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Back The Wild Ones
Chapters (61)
  1. Cover
  2. PRAISE FOR The Wild Ones
  3. Title Page
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. The Beginning, or How Paheli Became the First Wild One; With a Cameo by Taraana, the Boy Made of Stars.
  7. An Introduction; Hold On to Your Hats.
  8. The Sweetness in the Sugarcane, or The Impractical Nature of Immortality
  9. Paheli: The Vagrant Experiences of a Mango Addict
  10. Cotton Candy Sugar Screams
  11. From the Book of MEMORIES
  12. “Will You Walk into My Parlor?” Said the Spider to the Fly.
  13. The Best Ice Cream in the World, Teddy Bears, and a Tree Creature.
  14. From the Book of MEMORIES
  15. I.
  16. The Reappearance of the Boy Made of Stars and the Plight of the Girl by the Oleander Lane.
  17. Paheli: An Interlude in Blue
  18. Besieged in the Between
  19. Tea, the City of Stairs, and the Story of a Boy
  20. From the Book of MEMORIES
  21. Heartbreak, Stone Buildings, and Tandoori
  22. Observations, Conversations, and Hot Parantha
  23. Paheli: The Spies Who Came In from the Between
  24. From the Book of MEMORIES
  25. The French Quarter, the Spanish Half, and Eulalie
  26. Paheli: The Eggplant Overture
  27. Sunny Jelly Beans, Po’Boys, and “Alouette”
  28. From the Book of MEMORIES
  29. The Keeper of the Green and the Mysteries of Magic
  30. Blood and the Between
  31. The Library of the Lost and the Stories of the Silenced
  32. Walking in Wicked Ways or The Importance of Balık Ekmek
  33. From the Book of MEMORIES
  34. Looking for the Needle in the Haystack
  35. Paheli: The Peculiar Crackle in the Electricity
  36. Ten Degrees Past Despair
  37. The Fault in the Stars
  38. The Blue City in the Mountains
  39. Paheli: Disharmony in the Attics
  40. From the Book of MEMORIES
  41. Paheli: Continued
  42. The Politics of a Body, the Politics of Pleasure
  43. The Medina, the Riad, and the Red City
  44. Paheli: The Atlas Mountains, the Cozy Rooftop, and the Confession, Possibly of Love
  45. From the Book of MEMORIES
  46. Souks, Spices, and Survival: A Guide into Chaos
  47. Jemaa el-Fna: The Mosque at the End of the World
  48. Paheli: A Moment in Chartreuse
  49. From the Book of MEMORIES
  50. Paheli: On the Frailties of the Heart
  51. Sonagi, or A Sudden Rain
  52. Paheli: The Cheese in the Trap
  53. Paheli: The Maze and the Minotaur
  54. A New Era, a New Dar; the River Sings
  55. The Burning Door, the Fallen City, and Taraana 2.0
  56. Paheli: The Beginning of Forever
  57. From the Book of MEMORIES
  58. Moving One Rock at a Time Will Eventually Move a Mountain, aka Goodbye
  59. Acknowledgments
  60. More from the Author
  61. About the Author

He opens the door so easily and steps inside without hesitating. I lie on the bed with my back turned toward the door. I don’t move as he comes closer. I don’t move as he climbs into the bed beside me. I don’t move as he slips his arms around me and moves me closer to his body. So close I can feel his heart racing. He tucks my head under his chin. At this moment, he demands nothing from me and, instead, offers me his warmth, his comfort. I am greedy so I take both.

The silence is loud between us. It usually is. There are things in it that I need to tell him and things that he needs to tell me, but right now, all I can think about is that girl on the rooftop, that girl I failed. My sisters think I feel guilty and they are right, in part; I do. Was it something I said that spurred her on? Pushed her to take that final, conclusive leap? Could I have done things differently? Said something else that would have convinced her to ally with us? I will never know.

But I am not so guilty as to believe that she was up there because of me. Her presence on that precipice wasn’t my fault.

When I left Eulalie for the first time, I asked her for a spell that would help me identify girls like me. I didn’t think there would be so many of them. I didn’t think I wouldn’t be able to help them all. Eulalie cautioned me against using the spell even as she gave it to me. She warned me that such spells exact an emotional toll that few are able to pay. I didn’t give her words as much thought as I should have. I needed a purpose, and playing a hero gave me one.

The truth is, I am no one’s hero. Not even my own.

You see, even though I pretend to be altruistic, all the girls I save have one thing in common: they were betrayed by their parents, their mothers in particular. Just like I was. And every time I fail to save a girl, it is as though I am failing to save myself.

The girl in the dumpster a couple of years ago was me. The girl last year who returned home to certain death was me. And that girl who fell from the building yesterday was also me. I mourn them, but to be honest, I am mourning myself.