Page 5 of Us in Ruins

A shard of the Vase of Venus Aurelia.

2

Technically, Margot hadn’t been trespassing when she found the shard. Her school library’s archives were strictly off-limits, unless you had written approval from the head librarian. Which she totally had.

Admittedly, she was supposed to be doing research for her final English paper, a thematic interrogation of her all-time favorite novel, Relics of the Heart by Catherine Avery Hannigan.

In the book, rival archaeologists Isla Farrow and Reed Silvan scoured the Mediterranean for an artifact believed to be nothing more than a story: the Vase of Venus Aurelia. Their adventure—long nights together, searching for the Vase, finding each other instead—had captivated her mom. The first time Margot read it after unearthing it from a box her mom left behind, she’d been spellbound, too.

Her copy had seen better days. The mass-market romance was all roughened edges and curled corners from being read and read again. She could still remember her mom hunkering down with it on the hammock she’d string up in the backyard each June. Every time Margot fanned through the pages, they smelled like those summers: coconut-scented tanning lotion, heaping scoops of strawberry ice cream, and freshly washed cotton sheets, sun-dried.

So, really, it wasn’t Margot’s fault that her foot slipped on the library’s rolling ladder in the section on Roman mythologies or that Van’s journal happened to be right where she landed. Definitely not her fault that behind it, wrapped in faded muslin, was something curious. Something uncatalogued—and therefore unmissed when she’d slipped it into her pocket.

The library at Radcliffe Prep was filled to the brim with antiques—priceless artworks, one-of-a-kind prints, and first edition texts. How they filled that library wasn’t something they advertised, and whatever kinds of questionable collection development tactics they used didn’t really matter to Margot. But she had never expected to see a Vase shard, like she’d stepped inside the pages of Relics of the Heart.

Unfortunately, Isla and Reed’s archaeological escapades conveniently underrepresented the dirt under her nails, the sweat clinging to the back of her neck, and the sunburn not even Supergoop! could keep at bay. And that wasn’t even counting the trek over to Italy. By the time they made it back to their hotel, Margot’s limbs had achieved the consistency of overcooked pasta. The jet lag and heat exhaustion combo punch was enough to KO somebody.

Yesterday, when they’d first arrived at Hotel Villa Minerva—which was so small it hardly counted as a hotel, let alone a villa—Dr. Hunt had doled out room assignments, but Margot already knew her fate. There were only three girls on the trip. There was a triplet bedroom with their names on it.

Sure enough, room 320 beckoned them. The third-floor suite was drenched in teal paisley wallpaper, and a lopsided chandelier clung to the ceiling for dear life. Bouquets of silk flowers and faux ivy had been draped over the tops of a cedar armoire. It was giving Grandma chic and smelled appropriately like mothballs and lemon cleaning spray.

There was one single bed and a set of bunk beds. Astrid had unceremoniously Neil Armstronged her suitcase onto the single bed like a flag on the moon, which left Suki and Margot to rock, paper, scissors for the bunks.

Margot had started saying, “I’d really like to—”

“I sleepwalk.”

Margot blinked. “You sleepwalk?”

Suki batted Lancôme-long lashes. “I once walked all the way to In-N-Out in a dream. I bought a double-double with cheese, Margot. You’ve got to give me the bottom bunk.”

And that was that. Better to squish than be squished, she reasoned.

Tonight, Margot landed on her bunk with an oof. All right, maybe she minded a little bit that her mattress was evidently a layer of bricks thinly disguised beneath a bedsheet. But the way the exhaustion hit her, she knew she wouldn’t be awake long enough to care.

Suki and Astrid trailed in after saying good night to Rex, Calvin, and Topher across the hall.

“You know, I didn’t think you were going to last the whole afternoon, Margot,” Astrid said.

“Thanks for the concern,” Margot huffed, muffled into her pillow.

“I’m serious.” Palm to her heart, Astrid looked like she really thought Margot was going to fall for her fake sincerity. “I don’t know how you’re going to survive the entire summer.”

Margot shuffled onto her elbows, irritation chafing every nerve. Suddenly sleep was entirely out of the question.

Astrid sighed. “God forbid you break a nail.”

“Don’t worry. I brought my gel kit.”

Astrid’s grin was anything but sweet. The kind of saccharine smile that accompanied a good, old-fashioned bless your heart. “I’m sure you did.”

Suki leaned around the bedpost. “What colors did you bring?”

“Suki!” Astrid griped.

“What?” Suki asked. “Free mani.”

Astrid rolled her eyes so far back, Margot was surprised she didn’t strain a muscle. “The point is that you’d only pass this class because we’re partners. Without me, you’d be completely helpless.”

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