“Well, those were extreme circumstances, you know that.”
“You can’t avoid me for two years and still think we have a relationship.”
“Micah, I wasn’t ever avoiding you, why would you say that?”
“You weren’t anything about me! We weren’t anything. I talked to my grandmother more than you.”
“Am I competing with your grandmother now?”
“Not like I was competing with Simon Snow.”
The Pomeranian barks.
“You know that Simon and I aren’t like that.”
He rolls his eyes. “I do. Actually. But I know that he matters to you—in a way I never have.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me you felt this way?”
“Ha,” Micah says. Like I’m being the worst kind of funny. “I tried. I’d have better luck talking to a tornado. You are a tornado.”
I’m so confused. “We don’t really have tornadoes in England.…”
“Well, you’re a gale-force wind, Penelope Bunce. You just do what you want as forcefully as possible, and nothing else matters. I’ve tried to talk to you about this so many times, but you just blow right past me.”
“That’s not fair!” I say. I’m losing my cool.
He isn’t. “It’s more than fair—it’s true. You. Don’t. Listen. To me.”
“I certainly do.”
“Really? I told you I was tired of being in a long-distance relationship—”
“And I agreed that it was tiring!” I say.
“I told you that I thought we’d grown apart—”
“And I said that was natural!” I half shout.
He’s still looking at me like nothing about me makes sense. “What does it even mean to you to be in a relationship, Penny?”
“It—it means that we love each other. And that we have this part of our lives figured out. That we know who we’re going to be with in the end.”
“No,” he says, sounding—for the first time in this conversation—more sad than fed up. “A relationship isn’t about the end. It’s about being together every step of the way.”
“Micah?” A girl steps into the living room. “I heard shouting, and your mom said it was fine, but—”
“It is fine,” he says softly. “I’ll be back down in a few minutes.”
The girl keeps looking at me. She has long dark hair and wide hips. She’s wearing a flowered sundress. “You’re Penelope,” she says.
“I am.”
“I’m Erin. It’s so nice to meet you.” She comes at me with her hand out, but I act like it’s taking all I’ve got to hold on to the dog.
“I just need a few minutes,” Micah says. “I can explain—”
“Good,” I say.
He looks back at me, like I’m still being unbelievably foolish. “I wasn’t talking to you, Penny. For God’s sake.”
“Micah, what is this? Are you breaking up with me?”
“No,” he says. “I already have, half a dozen times. And you just won’t hear it!”
“I’m certain you never said, ‘Penelope, I’m breaking up with you.’”
“I said it every other way! We went two months without talking, and you didn’t even notice!”
“I’m sure I was working on something very important!”
“I’m sure you were, too! Something much more important than me!”
At this point, I’m very tempted to say, “No, Micah, you’re wrong. This is a mistake, and I don’t accept it.”
And maybe I would if this Erin person weren’t standing right there. I think she’s a Normal, unless she’s got a wand up the back of her dress—nothing she’s wearing could hold magic. Cheap bangles and flip-flop sandals. If it weren’t for her, I’d announce, “I’m leaving now. Call me when you’re feeling reasonable.”
Instead I say, “My mother set eyes on my father in third year and knew immediately that they’d be married someday.”
“That’s not us,” he says. “That’s practically nobody.”
He’s right.…
…
… How mortifying.
I walk out of the house then, without saying good-bye to him or Erin or Mrs. Cordero. I’m halfway down the walk when Micah catches up with me.
“Penelope!”
“I don’t want to talk to you anymore!”
“No, you—you’ve got my mom’s dog.” He takes the Pomeranian from my arms, and it barks like it wants to come back to me. Micah jogs back into the house.
I’m crying, and I can’t believe I have to face Simon and Baz now. I can’t believe I have to explain this to them.…
The car is gone.
They’re not here.
13
SIMON
I’m driving, I’m actually driving. I mean, it’s a housing development called Havenbrook, not the autobahn, but I’m behind the wheel and operating multiple pedals, and if I think too hard about it, I push the brake instead of the clutch, and the car shakes and dies—but that’s only happened twice, and Baz is acting like I’m some sort of natural-born talent. “Perfect, Snow,” he keeps saying. And I wish he was saying, “Perfect, Simon,” but I’ll take “perfect.” He’s got his hand on my shoulder, and I feel like there’s nothing I’m doing in this moment to let him down.
“I think you’re ready for an actual street,” Baz says.
“I’m not ready for other cars.”
“The only way to be ready is to do it. There’s no practice traffic.”
We’re driving past the Havenbrook Estates entrance. I can see the main road. “Should I try it?”
“Yeah. Do it, Snow. Live dangerously.” Says the vampire teaching me how to drive.
“What about Penny?” I say. I’m stalling.
“I can’t imagine she’s missing us, but I suppose we could check.”
“Do you remember the address?”
We both look up. Every house in Havenbrook Estates looks like the same house, slightly rearranged, and painted one of five muted shades.
“I think it was light brown,” Baz says.
“This light brown,” I say, pointing at a house, “or that light-light brown?” I point at another.
“That’s not light brown, that’s a warm grey.”
“They’re all sort of a warm grey,” I say, “even that green one.”
“I don’t see a green one.”
“That one there.”
“Surely, that’s tan.”
* * *
We never would have found the house again if Penny weren’t sitting out on the kerb in front of it. She stands up when she sees us and climbs into the car before we’ve fully stopped or opened the door, falling flat into the back seat.
“Sorry, Bunce. Snow was driving in circles.”
“All the streets in this neighbourhood are circles!”