhanced their Shine with makeup. Some of them didn’t care about earning magic at all.

She could borrow some of their confidence, right?

She took a deep breath and smudged off the powder. Her silver glowed in the sunlight. Someone tapped on her window. She jumped and Navi giggled.

She opened her door and got out of the car. Navi cocked an eyebrow at the powder smudges on Zenda’s shirt. Zenda shrugged. Not everyone was as brave as Navi, who somehow managed to make her Split Shine features look like a courageous fashion statement.

Navi’s acceptance of Split Shines was contagious. No one else could have convinced Zenda to admit she was a Split Shine. Eventually, Navi talked her into taking off the coverup when they hung out.

As long as no one from her neighborhood saw her, Zenda was fine.

“Everything okay at home?” Navi asked lightly.

“Positively peachy.” Zenda didn’t come here to talk about that. Navi let it drop.

“Tell me you’re ready,” Navi said, her eyes sizzling with excitement. True to Navi form, she was dressed in her beanie despite the humid weather, a classic style giveaway of her ability to blow off social norms. Her smile was as bright as the sweltering sun.

“You sure there’s no one here from my neighborhood?” Zenda asked, glancing around.

“Relax,” Navi said breezily. “You didn’t answer my question.” She held her phone up to her mouth like it was a microphone and boomed in her best announcer voice, “Are you ready to see the best painting ever?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Zenda said with mock sarcasm.

They walked side by side through the art exhibit. Zenda’s eyes still flitted through the crowd, but sure enough, no one here had any connection to her parents. “Were we here to see a painting?”

Navi’s announcer voice continued as they entered a glass corridor full of paintings. “Not just any painting, folks. Two Birds and a Flaming Stone.”

Zenda laughed, settling into the ease that Navi brought out of her. “Never heard of it.”

Navi rolled her eyes. “Not like you’re obsessed.”

“Who, me?” Zenda kept her face straight, playing along. “Never.”

“Yeah, whatever, it’s not like you try painting it every day of your life,” Navi said, her eyes shining brighter than either color on her face. “I’m going to ask you one more time. Are you ready?”

Zenda cracked, giggling. “Okay, I’m ready.”

She settled into the moment as they made their way to the painting, loving the way Navi’s enthusiasm lit up everything. Navi was like that. Little things weren’t little to her; moments were more precious than any gemstone. She sought out memorable moments like most people hunted for love—like she couldn’t get enough, and each moment had something new to offer. There was also the fact that she was a gorgeous Columbian. Zenda loved that she wore that with pride. Zenda wished she could wear her Malaysian heritage the same way, but mostly she just felt out of place.

Not Navi. Navi laughed and loved the world so much that no one could ever convince her she didn’t have a place.

“Well, look who it is,” someone sneered, breaking through her thoughts. Zenda groaned. Was it really too much to hope that she could enjoy an art exhibit without having to dodge Billy and his stupid squash-like face? Apparently so. She usually only had to dodge Billy at school, and she was careful to keep her personal life, school life, and home life from ever running into each other.

Navi moaned loudly. “Of course he’s here. Who knew jerks like him had actual taste in art?”

“Oh, hey, halfsie,” he said. Zenda frowned at the derogatory term. If she were anywhere but here, her face might burn with embarrassment. But today, next to Navi, she felt as though she didn’t have to let anything worry her anymore.

“Wow, so creative,” Navi said sarcastically as she showed him just how creative she could be with her finger.

He cupped his hand, but whispered loudly for everyone to hear, “It must be so embarrassing knowing that somehow, you messed up your magic.”

“No one believes that anymore,” Navi said coolly.

Zenda said nothing. Lots of people still believed that.

“Not that your brain is capable of understanding,” Navi said to Billy, “but we still have magic inside us just like everyone else.”

Again, Zenda’s thoughts cut across her mind like spears, ready to attack her confidence. The thing was, the Shine didn’t guarantee you magic until you died. When you got to the Other Side, your face was just supposed to—POP—make it easy for the Gods to see your ‘worthiness’ by having a full gold Shine. She tried to imagine waking up after dying. She could just see it: a God or Goddess checking both cheeks like Mom did after her rituals. The thought made her want to run back to the car to grab her makeup.

Still, the fact that she had any Shine proved there was magic inside of her. Right?

Neither of the other two noticed her inner dilemma and Zenda reverted to what she knew best: shutting up and shutting down her thoughts.

Billy frowned at Navi. “Pay better attention during church this week. It’s simple. The Gods said that only gold Shine earns you access to their magic. So, tell me, how does it feel to be a mistake?”

Navi scoffed. “The only mistake we made today was not walking away faster from your face.”

She grabbed Zenda’s arm and stalked away.

“Forget about him,” Navi whispered.

“Already done.”

It was hard to be bothered with Navi’s confidence as a shield. Zenda shook her head, clearing it of stress. She just wanted to see the painting.

As the piece came into view, Zenda felt her own enthusiasm mounting. This was it. The painting was so much smaller in person, but Two Birds and a Flaming Stone was a masterpiece. Zenda loved it for its beautiful ability to capture two birds, wings spread wide as they engulfed a pillar of light.

Her fingers itched for a paintbrush. She’d never get over how the painting sent shivers of inspiration down her spine every time she looked at it.

Navi nudged her. “You like it?”

“Obviously.”

Navi let out a long, drawn out sigh. “We must work on your one word answers, babe.”

Navi was also one of those girls who called everyone babe. Not that Navi really hung out with anyone except for Zenda. Maybe because she called everyone babe.

“Okay.”

They sat there for a long time. As always, being around Navi and art lifted the pressure Zenda felt at home and allowed her to escape from the constant contention.

Here, Zenda could believe she wasn’t hurting anyone by being a Split Shine.

***

Zenda applied fresh powder in the bathroom before heading home. As soon as she walked through the door, she wished she could go back to her escape with Navi. The bliss from the art exhibit evaporated as tension settled against her chest.

Her mom and Jeila mirrored each other, arms folded tightly, icy scowls on their faces.

Jeila glowered at her as she shut the door. “Oh, great. Perfect Zenda.”

“I’m not perfect,” Zenda whispered, lowering her gaze. She hated being dragged into their arguments.

“Sure you are,” Jeila said. She threw her hands in the air. “Isn’t that right, Mom?”

“Zenda,” her mom enunciated the two syllables with punctured pride, “honors her Shine.”

Jeila rolled her eyes. The setting sun in the window cast a perfect view of Jeila’s cheeks and their dulled gold color. Her shimmer was almost gone, a striking contrast to their mom. Her gold had developed evenly and brightly across her face. She was about as close to a full Shine as anyone Zenda had ever seen. Jeila lashed out again. “What are you so afraid of, Mom? That everyone will see? Everyone already knows I don’t care to have the so-called magic of the Gods.”

Her mom still argued. “Please just do your ritual.”

Zenda looked between them and pity welled up in her chest for both of them. Despite her mom’s strict approach, Zenda’s heart still tightened at the desperate tears pooling in her mom’s eyes.

“I’m going out,” Jeila said. “Let them stare. They all know I gave it up a long time ago.”

“Jeila,” her mom’s voice cracked. “Sometimes you remind me so much of—” Her mom broke off, which Jeila took as an invitation to recoil with another jab.

“Like someone actually happy? You’re just embarrassed that my Shine is dull.”

Zenda flinched. That’s why the ritual was so important: without it, the gold Shine could fade. The way Jeila’s did. Her skin was almost completely Shineless.

It was their mom’s greatest fear: that her children would lose their potential access to the magic of the Gods. Heaven forbid they died without their Shine.

Jeila wore her faded Shine like a neon sign of defiance for everyone to see.

Zenda thought her sister looked fine without the bright gold. Paired with their dark skin, the faded gold looked pretty.

“I’m going to get you tanzanite—” Mom offered, standing up.

“Don’t bother,” Jeila called, but their mom was already headed to the kitchen for another precious gem. Jeila rounded on Zenda. “Why don’t you ever stand up for me?”

Zenda forced herself to speak quietly. It was the only way to deal with her sister when she got like this, but she couldn’t keep some sting out of her voice. “Not everyone wants to hurt Mom like you do.”

Ugh. Shame washed through Zenda. She wished she could tell her sister that she accepted her, that she decided a long time ago she didn’t believe anyone could wear their Shine wrong, but Jeila’s jabs always pulled out these comments.

“Wow,” Jeila said. “Fine. Keep doing the Shine ritual like a good girl.”

The front door rattled as she slammed it behind her.

On cue, her mom began to cry in the other room.

***

Three hours later her mom was still sobbing.

Zenda wished she could comfort her somehow, but she never knew what to say. Still, unable to sleep, Zenda slipped from her bed and tiptoed toward her mom’s bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, creaked open just enough for her to hear what her mom was saying to her dad. She held a hand to knock on the door, but the words crept through the doorway, and her curiosity got the better of her.

“ —and she acts just like her,” her mom sobbed.

Zenda dropped her hand, leaning in. Her mom kept saying that. But who was she talking about? Surely Mom didn’t associate with Faded Shines.

“Honey, this isn’t your fault.” Her dad’s deep baritone hummed with the droopy sound of almost-sleep. Zenda could almost picture him patting her mom awkwardly on the back. There was something odd about his voice, like it carried some hidden puzzle piece Zenda wasn’t allowed to see yet. She strained to hear more.

“I will not let this happen,” her mom said. “I won’t let my children get lost. I just wish she could understand how betraying your Shine is so dangerous!”

“She hasn’t been through what you’ve been through.”

Zenda was suddenly very aware of her breath, the way it caught in her chest and wouldn’t come out.

“I could never live with myself if either of them ever went astray,” said her mom.

Zenda withdrew, not wanting to hear anymore.

***

“I forgot to ask you about the exhibit yesterday.” It took a moment for Zenda to register her mom’s words as she chewed her lip in concentration. She used broad strokes on the white canvas and let out a dissatisfied grumble. She just couldn’t mimic Two Birds and a Flaming Stone effectively.

In comparison, her painting was a muddled imitation at best.

Her mom prodded again. “How was the exhibit?”

“The exhibit was good,” Zenda hedged, finally looking to see her mom’s piercing gaze from the kitchen table.

Her heart raced a little faster, the way it always did under that scrutinizing stare. Every time her mom looked at Zenda, Zenda wondered if that would be the moment she finally put the truth together. The conversation from last night was still ringing in her ears. What if she was the reason her mom was up at night?

Her mom had no real interest in art, so Zenda launched into the story of hanging out after the exhibit.

“—and then I didn’t want to eat there, but since my friend was paying, I decided I would try it—” Zenda chirped.

Anything to distract her mom from noticing how the paintbrush bobbed up and down between Zenda’s fingers. She couldn’t help it. Her mom made her nervous.

Her mom stroked her locket around her neck. It was made of opal stone. Zenda wondered sometimes if her mom thought she would die without a constant source of the Shine on hand. She followed her mom’s gaze out the window, where colors reflected on the panes. Precious gems were lined up by color across their mahogany table, spotlighted by the streaming sunlight.

“That’s your friend Navi, right?”

“Yes, Navi,” Zenda said. “And so we went there and she’s ordering her shake, but the guy totally spills it all over—” Her mom pursed her lips. Zenda faltered, but zoomed ahead, determined to paper over the awkwardness. “All over...well, all over his shirt. And so, Navi leans over and—”

“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t like you hanging around Navi?”

Zenda lowered her gaze to the gemstones. Their luster was extra evident in the sunlight. “It’s not like I don’t have other friends—”

“She’s a Split Shine.” Mom wrinkled her nose like she smelled skunk whiff.

Zenda wasn’t like Jeila. She didn’t like to argue.

“I know,” she whispered.

“She should really have the procedure done,” said her mom. “If she removed it, it would restore her magic, make her whole again.”

As though Zenda didn’t know about the procedure, as though she didn’t know her mom’s opinion backward and forward about the topic. More and more Split Shines were coming forward, and there was nothing that caused her mom more distress.

Split Shines were mistakes. Evidence of someone using Shine the wrong way.

She searched her mom’s face, but understood her loud and clear. The only way to cure a Split Shine was to get the proper removal procedure. Zenda didn’t know exactly how they removed it, or if it even worked. Either way, a Split Shine was supposed to get the procedure. They were not supposed to exist, and therefore, they needed to be blotted out like some kind of skin blemish.

“Navi’s really nice,” Zenda told her mom for the umpteenth time. “She even paid for my lunch.”

“Her face is half silver.” Her mom’s voice was as sharp as jaguar claws.

Zenda sank into her chair, but the questions bubbled up anyway. She swallowed her nerves and spoke. “What if we’re wrong about Split Shines? If following the Shine helps us earn our magic in the afterlife, then doesn’t that mean that a Split Shine still has some magic?”

“I know what I’m talking about.” Mom clutched her necklace so tightly that her knuckles were white.

Zenda pressed her lips together.

“Zenda, the instructions from the Gods were written down very precisely,” her mom said slowly. As though she hadn’t explained this to her a thousand times. “The only way to know if you will be granted full magic from the Gods is if you finally achieve a full Shine.”

“But Navi’s silver is still Shine,” Zenda said.

“A full gold Shine,” her mom said, her eyes flashing.

Zenda bit her lip. “But what kind of magic are we supposed to get anyway?”

Her mom glowered with a “you should already know this” kind of look and plucked two stones off the table. “Here. Give these to Navi and please consider doing another ritual.” She touched Zenda’s right cheek. “Your color is looking dull.”

Zenda’s face fell, and, at this, her mom did soften.

“Zenda, I just want you to be happy. The Shine makes people happy.”

Zenda didn’t know what made her blurt it, but she did. “How?”

Her mom frowned. “How what?”

“How does it make people happy?”

“Really, Zenda, you already understand this.” Her mom said this the way weathered parents talked to preschoolers. “The Gods gave us these gems. They gave us Shine and promised us happiness.”

That still wasn’t an answer. “But how does not being a Split Shine make me happy?”

It was the wrong thing to say. Her mom would not tolerate these deliberately awkward questions. She patted the stones. “Have faith in the stones.”

“But—”

“If you have more than one color, you simply cannot not be happy. You can’t be doing what’s right according to the Gods.”

How could that be the only explanation?

“But what does it look like to be happy with the Shine?” Zenda pressed. Her own boldness surprised her, but the words barreled through the conversation like a train without brakes—unstoppable once it started.

But her mom was already turning away. There went the conversation.

“Someday, you will understand.” She cleared her throat. “During the sermon this week, please pay better attention.”

In moments like this, Zenda couldn’t help but feel like Navi—and others like her—understood the Shine a lot better than her mom did.

***

The brick church was an oven, and the sun was right in Zenda’s eyes. She tried, unsuccessfully, to shift her weight on her seat without disturbing others around her. It creaked, and several heads turned.

“Zenda, are you paying attention?” her mom hissed.

“Dad’s asleep,” Zenda whispered loudly—she had to fight to be heard over his snores.

Mom flicked his elbow. Zenda stifled a giggle as he made a show of sitting up in his chair. He caught her eye and gave a sly smile when her mom wasn’t looking.

And all the while, the sermon droned on and on and on.

“Long ago,” said Reverend Harrow, his voice crescendoing. “The Gods saw a glimmer of potential in us, saw that all humans possessed some magic. The same magic the Gods have.”

Zenda frowned. She’d never felt magic for herself. Not even once. To this day, she still didn’t understand what kind of magic she was being promised. Why did other people get glimpses of it?

“Our way of life is simple,” Reverend Harrow cried, raising his hands. “The Gods revealed that precious stones have the magical essence that runs in our veins. If we are to earn the magic from the Gods, we must do our rituals and live a life worthy of the Shine. In return, some of us can feel the magic through the Shine.” He patted his cheeks. Zenda couldn’t help but notice that even his cheeks weren’t pure gold—more like a muted mustard.

Zenda sighed and tried to catch flecks of dust between her fingers rather than listening to the same lecture repeated week after week.

“Your mother’s right,” her dad reprimanded. Zenda cast him a Look. Really? After he just fell asleep? “You should listen.”

“—some of us feel our magic later than others,” Reverend Harrow drawled. He raised his hands high above his head. Several people in the congregation repeated the motion.

Zenda rolled her eyes. Well, great. She was just a late bloomer .

“Some of us may not ever feel it,” Reverend Harrow said.

And there went her hope. She seriously had to wait until she was dead to feel this?

“They left us clear instructions,” Reverend Harrow said, his voice rising. He paused. Some clapped their hands, but most sat attentive, waiting for the right moment to applaud.

“If you complete your daily ritual, more and more Shine will appear on your face. This confirms that the Gods are bestowing more of their magic to us. And when we die, we’re promised our magic in full. Full Shine, full magic,” he paused the way the sky paused before the thunder. “As we all know, the Shine comes bit by bit, but with deliberate effort and consistent strength, your face will shine gold!”

The audience erupted. Thunderous applause roared in Zenda’s ears, her mom wailed and dabbed at her eyes, and some people even stood to whoop and holler.

Zenda pressed her lips together and observed everyone around her. So many different versions of this supposed Shine: some had flecks of Shine, some had streaks, some had an even distribution throughout their cheeks. How was anyone supposed to achieve complete Shine anyway?

Her mom squeezed her hand, and Zenda squeezed back, pushing down the feelings. Whatever she believed, this was still her community, her home, and Zenda could never leave it the way Jeila had.

From across the row, she caught a flurry of hand movement. Navi waved almost as wildly as the reverend did.

When everyone else sat down, she was still waving.

Navi’s Split Shine radiated on her face—colors split right down the middle, blaring silver on one half, metallic gold on the other side.

She paid no attention to the scowls or murmurs of disdain cast her way—the disapproving glare from Zenda’s mom could’ve frozen a volcano.

“I have a question,” Navi declared.

Shocked silence rang out. No one ever questioned Reverend Harrow.

He tilted his head, eyebrows knit. “Of course, child.”

“So what does the magic feel like?” Navi asked. From anyone else, this question could be contemptuous, defiant even, but from Navi it just sounded curious. Her eyes were wide.

Zenda shook her head. Navi should know better. Everyone was going to be talking about this for days.

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat. “You will know it when you feel it.” His eyes rolled over the congregation. “Would anyone care to share what it feels like?”

“It guides me,” someone called.

“How?” Navi asked, still standing. Zenda raised her eyebrows. She’d heard the rumors around school: that the magic was real, but there was no such thing as the Gods. That the Gods didn’t care about people’s magic. Some kids thought the whole thing was garbage.

But Zenda still couldn’t understand how Navi could stand there so confidently, so sure she still had a place in their community.

“I feel it like a poke sometimes,” piped a young voice.

The only poke Zenda had ever felt was from her sister when she was trying to sleep.

“Okay, but why does it have to be just gold?” Navi demanded. “I feel magic inside me.”

Reverend Harrow’s smile froze. “It is not our place to question the instructions they gave us.”

Navi pressed on. “But it doesn’t make any sense. What if they wrote it down wrong? Why would silver show up at all?”

The tension rippled across the crowd until it landed on Zenda. Reverend Harrow glared. “Qualifying for magic was never meant to be easy. If you choose to ignore the instructions, that is your choice.” As the tension bubbled, he waved his hand to quiet the mutters. His mouth stretched into a strained smile. “That’s enough for today, Navi.”

“Well, I think it’s great how any Shine means some Shine. Everyone has magic inside,” Navi said.

She sat down, and Reverend Harrow continued as though Navi hadn’t even spoken. It didn’t bother Navi. She adjusted her beanie on her head and grinned even bigger.

Zenda wasn’t the only one to notice Navi’s cheery mood.

Zenda’s dad’s mood soured, his jokes gone. Sometimes he could be so chill and then flip like a coin. He grumbled. “Figures. Only a hoodlum wears a beanie and questions the Shine at church.”

Not that the ‘hoodlum’ cared in the slightest.

Zenda frowned. What was wrong with her? She could honestly say she hadn’t felt any traces of magic—Shine or no Shine. She glanced at her mom. Even if she didn’t know exactly how she felt about the Shine, she knew how her mom felt.

And if Zenda wanted to be part of her world, then what her mom didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

Still, when Navi caught her eye and mouthed, “Come over?”

Zenda nodded yes.

***

“So, you gonna tell me what’s on your mind?” Navi asked.

Zenda twirled a stone between her fingers, stalling. “Have you ever noticed that alexandrite stones change color in different lighting?”

Navi sat straight up on her bed, her thick black hair combing across her eyes. It may have covered her eyes, but it didn’t cover her excitement or her smirk. She flipped her hair impatiently out of the way so she could see the stone.

“Wow, they do,” Navi said, grabbing for the stone in Zenda’s hand. She held the stone up to the sunlight in the bedroom window, and the red-purple glint switched to a blue-green.

Zenda smiled at her, flopping her legs over the beanbag. “Yup. That’s why they call them the color-shifting gem.”

“You’re so damn smart,” Navi said, winking. “That’s why I love you.”

“And here I thought it was because of my wit and heart of gold,” Zenda quipped. She hunched over. Despite her determination to shut down, she felt like a spring coiled so tightly it would burst.

Navi tossed her the stone. “You know I love you for more than that, babe. All of that and more.”

Zenda caught the stone and smiled, though she didn’t miss the touch of concern in Navi’s slight frown.

“Right,” said Zenda.

“So, I’m guessing your parents don’t know you’re here, then?”

“Nope.”

“And you’re not going to tell them?”

“Nope.”

“Your one word answers are starting to diminish the love I have for you.”

“Totally.”

“Zenda,” Navi said, shaking her head. Her eyes landed on Zenda and Zenda was suddenly aware of her taut shoulders, the way her arms folded tightly against her chest. “Come on. I know something’s bothering you.”

Zenda squirmed. Navi pulled things out of her, but that was part of her charm. Her eagerness and unabashed curiosity was intoxicating. She was one of the only people that wanted to hear Zenda’s thoughts. So Zenda told her. “Fine. Don’t you see the way everyone stares at you? It’s wrong to make people so uncomfortable. Why aren’t you getting the surgery?”

“Why are you still covering up your Split Shine from your parents and friends?” Navi countered. Easy for Navi to say. Her parents encouraged her to embrace her Split Shine. Navi would never understand what it felt like to not belong in her own home.

The air in the room felt as heavy as their questions.

“You first,” Zenda said. “Then me.”

“I like my silver,” Navi said, patting her face, and Zenda was struck once more by how Navi’s silver didn’t show up in streaks. Both sides of her face were encompassed with a shimmer. Both gold and silver. Definitely fit for Navi’s stand-out personality. “I’ve thought about having the surgery, but I just don’t know if I’d be . . . me without it. I want people to love me for both sides.”

“Doesn’t it bother you what people say? That you’re a mistake?”

“Screw being a mistake! Some of the best inventions happen because of mistakes. Some of the greatest plot twists of all time come because of typos. Let me tell you.” Navi held up a sassy finger, and Zenda knew she was going to hear what Navi had to tell her whether she wanted to or not. “You know our girl, Grace De la Vega?”

“The painter?” Zenda mocked in a monotone.

“The painter.” Navi mimicked Zenda’s monotone. “I wasn’t finished. Grace De la Vega came out and said in an article that Two Birds and a Flaming Stone—”

She paused. Zenda knew from experience this was Navi’s form of ‘dramatic effect’.

Zenda’s fingers itched for a paintbrush just thinking about the painting. It still invoked everything she could never say.

“What about it?” Zenda asked.

“You really don’t know this?” Navi asked. “I can’t tell if you’re kidding.”

Zenda sighed. “I know the painting, but not all that trivia stuff. Not everyone obsesses about the behind-the-scenes, Navi.”

Navi smirked. “Then they’re missing out. Don’t you worry, I’ll tell you. She said in the article that the two birds? They were originally one bird, but she got distracted while painting, and one of the lines was all weird, right? So she created two birds—and now look. She’s got us all obsessed.”

“You made that up,” Zenda said.

“I did not,” Navi harrumphed. “A total mistake. Some of the best things are born out of mistakes. And you know what I think?”

“Tell me.”

Navi continued explaining. “I think the real beauty is that some mistakes aren’t mistakes at all.”

Zenda’s heart pulsed with unease. “I’m sorry. Not mistakes?”

Navi shrugged. “It’s like what I was saying at the sermon. I think everyone really does have magic inside. Mine just comes out in two different colors.”

“But you heard Reverend Harrow,” Zenda said, defaulting to her quiet voice. Avoid conflict. That’s what she was good at—shutting up and shutting down. “Listen to what they say about us. If we have silver, we’ve done wrong by the Gods or something.”

“Well, I don’t believe it,” Navi said. “Maybe life's like that. Maybe like with the painting, we think we’re trying to draw a specific thing, but really, our art is trying to tell us what we already know. Maybe Grace De la Vega never would’ve known how great her painting could’ve been if she hadn’t made the mistake. I think her real mistake was trying to draw just one bird.”

Zenda chewed her lip, her chest still churning with anxiety. She propped an elbow up and placed her chin on her hand. “Huh. So it’s like . . . they were wrong to call it a mistake?”

“Who can really say what a mistake is?” Navi said.

“The world,” Zenda said quietly.

Neither spoke.

Finally, Navi shrugged. “I didn’t say it made complete sense. I just think it’s beautiful. I think magic reveals itself differently in everyone. And that’s why I’m not getting surgery. I’m a two bird kind of gal, even if everyone else wants to be a one bird kind of people.”

Zenda’s heart warmed. Only Navi could spin it so eloquently.

“Your turn,” Navi prompted. “Why do you still cover up your silver Shine at home?”

Zenda couldn’t help it. She clamped down every thought that crossed her mind. It was just so much easier than causing anyone discomfort. Besides, sometimes even she didn’t really understand her own awkwardness.

Navi groaned, sensing Zenda’s defense mechanism. “I saw you wipe off the powder when we were at the exhibit and I see the way you hide it at church and at home. But I just don’t get it.”

Typical. Navi was going to make Zenda say it out loud, even if she didn’t want to.

“My mom still cares about having a single Shine color,” Zenda said. “I don’t want to cause her any more pain.”

Navi frowned but nodded. “I guess that’s understandable. I still can’t believe you’ve managed to hide it from her, though.”

“I’m good like that,” Zenda joked. She paused, hating her stoic default. She didn’t want to shut down in front of Navi. “Do you think I like hiding it from them? You don’t get it. You should see the way she reacts to my sister. And that’s just a Faded Shine. You know how most people feel about Split Shines. I could never hurt her like that.”

“Yeah,” said Navi. “But she loves you.”

“The gold side of me,” Zenda whispered.

Navi crossed the room and threw her arms around Zenda. “Well, I love both of your colors. Now, let’s go see if someone can make us a shake that won’t explode.”

“You might say they should ‘shake it up.’” Zenda grinned and let Navi pull her up from the beanbag.

Navi rolled her eyes. “Oh dear. I found my love limit. Terrible puns.”

Together, they went to Charlie’s and ordered a shake. They got two straws, two spoons, and sat down beside each other to make more bad puns about all the cliché songs playing over the restaurant intercom. And they didn’t hold back their string of creative insults when stupid Billy took their picture and threatened to print it and draw them as zebras.

“Split Shines,” he sneered. He really did look like a squash with that face.

And it was hilarious when Navi covered that squash face with a shake.

Between the side aches from the snorts of laughter and the bad puns, Zenda didn’t reach for the stone in her pocket, didn’t even think once about covering up her face.

***

“You can do this,” Zenda said to herself. “You can, and you will.”

Navi was right. Maybe it was time. She owed it to her mom to tell her the truth. Besides, she was running out of makeup.

She sucked in a breath and knocked on her mom’s door. Nothing.

That was odd. Her mom wasn’t the type to let any moment go unplanned. She was the definition of a helicopter mom who somehow also managed to get in two workouts, prepare great meals, and check twice a day about Zenda’s rituals. This was her naptime so . . . where was she?

Zenda opened the door. “Mom?”

Shock ran through her followed by discomfort as she saw her mom doubled over, tears dropping onto a picture frame.

“Oh, um,” Zenda said as her mom wiped her eyes and looked at her. She had the terrible feeling of walking in on something very private and personal. “I’ll just, um, do my homework. I should probably do a ritual or something—”

Shut up and shut down. She wanted to run, to give her mom the space she needed, but her mom beckoned her over.

Zenda reluctantly came and knelt beside her. She wished she were anybody but herself right then. Anyone else would know what to say. All she could offer her mom was the giant blank canvas in her mind.

Her mom blinked and two more tears leaked down and splattered across the picture frame.

Zenda couldn’t help herself. She looked at it. And it was . . . what?

It was her mom. Laughing. Zenda couldn’t remember the last time her mom laughed. But that wasn’t the strangest part—her mom had her arm draped around a woman who looked just like her. Both girls had such Faded Shines that they almost looked like they’d been raised without stones.

“Mom?” Zenda asked, her mind misfiring, unable to process.

“My sister,” Zenda’s mom whispered. She closed her eyes. “Did I ever tell you I had a twin sister?”

Had. The word sunk in for Zenda. Some words cut deeper than knives. She cleared her throat. “No, I didn’t know—”

“Her name was Farah.”

“What—” Zenda hesitated, but knew she would kick herself for not asking the question later. “What happened to her?”

“She killed herself.”

She was wrong. She was definitely kicking herself for asking. Her mom fell silent and Zenda had no desire to ask anything else. The pain in her mom’s voice was so palpable, so raw, she knew she’d never be able to unknow this and unsee just how much sorrow her mom carried. Zenda could only imagine what that must feel like for her mom. First her twin, then Jeila.

How could Zenda ever bring herself to inflict any more suffering on her mom?

Following an instinct she couldn’t quite grasp, she reached for her mom’s hand and let her cry. Zenda looked at the picture and wondered, just for a moment, what it might be like to be the kind of daughter who could bring joy instead of disappointment to her mom’s face.

***

Zenda’s eyes flew open at the sound of the high-pitched screams. She laid in bed, staring at the ceiling clouds and counting to ten.

Jeila and her mom were at it again.

Zenda sighed and rolled onto her side, closing her eyes, and used a pillow to block out the harsh accusations. She imagined the way she would paint the scene: the sorrow she would capture in Mom’s wet eyelashes and the desperation for acceptance when Jeila threw her hands in the air. She would paint the way their yearning for love manifested itself in the way they mirrored each other’s expressions.

Paintings could capture the true soul that even gemstones couldn’t bring out. Paintings could reveal the truth that two people were exactly the same even when their words kept saying they were different.

***

“Zenda?”

Her mom’s voice was so shrill that Zenda suspected only bats would hear it.

“Zenda, come here!”

“What’s wrong?” Zenda rushed down the stairs to see her mom, ghost-white, clenching her dad’s hand tightly. He stared at Zenda with eyes sagged at the corners.

All Zenda could see were the gemstones strewn along the table. Had she forgotten to polish them? Did they run out of essence?

A big fat tear fell onto the table, directing Zenda to what they were looking at.

A picture of her and Navi at Charlie’s was on the table, her Split Shine displayed front and center. Scribbled across the top of the picture were words that Zenda could read even though she was looking at it upside down:

BETTER TO HAVE NO SHINE THAN SPLIT SHINE.

Her hand clapped to her mouth. How did this happen? Billy didn’t live in her neighborhood. He wasn’t in her congregation. The bottom of her stomach fell away leaving room only for shame.

“There’s more,” Zenda’s mom said. Her voice was an icy windstorm. She held up the photograph, a clear demand that Zenda take it.

Zenda did and flipped it over to read the inscription. Billy’s handwriting was as bad as the angles he chose for pictures.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Cham,

I won’t tell you who I am because I don’t want to be a snitch, but I couldn’t live with myself if I thought Zenda’s parents didn’t know. Zenda is a Split Shine. My family attends church on the other side of town and we are recent converts. I know your family is strong with the Shine, and I just don’t think this is right.

Zenda was numb everywhere except where her mom brushed the powder off her left cheek. And she saw the tears fall and the betrayal in those brown irises.

And she wished more than ever she were anything but a Split Shine.

***

Zenda had never noticed the details of her rug quite so well. With her eyes, she traced the embroidered shapes over and over again. How had she never noticed until now? The house still shook from the echo of the door slam after Dad left to go on a walk. Of course. Awkward things came up, Dad left. And this took the cake of awkward topics. The rug was nothing special, but it was amazing how much detail she could get out of looking at the same thing for three hours. Three hours of sitting across from her mom with nothing but the sound of silence broken only by the sound of hiccup tears.

She knew she should say something, anything. Maybe she could explain her concerns, or offer some kind of condolence, or tell her mom all the things she’d been questioning the last few years, maybe explain that she didn’t want to be a disappointment to her mom.

But fear kept her eyes down, her breath shallow, her shoulders hunched.

Shut up and shut down.

Because if she opened her mouth, she might hear something she couldn’t unhear, disappointments and insecurities brought to light once spoken out loud, things Zenda wondered if her mom thought anyway, but could shatter her once she heard them. Maybe if Zenda didn’t hear it out loud, she could keep pretending things were okay and this was all just some nightmare, or better yet, that it wasn’t happening at all.

So for now, she studied the rug.

Finally, her mom stopped crying long enough to walk away. Zenda bit her quivering lip and kept her eyes down, spotting just the tiniest piece of lint on the rug. She supposed she should pick it up, but she was having a hard time getting her muscles to do anything but freeze. Her thoughts didn’t seem to be paying any attention to her requests.

Quick, brisk footsteps came down the hallway. Even in the midst of despair, her mom was all sharpness. Scraping squeaks filled Zenda’s ears as her mom dragged her chair next to sit with her.

“I have something for you,” her mom said.

A laugh bubbled in Zenda, as though yanked up and out of her by a string. “Which precious stone today, Mom?”

She felt her mom flinch. A vindictive streak of pride flared, followed immediately by shame. Did she really just feel good about causing her mom pain? This was exactly why she never let her emotions show.

Her mom scooted closer until their knees were touching.

Zenda kept her gaze on the rug, but her lip was still shaking. She bit down harder. Something cold slipped into Zenda’s hand. She glanced down. She recognized her mom’s opal locket.

Finally, Zenda looked at her mom, letting the question in her eyes speak for itself.

“Open it,” her mom said.

Zenda did.

There was a picture of her mom and her aunt—someone else was in the picture too. A boy. His chin was stubbled and he looked like he might have some Hispanic descent. But that’s not what caused the stutters of shock to come from Zenda. The man was a Split Shine.

Her mom used to hang out with a Split Shine?

Uncertainty clawed at Zenda’s chest. “Mom?”

“She killed herself,” Zenda’s mom whispered. “After she got pregnant.” She tapped the locket. “With his baby.”

Zenda stared in horror. The words didn’t make sense. It was like she was hearing information through a vacuum. Her mind frantically tried to sense the meaning, but there was nothing but incomprehension.

Suddenly, words came pouring out of her mom, as though she was afraid that if she didn’t say them, she might never say them. Zenda almost wished she wouldn’t. She had a feeling this was one of those stories that would never leave her, one more thing she couldn’t unknow.

“It was my idea,” her mom said. She balled her hands into fists. “All our friends were abandoning their Shine. I thought their lives was so much better. They were so free. I convinced her to go to that party, to start dating Dartan.” It was like listening to a prisoner finally admit to murder years past their trial. Her mom closed her eyes. “Then he got her pregnant. No one wanted to talk to her anymore. She lost everything—her friends, her beliefs, her life.”

Her lips felt glued together.

“Dartan left,” her mom spat. She gave Zenda a hard look. “I know it feels like Split Shines understand you, like their way of life offers hope and acceptance and love, but it will only bring you heartache.”

How could her mom think this was the same thing as being friends with Navi? Zenda glanced at the locket and then back at her mom in confusion. “I wasn’t going to leave the community, Mom.”

“No, but you are going to get the procedure and stop being friends with Navi.” There was a finality in her words that Zenda knew well.

“Mom,” Zenda gasped, exploding out of her chair. She had no idea where this sudden energy was coming from, but Zenda couldn’t stop the frenzy of churning emotion.

There were no tears in her mom’s eyes. Only ice. “This is how it has to be, Zenda.”

“Navi isn’t Dartan,” Zenda shouted. She threw the locket back onto her chair. After years of listening to the fights, to the constant battles, always choosing to stay silent, the torrent inside of her whirled and broke. “No, no, no! NO!”

Her thoughts spewed red and she didn’t even know what she was saying no to anymore, just that she needed to say it.

Her mom caught her wrist and Zenda deflated, the energy zapping as quickly as it had come. Done. Nothing left inside her.

“This is the only way you can be happy,” her mom said. She closed the locket, stood up, and walked away.

Click went her mom’s bedroom door as the lock slid into place.

And the tears started again.

Zenda closed her eyes. Somehow, just by being her, she had become another reason for her mom to cry.

***

“I’m so sorry,” Zenda said to Navi.

Seated on a park bench, gazing across the pond, Navi fiddled with her beanie. Usually her beanie marked her unique flair, but today it drooped.

For once, the glow had gone out of Navi’s Shine. Both sides of her face were matted with sweat, stained with mascara.

“So you can’t see me anymore?” Navi whispered. “You can’t be my friend?”

“They’re making me get the procedure,” Zenda said. Suddenly, looking at Navi was too painful. She stared at the pond instead. The hue nearest was a different color than the water farther away from them. How come the pond got to be different colors? “And they—well, you know how they are.”

Navi was quiet a moment. “Is this what you want?”

“I don’t want to make my mom any more sad than she already is,” Zenda said, desperate for Navi to understand. She almost told Navi about her aunt’s suicide, but some things were too sad to share.

Two more beats before Navi spoke again. “Well, this just sucks.”

“Yeah,” Zenda said. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“It’s all right,” Navi whispered. She seized Zenda’s trembling shoulders and squeezed. And, because she was Navi, she still tried to see the bright side. “It’s kind of beautiful, if you think about it. They want to do whatever it takes to protect you. Like, they are willing to risk you hating them for a little bit in order for you to gain the happiness they think you deserve, and—“

“Don’t.” Zenda shook. “I shouldn’t have to give up my friends, give up my silver Shine.” Zenda raised her voice for the first time in years, but she couldn’t stop. “I shouldn’t have to get some procedure. I love my family. I still go to church, try to earn my magic the same as everyone else. I didn’t ask to be a Split Shine, but I’m not ashamed of it, okay? And you. You don’t have to accept this. You don’t have to paint this as some big grand beautiful story. Okay? I know you’re trying to make me feel better but this is . . . this is WRONG.”

Navi didn’t say anything. She just caught Zenda around the waistline and pulled her in. Zenda’s shakes turned into sobs.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Navi whispered.

Nothing felt okay.

Zenda couldn’t explain how, but somehow she knew this would be the last time she saw Navi, the last day she enjoyed the beautiful reflection of the water and the way it highlighted Navi’s smile.

It was another one of those moments Navi would have called beautiful.

***

Two weeks after her procedure, Zenda got the news.

Her parents let her stay at home for a week to let her face heal. That was just fine. She didn’t want to see anyone, except maybe Billy to punch him in his stupid face. She was scrubbing her face, looking for hints of silver. She thought maybe they left some accidentally. But there was none. She was stripped completely of silver. She didn’t look that different, but she still felt naked.

She took the larimar stone. “Shine in me.”

The gemstone quivered, and gold appeared on both sides of her face.

And then Jeila came around the corner.

“Zenda? I just got a call.”

Jeila’s voice was unnaturally soft, yet it slapped Zenda stronger than any shout. This was Jeila’s bad news voice.

“What happened?”

“It’s about Navi.”

And Zenda listened as Jeila explained that two kids had tracked Navi down after school and tried to scratch the silver right off her face. By the time they left her alone, she was so mangled and tattered she was unrecognizable.

Zenda heard, but she didn’t believe.

“When was this?” she demanded.

“It’s been about a week. I guess they were waiting to see if she was okay. Her dad just thought you should know.”

Zenda ran.

She didn’t stop when her mom called after her.

She didn’t stop at her neighbors’ curious looks.

She only stopped when she reached Navi’s rusty orange door. Her dad answered after the third knock. His face was stoic.

“Where’s Navi?” she asked.

His words dropped like a rock to the bottom of a pond. “I’m sorry, Zenda. She’s gone.”

“Gone?” The pit in her stomach threatened to give way to nausea.

“She came home from the hospital a few days ago, and we decided it’s best to move. I stayed behind to pack—“

The relief Zenda felt from knowing Navi was okay was replaced by numb dread. Navi was gone, and she took any words Zenda had left. She wanted to apologize, to tell him she should’ve been there, to tell him that Navi would always be beautiful to her, to express that she hated that Navi was all alone for this, but all she could do was shake her head and fight the tears.

She ran.

***

The mirror felt like a lie.

Zenda still felt like a Split Shine, even if the mirror revealed a perfect golden shimmer. The glow came in tiny spats and spasms on her cheeks.

Even after the procedure, she still didn’t feel whole or accepted. Most of the kids wouldn’t meet her eyes after they found out what happened to Navi. No one even mentioned that Zenda had the Shine at all.

Somehow, after the procedure, she was even more alone.

She missed Navi and the way she saw hope in everything. She missed the way she made Zenda laugh, her brightly colored shirts, her beanie, and her random metaphors. She missed the way it used to be.

Zenda picked up the alexandrite stone. Some of its luster was gone now that Zenda had bled most of the magical essence out of it, but it still had a faint glimmer to it. Tears spilled out as she remembered how fascinated Navi was with the color-shifting stone.

Navi had Shine, just like this stone. She just changed colors sometimes. That didn’t make her any less beautiful or any less precious than the other gemstones.

Seized by sadness so fierce she felt she might break in two, Zenda threw the gem as hard as she could at the mirror. The mirror shattered along with the stone.

Bits of the mirror stuck to the wall, capturing Zenda’s tear-stained reflection.

Chest heaving, tears pouring, Zenda gazed at the fractured image on the wall. And there, in plain sight, was another speck of silver shining on her left cheek.

It was the one thing that didn’t feel like a mistake.