She walked away without shaking.
She woke up with a metallic taste in her mouth and a strange certainty in her bones. At school, in AP History, Mr. Henderson called on her to answer a question about the Suffragettes. Normally, she’d mumble an “I don’t know” and stare at her desk. But the Courage pearl had dissolved on her tongue at dawn, leaving a spark like ginger ale.
A folded note lay beneath.
Mr. Henderson’s eyebrows rose. “Go on.”
Day Four: Grace.
Day Two: Wit.
Day One: Courage.
When her stepfather sneered at her across the dinner table, Ellie set down her fork. “I’m not going to argue with you,” she said, and her voice was silk over steel. “I’m just going to finish my dinner, go to my room, and keep becoming who I am. You can join me or not. That’s your grace to find.”