The Wild Ones Read online

  “As if that’s possible,” a council member mutters, loudly enough to be audible to everyone.

  “As I keep saying, I don’t need to prove anything to you,” Taraana replies. “You should do something about your comprehension skills. They’re very worrying.”

  Paheli grins wickedly at his words. She’s definitely influencing him in some ways.

  The council member, perhaps incensed by Taraana’s perceived arrogance, tries to attack Taraana with his magic. Taraana fixes his gaze on the middle worlder’s face, and a second later the man slumps in his chair. His companions try to ready their magic, either to attack Taraana or to help their friend, but find their magic refuses to be harnessed.

  It was Eulalie who discovered the strange way magic reacts to Taraana 2.0. When magic is worked against the Wild Ones, the spells simply return to the person who cast them, unable to find a place to root in us. But magic refuses to even be shaped against the Keeper of the Between.

  Feel free to speculate why. We certainly don’t know, and to be honest, not knowing doesn’t bother us either. The power this grants Taraana—he calls it freedom. The day Eulalie discovered the reaction magic has to Taraana, he went outside and stood in the sunlight and said it was the first time he felt wholly unafraid to do so.

  “What would you have us do?” Tabassum Naaz asks in a perfectly modulated voice, giving no indication that she is the one who came up with this plan.

  “Pass laws that will guarantee my safety. Harshly penalize anyone who tries to harm me and mine.” Taraana looks around the room with a steady gaze. “I can keep myself and the people I love safe. But don’t you think it would be better if I didn’t have to leave a trail of bodies doing so?”

  Taraana initially balked at using this threat. We got Paheli to persuade him otherwise.

  Mama Magdaline looks around the room. None of the council members seem to have anything to say. The middle worlder who dared to move against Taraana is still unconscious. “We will agree to your”—the Keeper of the Green says, smiling slightly—“request.”

  “Thank you. I expected nothing less,” Taraana says, and returns her smile with a sweet one of his own. “Do enjoy the rest of your meeting.”

  We leave the room and then the hotel.

  Have we won? Maybe. Maybe not. The future might boast attempts to do what Baarish failed to accomplish. It might not. We don’t know.

  Right now, though, we are in a city that is a meeting ground of the modern and the traditional. Where a turn around a corner might lead to a neon alley with bass-thumping clubs or a silent sanctuary full of gardens offering peace. We are in a city where the magic flows in a rainbow and you can be as wild as your heart desires.

  And our hearts desire.

  Listen.

  This is not the end of our stories, and it is not the end of yours, but this is as far as we will take you. As far as we can take you. We cannot give you a neat and tidy ending with a bow on top. Life has taught us much, but happily-ever-afters are still unknown to us.

  Maybe Taraana and Paheli will find a way to happiness while bickering about everything under the sun. Maybe we’ll stumble on it in one of the cities we travel to. Who knows what the future holds?

  What we have is our anger and each other.

  Aren’t you angry, sisters? At being treated the way we are? At having to pick up the pieces of what remains after the world is through with us? At being silenced and abused? At being denied our dignity, our bodies, our voices, and our right to justice? Aren’t you angry?

  Embrace this anger. Let it fuel your everydays. Defy everyone who tells you that you can’t.

  Be wild.

  Acknowledgments

  Every book is a wild ride and The Wild Ones more so than any other I have written. First, I have to thank Allah (swt) without whom I wouldn’t be possible. Then, I must thank my mother for her hugs, the cups of chai she made me, for the unconditional love she gives me. I’m not certain I deserve you, Ammi, but thank you for being my mom. I love you. I thank my dad, and my bhaiya, Izaz, for being willing to eat sushi with me whenever I asked him, and my bhabhi, Robina, for the trips to the library and for being willing to endure me. My littles, Ruwaiz and Zara, thank you for forgiving me the walks we didn’t take and the times I didn’t play with you. Thank you for believing Paheli and Taraana exist as much as I do. Thank you to my other bhaiya, Ishraaz, my bhabhi, Farzana, and my nephew, Waizu. Thank you to my niece, Pakeeza. You are amazing and I can’t wait for the world to find that out for themselves. Thank you to my aunts, Samrul Buksh and Sadrul Buksh, your snark always made my days bright. Thank you also to my cousins Shafraaz and Sabrina. Sabbo, you’re the best sister a girl could ask for.

  Thank you to my amazing agent, Katelyn Detweiler, who believed in me and in this book every single step of the way. Thank you for not thinking the book (and its author) too weird. This book (and I) wouldn’t be here without your encouragement and the work you did to ensure it sold. Thank you to everyone over at Jill Grinberg Literary Agency, especially Sam, Sophia, and Denise.

  Thank you to my early readers Jessica Lewenda, Kate Elliott, Tanvi Berwah, J. Kathleen Cheney, and Nazia Nur. Your encouragement led me to this moment.

  No book ever reaches the shelf due to the author alone. So many people are involved at each stage. Thank you to Karen Wojtyla, my editor, for loving The Wild Ones. Your insight and suggestions were so necessary and made the book what it is. Thank you for loving Taraana. Thank you also to Nicole Fiorica, whose suggestions and comments helped me look at the story in a different light and thus, made it better. Thank you to Alex Cabal for the beautiful cover and Sonia Chaghatzbanian for the jacket design. They are everything I wanted them to be. Thank you to my copy editor, Rebecca Vitkus. Your eye for detail is exemplary.

  The Wild Ones was not an easy book to write. I had to excavate parts of my life that I wished to bury away forever. Some days were much more difficult than others. At those times, I had my own pack, my friends, who, whether knowingly or not, offered me support. Thank you, Teng Teng. For the talks, the snark, and for identifying all those Hollywood people I don’t recognize. Karuna Riazi (you are amazing, I love you!), Axie Oh (thank you for reading an early copy and cheering me on), and Kat Cho, thank you. Also, thank you to Karuna’s mama who gave me such a warm hug that day in New York that I still think of. Thank you to Roselle Lim and Judy Lin, we didn’t eat nearly enough on our retreat. Let’s do it again one day when the world makes much more sense. Thank you to Jasdeep for your kindness. Thank you to Shveta Thakrar for being the awesome person you are. Thank you to Janet, your baked goods are my fave, Jane, my fave picture book author, and Yash, my fave person to write with. Thank you to Lana Wood Johnson and Mason Deaver for listening to my mumblings about that certain thing. Thank you to Adib Khorram, Julian Winters, Lu Brooks, Tessa Gratton, Melody, Natalie C. Parker, Rena, and Ronni for listening and advising. Thank you to Sabina Khan. I can’t wait to meet for coffee and gupshup soon. Thank you to Rossi, who keeps things real and me humble. Thank you to Laura J. Rinaldi, who I only know through the internet, but whose support and kindness humbles me. Thank you also to Erin, whose enthusiasm and encouragement keep me writing.

  Every fortunate author has mentors, and I must mention mine, who have guided me in various ways ever since I started my author journey. Kate Elliott, thank you for cheering me on. You’ve loved The Wild Ones since its first inception. Thank you for encouraging me to keep on trying. Thank you to Rachel Hartman. Your kindness means the world to me. Thank you to E. K. Johnston, who reached out to me and who included me in the writing community. Thank you to Elsie Chapman for your friendship and your wisdom. Thank you also to my Api, Ausma Zehanat Khan, whose grace keeps me going.

  Thank you to all those librarians and teachers who champion POC writers. Thank you also, and most fervently, to all of you who read The Candle and the Flame and reached out to tell me why you loved it. I am not able to thank each one of you personally, but please know that ever
y single person’s words were felt and appreciated. You made me believe in myself, and I can’t tell you how much I needed that reassurance.

  Finally, thank you to all of the girls out there who are fighting the fight, and being wild every single day. Please remember, you are seen and you are loved. Thank you for being who you are.

  About the Author

  Nafiza Azad is a self-identified island girl. She has hurricanes in her blood and dreams of a time when she can exist solely on mangoes and pineapples. Born in Lautoka, Fiji, she currently resides in BC, Canada, where she reads too many books, watches too many Kdramas, and writes stories about girls taking over the world. Her debut YA fantasy was the Morris Award finalist The Candle the Flame. The Wild Ones is her second level.

  Visit us at simonandschuster.com/teen

  www.SimonandSchuster.com/Authors/Nafiza-Azad

  Margaret K. McElderry

  Simon & Schuster, New York

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  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Text © 2021 by Nafiza Azad

  Jacket illustration © 2021 by Alex Cabal

  Jacket design by Sonia Chaghatzbanian © 2021 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.

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  Interior design by Irene Metaxatos

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Azad, Nafiza, author.

  Title: The wild ones : a broken anthem for a girl nation / Nafiza Azad.

  Description: First edition. | New York : Margaret K. McElderry Books, [2021] | Audience: Ages 14 up. | Audience: Grades 10–12. | Summary: After Paheli escapes a terrible fate, a magical boy gives her access to the Between, allowing her to collect other women of color, hurt by men, and lead them when the boy is in peril.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2020048799 (print) | LCCN 2020048800 (ebook) | ISBN 9781534484962 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781534484986 (ebook)

  Subjects: CYAC: Interpersonal relations—Fiction. | Magic—Fiction. | Fantasy.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.1.A987 Wil 2021 (print) | LCC PZ7.1.A987 (ebook) | DDC [Fic]—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020048799

  LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020048800