Blank Book By Hallie Smith

Prelude Wendy So I wrote a boy to life. No, there are no grammatical errors in that sentence. Believe me, I would know. Ive been writing since I could grasp a pencil. This all started in 1st grade. The teacher asked us to write about our best friend. All the students chose their best friend and drew a stick figure and wrote a sentence like, I like to pla ball wif Saruh. I wrote a whole page about a made up boy named Ethan Harp. Granted the pages were small, but still. My best frand is Ethan Harp. He and I like to swing on the playgrownd and read books underneaf the trees in the feeld. He has yellow hair and blew eyes and he is very nice to me and to everrywon else. He is my best frand. So I didnt have perfect spelling in 1st grade. At least I knew how to spell Sarah. And play. And with. I was one of the smartest kids in the class. But the teacher thought I was a bad student. Wendy. She said, apple earrings dangling off her ears. You know you were supposed to write about your best friend, right? Yes, Mrs. Withers. I did. We dont have an Ethan Harp in our grade. Does he go to another school? No, Mrs. Withers. I made him up. You mean you copied him out of a book. Made up and copy mean the same thing? NO. I made him up. I invented him. Then how could he be your best friend? And people think I ask a lot of questions, yeah right. No, Mrs. Withers. He is my best friend that I made up. Oh, like an imaginary friend? If I answer yes, will you go away and stop pestering me? I guess he is. Oh. Well, next time write about a real person, Wendy. Mrs. Withers, I can write about a real person now. Except, its still Ethan Harp. Only this time, Hes real. And hes slipping through my fingers.

Ive dreamed of you so much that youre losing your reality. Is it already too late for me to embrace your literal, living and breathing physical body and to kiss that mouth which is the birthplace of that voice which is so dear to me? Ive dreamed of you so much that my arms which have become accustomed to lying crossed upon my own chest after attempting to encircle your shadow might not be able to unfold again to embrace the contours of your literal form, perhaps So that coming face-to-face with the actual incarnation of what has haunted me and ruled me and dominated my life for so many days and years Might very well turn me into a shadow. Oh equilibriums of the emotional scales! Ive dreamed of you so much that it might be too late for me to ever wake up again. I sleep on my feet, body confronting all the usual phenomena of life and love and yet when it comes to you you, the only being on the planet who matters to me now I can no more touch your face and lips than I can those of the next random passerby. Ive dreamed of you so much, have walked and talked and slept so much with your phantom presence that perhaps the only thing left for me to do now Is to become a phantom among phantoms, a shadow a hundred times more shadowy than that shifting shape which moves and which will go on moving, stepping lightly and happily across the sundial of your life. Robert Desnos

One Wendy In 4th grade, I was at the library one day- the library was my favorite place to go, I could spend all day among the backbones of my leather friends- and I saw a book that was purple with a white binding. I loved purple. There wasnt a title written on the spine, so I pulled it out and opened to the front page to see what it was called. There wasnt anything there. In fact, flipping through the whole book, I saw it was blank. A blank book. I took it home and looked at it for 15 minutes, trying to decide what to do with it. Finally, I started to write. This is what I wrote. My name is Wednesday Owl and I am in the fourth grade. I live in San Francisco. It is cold here. My mom and I walk to Pier 39 to watch the sea lions every Sunday. I wear my red trench coat and black hat with the cat ears on top. Mom calls me a kitten. I think I am more of an owl. Like my last name. I am quiet and I like to write at night. I am a wise owl, Daddy says. I am a wise owl. I am Wednesday Owl. I was born on Sunday, November 27, 1994, but I am Wednesday Owl. Wendy for short. I have a best friend. His name is Ethan Harp. He is quiet like me. His last name is Harp but he likes to play the guitar. The book sits on my book shelf. I write one paragraph each new grade. 5th: San Francisco is a big hill made up of lots of little hills, Daddy says. He wears a gray suit and a blue tie to work. Mommy ties it for him. Some days he asks for a Windsor. Or a Half Windsor. Or a Four in Hand. And sometimes a Shell Knot. They all end up looking the same to me. Ethan doesnt wear ties. He wears a black sweater and blue jeans. He has a big bright smile. 6th: Dad ties his own ties a lot now. Sometimes he asks for Moms help, but he does his own ties a lot. He picks up his black rectangle and carries it out the door every morning, and he walks back in the door every night. I sit at the table and do homework. Sometimes Mommy and Dad have loud discussions about money and talking about feelings. Sometimes Dad goes and stays in a motel for the night when they get really mad at one another. I write letters to Ethan so hell stay up with me and listen to Momma in the other room, crying. I write letters to him when I cry, too. I tell him that I imagine him dancing around in my red trench coat and the black hat with the cat ears and it makes me feel better. 7th: Mom and I dont go see the sea lions anymore. Now I take the cable car home from school. There are always lots of people on it. A lot of them have rectangles with them. Suitcases are basically backpacks for grownups and purses for men mixed into one. I think if I told Ethan that, he would think it was funny. I dont have a lot of time to write about him now, but I always manage late late at night on Wednesdays. I miss writing about him everyday.

8th: Dad has his own house now. Its on a hill. The door is cut at an angle. Like a triangle. Triangles have 180 degrees. I am going into Geometry this year. I will learn all about triangles and rectangles and squares and how to calculate circumference. I dont like math as much as I like writing, though. I imagine that Ethan doesnt like math much either. I write about him the first Wednesday of every month. He doesnt meet me in my stories. I just write about how he likes to play the guitar and how he has eyes like the ocean. 9th: High school is lonely. I wish Ethan was real. I write about him all the time now, in here. I think I am in love with him, even though he is just a character. Ethan is the only bright spot in my life. I have no other friends. Everything is dull and muted. Just like my trench coat. It hangs in my closet, alone. There is no reason to wear bright colors when you are sad. I like being sad. Then you fade into the background and people leave you alone. I dont like people. There are too many. Loud, bumbling, babbling about nothing, bustling all around. They take my seats on the cable car, they push me to the railing, so I have to cling on to the cold metal with my black gloves and muted blue and purple pea coat and dark jeans. Jeans as dark as the ocean, like Ethans blue eyes. Alcatraz looks almost friendly from the top of the hill. Sometimes I walk down to Pier 41 to take the ferry to Vallejo, just for the sake of taking the ferry. Then I get back on and ride back and look at the sea lions, and remember my red trench coat and black cat hat and Sundays with Mom. I havent had a Sunday with Mom in forever. Now she spends her Sundays out with her girlfriends. At bars mostly, drinking margaritas and calling Dad bad names. Every other weekend I am with him. We are ghosts that float through the halls. I hover over my homework and he slouches on the couch, watching television. Everything is dull. Ethan haunts my thoughts, and I wish more and more that he would appear in the door of my room, and take my hand and pull me out into the San Francisco morning air, and take me to see the sea lions. I wish I could leave with him.

Two Wendy The entries got more and more depressing, but there was no way to erase them. I wrote them in ink. It was my life story, and life cant be erased- why should the story about it need to be altered? I started eleventh grade in August, and turned 16 in November. I didnt write in the blank book about school. But I wrote about Ethan. The trench coat in my closet is too small now. It has been for 5 years. Dad moved out in 8th grade, 3 years ago. Ethan is all I have now. I write about him to make him more real to me. He is still my best friend. He has sat with me through my dad moving out, and my mom leaving me at home on the weekends, and no more red trench coats or black hats with cat ears. He never came to life, but at least I had my paragraphs about him. I made my tenth grade entry all about Ethan. I havent gotten around to writing one for junior year yet. 10th: Ethan Harp had blue eyes and dirty blonde hair and loved San Francisco. He liked riding on the ferry and standing on the top deck, stomach pressed against the railing and arms flung out to the blue and purple bruised sky, singing I left my heart in San Francisco to the sunset. Other passengers look at him funny, but he doesnt care. He knows they all leave their hearts on the dock too. Ethan liked sitting in his brothers apartment and playing his guitar with the window open. People would walk down the sloping sidewalk and pass the window and hear his melody and love it so much that they would stop and listen, not worrying about being late to work or anywhere. Then the song would end and they would be on their way. Ethans brother was named Jonathan, but went by Nate. Nate was 25, married to a girl named Hannah. Ethan lived upstairs, and had a stand up shower and a radiator by the window that hissed like a snake and spat out steam like a chain smoker. I wrote about Ethan because Ethan was my only friend. People looked past me at the school. I was invisible, and I liked it. Ethan was the only person I needed. I wrote my love into him. His veins were made of my words; his heart pumped my love through his body. I was in love with my character, and it blinded me from everyone else. I didnt care. He was someone to talk to. I wrote him to be someone everyone liked, and someone who liked everybody. I wrote him to be easygoing but shy, thoughtful but not corny. I wrote him to be perfect in my eyes. I wrote him, but thats all he was. Words. And then, I met him at the library.

Three Ethan You ever have that feeling where you swear you know someone or something, but you just cant place it in your mind? Thats how I felt, staring across the library. A girl had just come in; wearing a blue and purple pea coat, but it looked like all the vibrancy had been drained out of her. Everything was soft about her- pale looking skin, dark brown hair with no highlights or fanciness, just a ponytail and some bangs, dull colors in her coat and jeans- she was a library type. She had introvert written all over her. So why was she so familiar looking? She lifted her head into the sky a little, her chin gracefully raised, eyes searching, and mustve spotted the aisle she wanted, because she stepped silently towards the poetry section. Ah. Poetry. Nailed her. Total introvert. But I stalked behind her, pretending to browse the titles- Cure your Fatness in 10 days, The Cookbook for Vegan Fatties, How to lose 40 pounds in 4 weeks- why was I on the fat aisle?- but really I was watching her, the elegant slant of her neck as she tipped her head sideways to read the titles. She crouched then, to look at another book, and I turned to move away, but ran right into an overweight redhead woman in her 50s. Oh, sorry. Pardon me. I muttered, maneuvering out of the way of the two things hanging from her chest that she was passing as breasts. I shuddered and came around the corner, finding the girl sitting on the ground against the shelf, book open in her lap. Her gloves were folded next to her. She looked up at me, but I nodded to her and turned to the book spines myself. What the heck was I doing? I didnt know this girl. But at the back of my mind, alarm bells were clanging, the voice in my head shouting, You know this girl! Someone on the other aisle was rattling off their schedule to someone. Yes, today I have to run to the grocery store, tomorrow I have to go to the Davis and feed their cat, and then Wednesday- They floated out of earshot, but the day had jogged my memory, and now I was sprinting into the past. Wednesday. Wednesday Owl. The girl that floated among my dreams, always out of reach. I didnt know how I knew her name, but I knew where I had seen her- in my head. I had never seen her anywhere but there, in my head. When I played my guitar, I always imagined her sitting there right with me, eyes closed, hands tapping to the beat. She never spoke, and never stayed long. As I grew, she grew. I looked for her at school, at the park, everywhere, but I couldnt find her. I wrote songs about her, for her, of her. Every word that came through my lips and every note that rang through my guitar felt like it rang of her. I had only seen her in my dreams. But it was her. Wednesday Owl was sitting on the ground, right there, within my reach. Finally. I turned to her, but she was gone. I panicked, looking around frantically for her. There! At the checkout. She slid her library card across the surface, and I walked swiftly towards her, ignoring the annoyed grunts made by the people sitting down as I dodged around their chairs. I caught her going out the door. Hey! I said. She turned.

Those eyes. It was her, had to be. I wouldnt forget those deep woody brown eyes. Uhm, hello. She said, confused. Something flickered across her face, and I could see in the back of her mind that she was trying to remember as well. Did she dream about me too? Yeah. Uh. Sorry. I think I know you from somewhere. Whats your name? She hesitated a second, weighing her options. Wendy. Wendy. A nickname for Wednesday? Or just Wendy? Is that short for something? I asked. She shifted, sandwiching the book between her arm and her chest as she dug in her bag. Short for Wednesday. My whole body froze up. This was her. This was Wednesday Owl. In the flesh. More real than she had ever been. Hey! A man exclaimed, bumping into her. We were stopped outside the door. Oh, pardon me sir. My apologies. I was caught up talking to this young man. Sorry, sorry. She bowed her head, her voice sincere, frozen with her wallet in her hand. The mans expression softened. Its alright. Just be careful standing in front of that door. People usually have their nose in a book. He smiled and continued down the steps, and Wendy sidestepped out of the path of the door. Across the street, a street performer tuned his guitar, and Wendys whole face lit up like a light bulb. I think I do know you from somewhere! She said. Whats your name, again? She asked. Ethan. I said. Ethan Harp. I saw the faint spark of wonder on her face before she looked down. Ethan, she said, stowing her book in her bag, are you on your way home? Yeah. I said, shoving my hands into my pockets. I have to take the cable car, though. Im a little ways from here. I am as well. She said, looking both ways before we crossed the street, jaywalking. Maybe we can learn a little more about one another. Id like that, Wendy? I paused, knowing she would think I was insane if I said her last name without having her tell me it. Owl. Wednesday Owl, Wendy for short. 16, junior. You? She raised her eyebrows at me as we got in line for the cable car. Ethan Harp, like I told you before. I dont have a nickname. 17, junior. It suddenly struck me that people should be looking at me funny, because I was talking to someone who didnt exist. Who shouldnt exist. Who was only in my dreams. Unless she was real? Had I dreamt about a girl who evaded me my whole life, and now I had found her? No one was looking in my direction. In fact, people were looking at Wendy as she pushed her way through to the back of the cable car, clasping the metal bar for dear life. Come on, Ethan. I dont bite. Come stand by me. She said, and it was like her words brought me to life, and a verse about her floated into my head. Your voice is my heartbeat, your words are my veins, you and I walk the streets, you at the reins. I pushed through the people and came to stand next to her. And me and my dream girl rode the hills through San Francisco.

Four Wendy This was unreal. There was no way this was the Ethan Harp, the one I had written about forever. But it was. It was him. Exactly as I imagined him. His ocean eyes, his blond hair around his face. His biceps straining slightly against his red hoodie, curved calves concealed in his jeans. I couldnt stop staring at him. This was him, flesh and blood, right there. Not a figment of my imagination anymore. Where did you think you knew me from? I said as we came to the first stop and people jostled past us. His ears turned red. Well, uh. This is going to sound really embarrassing, and I wouldnt even tell you, except for that youre you. But, uh, I uh He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the ground. I saw you in my dreams. So he knew that I was someone to him, but he didnt know how. When I didnt say anything, he looked up. Are you severely creeped out? He asked, ashamed. No. I admitted, flexing my fingers around the metal bar as the cable car started up again. Its kinda flattering. Im the girl of your dreams. I sang the last word, teasing. He gently punched my shoulder. Hey now, no need to tease the psycho. No, no. I said, laughing. You arent a psycho. But would-? I paused and bit my lip, unsure. Yes? His eyes were patient. Would you trust me if I said I wanted to show you something? He looked at me for a long moment, the ocean in his eyes ebbing and flowing. Finally he smiled slightly and said, Just tell me where to follow. We didnt speak much as we traveled through the hills, but we made petty conversation, like, Do you like the cold? And Whats your favorite color? And Do you have any pets? He loved the cold. His favorite color was red. He didnt have any pets. I liked the cold but not the wind. My favorite color was purple. No pets for me. 2 stops from where we had to get off and walk to my house, he asked, Where do you think you know me from? I pursed my lips. This isnt going to make any sense to you right now, but this is my answer: thats what Im showing you. His eyebrows inched towards one another, but he didnt say anything for a moment. The cable car pulled to a stop and more people shuffled off. One stop to go. He leaned over, his shoulder touching my shoulder, and whispered, Where are we going? Youre not kidnapping me or anything, are you? His skin was warm through his sweatshirt, and it sparked life into me. I wanted to tell him that I wanted him to take me. Take me to see the sea lions. Take me on the ferry. Take me somewhere, away from here. But instead, I stood up straight and leaned away from him, and said, No, Im not kidnapping you. Im taking you to my house though, if

that kinda creeps you out. You wont have to meet my mom or dad. Im not at my dads this weekend, and Mom should be out. Out getting drunk. He mustve seen the slight grimace on my face, because his eyes grew sad all of the sudden. The cable car rolled to our stop. This is us. I said, taking his hand and pulling him down the steps. It was so easy to slip my hand into his, like we had known one another forever. In a way we had. On the sidewalk, I gently pulled my hand from his and stuck it into my pocket before daring to look at him. He had a look of awe on his face, like I had just grown a second head in front of his eyes. This way. I muttered, my eyes turning to the gray, unforgiving sidewalk, smothered in gum and litter. For 20 steps- I counted- there was only the sound of San Francisco around us, our feet on the pavement, and our hurried breath as we walked up the hill. Then he asked, Do you play any instruments? Nope. I dont play music. I write. I guess you could say I play the pencil. I looked over at him and saw him smiling at me. What? Why are you smiling? Whats that look? Its not a look. He said, chuckling. Its just, dont take this the wrong way, but I didnt peg you as a musician. I smiled at the ground. Oh really, what gave you that impression? You really want to know? He asked, so I looked at him again, so I could see the wanting smile on his lips. Yes. I said, pausing at the corner as a car passed by, then started across the street. He didnt talk until we were to the other side. I found you in the library, in the poetry section. You wear muted colors and you talk quietly. You are an introvert. My guess is that in your room, everything has a place. You are taking difficult classes and getting good grades in all of them. You are very independent. You are an underdog. The word underdog rang of some emotion that I couldnt place by hearing, so I looked up at him to see if I could place it with his expression. His eyes seemed to stare through me and my quiet shell. I felt like I was in some big clich movie. Well. Youve pretty much got me there. Shall I analyze you now? I smiled, to try to lighten the mood by taunting him. Fine. He said, placing a hand on my shoulder to stop me as the green man disappeared and a red hand popped up, sending an electric shock down my spine for a moment before he removed his hand. Well, you asked me if I played any instruments, which makes me to jump to the conclusion that you do. Im guessing guitar, because your left fingers have calluses. You have muscled calves, so you probably play a little soccer or basketball in your free time. My guess that your room has a small desk with books underneath it, most of them being textbooks from school, but some of them are poetry or plays or something gentle that you would be embarrassed to show your buddies. I raised my eyebrows at him, daring him to object. He made an irritated face as we crossed the crosswalk, but I led us up the last hill to my Moms house. Fine. He said when we at the door. You can read me pretty well. This you? I can read you because I wrote you. This is me. I said, and unlocked the door.

Five Ethan Everything she did echoed in my mind like she was shouting it into an empty house. And in a way, she was. The rooms held an air of desertion, and loneliness. On the kitchen counter was a bottle of wine. After flicking on the light, Wendy sighed and capped the wine bottle, stowing it above the stove, where several other bottles stood at attention. I almost joked, You know Wendy, they have groups for people with drinking problems, I can help you sign up for one. I can help you. But her eyes were so helpless that I knew that it wasnt a joking matter. As she led the way to her room, I realized that the wine was her moms. When Wendy had grimaced when she said her mom was out, she had meant that her mom was out drinking. I wanted to pull Wendy into my chest and tell her that everything would be okay, that I could help her get through this. But then I remembered my own words. You are very independent. If Wendy wanted help, she would get it herself. She wasnt doing anything about it because she was trying to avoid the sad subject of her mother. I wondered what her father was like. She flipped up the light in her room, and paused inside the door, looking at the haven she had created for herself. A single strand of Christmas lights hung above her desk, which had an open journal on it, and a pencil lay next to it, frozen in time. On her dresser were stacks of books, and I could tell by the coloring in each that they were series grouped together. There was a teddy bear on her bed, and a stuffed owl on a shelf, but other than that, it was an adults room. No clothes were tossed on the ground, and the closet door was snugly shut, nothing spilling out. Everything had its place. I was right about her. Its not much. She said, shrugging out of her pea coat and hanging it in the closet, But its mine. Its cozy. I said, unzipping my jacket, but leaving it on. What did you want to show me? She had her back turned to me, but I saw her stiffen. She turned around slowly. Well I dont know if I should now. What do you mean; you dont know if you should now? You have to tell me how you know me. Thats not fair, Wendy. I felt my cheeks flush slightly with irritation. She seemed to melt at her name, because a shiver ran down her spine and she raised a hand to her face, fingers at her cheek. Well. I just dont know, Ethan. Im afraid Ill lose you if I show you. Like youll be mad at me. She said this very quietly, her voice barely breaking the air. This time it was I who melted. Oh, Wendy. Please? She turned her sad brown eyes at me for a moment, and then turned to the door. Ill think about it. Right now Im hungry. You want a snack? Crackers or something? Maybe a glass of water? I asked, suddenly feeling awkward, like I should come too.

She noticed my uneasiness and pointed to her desk chair. Sit. Ill be right back. And with that she disappeared through the doorway, blue jeans and a gray sweater turning down the hall and out of sight. I stood for a moment in her empty room before taking two steps to the chair and sitting down slowly, afraid of breaking things. Everything seemed so fragile, like her. Another verse slipped into my mind: You are so easily broken, but hold me in the palm of your hand, and all the words you have spoken, link and wrap me in strands. I spun back in forth in the chair, waiting. I picked up the pencil and examined it. The yellow paint had been scratched off at the top, revealing the tan wood underneath. I smiled and put it down on the desk, and my eye caught sight of my name. I did a double take, because why would my name be on the desk? Unless she knew someone else named Ethan, which was possible. But still, I leaned forward, trying to find where my peripheral vision had sparked. There, in her journal. I didnt want to read it, because what if it was her diary? That would make me a creepy stalker. But my name I leaned closer, struggling to make out the handwriting. It was childish, that of a 9 or 10 year old. November 27, 2003 My name is Wednesday Owl and today I am 9 years old in the fourth grade. Ethan is 9, too. But he turns 10 on January 10. Ethan is my best friend. I made him up when I was in first grade. He has sandy dirty blonde hair and ocean eyes. He plays the guitar. I think he wrote a song for me one time. It was called Owl, and it was the tune of Twinkle Twinkle, and it went like this: Owl, owl, in the sky, You have starry twinkle eyes. You hoot in the dark blue night, Before you fly out of sight. Owl, owl, in the sky, Please fly back here and be mine. I love Ethan. I made him up, but I love him. He is my only friend. I wish that one day he would come toWhat are you doing? Wendy interrupted my reading, standing frozen in the door, holding a plate of Wheat Thins in one hand and a glass of water in the other. What is this? I picked up the journal and held it up for her to see. I asked you a question first. She said, angrily putting the water and plate down on her beside table. The water splashed up and made a spot on the gray carpet. Im reading this journal. What is this? I held it out at her for a moment, but when she said nothing, I threw it back on her desk and took a step toward her. Dont you dare touch me, Ethan Harp. I know every one of your weaknesses and Im not afraid to use my knowledge. Her eyes were on fire, burning me. If looks could kill, I wouldve been buried on the spot. How do you know my weaknesses? And what the hell is that? Did you write that? I pointed at the desk. Dont cuss at me, boy. She said, suddenly superior. She looked up at me. Yes, I wrote that. It is a book I found at the library one day that was blank, so I decided to write in it and put it back in the library one day.

You didnt answer how you know my weaknesses. I hissed through my teeth, fists clenched at my sides so tight my fingernails were biting my palms. She took a step back. Thats why I didnt want to show you. I knew you would get mad. She spoke quietly, staring at the ground, everything about her vulnerable and surrendering. I felt my fists unclench. What do you mean? Is that how you know me? Im confused. She looked up at me, eyes brimming. I know you because I wrote you. I wrote you to life when I was in first grade. I wrote about you all the time, making you seem almost more real than I was, because I would always feel like the more I wrote about you, the more you were in the world and the less I was. I would disappear into the pages, and you would step out, my words as stepping stones into the real world. And here you are, her voice caught, and she swallowed, gesturing to me, Here you are. You have walked right out of my mind and into the world. I was silent for a moment. I dont believe you. I didnt think you would. You were written to not trust right off the bat. But if you dont believe my spoken words, you can believe my written ones. She walked to the desk and turned to the first page of the journal, scribbling something. This is my number. Call me when you finish, if you want. If you dont, at least return this book. Its very important to me. You can leave it in the flowerbox. She snapped it shut and held it out to me. Please believe me. I cant bear the thought that I wrote you to life, only to have you walk out of mine. I took the book, looked at her for a long moment, and then turned to go. As I shut the front door behind me, I heard her singing softly. Owl, Owl in the sky, Please fly back here and be mine.

Six Wendy After I sent Ethan off with my journal, I felt like a patient in a doctors office, waiting for something to happen, anything. A call, a knock on the door. Something. I lounged on the couch, watching the window upside down, the sun going up towards the ground. I wandered the kitchen like a lost animal, not sure if I wanted anything to eat or if I was just bored. Finally I decided I was hungry, and made macaroni and cheese, and turned on an alternative rock station while I cooked. I heard the phone ring, and hit the off button on the radio, my heart suddenly pounding louder than the music. I answered breathless. Hello? Wendy? I finished reading. Ill bring it back over soon. Even though I had met Ethan in real life only today, his voice was so familiar, it was like I had known him my whole life. In a way, I guess I had. Oh. Okay. You can bring it over right now Im- oh, hang on, the doorbell just rang. Mom probably ordered something out of a magazine again. Some fancy alcohol from New Zealand or something I turned the handle with one hand and opened the door. Ethan was standing there. He held out the book. I believe you. He said, the ocean in his eyes standing still. I hung up the phone and stood there, speechless for a moment. Can I come in? He asked, taking a step forward, his chin at my nose level. I turned to let him pass, and then stopped for a moment to look at the fog drift over the setting sun. Mm, mac and cheese. I heard him say, and I closed the door.

Seven Ethan She reminded me of a scared deer or something, so hesitant and cautious as she floated about the kitchen, fetching two bowls because I was eating, too. Finally, she gently placed herself in the chair across from me and pushed a bowl towards me. She gave me an odd look and turned her attention to her dinner. For a few minutes, the only sounds were the hum of the heater, the dull sounds of San Francisco traffic, and the clink of silverware. So, uh, what does your dad do? I asked after swallowing my last bite and taking a sip of water. The water made me think of the way I stormed out earlier, so I pushed that to the side. He works in an office. Advertising. My mom is a gymnastic instructor for little kids, Tuesdays and Thursdays from 9-12. She stopped for a second, looking at her bowl like it contained the meaning of life. No one knows except me and her bar friends, but they wont do anything to help her, and what can I do? She doesnt listen to me when shes here, which is never, because shes always hanging out there, and when she is here, shes drunk. Somehow she manages to sober up for those three hours twice a week, but other than that She looked up at me. I dont know what to do. I would go live with my dad, but that would make her worse, probably, because his moving out is when she started drinking. Also, I love my dad and all, but hes never home either. He has a girlfriend, and I dont want to be in the same house as her, ever. I dont know what to do. Her voice and face were so childish on her last sentence, my voice caught for a moment. Come live with me I wanted to say, but instead I was an idiot and mumbled, Itll be okay. She hiccupped over a laugh. Sure it will. Ive been telling myself that for 2 years, but hey, maybe I just need to wait a little while longer. Maybe by the time I go to college, she will have straightened herself out. At least she keeps her job and brings in that income. It helps. I have to mooch wi-fi off the neighbors, and I have to be conservative with the electricity and the water, and I dont have a cell phone, but its enough. Looking across at her, her hair falling out of her ponytail, her eyes dark in the shadow from the lamp, another verse strummed through my brain. You play the cards you are dealt, I wish I could help you, You have more pain than I have ever felt, I cant stand to see you blue. I looked at her for a moment, then stood and went to the sink, washing my bowl out. I heard her behind me, and she laid a small hand on my arm. Ethan. It wasnt a question; it was the beginning of a sentence. You read the book, didnt you? What do you think? Her voice was strong. I-I think that-that maybe I- maybe Im- I couldnt get the words out of my mouth. That youre what? She put her hands on my forearms and pulled me to face her, soap dripping off my fingers and splashing to the ground, bubbles at our feet. That I am defined by what you wrote. You wrote me out of the book, or somehow know everything about my past without ever meeting me. I dont know how to explain it. I am yours. I looked down at her, watching her pull my left hand into hers, tracing the calluses on my fingertips. She saw me watching her and smiled.

What? Why are you smiling? I smiled, too, catching the infectious happiness she was glowing with. Remembering a quote by some poet. She said, rushed. Then, So, how do you feel about that? That youre mine. I didnt answer her until she looked up at me, and even then I didnt answer. I leaned forward and kissed her, slow and steady. Our lips matched perfectly, like they were long lost twins. She didnt throw herself at me, just took a step forward so her chest was pressed against mine. The only sound I could hear was her heartbeat, marking the passing seconds. She pulled away after a few seconds, her lips pressed together, trying to keep a smile at bay, or my kiss inside of her, I dont know which. Wendy wrapped her fingers in mine for a second, then twirled away to get her bowl to wash. I leaned back against the counter and watched her work, her fingers nimble as she rinsed and dried the dishes. She turned around, her hands behind her back, pressed against the counter opposite me. She gave a little laugh after a few moments, and pushed off the counter. What? I said, smiling and trailing after her. Wendy hopped up onto the couch and walked to the opposite side, sitting on the armrest. Its just funny. What is? I said, sitting down on the couch the proper way, sinking into the cushions. She shook her head, but I asked her again, so she hopped forward and sat down, pressing her hip against mine, knee cap next to knee cap. A shiver rolled down my spine. Its funny that the boy I wrote about and fell in love with and wrote into existence is here in my house. Is here on my couch, sitting next to me. Was just in my kitchen kissing me. Its not funny, really. Thats the wrong word. Its- She threw her head back, eyes on the ceiling. Its exhilarating. Amazing. Fantastic. Help me out here, hun, I need more adjectives. Hey, youre the one thats the author. You know way more words than I do. You think I could ever write a story like that? She started to laugh, but stopped, a frown on her face. I wonder if I hadnt written about you, if you wouldnt be here? Or were you already born, and my writing just defined you, like you said? Or were you just living by yourself and what you did somehow made its way to me and I wrote it down? I think you are over thinking this. I think it doesnt matter. It doesnt matter to me, and it shouldnt matter to you. I poked her stomach and she sat up from reflex. Alright, fine. She stood up and put her hands on her hips. Its 8:15. You should be getting home to Jonathan. I stood, eyebrows mashed into one another, until she sighed and rolled her eyes. I wrote you to life, of course I know who you live with. Stop looking at me like Im a creepy stalker. I strode to her front door, my hand resting on the doorknob like it belonged there, like I had done this a thousand times and would do it a million times more. Well. I guess Ill see you tomorrow? Yeah, after school gets out. I come straight home on Tuesdays. Mondays are library days. Wednesdays I come home and finish my homework fast, then get in my pjs

and spend the rest of the day in bed, reading. Its my me day. She was absorbed in her monologue and I was absorbed in the movement of her lips when she spoke. Alright. So. Ill see you tomorrow then. I moved forward to shake her hand or hug her or something, but she put a hand against my chest, stopping me. I dont like hugs. Handshakes are too formal. She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek. Goodnight, hun. She said, and opened the door. I walked out into the crisp night air and looked back at her silhouette in the doorway before zipping my jacket tight and walking down the hill towards my house, walking away from the girl I had known my whole life and a day, and already I loved her. Forever weve been together Never have we been apart Only now do we meet each other But Ive known you from the start.

Eight Wendy Around 11 my mom rolled in, a giant steamroller crashing through fields of daisies, destroying things and leaving a mess. I heard her clatter in through the front door; her house keys jangling like that of a prison warden. I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and finding pictures in the textured paint. I heard her stumble to her cabinet and open it, the bell jingling that I had fastened to the door so I would know when she was getting in it. I got out of bed and walked quickly to the kitchen. Her arm was extended, frozen, stupefied by the bell, like she always was when she had been out drinking. Mom. I said, firm. She turned around, her eyes struggling to focus. Go to bed. You have work tomorrow. She stared blankly at me for a moment, trying to process the words. Then she shut the cabinet and stumbled towards her room. I trailed behind her, making sure she got there. She collapsed on the bed and was out. I set her alarm for 7:00 and turned the volume up as loud as it would go. My clock was already set for 6:45, but I didnt need to get on the cable car until 7:25. I could make sure she was awake and getting dressed before I left for school. I pulled off my moms shoes and undid her ponytail, and set a glass of water and a bottle of Aspirin on her bed stand, then clicked off the light and padded back to my room, fighting back the tears. I went to the journal to write about Ethan, to calm myself down, but I stopped, my pencil tip on the page. I had met him now. What if my writing turned into wanting, changing? What if the things I wrote made him someone else? So instead of writing about how I imagined him, I wrote him how he was. January 10, 2011 Today I met Ethan Harp at the library. He is exactly as I wrote him, hair, eyes, fingers. He has a voice that I could pick out anywhere. I found him reading this book, and he got mad, but I told him to take it and read it. He came back and told me he believed that I had written him to life. We had mac and cheese and he kissed me in the kitchen. For a few hours, I was happier than I have been in a long time. I wrote Ethan into existence, but he brings me to life. I was up before my alarm, tugging on a shirt before it even went off. I switched it to the radio, turning it down so I could hear both the music and my mom, if she was up. I pulled on jeans and swooped my hair up into a ponytail, then hit the off button on my way out the door. Poking my head inside the door of my mothers room, I saw that she had at least turned over during the night, her stomach to the ceiling and her head lolling to the wall. I decided to let her sleep while I ate. Breakfast seemed lonelier than usual. Ethans presence last night was still imprinted on my memory, and I kept seeing him out of the corner of my eye, leaning against the counter as I made toast and downed a glass of milk.

I heard my moms alarm go off while I was washing off my plate, and was still for a second, to see if she would turn it off. I heard her rolling on her bed, then mumbling, then her hand groping the alarm clock for a snooze button. I quickly scrubbed and rinsed the plate and glass, setting them in the strainer, drying my hands on the hand-towel and striding towards Moms room. I threw the towel on the counter before stepping into her room. She was lying in bed, facedown, holding her head between two palms. Mom. I called softly. I know youre hung-over. But you need to get up. This is what you get for drinking the night before work. Take some Aspirin, it might help. I think we have Tylenol, too, if you want that as well. She grumbled and a hand snaked out to the bed stand. I strode to the other side of the bed and popped the top off of the bottle, placing them in Moms hand. I helped her sit up and handed her the glass of water. I spent the next 10 minutes starting my moms shower and placing her clothes on the closed toilet seat. I did a quick run through to make sure I had everything for school, and then made sure my mom got out of the shower and started getting dressed. When I walked in she was blow-drying her hair. I gave her a thumbs up and raised my eyebrows, a question: You good? She gave a small smile and a nod, so I left the doorway and came to the front door, pulled my coat tighter and my gloves on, and disappeared into the San Francisco morning fog. Everything echoed of Ethan. The cable car ride, walking down the street. Things that had seemed ordinary before Ethan did them with me now were painfully lonely. At my stop, I got off and started walking towards school. I saw people I recognized, but I doubted they knew my name. I was pretty invisible. The day passed slowly, and in 6th period English, we were given an in-class essay about a novel we were reading. I finished it easily, then pulled out a blank sheet of notebook paper and stared at it for a few minutes, listening to the scratching of pencils on the paper, a harmony of written words unspoken. Finally I pressed the lead to the flat, dead tree and wrote. Ethan, Last night when we were standing in the kitchen, I forgot to tell you that your lips tasted like macaroni and cheese and that I loved it. And then when you left and I watched you turn into a shadow in the city lights, I fell in love with you all over again. The real you, not the you made out of words and notebooks. That you could be blown over like a pyramid of playing cards, but yet it was that you that kept my feet on the ground and my mind working. I wouldve been lost without that you, and now that I have the real you, I feel spoiled. You put the light in my eyes, and I could swim forever in yours, an ocean forever ebbing andThe bell rang, and I crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it into my backpack. Walking out the door, I looked down at my hands, halves of words imprinted with lead onto my palms, words of love thought quickly and written down in a rush, their bones shattered in a flexing of a hand, destroyed with the casual movement of fingers. I practically ran for the cable car, my backpack bouncing against my back, thudding out my heartbeat like a bass drum.

I gripped the metal bar as we chugged up the hill, and I waited impatiently as we sluggishly made each stop. Come on. I thought. The cable car had never seemed this slow. But now the time moved as slow as the trolley, crawling up the hill. Finally, after what felt like eternity, it was my stop. I jumped off and slithered quickly amongst the people, winding my way to the front of the line at the stoplight. Ethans hand on my shoulder, stopping me, flashed through my brain, and I tapped my foot with impatience. As I was crossing, it occurred to me that he probably wouldnt be there, because he had to get home from school and walk to my house. But as I rounded the corner onto my street, Ethan was standing outside my door, hands in his pockets, looking around like he was supposed to be there. And I guess that he did, and always had.

Nine Ethan Her whole face brightened when she saw me, like a light had been flicked on under her skin. You are the candle, the light of my day, but I cannot get a handle, when you are away. Ethan! she exclaimed, unlocking the door and pushing it open. She dropped her backpack on the couch. I figured she probably had hours to herself to get it done. Wendy! I exclaimed back, mocking her. She shot me a look, but there was a smile on her face. I dropped my backpack next to hers. It looked like it belonged there, a little too much. How are you here before me? She asked, in her room, calling to me. When she came back out, her jacket was gone and she wore thick argyle socks. I think I get out earlier than you do, and I came straight to your house. Nice socks. I said as she walked past me to relock the door. The deadbolt thundered in the lock. Suddenly her house seemed very empty, and we seemed very alone. Not only alone. Unsupervised. I, uh, need to call my brother and tell him Im at a friends house. Doing homework. I backed towards the counter, and stopped when my back ran into it. I turned and got the phone, dialing his number. Wendy made a pouty face and mumbled, Homework. Ick. I thought you liked school? I asked. Brrring. Brrring. Eh. I do. But today the day seemed so loooong. Oh really? I wonder why? Hello, youve reached Jonathan, Hannah and Ethan. Leave a message after the beep. I think because I missed you. Her sentence caught me off guard, and I didnt hear the beep. Oh, Nate? Yeah, hey, its Ethan. I hope you arent worried when Im not there when you get home at 5, Im over at a friends house. Theyre helping me with my homework, because I dont understand some of it. So, yeah. If you have to contact me, here is the number. I read the number off to Nate as Wendy held up her fingers, miming them to me. I set the phone back in the cradle and turned to her. She flopped down on the couch, out of sight. What are you, five? I asked, coming around to sit by her. You know those kids that have cell phones? And they sag their pants? And they have heavy backpacks? She asked, staring at the ceiling, uncapping and recapping a pen. Yeah, what about them? I pulled my backpack to me and started to take out my novel for English. Theyre gonna look like dinosaurs when theyre older. I stopped mid-action, hand gripped around the front and back cover of the book. What? I asked towards my backpack, then looked over at her. She was still staring at the ceiling, but stood up to explain to me. Yeah. They have their hands in front of them all the time, fingers all bent overshe mimed this for me- legs all spread out to keep their pants on their hips she stood bowlegged- and bend over from the backpack weight. She bent over and lifted her head to look at me. Look at this, look when I walk, I look like a dinosaur. She wiggled her

fingers and limped across the ground. She did look like a dinosaur. I started laughing until I was couldnt catch my breath. Wendy sat against the couch, staring at me. What? I sighed, zipping my backpack back up and settling into the couch. Nothing. I just like your laugh. What book is that? She turned to her math homework and solved a problem before looking back over at me. The Phantom Tollbooth. I answered, opening it to the page I was on. Get out. No it isnt. She turned away from the math to look at me. Uh, yeah, it is. I held it up for her to see. She rolled her eyes. And youre a sophomore? Thats your assigned reading? No. I said. Well, it is. But we have to identify the puns and how they are used in real life as opposed to in the book, and what they mean when not taken literally. She picked up the math and solved a few problems while I read a few pages. She broke the silence suddenly, and said, Have you read it before? Yeah, when I was like 9. It was my favorite book. Even more than Alice in Wonderland. I loved the idea that I could just go live in Dictionopolis and only eat words all day. But my favorite part was when Milo met that kid in the sky, and the kid told him about the people born upside down, with their heads on the ground. I looked over at her, trying to remember. She was staring at her worksheet. Their feet grew towards the sky, so that way they walked among the stars. I looked at her until she looked over at me, then I carefully bookmarked my page and set it on the couch, then sat down slowly next to her until our shoulders were touching. I took the binder, pencil and worksheet off her lap, and set them on the floor next to me, then spun around fast and kissed her. She leaned into me, getting up onto her knees for a second to get a better angle, then pulled away and sat with her back to me. Was I not supposed to do that? I asked, quiet. She didnt answer. Wendy? Why did you kiss me? She asked, curious. She didnt turn to look at me. Was it because of what I wrote? About loving you? I-. No. I kissed you because youre, well, you. She turned to look at me. What does that mean? She sounded annoyed. Youre you. I kissed you because I like that little laugh you gave after I kissed you the first time. I like the innocent way you hold yourself that makes you more beautiful than all the girls trying to be all seductive. I kissed you because I like the way youre all in your own world, and because we ate mac and cheese together, and that when we were walking to your house, you slipped your hand into mine and it felt like the most normal thing in the world, and I would love to have that, everyday, for eternity. Your hand in mine, walking through the streets of San Francisco. She gave a small smile. Alright, start reading that book out loud. You look like the type of guy that gets Bs on book reports, but youre getting an A on this one. Im the Queen of Words. Does that make me the ad-joke-er-tive? I was taken by surprise when Wendy put her nose against mine, and whispered, Absolutely yes, and kissed my cheek. I opened the book and started reading aloud, and Wendy wedged herself into my side. It was one of the best books I ever read.

Ten Wendy Ethan became a recurring figure in my life, like a record that was broken, but it was my favorite lyric, so I didnt mind. What before had been: School Home Alone Drunk Mom Was now: School Home Time with Ethan Drunk Mom But that one little change made all the difference. Being alone, I was sad and quiet and had no friends, no life. With Ethan, I was everything. There was no need for me to write about him, because I had him, and I was happy. The journal sat untouched on my bookshelf, but that was fine. On our second weekend of knowing one another, he told me he was taking me on a real date, and that I was to meet him at the nearest cable car stop, no questions asked. So Saturday morning at 8AM, I walked to the trolley stop and let Ethan tie a blindfold on me and sit me down in a seat so I wouldnt fall on my face. Ethan? I said. No questions, I said. He poked my knee. Its not about what were doing. But, I, I wrote you to have a ton of friends and be like, not Mr. Popular, but someone everyone liked. I- could I meet some of them? I reached for him, my hand floating in midair, lost. He trapped my hand in his and brought it back to my knee. Of course. I didnt know that you wanted to. Tomorrow, then? Tomorrow. I agreed, and cautiously leaned my head to the side, looking for his shoulder with my temple. I found it, and we rode for a little while in silence. This is us. He said, and I heard him get to his feet. I strained my ears to hear traffic, I flared my nostrils to smell the sea, or popcorn, or anything that might give me a clue as to where I was. And then I knew. I heard the familiar clapping sound of leathery skin and the honking of the brown sea lion before Ethan pulled off the blindfold and exposed to me the lumpy looking football-like animals lounging on the docks. I rushed for the railing. Ethan- I. I had no words to complete the sentence. He wrapped his arms around my waist and put his chin on my shoulder. I know. You dont have to speak. So we stood for a few minutes, peaceful observers of the aquatic kings of the jungle, then Ethan grabbed my hand and said, But the date is not over, Wendy. Come

along, darling. He sang darling and I smiled as wide as I could, trailing along in a dream. He led me to a shop for tourists, and I shot him an Are-you-kidding-me sort of glare. He shrugged and told me to close my eyes and to keep them closed, no matter what I felt on my head. I gave him a skeptic glance, but obeyed. I felt a few things of fabric yanked over my hair before he found one that fit. This one. Alright. Stay here. Ill be right back. I heard him say. I listened to his footsteps, memorizing the sound. Imagining the muscles in his calves flexing slightly as he extended his legAlright, lets go. He tugged the fabric back over my head and pulled me towards the open air. Wait, dont I at least get to see what it looks like? I pleaded, eyes still closed. He sighed. Fine. Stand here, now open your eyes. And when I did, I was staring at me in the mirror, a black hat with cat ears on my head. I turned around to face him, speechless for the second time that morning. I opened my mouth to try to form words, but he held up his hand, palm towards me. Uh, uh, nope. I know. I know. Come on, we arent done yet. We got back on the cable car, but I didnt have to be blindfolded this time. We rode up to Ghirardelli Square, and he bought two peppermint hot chocolates. He got whipped cream on his nose. I didnt tell him until we got up to leave, and even then, I pulled him towards me and kissed it off his nose. And then we got back on the cable car and rode back home. Mom had told me that morning that she was spending the night at her friends house (how she was sober enough to remember and tell me this was beyond me), so I would be all alone. Ethan told me he would stay on the phone with me all night if I wanted. But as I unlocked the front door, I asked, Will you stay? He took his shoes off by the front door. What? Will you stay? Tonight? I looked at his ocean eyes for a moment, then down at the ground, then back up to watch him answer. He stared at me for a second, so I kept talking. I trust you to not take advantage of me while I am alone in my house. My fingers formed air quotes, trapping the spoken words in the air, caging them. You want me to stay? Why? He sounded a little self-depreciative. Im gonna be all alone tonight. I wont even have my sleeping mothers breathing to hear in the house. All I will have is a great big hole of silence. You want me to stay? He asked again. All I could do this time was nod. He turned and walked in a little circle, rubbing his palm on the back of his neck. Well. I could tell my brother I was spending the night at my friends house and that I would be home tomorrow. Ill sleep on the floor outside your door, and if I need to leave, I only live about 10 to 15 minutes walk from here. But you wont need to leave. And you wont need to sleep outside the door. I trust you to sleep in my room, next to my bed. Like a girl sleepover. So Im going to be experiencing what its like to be at a girl sleepover. Awesome. He laid the sarcasm on thickly, so I teased him back.

Yeah, Ill paint your nails and curl your hair and we can stay up all night talking about who we like. I smiled at him, and he smiled back. Even though I had only known him as a person for two weeks, I had known him as a character for my whole life, and I definitely had made a good decision in asking him to stay. While Ethan talked to his brother, I fluttered around the kitchen making a potato dish. It was a little large for two people, but I could put the leftovers in the fridge so I wouldnt have to cook tomorrow night. Ethan and I ate under the dim kitchen light again, and we relived the sea lions and the cat hat and whipped cream on noses. He washed his dish and laid it in the sink, and turned to me. Could I maybe take a shower? He bit the inside of his lip, unsure. Uh. Yeah, I guess. Do you want me to try to find you pajamas? I pressed my hip against the counter, leaning onto my elbow, watching him. Could you? He asked, and his voice and expression were so innocent that it caught me off guard. Absolutely. I may be able to hunt up a toothbrush if you want one. Unless you just want to eat toothpaste. He laughed. Okay. So your job is finding pajamas- ones without princess crowns and fairies on them, if possible, and a toothbrush. My job is to- Use my Belgian Waffle Scented Shower Gel and come out and tell me that in the morning, youre making pancakes. I strolled towards the bathroom and flipped on the light, and heard him behind me, so I pointed into the bathroom. Okay, use any of the towels hanging on the hooks, and you can turn on the water now, but dont do anything else until I come back with clothes. It gives the shower time to heat up. I managed to find a large pair of sweats, a big T-shirt for him to wear, and a toothbrush, and set them next to the sink. He was standing by the shower door, his hand in the water, testing the temperature. Okay, Im done in here now. While you do that, Ill get your bed ready. And with that I was back in my room. I tracked down a comforter for a bed and several blankets, for both warmth and for a cushion. We had an extra pillow in the cabinet, so Ethan could use that. I heard the water click off as I was dumping everything on the floor of my room. I was finishing straightening it up when he walked into the room. Hey hun, I- Words failed. He had his sweats on, but was still pulling his shirt over his head. For a moment, all I could see was his bellybutton and the top of his head. And then his ocean eyes appeared. Yeah? Oh, if you want to take a shower you can. Unless you take them in the morning. Oh, um, okay. I grabbed my plaid pants and long sleeve and padded towards the shower. I paused at my door. There are books all over the room, feel free to help yourself to any of them. Theres paper in the desk, if you feel like drawing or writing something. I dont know. The water was warm over my back, and I found I was tensed up. Because there was a boy in my house at 11? Because he intended to stay until the next morning? It made me feel like a rebel, even though we were sleeping in separate beds.

I shook out my hair and walked quietly into my room. Coming through the doorway, I saw Ethan sitting against the side of my bed, legs out in front of him, reading my book of assorted quotes and poems. Remember that first day we met, and you said something about remembering a quote? What was it? He said, and I flicked off my light and turned on the little light by my desk, and hopped onto my bed, snatching the book out of his hands and flipping through the pages. I held it out to him. Third one from the bottom. He read it aloud. When I saw you I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew. Arrigo Boito. He looked over at me. You smiled because you knew? He closed the book and set it on my dresser, and flicked off the light. I heard him shuffle himself into the covers. I smiled because I knew. And I smiled because I knew that you knew too. Ethans hand reached up onto the bed, searching for my hand. My fingers intertwined with his, a perfect match in the darkness. Well. He said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. You knew before I did. But I know now. I smiled, realizing the cheesiness of my response a fraction of a second before I spoke, but by then it was too late to stop it, because the words were already on their way out. I know.

Eleven Ethan The sun came in through the window like a light yellow veil tossed on the air, drifting slowly on the wind as the square of sunlight crawled along the carpet. I sat up and looked over at Wendy. Her bangs were falling in her face, so I stretched out a finger to clear her hair out of the way so I could see her eyes. They were closed, and she had her left palm pressed against the bed sheet and the right hand shoved under the pillow. Youre an angel as you sleep, and your heart reaches out to me, and I dont know how to speak, because your smile makes me weak. I laid back down and watched her sleep for 15 minutes, synchronizing my breathing with the gentle rise and fall of her comforter. I looked at the clock- 6:55. I remembered Wendy telling me to make pancakes last night. She had probably been joking, but I wanted to see the look on her face when she came out to the kitchen and saw me making them. I got out of bed. I spent 15 minutes searching the kitchen for ingredients, and 10 coaxing the pan to cooperate. By the time I was flipping the last batch of pancakes onto a plate, the stove cooling behind me, I heard Wendys soft footsteps on the ground, and looked up from the syrup I was placing on the table. She had been running her hand through her hair, so her fingers were caught at her head, her mouth in a small O. She didnt speak, just looked at the scene in front of her. But I looked at her. Her hair fell in waves, having curled around itself while she slept on it. Her red flannel pants were too long, and dragged around her bare feet. Her oversized long sleeve created a diagonal crease from the pull of her elbow as her hand disappeared into her hair. The sun had risen while I cooked, and created a rectangle of bright yellow on her neck and face, and her eyes glinted like firelight. Wendy managed to untangle her fingers from her hair, and now her hand was wrapped around the back of her neck. She held her elbow with her left hand. She padded forward a few steps. What, what is this, Ethan? She was in shock. I made you pancakes. You do like them, dont you? Or were you just joking last night? Yeah, I like them, I love them, but I was kidding last night. You made me pancakes? Yeah. Hasnt anyone ever made you pancakes before? Just because? I stood up straight as she came to the table and pressed her palms against the surface. Not really, no. Not since I was little. Not since 6th grade. She stared at the wood beneath her fingertips. I didnt know how to respond, so I pulled a plate towards me and cut it and poured syrup on it, and then stabbed a few pieces onto the fork. Here. I held it out to her, and she looked up. Eat this. Tell me how it tastes. Ive never been much of a cook. I gave a small shrug, and she leaned forward with her mouth open, so I gave her the pancake, and then set the fork back down on the plate. She chewed for a second, eyes closed, then swallowed and looked over at me, her forest eyes thoughtful.

That was the best pancake Ive ever had, chef, so youre either humble or a liar. Were you at any point a competitive cook? They have those? I asked, pulling out the chair for her. Oh, such a gentleman. She cooed sarcastically at me, sitting down. We ate in silence, except for the hum of the radiator. You know, you were right. About the radiator at my brothers house. It is like a chain smoker. I said, standing up and pushing in my chair, plate in hand. She placed her plate in the sink without washing it, and leaned into my arm, temple on my shoulder, and wrapped her arm around my back to my left side. So now do I get to meet your posse? Only if you dont call them a posse. I smiled down at her, and she pushed away, grinning. Fine. Im going to get dressed and then we can go. She kissed my cheek and whirled away towards her room, naked feet on the wood floor, soft and silent. Bare feet on hardwood floor, in my heart you open a door, you trail through life quiet as a mouse, all the while your voice is my house. She came out about 5 minutes later, coat over her arm and shoes in her hand. She was going to finish in the front room, but I was free to change now. Her room was just as I had left it this morning, blankets on the floor, her sheets scrambled on the bed. Odd, she pegged me as a person who made their bed as soon as they were out of it. I grabbed my jeans and shirt from the pile I had thrown them into by her desk, and tugged them on, folding the pajamas she had given me into neat squares and laying them on her desk. I came to the front room to get my shoes, and picked up the house phone to call my brother again. I pointed to my feet and mouthed Help me to Wendy, and she smiled and came over and started pulling my shoes on. Hey Nate, its Ethan. I was just checking in because I was going to head out to the park to meet up with the gang, and I wanted to let you know where I was. You know the usual spot we are, so if you need me, Ill be there. See you later. I clicked end and looked down to my tied shoes. Very nice. Were you at any point a professional shoe-tier? I asked, standing and grabbing my jacket off the back of the couch. She stuck out her tongue and pulled her pea coat over her burgundy crew neck, and tugged her cat hat onto her head. Lets go, I want to meet these people. You can fill me in on who they are on the way there. She grabbed my arm and shoved me out the door, and we walked to the cable station. I took her hand to help her on, and she didnt let it go once we were standing at the back railing. After 17 years of being without her and being fine, she- the girl with hair like the ocean and eyes like the forest- was now something my world revolved around. I didnt mind at all.

Twelve Wendy His voice was like a song I had known forever, and every word was a lyric. There were 4 people in his group, 5 including him. They met at the park every Sunday at 11am, and hung out until the sun started to set. Kris Alexander, Marty McAllister, Chase Hunt, and Preston Michaels. He went down the list, telling me their personality and what they looked like. Kris Alexander: a green eyed brunette who wanted to be a scientist, and usually had a pen and a notepad with him at all times, in case he came to some scientific revelation in the middle of the day. Wild spiked up hair and very outgoing, and loud, and talked very fast. Marty McAllister: skateboarder. Wore shirts with witty sayings on them and blue jeans with scraped knees, and shoes with purple laces. Black hair and brown eyes, liked math and could do a problem as easy as he could kick up the board. Chase Hunt: yes, that was his real name. Super athletic. Usually had on a sports jersey over a long sleeve, and tennis shoes. Blond crew cut with hazel eyes, and a really bright personality, he liked most everyone he met and got along easily with everyone. Preston Michaels: Bookworm. His whole room was a bookshelf. Any type of book: biographies, fantasy, mystery, science fiction, anything. Round glasses- like Harry Potter- and bright blue eyes with dark brown hair. One of the more refined members of the group. So by the time we got off at Golden Gate Park, I felt like I knew them all. Like I had known them all for years. Kris was the first to spot us. Or rather, to spot Ethan. They were all sitting on a bench, and Marty was seated on the ground on his skateboard. He jumped up and started jogging towards Ethan. He had on a navy polo and blue jeans, and his hair looked like he had rolled out of bed, ran a hand through it, and called it styled. The vivid green made his big eyes seem even bigger and crazier, like a mad scientist. Morning, Ethan. Oh, hello, who are you? He turned his stoplight eyes on me. Wednesday Owl, Wendy for short. I stuck out my hand and he shook it, grinning. But I didnt miss the short, quizzical look he shot at Ethan. Ethan ignored it and turned to his other buddies. Hey guys. Howre things? I was hyperaware of his friends staring at me. Oh, this is Wendy. Everybody say Hi Wendy. He joked casually. Hi Wendy. Came three voices. Marty stood up and kicked his skateboard vertical. Hi, Im Preston. What do you like to do? Preston asked, pushing his glasses up his nose with his index finger. I like to read and write. I said, trying to pretend I didnt know that he loved to read. A reader? Whos your favorite author? He raised his eyebrows, and they disappeared into his hair. I dont have one. Or even a favorite book. I have favorite lines from different stories. My eyes wandered as I answered, and I focused them back on him.

Like? I sighed, looking up at the sky. Oh, like, I would like to step out of my heart and go walking beneath the enormous sky. by Rainer Maria Rilke, and A word is dead when it is said, some say. I say it just begins to live that day. by Emily Dickinson, For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo. by William Shakespeare, Whoever is happy will make others happy. by Anne Frank, you know, things like that. I dont really like books or authors. I mean, I do, but I cant pick a favorite. Preston nodded. Wisely answered. Im Kris. Know anything about science, Wendy? Kris asked, crossing his arms. I know a few elements off the periodic table. I know number 83? I formed my tone into a question. Really? What is it and what is it used for? Obviously he already knew the answer, from the smug way he asked it. Bismuth. Its used in Pepto Bismol. Thats all I remember. I did a report on it 2 years ago for class. He uncrossed his arms. Thats pretty good. Marty hadnt said anything, so I turned to him. You know, I always wanted to learn how to skateboard. Honestly. I would see people on the street and want to do it myself, but Im really afraid of getting hurt. Even as I spoke of it, I saw Ethan tense slightly beside me. I could teach you someday. If you want. Marty looked down at the ground, hiding. Im Marty, by the way. Yeah, thatd be cool. He looked back up, a faint smile on his face. Im Chase. So, you play any sports, Wendy? Chase tightened one of his laces. I laughed. No. I am an introvert. I live in the library and my room. I am an awful PE student, but I try, which is more effort than half the class gives. He laughed. Ethan gently touched my hand for a moment, quiet by our sides. So, what do you guys usually do all day? Well, we walk around the park, in this general area, and sometimes Nadia comes and meets up with us, so we have enough people to play a small game of basketball or soccer or basketball in the clearing over there, Chase pointed towards an opening in the trees, so we usually just do a lot of hanging around. Sometimes we bring homework and get the brainiacs to help us. Mostly its just me that needs the help. Im more a brawns instead of brains guy. Whos Nadia? I saw Ethan flinch out of the corner of my eye. My sister. I noticed the flashed glare at Ethan. Oh. Will she be joining us today? I rubbed my shoe tip in the grass. Uh, should be. Around 1. So we have about 2 hours to kill. And with those words, the rest of them stood up, like a bunch of Frankenstein monsters zapped to life. They started shuffling down the path, but I pulled Ethans wrist so he and I would be to the back of the group, and I could ask him what the heck was going on. What was that about!? I whispered harshly. Nadia Hunt and I went out in 8th grade. He looked at the ground, ashamed. What?! Youre kidding me. My voice rose a little higher than a whisper.

Yeah. You were barely in my mind during 7th and 8th grade, and Nadia was always around, and kinda reminded me of you. How? Shes athletic and Im guessing shes not super smart, or she would help her brother with his homework. Are Chase and her twins? He nodded. She would say something sometimes that would remind me of you, even though they had nothing to do with you. I asked her out to see if she would remind me of you more. She didnt. After a week I broke up with her. Neither of us were at all heartbroken and nothing changed in the group, and we never kissed or held hands- I dont know if we even hugged- but Chase holds it against me still. He looked back at the ground. I glanced at the guys, crawling down the path, and pulled Ethans face up to see mine. You know, Preston may have eyes as bright as ice, but I would much rather look at your ocean ones. And with that our discussion was over. Ethan smiled a small smile and kissed my forehead, and I felt him exhale on my skin, and I sighed too. Hey, you guys coming or what? Kris yelled to us, so I pulled away and took Ethans hand, and we jogged down the path, hands swinging between us, leaving behind our conversation and thoughts about Nadia and hissed words, and into a world of bare January trees and defrosting brown leaves and miniature clouds around our mouths.

Thirteen Ethan She brought things out of the guys that I had never seen- emotions and words that they would have never said and expressed without the coaxing of her voice. Marty was wearing a gray shirt with a tan coffin on it, the lid reading, You have eternity to think inside the box. Wendy struck up a conversation with him about homeless people who lived in boxes, and Marty started spouting out statistics of homelessness of the last four years, stunning all of us. I had never heard him talk so much. He went on and on with her, and she was totally engrossed. When Marty had run his course, Wendy started to Preston about Anthem by Ayn Rand, and they talked about that for about 15 minutes while Marty, Kris, Chase and I played some basketball. When they came to a point in their conversation that seemed like a break, Preston stood and joined our game, making it an uneven 5, so I came to sit with Wendy. She was drawing triangles on her knees, her fingernail tracing the pattern into the denim. Hey, hun. Youre a good player. By the way. She blushed and looked down at her lap, smiling. I pushed my shoulder into hers, gently, smiling back. And suddenly, behind me I heard, Ethan Harp is that you?! Oh my God its been FOREVER! Nadia. Oh God. Please. I cringed, and turned to look over my shoulder sheepishly. Hi, Nadia. I murmured. She was even with me now, and started talking again. Well, more like yelling. If speech bubbles popped up while she was talking, everything would be in capitals. Where have you been!? Living under a rock?! Weve been missing you, havent we, boys?! Without you, we only have 5, so one of us always has to sit out and- I interrupted her, sensing Wendys silence, a cold quiet seeping into my skin, making me shiver. Yeah, sorry Nadia. Ive beenbusy. I casually slid my hand across the bench towards Wendy, trying to find her fingers. For a moment I couldnt find them, and I panicked, but then I heard her give a small sigh and felt her fingertips on my knuckles. Nadia tossed her chest length blond hair over her shoulder and popped a bubble of gum between her glossy lips. I didnt know what I had ever seen in her that made me think of Wendy. Hazel eyes flashed at me greedily, wanting. I felt them zero in on Wendys and my hand, but I stared back at Nadia, defiant. Hi, Im Nadia! But you probably already figured that out! Im Chases sister, the one with the jersey on?! Yeah, were twins! So whats your name?! How do you know Ethan?! Do you go to our school?! My ear rang slightly, and I shifted, trying to show her my unease of her interrogation of Wendy. Yes, I already met your brother. Hes very nice. Im Wendy. I met Ethan in the library. I dont go to your school. Wendys voice seemed quieter than usual, especially compared to Nadias trumpet like words blaring in my ear.

Nadia opened her mouth again, but Wendy kept talking, babbling, trying to get Nadia to shut up. So I heard that you play basketball with the guys a lot. Who is usually on your team? Do you play against your brother, for a sibling rivalry, or on the same team? Do you play any other sports? Do you ride skateboards with Marty sometimes? Do you talk to Preston about books and Kris about science? Nadia ran a hand through her hair, pulling it up into a ponytail. No, I play against my brother. And when Im here, its all game. But since now we have you as a 7th person, well have to sub, so I might not be against my brother every time. Oh, Im not playing. Ill be ref. Wendy said brightly, trying to ward off Nadia. I could feel her unease still, a lingering bitter taste. Oh. Nadias hands fell from her hair- she had been twisting a strand of hair round and round her finger. Well, we probably wont play as much. So you wont be alone the whole time. Marty spoke up from the court. Oh, actually, no need. Annie should be here in about 10 minutes. She was finishing up her homework at the library. Then Wendy will have someone to talk to. Nadia nodded and turned sharply on her toe, strutting to the bench and taking off her coat, then walked over to the guys. Chase held the ball in my direction, beckoning me with a questioning look. I lowered my voice and turned to Wendy, our faces inches from one another. Will you be okay to wait here until Annie comes? Or will you get too lonely? I can sit out and they can just sub. No, no. Dont be ridiculous. But will- do you think Ill like Annie? Wendy bit her lip, her forest brown eyes peering over at me nervously. I smiled- that question I knew the answer to. Absolutely. Shes more like you than Nadia is. She and I are good friends. Well, shes really good friends with all the guys, because after she and Marty started going out at the beginning of freshman year, she came and hung out and watched us play ball all the time. Youll approve. I kissed her quick on the cheek, my nose cold against her warm skin, and turned to the game. Go get em, hun. Wendy said quietly behind me, cheering me on. Even through the hushed words, I could hear the smile in her voice. I shot her one last smile and jogged to the court, a song lyric floating into my head as Chase passed me the ball. You sit on the sidelines, but your inner light still shines, you make me feel right, and your smile burns bright.

Fourteen Wendy I thought about Ethan and I as I watched him play. I really hadnt known him that long, but we just clicked. It wasnt something I had ever questioned, why we fit together. I figured it was just because I wrote him to life. I figured it was because he belonged to me. But learning that Nadia had been his girlfriend, even for a short time, made me feel jealous in a way I had never experienced. I was jealous of the kids whose parents were still together, who had a mom that wasnt just a drunken ghost in their house, who had enough money for cable television, and their own internet, and the newest books that werent at the library yet. That jealously was minute, something easily overlooked by simply focusing on what I had instead of what I didnt have. But Nadia, Nadia was different. In some major coincidence, she was the one guarding Ethan. Whenever he got the ball, she spread out her arms, trying to block himBut all the while, displaying her boobs. I gritted my teeth every time she jumped in front of him, trying to get a better range of blockage, bringing her chest up to his eye level. But he didnt care about her and her cleavage at all. When a point was made, he would look over at me- smile if it was his team, or an oh-well sort of face if it was the other team. I saw Kriss notebook for scientific revelations, and entertained myself, letting my mind wander back to Ethan and I as I drew the night sky on a blank page in the back. I never thought it strange that he meant so much to me- he always had. It was just like another thing in my life. Things needed to survive: air, water, food, Ethan. He was always there, in the back of my mind or on the pages. Now that he was a real person, it simply made sense that he belonged to me, and that I belonged to him. Even if we only had had our first date yesterday, and had only known each other for two weeks, it didnt matter. We were each others, and that bond was unbreakable. Ethans team made a point, and on cue, he looked over and smiled at me. I smiled back, but then saw his gaze fade over my shoulder, and he waved to someone behind me. I turned around and saw a girl making her way across the leaves, clutching a thick book to her chest. I ripped the night sky picture out of the notebook and stuffed it in my pocket, and replaced the notebook on the bench. When I looked back over at the guys, Marty was smiling, eyes only for Annie. She gave a half-hearted smile and struggled the last few steps to the clearing, dumping her book on the bench next to me. McFly. How are you? She said, smiling wildly. Well, Doc, I gotta tell you, its lonely out here in the future. Marty said, still walking towards her. I realized half a second later that they were quoting Back to the Future, but making up their own words. Marty grabbed Annies waist and lifted her into the air, her dark brown hair flying up around her, her green eyes sparkling, setting her back on her feet a second later. She spun away to greet the rest of the group.

Hey Chase, make the Olympic trials yet? Kris, getting closer to the Nobel prize? Preston, read any good books lately? Nadia! How are you? She clapped a hand on Ethans shoulder. Ethan, weve all been missing your company, where have you been?! Ethans eyes flickered to me, and Annie turned, noticing me for the first time. Oh, hello. Whats your name? Hi, Im Wendy Owl. I extended a hand, and Annie shook it gratefully. Her bubbliness was just the right amount, enough to keep you hanging on her words, but not enough to annoy you. She was just a fun person, easy to get along with. Im Annie Edwards. Are you Ethans girlfriend? Have you been stealing him from us? Her second question came out with sarcasm, and she shifted to her hip and tilted her head, teasing me. All I could do was smile and nod. Sorry. I shrugged. Chase clapped his hands together, calling, Alright, new game: New teams or same teams? As the 6 of them divvied themselves up into new teams, Annie made a spot on the bench, resting the book on her lap, sighing with its weight. I read its title: Pre-Calculus Youre taking Pre-Cal?! I said, surprised. I was only in Algebra 2. Math was not my strong point. Yeah. Marty and I are math geeks. I bet other people get tired of our bantering over numbers and equations. We like other subjects, we have nothing against them, but math is the only universal language. She stared off towards the court, unseeing. We met in the Mathletes club, actually. Talk about geek love. She smiled at me again. Man, this girl loved to smile. So, tell me about you and Ethan. I dont think I recognize you from our school, so where did you meet him? I hesitated. Annie seemed like someone I could trust, but I had lied to Nadia, and she was within hearing distance if she wanted to be. How about we go for a walk? I said, standing. Annie seemed to detect the unease, and didnt ask why. Instead, she called to Marty, McFly, Im going for a walk with Owl here. Marty and Ethan both turned in our direction, and Ethan caught my eye for a moment, as if saying, Youre telling her? I gave a small shrug and headed towards the trees. So, where did you meet? Annie asked once we were on a path out of hearing range from the clearing. Well, in real life, at the library on the 10th. 13 days ago is all? Wait, did you say in real life? What does that mean? So I spun her the tale. I told her how in 1st grade, I wrote about him, and how I found the blank book in 4th grade, and how I wrote about him all the time and created this perfect best friend out of words, and brought him out of the pages. She listened without asking questions, accepted without comments. After I had finally finished my story, bringing her up to the present, she was quiet for 10 steps.

So really, you met in 1st grade, but didnt really meet him until 13 days ago. Youve kind of been dating for 10 years, havent you? This was her biggest concern? Uh, yeah, I guess, technically. But he went out with Nadia for like a week. I stopped in the middle of the path, facing her. I just told you that I wrote my boyfriend into existence, and youre worried about how long weve been dating? I could see the clearing again. We mustve made a loop around part of the park. She rubbed a shoe toe in the dirt. No, its not that. Its-. She took a breath and looked up at me. Okay, heres the thing. Something you said just doesnt click all the way with the story, with the present and the future. Well, what is it? Okay, well She looked at the ground. No, Im being stupid. It does make sense. I just wasnt thinking it through all the way. Never mind. Annie- I started, taking a step towards her. She looked up. Never mind. Its nothing. Really. For a second, I was afraid of her, afraid of the determination in her eyes, and backed away. But then she picked up her bubbly personality again, and said, Well, we ought to be getting back. Its now 3. Ive been walking around with you for an hour! She fell back into her previous step, and I followed quietly. But I couldnt get that look in her eyes out of my head. Irritation and anger, at the top, but when you took a step back and lookedHer eyes were full of fear.

Fifteen Ethan Annie and Wendy reappeared at the edge of the court, so we stopped the game to take a break and say hello to them. I could tell by Wendys eyes that something wasnt right with her. I sent her a message through my pupils, and we talked through the emotion of our optics. Are you okay? Whats wrong? Nothing, Im fine. Youre sure? You look sad. Im fine, really. And it was over. Wendy was at my side, her palm pressed against my back, a silent plea for me to stay. I said another sentence through my eyes. Do you want to leave? She let her fingers linger at my jacket for a moment more, then walked forward and took Annies hand in hers. It was really nice meeting you. She turned to Nadia. And you. And all of you. Wendy let her eyes sweep over the guys. Kris ran a hand through his hair. You guys are leaving? I nodded once. Yeah, were going to go to the library. Want to come? Nah, well stay. Kris passed the ball to Marty, who handed it to Chase. Actually, Annie and I are gonna go, too. We need to study for the next Mathletes comp., and I was going to teach her how to skateboard this weekend. Marty took Annies hand in his, holding his skateboard with the other hand. Preston shrugged. Alright, 2 on 2 then. Lets go! And with that the game was back in session and four of us were walking away. Wendys silence screamed at mesomething was not okay, no matter what she said. Annie and Marty were oblivious to us, buried in their own little world. They headed down one fork, and Marty cast an absentminded wave in my direction. I returned it and pulled Wendy down the other fork, then behind a tree, out of sight. She still hadnt said a word, but her eyes searched my face, trying to figure out what was going on. I pushed her back against the tree and braced my arms on either side of her head. Whats going on, Wendy? Somethings not right. I dont really know. Her voice came out so quietly, I had to lean in to hear her, bending my elbows and touching my nose to hers. I just sort of lost myself there. Annie and I were talking on the path, and then she wouldnt answer one of my questions, and then we started walking again, but the next thing I knew we were at the court, and I was saying goodbye. And then I was here, at this tree, you talking to me. Her fingertips came up to touch my jaw, holding my chin between her fingers. I blacked out? My memory just lapsed. I dont really know how we got here. I dont know whats going on. Maybe youre just tired. We didnt go to bed until about midnight last night. And lots of stuff has been going on, with the sea lions yesterday and Nadia and the guys and Annie today. Youre just a little overloaded, thats all. And you havent had lunch. Well go do that right now. I kissed her forehead and linked my arm with hers, towing her back towards the path. She seemed out of it until we got up to the street, heading towards a little restaurant. At the smells of the food, she perked up, but I could see it in her eyes-

She wasnt passing this off as hunger and lack of sleep. After our late lunch, we headed to the library. I thought about calling Nate and updating about where I was, but he didnt seem too worried, and never answered his phone, so I didnt want to leave yet another message on his machine. So instead Wendy and I trailed into the library aimlessly. She was still a quiet shell, echoing of the ocean and her previous, bubblier self, but she was slowly getting a brightness in her cheeks that hadnt been there before. Her feet automatically traced a path in the carpet, right to the poetry section. She browsed the titles for a moment, then elegantly pulled one from the shelf, fingers wrapping around it in a gentle caress, as if it was a dear possession. She came to sit next to me on the small couch in a reading area, and cracked it to the first page. It wasnt poetry at all, but a play by William Shakespeare- A Midsummer Nights Dream. Wendy looked up at me, to make sure I was paying attention, then back down at the book. Her shoulder was pressed against my chest, my arm around her back. She pulled her legs up underneath her, folding herself inward, like she was an origami creation. She began reading quietly, her voice a small whisper. You read aloud to me, words creating a sea, Im stranded in a boat, but when youre with me, I float. She read until the lovers were all confused with one another, then closed the book quietly and got to her feet without a word, without looking back at me. She knew I would follow her. I was a helpless puppy, following its master. Outside, she tucked the checked out library book in her coat and linked elbows with me. So, you have your type of fun- playing with your friends, and I have my typereading to myself in the library. What do you think? She shot a skeptic glance at me. I entwined my fingers with hers. I dont even have words. Thats okay. I have lots. You want some? She offered me her palm, like I could look down at her skin and see black letters waiting there for me. I pretended to pick up a word from her hand and stuff it in my pocket. Ill save it for later. I dont need words right now. This moment is enough. I turned to her, and found her staring at me, her eyes a vast wood that never ended. I felt myself pulled into the labyrinth of brown and gold trees caged in her irises. The moment only lasted a few seconds, and my time frame to kiss her passed. We were stopped on a corner, alone except for a few stragglers trying to catch the trolley. A sudden gust of wind blew at us, and Wendy shuddered, pulling herself into my chest, shielding herself from the cold. She whispered into my coat. I hope you have enough words now. If not, just tell me and Ill fill you with another paragraph. How do you do that? I smiled through my whisper. She stretched up on her toes and kissed me. You are my words, My nouns and my verbs, My mobile of stars up above. I know we can last, when were falling this fast, Falling this fast into love.

Sixteen Wendy He walked me to my house, all the way to the door. Hey, how come you always come to my house, huh? Are you hiding something from me? I teased, unlocking the front door. He poked my side, and I jumped, laughing. You know Im not. You know everything about me. You did write me, after all. He helped me take off my jacket and hung it on the stand by the door, but hesitated at the mat. Cool evening air swept in behind him. Ethan, close the door if youre coming in. I scolded him, wrapping my arms around myself. He debated for a moment, but closed it behind him, shutting himself in the room with me. Do you want to come over tomorrow, then? My brother works until about 5, and if Hannah is home, she would like you, I know she would. He pressed his hands against the back of the couch, rocking from side to side, smiling. Mondays are library days, but I went to the library today, so I guess Im free tomorrow except for homework, which I get done quickly. So, yes. Will you come here and walk with me, or do you want to give me directions and have me just walk there? Ethan looked appalled that I had asked. Oh, Im definitely coming here. I dont want you walking around all by yourself. I mean, I know you walk home from school, and you always have but, you know. He seemed to realize how obsessive he sounded, and looked down, ashamed. I came over and put a hand on his face, making him look back up at me. Its okay that youre worried about me. Its nice having someone concerned with my well being for a change. I smiled, and he half-heartedly returned it. So tomorrow Ill come here, and you swing by and take me over there. Maybe I can finally see you play the guitar. At the mention of his guitar, Ethan straightened up and went to the door. Well then, I better go practice so Im extra good, and dont look like a major fool when I play for you. I know you wont sound like a fool, be quiet. I laughed, but he was already closing the door behind him, this time shutting himself on the other side. Bye, darling. He sang, shutting the door before I could reply. I turned back to the empty room, Ethans words echoing in the space, my smile maximizing the volume. Lying in bed that night, I realized that I loved Ethan. Not one of those little clich movie fantasy loves, that springs up from meeting in the cafeteria when the guy dumps his lunch on some girls head. This was one of those real loves, something that takes a while to develop, and last for a long time. And it had taken a while. My entire life. He was the one thing that was a constant. My family broke apart, and new faces appeared in my classrooms, and book pages turned and seasons changed, but he was always there, his heartbeat a ghost, shadowing mine, marking the passing time.

This was a forever love. Monday started with a bang. Literally. My first conscious thought the next morning was, What the heck was that noise? I was still for a few seconds, listening. I heard a clanging and banging coming from the kitchen. I got out of bed and walked to the kitchen, my warm feet fogging up the cold hardwood, and discovered my mother at the stove, dressed in a lime green v-neck and blue skirt, picking up and setting down the same two pots over and over, looking in and underneath them. What are you doing? slipped out of my mouth mechanically. Looking for food. Came her drunken response. I pressed my palm to my forehead and closed my eyes, thinking that maybe if I squeezed my eyes hard enough shut, I could open them and find my mom as a cookiecutter TV personality, making French toast. I opened my eyes. It didnt work. I let my arm drop. No, no, the food is not left out on the stove. Go get dressed in real clothes and Ill make you some toast. I took the pots out of her hands as she skipped down the hallway. She mustve not slept last night, or she had already gone through her hangover and was drunk again. Did this never end? I stuck two pieces of bread in the toaster- 1 for me, 1 for her- and went to get dressed as they browned. I pulled a purple long sleeve over my head and tugged it to my waist, and then pulled jeans over my legs to have the bottom edge of the shirt and the waistband of the jeans meet at my hips. I hopped on one foot to the kitchen, pulling on socks and advancing towards the toast. They had popped up out of the toaster, and were waiting for butter. I grabbed a knife out of the drawer and painted the bread yellow, and shoved it onto a blue plate, and started towards my moms room. She was pulling a blue shirt over her head, her arm stuck through the head hole. I rolled my eyes and left the toast on her dresser. I still needed to get ready for school. I ate my toast while I checked that I had everything for school, then brushed my teeth as I put on my coat, leaving my toothbrush in the fridge- Id get it later. I left my house behind and disappeared into the San Francisco morning. School was long and boring, the day wearing on and on, the clock hands seeming to move only imperceptibly as hours passed. Finally, the last school bell rang, and I pulled my backpack onto my back, trying to quickly get to the first cable car stop. I didnt want Ethan to have to wait. I stood at my place at the back, riding with the wind in my face. Buildings rushed by me, blurs of metallic gray and black, and sounds filled my ears, street performers and trolley bells singing in harmony while the scent of the ocean and of sea food filled my nose.

Wendy? I heard behind me, and I recognized the voice, but couldnt place it. I turned my head and saw Annie sitting, Pre-Cal book open in her lap, peering over at me from behind black frames of glasses perched on the bridge of her nose like a little crow. Oh, hello Annie. Just out of curiosity, when did your school get out? I turned my body towards her but didnt advance- there were no empty seats by her. She looked at the slender silver watch on her left wrist. Um, 20 minutes ago. She looked over at my raised eyebrows and added We start really early, and its usually still kind of dark outside. Huh. We rolled to a stop, and people severed our connection as they jostled past, brandishing briefcases and purses. A mother with a 2 year old stepped off, clutching the boy to her chest. He saw me over her shoulder, and I made a silly face, puffing out my cheeks and pulling my ears out, to look like a monkey. The boy laughed, and then the mother and he disappeared into the crowd. Annie reappeared as the trolley started up again. She had stowed her book in her bag and there was now a spot next to her. She gestured to the spot and I found myself reluctant to sit next to her. I didnt know why. But then my feet started moving across the ground, and I found myself in the seat. Annie was wearing a cream colored long sleeve and a striped blue scarf, and as she pulled something from her bag, I noticed that her palms were scraped. What happened to your hands? I asked, crossing my ankles and letting my body adjust to the movement of the car. She looked at them and held them out for display, shrugging with a half smile on her face. Skateboarding with Marty. I love that kid, but I cant board for the life of me. Im more of a sketcher. She held out the notebook from her bag out to me, and I hesitantly took it and turned to the first page. It contained a pencil lead teacup with polka dots on it, the shading making it look like I could reach in and take it right off the page. Steam roses from it. The next page contained a bookshelf, and I found myself caught up with reading the titles, seeing how many I knew. Wind in the Willows, To Kill a Mockingbird, Anne of Green Gables, The Borrowers, The Witch of Blackbird Pond, Lord of the Flies, Heidi. I flipped through the rest of the pages, my eyes skimming over a bare tree, Marty standing on his skateboard, a calculator, and the Golden Gate Bridge. These are really good, Annie. Do you take any art classes? I handed the notebook back to her, and she carefully placed it back in her bag. If I could see myself with my blank book, thats how I would look. Holding it like it contained the secrets of the world. She sighed. No. No room in my schedule. And I have Mathletes after school, so I cant do it then. No, I have to teach myself. I look up how-to videos sometimes on the internet, but you cant really teach drawing. Either you have a talent or you dont. You can develop it, but thats about it. We rolled to my stop, and I stood. I could feel the happiness on my face, and it made Annie smile. Alright, Ill guess Ill see you later then, Wendy. Gonna hang out with us this weekend?

Uh, sure! I called over my shoulder as I walked towards the steps. My sneakers made short, clipped taps on the metal as I took the steps quickly, bouncing on the sidewalk, gray cement matching the gray sky. I waved to Annie and started toward my house, walking fast, clouds of breath forming around my mouth. I came around the corner, and realized that my heart is beating fast, not from walking quickly uphill, but because of the anticipation that Im about to see Ethan. My whole body inches forward, as if they can sense his atoms close by, and we are magnets, drawn to one another no matter what the distance. He is leaning against the front door, tapping his foot and staring into the flowerbox, contemplating the soil. As soon as he sees me, he stands straight up and takes a few steps towards me, sweeping me into his arms, spinning me around like we were waltzing on a dance floor. Bonjour, beautiful. He whispered. Hello, handsome. Hes wearing a white button up shirt and dark jeans. I love him in this formal look. He set me down on the pavement and entwined his fingers with mine, and we started to walk. Ethan? I said, looking over at him to make sure hes listening, but I didnt wait for a response. Remember the first day we met and we were analyzing one another and I said you probably had a book that you would be embarrassed to show your buddies? What book is it? He smiled, his teeth gleaming white in the dull foggy afternoon, and he seemed to be the only stable thing in my life, while everything else rushes around, oblivious to us. I have this really small book by Keats that stands out- Stands out? As in, you have more than one book? I said as Ethan steered me around the corner, swinging our hands between us like were 6 years old. No. He said quickly, then sighed and corrected, Yes. I do. But thats not the point right now, Wendy. He shot a glance at me, and I smiled sheepishly. Sorry. Continue, please. He slows us to a crawl, and I see the comfort of being in the presence of familiarity dawn on his face and follow his gaze. Hes staring at a quaint little Victorian house fondly. Thats not an apartment. I said stupidly. Yeah, Captain Obvious. We moved out of the apartment last year, when Nate got his first real gig. Hes a professional photographer. Hes really good. Really good. But I still live upstairs. I like to sit upstairs by the window and play my guitar. He paused, remembering for a moment, then plowed on, words tumbling out of his mouth. So I have this favorite poem by Keats, called When I Have Fears. My favorite part goes: He stopped and cleared his throat, and recited from heart: When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance; And when I feel, fair creature of an hour, That I shall never look upon thee more, Never have relish in the faery power Of unreflecting love;--then on the shore

Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till love and fame to nothingness do sink. Ethan beamed at me, brandishing a key to the front door, while I stood, my mouth hanging open as if I could capture the words and swallow them and keep them in my memory. He shrugged a simple, What, you didnt think I was that smart? and before I could even protest and tell him that, yes, I thought he was that smart, even smarter, he opened the door and called, Hannah, Im home and Ive brought a friend! He tugged me through the white door and I was instantly overwhelmed with the house. The walls were tall and white, and black and white framed photographs hung on each wall. Opposite the door were pictures of people- Nate and Hannahs wedding picture, Ethan with his guitar on a stage in about the 5th or 6th grade, a picture of a man and woman that I didnt know, and Nate, Hannah and Ethan sitting on a picnic blanket, wearing white V-necks and jeans. Adjacent to that wall were 2 pictures of Hannah, sitting on a park bench in an empty clearing and standing next to a tree, just a shadowed profile; a single leaf in a puddle, and rain drops racing down a window. Under those four was the essence of San Francisco: the Ghirardelli Square sign, the Golden Gate Bridge, a trolley and sea lions lounging on wooden docks. The room had a long black couch and a white coffee table with a scrapbook on itwhich I could see from here was labeled Nates Photos. A fireplace was set into the wall, smoldering quietly. On the left side of the door was a small kitchen, and I could see the light over the oven on, and smell brownies in the air. The pots and pans were red, bright against the white walls, black frames and light gray tile. Everything seemed too mechanical, professional, almost as if I was in a hospital and I wasnt supposed to touch anything for fear of breaking it. Things were impeccably tidy and in their place. A voice came from above us. Ethan, is that you? Did you say you brought a friend? Is it Chase? He eats too much. Dont bring him! A laugh floated down to us, and suddenly the owner of the voice appeared. She stood at the bottom of stairs that I hadnt noticed upon entrance. She was wearing green sweats with pink flying pigs on them, and a light blue long sleeve that had a cow jumping over the moon on the chest. Her blond hair was hurriedly done up in a bun, and she wore bright yellow socks. She was smiling at Ethan, and her face fell a tiny bit when she spotted me behind his shoulder, smiling out at her outfit. Oh. Whos this? She tried to keep a smile on top of her curiosity. Hannah, this is Wendy. I took a small step to the side, so Hannah could see me better. My girlfriend? The question in Ethans voice made me suddenly feel like I was on trial, guilty for a crime that I wasnt aware I had committed, because I didnt think it was a crime. Hannah looked at Ethan for a long moment, then at me, her sky blue eyes scrutinizing my woody brown ones. After an extended awkward period of silence, her whole face brightened and she said cheerily, Hi, Wendy, Im Hannah! And that was that. She asked me where did I go to school? and where did I know Ethan from? and what did I like to do? She thought playing the pencil was hilarious, and told me that as soon as the brownies were out, I would get one because I won her over.

I beamed at her, and Ethan stepped in. Alright, Hannah, Im going to show Wendy my guitar until then, then. He stopped and looked up, thinking that then, then sounded a little off, decided he didnt really care, and gripped my wrist, pulling me towards the stairs. I waved to Hannah before we disappeared up the stairs. Once we were 7 steps up, I remembered something and whispered, Who is that man and woman on the wall between all of you guys on the picnic blanket and you playing the guitar? That picture of me playing the guitar is at the 6th grade talent show. I won. I played Shiny Happy People by R. E. M. Thats not what I asked. He was quiet, and we reached the top of the stairs. There were three rooms. To the right of the stairs was Nate and Hannahs room, opposite the stairs was the bathroom, and to the left was Ethans room. His door was closed. I know. Ethan said, turning towards me. There was a sadness in his eyes that I didnt like. Hey, Ive got an idea. Give me a tour. I said, trying to cover up my mistake. He seemed a little relieved that I changed the subject, and pointed towards Nate and Hannahs room. We can peek in the door, but its kind of an unspoken rule that we dont go in each others rooms. So we peeked. The queen sized bed was covered in a dark blue comforter, and the walls were bare except for a picture of Nate and Hannah at their wedding, shoving cake into each others faces. Each nightstand had a lamp on it. The one on the right had a newspaper, and the one of the left had a novel. The bathroom was sea green, and a colored picture- the first one I had seen- of a bright pink seashell on the beach hung on the wall, a duplicate of it in the mirror. Ethan stood outside his door, waiting for me to finish observing the bathroom. He had drawn an invisible shade over his face, and it eclipsed his smile and the brightness in his eyes. He looked like a man who bore a heavy weight upon his shoulders, struggling to keep his head above the water. Ethan? I said quietly, putting a hand on his shoulder. It looked small against the fabric. He doesnt look at me as he confesses, but at the doorknob. Theyre my parents. They died in a car crash when I was in 8th grade. Thats when I moved in with my brother- he was 28. Hannah and he had been married for about 2 years. Shes a year younger than him. Thats why I live with my brother. He looks over at me, solemn. How did you not know? You wrote me. How could you not know something as big as that? I only know you. I only know what I wrote. I didnt write that. Oh, God, I didnt write that. I would never do that to you. As Ethan summed up the will to force the frown away and bring up a small smile, it came down like a heavy mallet, and I worked to keep a smile on my face. I had killed Ethans parents. I was the reason that his parents were dead- I had first written about his brother in 8th grade. I never mentioned his parents. I only wrote how he lived with his brother. As if he just decided he wanted to live with his brother, not that he couldnt live with his parents because they were dead. Even his sadness was written by me.

Seventeen Ethan She was trying to mirror my half smile, a waxing crescent moon captured beneath her nose and turned sideways. I turned the doorknob without looking at it, always watching Wendy. Her eyes moved to the door, and I observed her facial expressions. Wonder at my room. I turned, to see what was so magnificent about it. My steel blue sheets were curled around one another, my bed unmade. Yesterdays jeans and shirt lay in a heap next to my bed. Papers were strewn across my desk as if a great wind had deposited them all there. But Wendy wasnt looking at any of that. Her eyes were focused on the single bookshelf in the corner, immaculate and tidy in the hectic setting of the room. My lightly tanned guitar stood patiently beside the spines, waiting for a chance to be played. Wendy turned to me, and gestured to the guitar. Are you going to play? I stood looking at her for a second, and then held out my hands. Give it here, darling, and Ill play for you. She gently picked up the guitar, carefully making sure she didnt knock it against anything. Usually I was wary when other people even looked at my guitar, afraid they may damage it, but in Wendys sure and slender fingers, it looked happy, as if it had been made to be in her hands. You are the muse of my music, you fit right in, you keep me from losing it, this happiness seems a sin. I felt the smooth neck of the guitar in my palm, the curved edges of the bottom, and gripped the neck tightly to tug the strap over my head, to keep it steadily hovering by my waist. Wendy watched all of my cautious movements, watched my fingers tune the guitar, watched me stroke the strings lovingly. I could feel her eyes on me, and looked up. She looked surprised. Im sorry, would you rather me stand over here and look at books, so you dont have a direct audience, or? She let me fill in my own options. No. Come sit by me. I stepped backward three steps and felt my calves against the comforter. I sat down. Wendy slipped off her shoes and crawled on the bed, her shoulder on my back. She turned her head and rested her chin on my shoulder. Have you written any of your own songs? I felt the movement of her jaw through my shirt. Yes. And thousands that are just one verse. What are they about? You. You. Did I just say that out loud? Me? Oh, guess I did. Yeah. I- Whenever I was writing a song or playing a guitar, it always seemed like you were right there with me. More than usual. So I wrote songs about you, thinking that might help. Wendy gave a small laugh. So your guitar and lyrics were my blank book and journal entries. We both tried to bring one another out with words. Mine was music, yours was words. Yeah, whats the big difference?

Words reveal your thoughts, but music reveals your soul. In your case, your words are music. Thats what lyrics are. So what is it then? Wendy leaned forward, and I turned my head to see her eyes as I answered. Then its love. Deep brown eyes stared at me for a long moment, then disappeared and I felt her cheek against my back. Play for me? Ill play the moon out of the sky for you. What do you want to hear? A song about me. What you think me as music sounds like. I took a deep breath, suddenly finding that I wished for nothing more in the world than Wendys acceptance of my music. I gave a gentle strum of the strings, waking them and myself up, And I played for her. You are the spark That lights up the night You hold my heart And it feels just right I am a book Bound on your shelf And even alone Im not by myself. You are my inspiration You keep me alive You are my imagination Without you I cannot survive. Wendy was quiet for a long moment, her low breathing synced with my heartbeat the only sound in the room. Finally she sat up and kissed my cheek, then stood in front of me, looking like a child. You are absolutely amazing. Just, as a person, all around. Looking up at her was unnerving for a split second, as if we were just meeting all over again. And then she made the familiar action of running her hand through her bangs, and I tossed my guitar backwards on the bed and swept her into my arms and kissed her, tried to disappear into her lips. Wendy broke away after a few seconds, pausing and cocking her head towards the door. I heard Hannah. Brownies must be done. And the pure delight of going downstairs (and seeing Hannah and/or getting a brownie) that lit up her face was enough to make me smile wildly and twirl her around once like a ballerina, and point her in the direction of the stairs. Ill be right there. I heard myself say, and after a few of Wendys steps out of the room, everything is silent. I turned to my bed and pulled the guitar off of it, gently running my hand along the curve of the outside, a familiar shape to my palms. I set it in its stand- where it made a low, musical hum as the strings vibrated slightly from the movement- and stood looking at my room.

1 year I had lived in this room. 2 years I had lived with Nate and Hannah. 2 years I had lived without my parents. I felt a single tear roll down my cheek, but I scrubbed it away before it could splash to the ground, and shut the door on my way out. Wendy was standing against the counter, elbows on the countertop, leaning forward over it. Hannah stood on the adjacent side of the square counter, one elbow resting on the gray granite, head cradled in one palm as she listened to Wendy talk about school. Hannah watched Wendys eyes as I came down the stairs, watched our private, short eye conversation that we had grown accustomed to having. I touched a light hand to Wendys back as I passed her, and plopped down in one of the seats at the table to listen to their conversation. Almost immediately I felt my mind drifting, as if I was slipping into a black hole. Their words became muted and fuzzy, like I was listening to the conversation on some old record. It wasnt an unpleasant feeling. It was like being underwater, everything warm and enclosed, safe. I was stirred by Wendy calling my name, and I struggled to find the surface and focus on her, and when I did, all I saw were her eyes, frightened and wide brown circles. You okay there, Ethe? I heard Hannah say, and moved my eyes slightly to the right to see her. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. Yeah, I guess I should try to get more sleep, huh? I smiled at Hannah, and she smiled back, and dismissed it. But Wendy saw something that I hadnt, and wouldnt stop looking at me with frightened deer eyes at every opportunity she was given. When we left, she was silent at my elbow, but her uneasiness radiated from her like sunshine, infectious but uncomfortable if exposed to it for too long of a period. Ethan, what happened to you in there? Wendy didnt try to play around the subject, she knew exactly what was bothering her and had no problem coming right out and asking about it. I, I really dont know. I admitted, scrubbing my hands through my hair. Wendy was quiet, contemplating that for a little bit, then finally we reached the corner that separated Wendys familiarity of the city from mine. She kissed my cheek and let her hand linger on my bicep for a moment, staring into my eyes, as if reassuring me that things were okay, even though we didnt even know if they were wrong. I watched her walk up the hill and disappear into her door, engulfed by the building. I turned back towards my house. That night, I couldnt sleep. 11 oclock rolled around, and I was still lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling. I turned on a dim light and pulled a book from my shelf, flipping to a random page. It was Keats that I had pulled off the shelf, and ironically the poem was one that fit the situation. My eyes only focused on a small section. Save me from curious conscience, that still hoards Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole;

Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards, And seal the hushed casket of my soul. I slammed that book shut and pulled out the next one on the shelf. Rilke. He was a pretty good poet. I opened to a random page of his. The words that caught my eye were from the second verse: If you are the dreamer, I am what you dream. But when you want to wake, I am your wish, And I grow strong with all magnificence And turn myself into a stars vast silence Above the strange and distant city, Time. Was every poetry book I owned about sleep? But I stopped and considered the first line. If you are the dreamer, I am what you dream. I heard once somewhere that if you cant get to sleep, it was because you were awake in someone elses dream. I wondered if Wendy was dreaming of me, in this night that never ended. I replaced the book and got up, and went to the window. Wendy, I asked the moon, Wendy, whats happening to us? Because something isnt right, I can feel it in my bones, in my veins. Something isnt right. Something is very wrong.

Eighteen Wendy 11 oclock, and the house was silent except for the clicking of the clock in the hall. It moved back and forth in the dark hallway, performing for its invisible audience. It worked all day, everyday, no one appreciating it. People only used it for a moment and carried on their way. Clocks werent valued, werent recognized for how much of life was scheduled by them. Clocks made sure the day kept moving forward, but no one even gave them a second glance. So I got out of bed and wandered the house. Mom wasnt home yet, if she was coming home at all. I didnt know anymore. I didnt think I really cared, actually. She was just an unreliable roommate in this house anyway. My feet were soft and warm against the cold ground, and as I walked by the thermostat, I looked at the temperature of the apartment- 40 degrees. I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself, trying to keep myself heated. As I walked past the couch, I pulled the blanket off the back and around my shoulders, a navy blue cape of warmth. With nothing to do, I went back to my room and stood at the window sill, staring out the window at the clear night. Clear nights are the coldest, no fog to help capture the warmth of the atmosphere and hold it near the ground. I imagined Ethan in his room, in his steel blue sheets, wrapped around him like a cocoon while he transformed into an Ethan that was one day older. In the corner, his guitar would sit in the cold, an instrument in the artic. The books would ice over and the snow would pour from the ceiling, but Ethan would stay immaculate, safe in his bubble. I pressed a hand to the glass, watching a foggy handprint form around my fingers. I pulled my hand away and stepped back, and watched it disappear slowly. Amazing how quickly things could form and fade away. I got in bed and asked the single glow-in-the-dark star on my ceiling, Ethan, how are you? I dont know if you understood how much worry was conveyed in my eyes today. Something isnt right. I dont know whats wrong, but something is, I can feel it in my gut. Somethings out of place. And when one thing is out of place, everything is. The rest of the week passed slowly, but at a steady pace. Tuesday Ethan came to my house, and brought his guitar and played for me while I wrote a report on the Enlightenment. He didnt sing, just picked the strings and strummed, a gentle hum in the background. Wednesday we went to his house, and I read his poetry books while he factored equations. Hannah wasnt at home. Thursday we went to the library, and I did calculations on a Chemistry lab while he wrote an English essay about Great Expectations by Charles Dickens. Afterwards, we sat on the little couch and read more of A Midsummer Nights Dream. Friday we hung out in my house. It rained for 3 hours straight. I had no idea where Mom was. Some bar, but I had no idea which one.

At 5:30 the power went out, so I went around the house lighting candles. In the bathroom was apple cider, in my room was cinnamon, in the kitchen was mint chip ice cream and in the living room was clean laundry. Ethan was seated on the ground, his back against the couch, his head bent back. His eyes were closed. I stood at the edge of the couch and watched him for a moment, then knelt at his side and sat next to him, pulling my legs up underneath my hip, and propped my elbow on the seat cushion. I wound a hand into Ethans hair. He didnt stir. Hey. Ethan. Hun. I gave his shoulder a little shake, and his eyes fluttered once before opening. He lifted his head slowly and rubbed his eyes. What time is it? He glanced at the clock. 6:30? Ah man, Hannah will be home, and Nate should be coming home soon. Theyll be worried about me if I dont call or anything. Its raining. I said, my voice monotonous. It is? Oh great. And the powers out. I added. He let his head fall back and closed his eyes. I cant get home. Not in the rain. I traced a circle on his shoulder. You can stay, if youd like. He considered this for a moment, eyes still closed, not looking at me. I just hate lying to my brother. Then call him and tell him to drive by my house to pick you up. Ethan almost immediately shook his head no. I dont want him coming here. Okay, well Ethan, your only choices are stay here, walk home, or have your brother pick you up. You dont want your brother to pick you up and you just said you couldnt walk home, so that leaves staying here. Do you not want to stay here for some reason? I leaned away from him. Ethan sat up and put his arm around me, my shoulder against his chest, my head tucked between his shoulder and his neck. Of course I want to stay here, what type of stupid question is that? Im not stupid. I know. Youre the smartest person I know. He kissed my forehead and got to his feet. Im going to go call my brother. You know the drill? He asked as he walked to the phone and pulled it out of its cradle. Yes, sir. I saluted to him and walked to my room, letting my fingers drift along the wall. Whatever had been wrong last Monday was fine now. I was silly for having worried. I paused at my doorframe, and stood looking in upon my dim room. It had a harsh familiarity now, but seemed empty without Ethan sitting against the bed or at the desk, reading or playing his guitar or doing homework. Arms encircled my waist from behind, and a chin perched on my shoulder. What are you doing, standing here all alone in the dark? Because the power is out. And Im just thinking. I said quietly. My breath made a small cloud in the air.

About what? He asked, and when I didnt immediately answer, he said, Geez Wendy, youre freezing. Maybe you should go first. You need the hot water more than I do. So I gathered my pajamas together and squinted my way into the shower. Showering in the dark was a lot harder than I thought it would be. But the warm water was worth it. I got a vicious case of the chills in the shower, and shook so hard that the water was ricocheting off of me like I was a trampoline. When I walked into my room, Ethan was reading a book. Which one is that? I asked, fluffing my hair out and throwing the towel over the back of my door. Nature in Verse. I like this one by Longfellow. He said, holding the book out to me. Longfellow is a good poet. I replied, taking the book from his hands and reading. The Rainy Day The day is cold, and dark, and dreary; It rains, and the wind is never weary; The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, But at every gust the dead leaves fall, And the day is dark and dreary. My life is cold, and dark, and dreary; It rains, and the wind is never weary; My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past, But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast, And the days are dark and dreary. Be still, sad heart! and cease repining; Behind the clouds is the sun still shining; Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary. But thats a sad poem. I closed the book and tossed in onto my bed, and pressed my shoulder into Ethans side. Youre so cold still, Wendy. Are you feeling alright? He put his hand on my forehead, and it felt like an open flame on my skin. Either he was hot or I was cold. Yeah, Im just chilled. Ill put on a sweatshirt or curl up with a blanket and Ill be fine. Ill make some soup or something. Good thing we have a gas stove. Or I could just wait for you, youre warm. I caught a smile on my lips as the words came out of my mouth, and Ethan smiled back. Alright. So youll be warm enough? Make some soup or hot chocolate or something? Ill try to be fast. Ethan got to his feet and clutched his pajamas in his hands. I nodded once. Yes. And followed Ethan out the door. While he turned right to go to the bathroom, I went straight to go out to the kitchen.

I carried the candle around with me, boiling water to make hot chocolate. We only had enough for one cup, so I was hoping that Ethan wouldnt want any. If he did, Id share a little of mine. I went back to my room, cupping my hands around the mug. I mustve lingered in the kitchen, because when I came into the hallway, Ethan was digging in the closet cabinet, looking for blankets. Up a shelf, hun. I said as I walked by him. He rummaged for a few more moments, then appeared in the doorway, a silhouette even against the dark background. Ethan spilled the blankets onto the ground and grabbed my booklight from my shelf, flipping the switch to light up the room. It cast a too white light, a small pinprick of shining in the blackness. It made Ethans face look pale, his wet hair look dark. Are you better? He asked, leaning his face in towards mine, shadows leaning gracefully away from his nose and eyes. You tell me. I said, my voice dropping one volume level. Ethan put the back of his hand against my forehead. It felt hot, but that could have to do with the fact that he just had a warm shower. I think youre better. He said, stage whispering and getting to his feet, laying the blankets out across the ground. I helped him make his makeshift bed, a nest of fabric in my square room, warm and cozy in the silent tomb of a house that I lived in. He crawled under the covers and looked over at me. I made a sheepish face and got into my own bed. He clicked off the booklight. I blinked twice, forcing my eyes to adjust quickly to the darkness. The only light was coming from the candle on my bedside table. I had blown out the ones in the kitchen and the living room. Did you blow out the candle in the bathroom? I asked, my face hovering near the flame, poised to snuff the small fire out. Yes. His voice was a quiet whisper in the dimness, and as soon as he said so, I puffed one quick breath out, and extinguished the candle. The room was enveloped with darkness. I let out one long, sigh of exhaustion and squinted through the darkness. I saw the whites of Ethans eyes reflected back at me. The moon, a giant white circle in the black sky, glinted off his pupils. Wendy? Ethans voice barely broke the air. Yes? I watched for the movement of his lips in the dark. Why do you have so many poetry books? I gave a small little laugh and rolled over so my right shoulder was pressed into the mattress, and I was facing out towards Ethan. Because sometimes, even I am at a loss for words, and have to read them out of the books and into my mind so I can have them for later. God, I love you. He said, almost automatically, and it took me aback, casual but flattering at the same time. Thats the way I wrote you. What, to be someone that loved you? No. Well, ish. I wrote you to be someone that I loved. Ethans smile was the only thing visible in the darkness.

Nineteen Ethan Wendy and I watched one another for ten minutes, a silent exchange of smiles and yawns. When her teeth started to chatter, she pulled herself from her bed and wormed her way under my covers. I felt her toes against my shins, ten cold digits on my warm skin. Hey, move over and give me more blankets. Youre hogging them all. She whispered. Hey, youre the one invading my sleep space, stop complaining. I whispered back, teasing. She laughed and turned on her side, looking over at me. She smelled like pencil lead, a metallic, graphite smell, and the ink of a new book, and the musty smell of the library. Peppermint from her hot chocolate lingered vaguely on her breath. I gave her some blankets, throwing them over her back, bringing her into my bubble. The forest in her eyes came alive with color, gold flecks revealing themselves in the moonlight that I hadnt been able to observe when she was up on her bed. She turned away for a moment and extended an arm, yanking the comforter off of her bed and over to us. After getting that situated, she turned away from me, facing forward, but put her shoulder against mine, staring out the window above our feet, watching the moons ascent through the sky. What are you thinking about? Youve been very quiet. She asked, lips pale in the dim light. I could ask the same thing about you. I said. And I would just say that I asked first, so you answer and then I will. Wendy said, sending a sly smile in my direction. Alright, fine. I was thinking about how its now 10 oclock, and your mom hasnt called or come home or anything. I was imagining what your dad is like. I was thinking about my parents, buried in a simple cemetery in Sacramento, where I was born and raised for the first 5 years of my life. We moved to San Fran right around the time I turned 6. I was thinking about how you were really cold. I was thinking about I stopped and considered my next words. About how on Monday, I lost myself. About how at the park, you were losing yourself. About how its scary beyond scary. Just about everything. Everything is a lot to think about. She said, closing her eyes and smiling up at the ceiling. What about you, what are you thinking about? I was thinking about how my toes felt like they were on fire when they touched your shins, about how the moon looks like a giant bleached beach ball, about how that one glow in the dark star is awfully lonely on my ceiling, about how I love the way your hair sticks up when its wet after a shower, and about the history workbook pages I have to complete. Wendy answered. I found myself suddenly reaching out to touch her, to assure myself that this girl lying beside me- rattling off her thoughts to me, smiling up at the ceiling, illuminated by the moonlight- was real. My fingertips danced upon her shoulder. Her eyes fluttered open. Hi. What are you doing?

Making sure you still exist. Because theres no way that you are. Youre too picture perfect. Picture perfect? Ethan, you flatter me too much. The world doesnt revolve around me, you know. I know. I said, touching my nose to hers. I kissed her, then pulled away and whispered, But you keep it spinning. Wendy fell asleep 15 minutes later. She had turned her back to me and I drew circles on her back, lazy, misshapen ovals that didnt quite complete themselves. The only thing I remembered her saying before she slipped into dream land was, Love you too. Now, she was a silent body of life, gently breathing, and I watched the rise and fall of the comforter, matching it with my breathing as well. And I remembered Thursday in school. 3rd period: Algebra 2. I was sitting at my desk, done with my test, with nothing to do. The teacher sat in his chair, staring absentmindedly at the computer, seeing through it, not watching the screen. Most of the heads in the room turned when the door opened, but everyone went back to working when they saw it was the teachers wife. All but me. See, my math teacher teaches Algebra 1 and Algebra 2, and his wife teaches PreCal and Calculus. They both work at the school, and her prep period is third, and she comes in to see her husband a lot. I never knew until someone asked why Mrs. Berry was in the room, and it occurred to me that Mr. Berry was Mrs. Berrys husband. I subtly watched them, caught up with the connection they had, watching their eyes communicate what they werent saying out loud. I didnt realize that my staring was that obvious until Preston poked my arm and mouthed, What are you doing? His test was facedown on his desk. I shrugged and looked down at my desk, but watched them out of the very corner of my eye. Mr. Berry was showing her something on the computer, and she leaned against the back of his computer chair, her hand casually on his shoulder. Something about the affection in his eyes and the gentleness in her smile hit home with me, and I stared at the back of my test, a white rectangle on the wood, until I heard Mrs. Berrys footsteps on the tile and the door shut softly behind her. It had made me think of Marty and Annie, and how they acted around one another. They seemed so carefree, and light. Mr. and Mrs. Berry were casual but careful, accustomed to being around one another. Wendy and I were two spinning glass orbs, fragile and vulnerable to one another, but we orbited the same ellipse. I hated to be comparing myself to my teacher, but Mr. and Mrs. Berry were just used to one another, in tune to one anothers thoughts. Wendy and I, we were one anothers thoughts. We knew how to read facial expressions, the light in each others eyes, the tone of our voice, the way we held ourselves.

Wendy and I had known one another our whole lives, and we were far past accustomed to one anotherWe lived each others lives. My thoughts were cut short as Wendy stirred and rolled slightly next to me. Her cheek brushed my shoulder, and her eyes fluttered open, struggling to focus on me. Ethan? Hun, are you still up? No. I whispered, smiling. Liar. She whispered back, closing her eyes again and pressing her face into my shoulder. Go to sleep. She murmured into the sleeve of my t-shirt. I watched the moon ascend another few inches before I quietly slipped into subconsciousness. I woke to the gentle beeping of Wendys clock on the nightstand. I reached one arm up and snatched it off the wood, and glanced at the time6:35. I rubbed my eyes and replaced the phone, and looked over at Wendy. She had her palm pressed to the pillow, and she was lying on her stomach. Her face was turned towards me, and a light smile danced on her lips. I watched her for a few minutes, the sun rising in the sky and climbing up her face. Just before it reached her eyes, I gently tapped her hand. Brown eyes opened and focused on me. As if we were in a clich movie, the sunlight hit them just then, making them crackle with the gold flecks embedded in the irises. Are you just laying there, watching me sleep? She said, stifling a yawn and rubbing her eyes once. Is it a bad thing if I was? She propped herself on her elbows and crawled closer to me, burying her face in my neck. Wendy, how come youre never at your dads anymore? That first day we met, you said you were at his house every other weekend, but youve been at your moms all month. I said into her hair. She gave a quiet sigh. Well, he hasnt called and asked about me. I have to walk myself over there if I want to visit with him. He probably hasnt noticed yet. Im sorry, Wendy. Its not your fault that hes like that. And its not his fault that Mom started drinking. I dont know. I dont like thinking about it, but then if I think about how I just put it off, I start comparing myself to Louis XVI, and how he just kept putting off the economy of France until he was totally doomed, and got all desperate and called the Estates-General into session, but then the whole French Revolution started and he ended up getting beheaded. She lifted her head and looked at me, eyes sad. I dont want to be beheaded. And for some reason, I started laughing. She sat up instantly, leaning away from me, and I sat up, trying to get control of my stomach, which was shaking and aching from laughing. Ethan. She said, her voice firm and angry. And the laughing ceased instantly, vanished.

Wendys mouth was set in a straight line, lips pursed so tight it was almost a smile, and her dimples made caves in her cheeks. Her eyebrows hung over her eyes, and her eyes were on fire, burning me in her head. I had seen this look before, when we first met. Are you laughing at me? You, my boyfriend, the only person I trust in my life, the only person I have in my life, and youre laughing at me and my problems? I was kind enough to answer your question. You should be kind enough not to laugh at me. Her words were hissed through clenched teeth. I was speechless. She was stealing all the words out of the air, breathing them in and breathing out her own sentences, leaving nothing for me to defend myself with. She stood, glaring down at me. I think you need to leave. My voice popped back into my throat. What? Why? I wasnt laughing at you. Even as I said it, I knew it wasnt true. Leave. Now. She hissed, trying to keep her temper about her. I stared at Wendy for a moment, willing her with my eyes to sit down, to realize that I wasnt trying to hurt her feelings, I was only laughing at how she turned everything into a lesson of something, but her eyes stayed glassy, unchanging. So I got to my feet and picked up my clothes, pulling off my shirt in front of her and putting on my one from yesterday. I took a few steps to outside her door, then sidestepped to be hidden by the wall, and changed into my jeans. I appeared back in her doorway, pajamas in my hand. I held them out to her. You can take those with you. Her voice was unforgiving and monotonous. I folded them slowly and put them on the ground by the door. She took a step forward, grabbed them and threw them at my chest. I said, you can take those with you. We shared a tense moment in the hallway, but she was the only one who was mad. I was desperately trying not to sweep her into my arms and kiss her. But I obeyed. I clutched the pajamas to my chest, walked to the front door, and pulled on my sneakers, pulled my jacket from the hook by the door and put it on. I stood with my back to the front door, staring across the living room at Wendy, haunting her doorway. The phone rang.

Twenty Wendy Ethan stared at the phone like he had never seen such a thing. I shifted my weight to my left hip, felt the pressure travel all the way down my leg, felt how much I was leaning on my left foot. And watched Ethan stare at the phone. It rang a second time. Are you going to answer that? He said. Not while youre standing there. I shot back. It might be Nate or Hannah, calling for me. This was a valid point, no matter how badly I wanted him out of my house, so I gestured grandly to the phone, irritated. Ethan took a few steps and brought the phone to his ear. Hello? He listened for a second, and his eyes widened, surprised. How did you get this number? He said. Listen for a few seconds. Oh. Well, what is it? Listen. Wendys. He said this like he was caught in a trap. Listen. Well, not the food place. He said, irritated. What is it that you called about? Listen. His eyes flickered to me. Yeah, shes right here. He held the phone out to me. Who is it? I said, curious, but trying to maintain the anger at him in my voice. His face contorted into a mix between a smile and confusion. Its Annie.

Twenty-One Ethan I brought the phone to my ear. Hello? Annies voice greeted me. Hi Ethan, its Annie. I could feel Wendys eyes on me, watching the surprise on my face. How did you get this number? I needed to talk to you, so I told Marty that, and he gave me your house number, and Hannah gave me this number and said you were here. Oh. This is a surprise in itself. Well, what is it? Well I need you to- wait a second. Whose house are you at? Time to tell the truth. Wendys. Wendys as in Wendy Owl? Well, not the food place. What is it that you called about? Well, I wanted to talk to you because I needed you to pass a message along to Wendy, but if shes there? Yeah, shes right here. I held the phone out to Wendy. She scrutinized it, trying to hide her curiosity. Who is it? She said. For a moment, I almost said, Me, apologizing. Which brought a small, sad smile to my face, but then I remembered Annie needed to talk to Wendy, and was calling around because it must be important, and confusion spread across my face. Its Annie. I said, handing Wendy the phone. She looked at it for half a second, then brought it to her ear. Annie? I leaned against the counter to watch and listen to half the conversation. Wendy waved a hand at me, telling me to get out. I rolled my eyes and re-gathered my pajamas in my arm, straightened my jacket, and walked back to the front door. I let my hand rest on the doorknob behind my back, still listening. Annie was talking a lot, and Wendy was leaning over the table, listening. Hair fell into her face, shielding me from her vision. Are you sure? I mean, you couldve calculated wrong, its a bunch of nonsense numbers, and you dont have the full story. Wendy looked back up to see why she hadnt heard the door shut, and her eyes found mine. They were full of fear. I remembered her breakdown in the park. She waved me to go, but not as fervently as she had before. I removed my hand from the doorknob and put my pajamas on the counter. Wendy scowled half-heartedly at me. But what does that mean, Annie? For us? The fear and anxiety grew in her voice, and I looked over at her. All the anger at me had vanished. Now there was only concern. How long do we have? It was barely a whisper. OnlyBut how is that why? Why? Wendy blinked, and her eyes were wet. But cant I save us then? If I take it up again? Her voice was approaching panic. What do you mean its no use!? We have to try, we have to do something. She was frantic now, tapping her thumb impatiently against the table.

Nothing to do? Theres always something. Theres always something. Ill figure something out. Well think of something. Theres gotta be something, something. It cant just end like this. She was covering her eyes with her free hand. I was invisible to her now. But I was filled with every ounce of her fear, and I didnt even know what we were afraid of. I refuse to believe that Annie. Find something. In the meantime, I have an idea. I looked up from the ground at her, to her staring determinedly at the table. Her jaw was clenched. Sure, whatever. Anything. Keep looking. And keep it quiet. God, Annie, do you know how stupid it sounds? Never mind. I need to go. See you tomorrow morning. Bye. The first thing out of my mouth after she hung up the phone was, So youre coming tomorrow? Is that your way of forgiving the crime that I didnt commit? Wendy shot a glare at me, but she reconsidered and laid a palm against my face, crying into my chest. Please, Ethan. Dont, not now. So I didnt. But I did ask: Why did Annie call? Wendy took a deep breath and looked up at me. We need a car. That wasnt an answer to my question, but I asked, Where are we going? Doesnt matter. We need a car. I can borrow Hannahs. Ive had my license for a year, so I can drive us. Where are we going? Okay. Go get the car. Ill tell you where to go. Dont ask questions about our destination. Deal? Deal. What was I getting myself into? Okay. Let me get dressed and well go. I was the robot, she was pressing the controls. I felt my feet moving back to the counter, my arms wrap for the umpteenth time around my pajamas, and go to the door to wait. Wendy called behind me, Oh, and one more thing. I turned and found her pressed up against me, and then she was kissing me. She pulled me towards the kitchen, and then pushed me out the door, pushing me away from her lips. I forgive you. And Im sorry. She shut the door before I had time to reply.

Twenty-Two Wendy So I was testing my luck on a few things that could go wrong, hoping they wouldnt. First of all, I had no idea where the cemetery was that Ethans parents were buried, but I was banking on the fact that I could pretty much guess where it was. The back-up plan to that was having Ethan know where to go, and driving there automatically, tracing a path in the pavement, but the problem with that was that he might get mad or upset about me trying to get him there without his knowledge, so he might turn around and go back to San Francisco. I dressed in jeans, a black T-shirt, and a denim jacket, pulling on slip-on sneakers as I hopped towards the knock at the front door. Ethan was standing in the doorway, the light from behind me reflecting off the rain in his hair. I pulled at the hair-tie around my wrist to distract myself from the thought of kissing him, but didnt move to pull my hair back. Ethan noticed this. I think you should leave it down. He said, coming forward and twirling a strand of hair between his fingers. His face was so close to mine that I felt like I was going cross-eyed trying to look into his eyes. But he turned away, holding onto my wrist, whirling me towards the door, then through it, and then made me wait by the door. In the street outside my house, a midnight blue jeep was parked. Ethan ran to the jeep and opened the passenger door, then motioned for me to get in the car. I ran through the rain and practically catapulted myself into the seat. Ethan ran around the front of the car and go into the drivers seat, shutting the door. There was a moment of rearranging, then a half-beat of silence, and then he turned and looked at me. Oh, god, Wendy, youre so beautiful. He said for no reason, his lips staying serious in a straight line. Ethan- was all I could say before he pulled my face to his, the car echoing with our heartbeats and the sound of the rain. The rain slowed, and he pulled away and asked, So, where are we going? I remembered taking a field trip to Sacramento when I was in 7th grade with my science class. Get on I-80 East and take it until I say so. I said, and buckled my seatbelt. Ethan put the jeep in gear and I pulled the blank book into my lap. Ethan saw me out of the corner of his eyes and raised his eyebrows. You know, Wendy, I dont want to drive in silence- I thought you were going to tell me whats up. Im not going to write. I just like having it with me. Like a safety blanket. I laughed, an easy sound. I guess. Can I turn on the radio? I asked, leaning forward and fiddling with the knob. I turned it to a station I heard my classmates talk about a lot. The radio announcer said excitedly, Good morning, San Franciscans, I hope youre having a wonderful morning. The time is now 7:15, and the next song were going to play is the number one love song in the country right now. A piano intro started, and I leaned back in my seat, watching Ethan drive and falling in love with him all over again.

Twenty-Three Ethan Wendy was quiet for a while, listening to the radio, softly humming along, tracing her fingers along the windows, following the paths of the raindrops. She couldve had a million friends. I was missing some piece of the puzzle. Wendy was so likable, so easygoing- how could you not want to be her friend? After listening to the sweet, corny lyrics and watching the street disappear under the tires of the car for 5 minutes, I spoke. Wendy. She looked over at me, her eyes sad. I took a hand off the steering wheel and took her hand. She covered my hand with hers and looked straight out the windshield, her lips moving, but her voice not connected to her emotions. The first day I met Annie, at the park, I told her how we knew one another, how I wrote you to life. After I told her, she started to say something, but then stopped, and even after I bugged her, she wouldnt tell me. So I kind of forgot about it. When we came back to the basketball court, you will remember that I went through a little bit of short term memory loss, and a few days later at your house, you seemed like you went through a little bit too. She paused, and lifted one of her hands to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, then put her hand back on mine, and spoke slowly, deliberately. Anyway, today Annie called and told me what she hadnt said that day in the park, this prediction she had, and she said that she had run a few math equations around it, trying to get it all to fit, and from what she could tell, she was right. And as much as I hate to say it, shes right. Wendy pulled her hands away from mine, and I replaced it back on the steering wheel, and Wendy turned off the radio, turning her body towards me, pausing for a few seconds between sentences. She thinks that were both only half people. I know, its crazy. Her theory is that when I created you in 1st grade, you took half of my soul or life force or whatever, and you became this new person. Obviously, you dont have a girl soul anymore, but she explained it as a little bit of science, how you got your moms eyes or whatever, your dads nose or whatever, and a life from me. You dont ever feel like only half a person, because youve always been only half a person- you dont know anything different. But you got like 95% of the social part of me, and I only got 5%. Thats why Im so shy. The intelligence got divided pretty equally- I scoffed. Wendy, you know as well as I do that you are smarter than me. Be realistic here. Wendy paused, swallowed, and then pressed on. The intelligence went 60/40, more to me. But I just seem smarter than most people sometimes because its not drowned out with any other personality trait. But anyway- so were only 50% people, and 50% of we-dont-exist-at-all. Now, this is going to be the hardest part to swallow- we give some of our selves to each other. I looked over at her, giving her a glance that pretty much conveyed the thought of are-you-kidding-me? She held up her hands like she was surrendering. I know, I know. But think about it- it makes sense. When I wrote about you, I gave you, lets say, 3% of myself. Thats why it felt like I was in the book, because I was less of a person and more of not-

existing. And vice-versa: when you played guitar songs about or for me, that 3% returned to me, so we were both half people again. This is bizarre beyond bizarre. But wait, why were you so upset then? This is all just logical explanation. I said, trying to process this ridiculous event she was trying to explain. Wendy gave a shaky sigh. Annie figured that once I met you, Id stop writing, and shes right. She also figured that once you met me, youd stop playing, and shes pretty much right. So the percents have stood at a stand still, no back and forth. And thats really bad. Its kind of like being in really cold water- if you keep treading, you kind of heat up, and even though youre tired, you get stronger and stronger. But if you let yourself float, the cold sets in and you would probably die. Like the Titanic. I know, this is a really stupid analogy and Im probably wrong, but whatever. So this whole time when weve been going back and forth, weve been treading. But now that weve stopped, weve started to freeze. And we cant even start again, because it wouldnt work- were too frozen now. So now were going to die- you, me, or both of us. Wendy put her face in her hands, and I could barely make out her mumbles. But Annie predicts it will be you because you came from the blank book, so youll be sucked back in, and while you are, Ill get my percentage back, so youll be nothing and Ill be whole. Like Jack and Rose in Titanic, where he freezes and dies, but she lives on. Wendy sat up, and wiped a tear from her eye, sucking in air, swallowing her tears. But I have a few plans, so I think we can either slow down or stop the going backwards. The short term memory loss was right around the time when we stopped treading water, and we started to freeze. Its been really slow though, less than half a percentage, because you freeze slowly at first. Right now, Im probably 53% human, and youre 47%, just like you played a guitar song and I never wrote back. But as we go longer and longer without treading, we might freeze faster and faster. But we also have to take into account that it might suck all your friends and family with you, so that would slow down the percents by a lot, only losing a fraction of a percent a day, a week! She looked over at me, and I peeled my eyes from the road for a moment to look at her. I know thats a lot of information. Do you understand it all? Do you have any questions? Maybe youll recognize something Annie and I missed. My lips moved by themselves, I felt no movement, didnt feel the words leave my mouth. How long do we have? Wendy looked at her feet. Annie did all the calculations and guesses either February, mid-May, or November. Those are all dramatically different. February is if its just you, and it stays the same rate. May is if its you and everyone else, and it gets faster as it goes through. November is if its everyone and it stays the same rate. I dont know the numbers and I dont really want to know. Its like putting an exact ticker on how much life you lose each day. Annie ran the calculations a few times though, and they always come out to those months. She didnt tell me days or anything, just that those were the times. Wendy looked over at me, her bottom lip trembling. Ethan, I cant lose you, I just cant.

I pulled to the side of the road and shut the car off. Rain pounded on the roof. I wont leave you, Wendy, I promise. Well find a way to stop this. Theres got to be a way. Wendy unbuckled her seatbelt and scooted into the middle of the bench seat, resting her cheek on my shoulder. I know, Ethan, well find a way. God, Im sorry for crying all the time, Im not a really emotional, weepy person, I promise. I dont know whats up with me. We were quiet, listening only to our heartbeats and the rain. I suppose we should turn back, the place we were going would be dreadful in the rain. She said, her voice soft, meshing with the pitter-patter on the roof. Where were we going, anyway, Wendy? Wendy looked up at me, woody brown eyes sad and searching. Sacramento. To see your parents. I was silent, staring out the window. One lone car drove past. We werent to the bridge yet, we were on side streets, and they were deserted. Ethan? You were going to try to trick me into driving you to my parents graves? What the hell, Wendy? Are you trying to get back at me for laughing at you this morning? Because I found it funny that everything you say is a history lesson? So you were going to drag me out to my parents graves, that I havent see for 3 years, and try to get me to cry or something? Because then we would be even? Wendys mouth was set in such an angry line that her dimples were digging holes through her skin like they were trying to find the center of the earth. No, I wasnt going to try to make us even. I told you I forgave you, and I told you that I was sorry. You forgave me? I did nothing wrong! I laughed at something you said! But the thing I said was not a joke! It was a serious feeling! But I guess you dont have serious feelings, youre just Mr. Jokester all the time because you got the 95% personality and I only got 5%. Its not my fault you have the social life of a wet sock! You want some character? Take it, I dont want it. I have friends that would still want to be around me if I only had 5% of a personality, unlike you, who have no friends. I wonder why that is, Wendy. Could it be because everything you say is secretly a trap to fall into, so no one ever knows how to respond to it? Hell, Im half you, and I dont even know how to respond to it. You want some friends? Stop being so anal about everything and live like a human being! You just said that youre 53% human, and Im only 47! But look at us, Wendy, who is the one that appears more human? You, whose best friend is the librarian, or me, who has a group of friends that I see every week? Wendy was staring forward, out the windshield. The windows were foggy from our hot, angry breath humming about the car. She didnt look at me, didnt speak. Just opened her passenger door, got out of the car and slammed the door. I had never heard a silence quite this loud.

Twenty-Four Wendy I was cold and wet and shaking, but there was no way in hell that I was walking back to Ethans car and begging for a ride home. I could walk. It wasnt like I was in any hurry, and we hadnt even crossed the Golden Gate Bridge yet. He had taken a roundabout way to get where we were. We were actually parked close to a diner, and I considered my morning without breakfast and my growling stomach for about 3 seconds before walking in there. It was only after the bell rang behind me, the door swishing close, that I realized I had no money. A homey looking redhead woman in her 20s moseyed over to me, a pen stuck in a sloppy bun on her head. The name tag on her orange blouse read Eliza. Hey sugar, what can I get for you? Something hot? Youre soaking wet. Id like that, really, but I dont have any money on me, and the only person who might have some is my boyfriend, who is parked down the street a little ways in that car. I pointed to the blue jeep, which I could see from here. She raised her eyebrows. So did he send you in here to get food with no money? He didnt send me anywhere- we got in a fight so I got out of the car and stormed off before thinking twice. I dont have far to walk. I just wanted to come in and warm up a little bit. I gestured to one of the hard wood-back chairs nearby. Honey, you make yourself right at home. Ill get you some hot cocoa on the house. Eliza whirled away to get the hot chocolate, and I sat by the window to watch the jeep. If he happened to turn around and drive by here, I wanted to know so I could duck down and hide. I didnt want him coming in here. I didnt want his apology. Eliza- apparently the only person in the place- called from the kitchen, Whats your name, Sugar? Wednesday. I called back, watching the jeep. The tail lights flickered on, but it stayed where it was. I bet he just had gotten cold inside the car. Wimp. I walked through the rain, Ethan. Eliza set the mug down in front of me and took a seat opposite me. I wrapped my hands around the mug, trying to heat some life back into them. They were numb. So, give me the facts on this boyfriend of yours. What was the fight about? Like I could tell her that I was taking my boyfriend to see his parents gravesparents that I had inadvertently killed- and that I was trying to take him there without his knowledge, and when I told him, he freaked out and started telling me that I had no personality and everything I said was a school lesson. So instead I semi-lied and said, Oh, he called me boring. I took a sip of the hot chocolate. Eliza looked unsatisfied with that answer, but didnt press me. Down the street, the jeep pulled a U-turn and started coming down this side of the street, towards the diner. Oh, God, please, Ethan, just drive past and dont come in here, please. I said quietly, staring into my hot chocolate.

Outside I heard a car door slam shut. Ethan pushed open the diner door, spraying raindrops onto the faded, stained orange carpet that matched Elizas blouse. Can I help you sir? Eliza said, standing and facing Ethan. Yeah, I want to talk to Wendy. Ethan looked hopeless, one raindrop falling from the tip of his nose. I asked if I could help you, sir, not if you wanted to disturb this young lady. If you want to talk to her, youre going to need to wait outside until she comes out. But until then, you are not to set foot inside this diner, or I will take you down myself, and dont doubt for a minute that I cant. Elizas voice sang out strong and fierce. Ethan gave me a weak look, but turned and exited the diner. I watched him go to the jeep and lean against it, the rain soaking him through more each second. It was still coming down in buckets. Why didnt he get in that car of his? Eliza asked, looking out the window with her hand on her hip. To make me feel pity for him. I said, taking another sip of chocolate. Behind me, the clock struck 8. 15 minutes later, I was done with my hot chocolate, and starting to feel bad for Ethan. He hadnt moved from leaning against the jeep, and the only thing that alerted me of him still being alive was when he would move his head. Hed watch me for a while, the minuscule movements of my hands, and then hed watch Eliza as she cleaned the already clean tables, and then hed stare at the ground. He did this circuit once a minute. I set the empty mug on the counter and looked unhappily out the door at Ethan. He was looking at the ground. I suppose I dont want to walk home in the rain while wearing jeans. I said, shrugging. Make him ride in the trunk. Spice things up. Thatll prove you aint boring. Eliza said, tucking her cleaning rag into her apron. Thanks again for the hot chocolate. Honey, you paid me in excitement and kindness. Nothing ever happens at this boring lil diner, and now you gave me a story to tell my girlfriends. Youll have to call me and tell me what happens. We could go for a little harmless gossip nownthen. Eliza said, scribbling down 10 numbers on an order sheet. I tucked it in my pocket. Thanks, Eliza. Anytime, Wednesday. Drop by again soon, Sugarplum! I walked to the door and saw Ethans eyes on me, excited and hopeful in his weary looking posture. I pushed the door open slowly, watched Ethan stand up all the way and lean away from the car door. I stood under the overhang for a minute, holding my denim jacket in one hand, my arms crossed over my still damp shirt. At least it was black. I could yell at him through the rain, or I could just get in the car and we could start the heater. I stared at him. Ethan, what do you want? I want to apologize. Im sorry. I dont know why I said those things, they werent true. Please, forgive me and get in the car. Why didnt you just go home? I can walk. Forget the fact that its pretty much turning into a flood at my feet, Ill swim home instead.

Im not giving up. On what? Waiting? Me? Boring me, with the social life of a wet sock? I put my hands on my hips. He winced at his own words reflected back at him, but he looked me in the eyes, the blue-gray in them rolling like how I imagined the ocean was right now. Im not giving up on us. Please say you arent either. And that was the straw that broke my camels back, and I practically attacked him, my heart racing. His lips were wet with the rain, and his shoulders were wet with the rain, and the rain from his hair dripped into my eyes, and there was rain in my mouth and his mouth and his hands left wet prints on my back and he was everywhere and it was raining on the car and on me and on him and on us. On us. He picked me up and spun me around, but his lips didnt leave mine. My feet touched the ground and he gently cradled my face in his hands, kissing me once softly before pulling away and resting his forehead against mine. His eyes were closed as he spoke. Wendy, were never going to get through this unless we work together. Im sorry I said those things. I guess I was just a little upset at you for trying to take me to my parents without my consent. I wanted to surprise you, do something nice for you. I said, taking his hands at my sides. His eyes opened, looking into mine. Wendy, you dont need to do anything besides be mine. So, youre not mad at me? You still love me? I said, speaking into the rain, but he still heard. Who said I ever was? And of course I still love you, He pulled away and opened the passenger door for me, resting his chin on the top of the door. I never stopped.

Twenty- Five Ethan We got in the car. I was much more deliberate starting the car this time, checking all the mirrors and testing out every windshield wiper speed before choosing the constant one, turning the high beams on, then off, then on again, and off again, and finally leaving them on after seeing how much easier I would be able to see through the rain with them on. Before pulling forward, I turned to Wendy, who was squeezing the water out of her hair and into the towel in her lap that she had found in the backseat. Her denim jacket lay in a wet heap on the floor, and her socks and shoes were off. After finishing on her hair, she leaned forward and wrung out the hems of her jeans, managing to squeeze a few drops of rain out of them. She caught me staring at her, and raised an eyebrow before leaning forward and running a hand through my hair to spike it up. Her fingers lingered on my cheek, and then Wendy suddenly pulled away and dug in her back pocket, and pulled out a soggy yellow sheet of paper. 10 digits bled into one another, but you could still tell what they said, if only just barely. Wendy held it in front of the vent. My heart swelled at this small little action. Hey, Wendy, did I tell you? Tell me what? She said, turning her head slightly towards me, but kept looking at the drying paper. That I love you. Wendys forest eyes focused on the ocean in mine. As I you. I put the car in drive. We didnt speak driving home, and I didnt turn on the radio. We drove in silence, but the silence was comfortable, and warm, like the quiet hush of a theater just before the movie begins. Wendy was leaning her head against the window, and I could see the small area on the window where her breath fogged it up. I wondered what she was thinking about. I wondered if she was replaying my awful speech in her head. You want some friends? Stop being so anal about everything and live like a human being! You just said that youre 53% human, and Im only 47! But look at us, Wendy, who is the one that appears more human? You, whose best friend is the librarian, or me, who has a group of friends that I see every week? I had never hated myself for saying something more than I did right then. When I turned onto my street, Wendy whispered, When I first read you, these words broke loose and fell upon me in my wilderness, in all their desperation. When I parked along the curb, I looked over at her, and she turned her doe eyes towards me. Rilke wrote that. The break in her speech was filled by the soft rain, finally calming down. She stared at the piece of paper she was turning over and over with her fingers, now dry. Im going to go home, and try to save you. But you need to go back home, because it works better if you arent there. Wendy, I dont want to be away from you if Im running out of time.

She took a deep breath. Okay. But you have to at least sit a few feet away from me. I cant think about you when youre right there. You cant think about me when Im right there. I repeated, trying to figure out if they meant what I thought they meant. No, well when youre with me, I think about us. I think about what Im talking to you about. I think about what it feels like to kiss you. But when you arent there, I think about what you look like, and things you do, and play back our memories. For a moment, we sat in the car, the comfortable silence around us like a warm bubble, the rain thoughtfully drumming its fingers on the top of the car. Okay, so on to your house? I asked, my voice seeming too loud in the quiet. Wendy gave a subtle nod. Suddenly the silence that had been comfortable a moment ago was too thick and dense, a giant comforter pressing down upon us. I turned to Wendy, staring at her until she met my eyes. The kiss wasnt just a kiss to cure the silence. It wasnt a cure at all- we could fix the silence without having our lips meet. The kiss was a way without words- because I wasnt very good with words- to tell Wendy that I was never going to give this-us- up, I was going to find a way for me to stay in the world. I was going to find a way to stay with her.

Twenty- Six Wendy Ethan pulled up to my house like he had done it all his life, but made no move to get out of the car. He turned to me. Why did you want to take me to my parents? He asked. My brain formed the answer in my head, but I didnt say it aloud. I had wanted to take him to his parents because a) he hadnt seen them in 3 years, when they were buried and b) it was the only part of him that I didnt know. He knew all about me, but then again there wasnt much to know. Ethan asked again. I turned my head slowly towards him, like some robot doll, and lied, I dont know. It seemed like a good idea for some reason. I didnt know why I was lying, but I wasnt about to tell him the truth now. I would sound like some selfish brat. Granted, he was Ethan, and might understand, but I didnt want to take that risk. Not when we were so close to losing one another. Did you know, that the day I met you was January 10th? Ethan said, unbuckling his seat belt and turning his body towards me. No. It was the 10th? It seems like its been longer away than that. Only 19 days, weve known each other 19 days. 19 days to get attached. Who knew how much longer we would stay attached. Wendy. He said, his voice demanding my attention, my focus. The 10th. 10th. 10th. Why was the 10th important? A tab in my brain pulled up all important things that involved January 10th and Ethan. A glaring red circled date on the calendar in my brain blinked at me, and I blinked involuntarily, stark realization shocked onto my face. Oh God. Your birthday. I totally forgot. I celebrated it last year though, when you turned 16. Geez, I cant believe I forgot. Start the car, well drive around town and Ill find something for you, actually, no, scratch that, Ill go into town by myself so you wont see until later and Ill swing by your house tomorrow and we can go to Annies and see if she has any suggestions. Ethan took my face between his hands and pressed his nose against mine. Wendy, you do realize that you already gave me the best gift I couldve received? I looked into his ocean eyes, trying to remember if Id given him anything. Nothing came to mind. I raised an eyebrow, questioning his reasoning. He kissed me then, and I melted into him, still slightly reeling from our two fights in the past 12 hours. And then it hit me, but it was too clich to bear, so I mumbled, my lips still moving against his, Really, Ethan? Youre gonna take that route? Im the one who is supposed to be apologizing for storming out and making a scene. He pulled back. Im not apologizing. And the sincerity in his eyes was a little much for me to handle, so I pulled back, irritated at myself. Since when had this become my life? Since when had fighting with a character from a book sprung to life, kissing him in the car, and having him be too clich for both of us become my life?

Ethan, Im sorry to do this again, but I really need just a night to myself. Im not mad at you, Im not upset. Im overwhelmed. And once that had been admitted, words practically jumped out of my mouth, flinging themselves to the wind. I just learned today that youre going to be gone by like, May or whenever, I dont even remember because Im too stressed out. November. Ethan corrected me, sounding surprised at my way-off guess. November, whatever. And on top of that, Ive been handed the job of figuring out how to postpone and slash or stop that from happening, and theres always a possibility that it might be me going into it and were fighting all the time because we cant get on the same page, and youre anal about not wanting to see your parents and Im anal about not wanting to do anything and I havent seen my dad in almost a month now and I havent seen my mom awake, sober, actually living, not just half hungover all the time in God-knows-how-long, and I have 2 essays to do and they have to be amazing because otherwise the teacher will toss them away and figure that Im some random made-up person in the class and Im doing really bad in math because the teacher never sees my hand when I want to ask a question and its just too much. I found my forehead against the dashboard, tears dripping onto my jeans. Ethan didnt say anything, maybe knowing nothing could be said or maybe not knowing what to say. He sat still for 15 seconds, then quietly got out of the car and came around the passenger side. He opened the door without a word and offered me his hand. After pulling me to my feet outside the door, he bent and put an arm behind my knees, the other against my shoulder blades, kicked the car door shut, and carried me into the house. He laid me on the couch and knelt next to me, his face at my eye level. Wendy. Was all he said, barely a whisper. But somehow, it was soothing music to me, and I closed my eyes. Ethan kissed my forehead and I opened my eyes quickly to watch him leave. He paused at the door frame, leaning against it and looking at me, propped up against the pillows. He smiled faintly, and said, Well say goodbye in November; At least Ill have you to remember; But until then my dear; I will always be near. He winked- Id never seen someone actually wink at me, it was intriguing, really- and said slyly, Im just around the corner. Ill be here tomorrow morning, 9. Well drive over to Annies, and then Ill call Preston and let him know whether or not were going to the park. Okay. Was all I could manage. He stared at me for a moment more and shut the door. I fell asleep on the couch, and slept for an hour, then woke up and locked the front door, took a shower, changed into my pajamas, ate a piece of toast for dinner, brushed my teeth and got into bed. I slept without dreams, and woke up to the sound of Ethan ringing the doorbell. I jumped out of bed and ran to the front door, already saying my excuse before I had the door open all the way. Oh Geez, Ethan, Im so sorry, I didnt even set my alarm last ni- I stopped, for standing in my door way was Ethan, holding a bag from my favorite bakery that smells like blueberry muffins- (How could he have known? I mustve

mentioned it in passing somewhere)- and a cup holder with 2 hot chocolates from the caf 2 blocks away. He knew I didnt care for coffee. Good morning! Ethan said, pushing past me and into the kitchen, throwing his keys on the counter like he lived here. They landed there with a mechanical click that was vaguely familiar and homey to me. What? was all I was able to say before my brain kicked into autopilot. My mom, she might hear No worries. I saw her leave, actually. She looked pretty sober. I raised my eyebrow, until I remembered Mom telling me Tuesday that she got another shift and would be working Sunday mornings too. Besides, Im only here while you get dressed. Then were heading to the park. Annies meeting us there, along with everyone else. She said it was up to you and I if we wanted to tell them or not. Does Marty-? I started to ask, but Ethan shook his head. Nope, its just between the three of us. And honestly, I dont care if they know or not- on one hand, they might have an idea, but on the other, they might start acting like were terminally ill, and you know how people get I nodded and reached for the bag. Ethan held it just out of reach. Ah ah ah- get dressed. You can eat in the car. Meet you outside in 15. In my room, things felt like they were out of place, and I found myself fixing things while I pulled on jeans and a long sleeve Kelly green shirt. When I finished, my desk was cleaned off, looking bare and professional, and my bed-sheets were pulled so tightly they looked like cement rather than threads woven together. I pulled my hair back while I walked to the front door, my cat hat tucked underneath my elbow. I snatched my blue and purple peacoat from the hook by the door and shut the door surreptitiously behind me. Ethan was sitting in the drivers seat, a book open on the steering wheel, his hot chocolate in one hand. I opened the passenger door and got in, tossing my book bag into the back seat. Inside was my wallet, the blank book and two books I needed to return to the library, as well as A Midsummer Nights Dream. We hadnt finished it yet. Ethan started to close his book, but I reached over and grabbed it from him before he lost the page. I read it once and raised my eyes to him. Rilke? You quoted Keats last time. He shrugged and reached for the novel. I can read a variety. I told you I had more than one book. Ethan closed the book and his eyes, reciting to the ceiling, And, spread across solemn distances, your smile entered my heart. I felt a smile tugging at my cheeks then, and he opened his eyes, searching my face. I leaned forward for a kiss, but grabbed the bag from beside him at the last second instead. He started laughing, and it was the most carefree sound in the world, and for some reason, I started laughing. So we sat there in the Jeep, laughing for absolutely no reason at all, our chests heaving but not from kissing. When we finally stopped, it was 9:20, and we were late, late, late.

As Ethan drove, he hummed to himself, and I pinched off pieces of my blueberry muffin. I finished eating and listened to him hum for a little bit, and asked him what he was humming. A song. I rolled my eyes at him. Duh. What song? Whats it about? What theyre all about- you. His eyes didnt leave the road, but he smiled. What is this one called? It doesnt have a name. In fact, most of them dont. Even that song I sang for you the other day, it doesnt have a name. Its just Wendys Song. Or Our Song or, you know. He shrugged and turned the corner, coming into the parking lot of the park. Ethan shifted the car into park and took the keys out of the ignition, weighing them in his hand for a moment. He closed his eyes. Born from the stars are you, an alien from Mars am I, I cant believe youve no clue, that with you is where my heart lies. He didnt look at me, but instead got out of the car and came out to open my door before I had even unbuckled my seatbelt. Extending a hand, he pulled me out of the car and we walked hand in hand down to the clearing. The guys were all playing soccer, save Annie, who was sitting on the bench, her back to us, watching the guys. Nadia was nowhere to be seen. Upon our approach, Annie turned to face us. She was wearing her glasses instead of contacts, and her eyes were slightly bloodshot. I was up all night. She said, standing. I was suddenly very aware of the guys all looking in our direction. Did I want to tell them? Maybe. Right this second? No. I fumbled for an excuse. Uh, I had this really difficult math problem that I could not figure out no matter how hard I tried, and I guess it was hard for Annie, too. Right, Annie? Annie was barely coherent enough to nod. I subtly pushed Ethan in the direction of the guys, who kicked the soccer ball into the air and went on to play a game of seeing how long they could keep it from touching the ground. Annie steered me over to the bench, bending down grab her notebook, flipping through math notes from school, to the back, where she had titled the page W+E Equations. Huh. I said, looking at the page. I never realized that. Realized what? Something about this? Annies eyes were frantic and hopeful. No, no. That Ethans and Is first initials make WE. Annie stared at me blankly, so I added, Its a coincidence most writers would find endearing. Annie turned to her notes, pointing to a jumble of numbers in the middle of the page. Okay, so I ran the numbers again and I really think that were looking at about early August if we do nothing and it takes only Ethan at the same rate. June if it speeds as it goes. I ran a bunch of calculations, but the first time through I was using some wrong numbers, so it gave me freaky dates. These are our deadlines now. I really dont think its going to take everyone, but hey, you never know. But I have an idea for you. Annie flipped her notebook shut and stuffed it in her bag, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. Next weekend, the 5th- thats 6 days from now- were going to go to the library. Now, it can be just you, me and Ethan, but if you tell all the guys- Preston especially-

they might be able to help us. I want to go through all fantasy books- or really any genre, for that matter- and see if we can find anything like this, to see if there is any other possibilities we havent thought of. She pursed her lips, and in that moment, I saw her not as the Sophomore girl that she was, but as an adult, worried with a situation that wasnt even her problem, but still throwing her heart and soul into it. Annie was my closest and only friend, and I was burdening her with this dilemma. Annie, thank you so much for doing this. This whole, just, everything. I cant find words enough to thank you, and I wish I could, and I just I found myself at a loss for words, my throat thick with gratitude. She waved her hand, waving me off. Dont worry, Wendy. I like some excitement in my life every now and then. Otherwise its just math, math, math, math, math all the time. She smiled, buttoning her coat. Im off to my house. Going to try to get some sleep back that I lost last night. She winked. See you Saturday- the library. Say 10? I nodded, and Annie turned and left. I watched Ethan play soccer for 5 minutes, then stood and walked over to where they were, catching the soccer ball as it careened in a high arc towards me. The guys all said hello, and I tossed the ball in the air twice, catching it between my palms. Okay, guys. Ethan and I have something to tell you. Tying the knot already? Are we the groomsmen? Chase said, running a hand through his hair, smiling wide. Ethan shot him a look, but I laughed. No, Chase, were not getting married. But this is pretty serious. Shouldnt we get Annie? It would be wrong to not tell her. Marty said, shifting uneasily. Annie was the one who told us. Ethan said plainly, taking the soccer ball from my hands and hooking it underneath his arm. 4 pairs of eyes stared back at us, shocked. They were on the outside of a secret? We wouldve told you sooner, but we werent sure ourselves. Things had to be calculated. Ethan spoke cautiously. And I wouldnt even tell you now, because I dont want to drag you all into it, but I- we- cant do this without you. I stood beside Ethan, my hand resting on his shoulder blade, smooth but pointed beneath my fingertips. We need you. Kris rubbed his temples. Well, what are you waiting for? Tell us! And so I began.

Twenty- Seven Ethan Their faces were the seasons, changing and morphing all at different rates, changing from one emotion to the next, but their eyes all the while focused on Wendy as she spoke. I stood beside Marty, who kept rubbing his hands together, unsure without Annie next to him. Kris kept rubbing his chin like he was stroking an invisible beard, his mouth slightly open, talking quietly to himself. Chase was holding his chin in his palm, and his elbow with his other hand. Preston shifted from foot to foot, crossing and re-crossing his arms, linking his arms behind his head, letting them drop, unable to stay still. But mostly, I watched her. She was at least 2 to 3 inches shorter than I was, and I was a quarter of an inch shorter than Kris and Preston. Marty and Chase were half an inch taller than me. That made her at least 2 and half inches shorter than these boys, who had solid shoulders and muscled legs, and were a little bit intimidating if you saw them all together when they werent being absolutely ridiculous. But she commanded their attention, for not once did any of them interrupt her, which was a first for all of them. They all stood silent. Wendy definitely had control of the English language. It was amazing to watch her direct these boys interest, a tiny ballerina in a music-box teaching big, clumsy teddy bears. And look what she had done with me- written me right out of a book and into the world. Her eyes flitted between all four of them as she explained the blank book, and meeting me, and the break down that day in the park, and Annie calling us yesterday, and all the calculations, and what Annie had as an idea. Wendy looked around once at all of them, and I could tell she was like a salesman, getting ready to seal the deal. We really need your help. Please. You are all like a family to me now, and youre the only family Ive got. I know its a lot to ask, but we need- A lot to ask? Kris said, interrupting. There went that record. A lot to? Wendy, all youre asking us to do is go to the library and look at a bunch of books to see if we can find anything related to this dilemma youve gotten yourselves into. Granted, I know were a bunch of boys and we dont like to read much... Chase! Preston coughed, and Marty let out one laugh. But, Kris continued, that doesnt mean that we hate it that much to turn our backs on Ethan and you. Have a little faith, Wendy. Wendy blinked. So, wait. Youre- youre going to help? 4 nods moved the January air, and Wendy brought her hands to her face, her eyes up to mine. There was hope for us yet. We stayed for a while, Wendy acting as referee and time keeper- thanks to Chases watch- for when we needed to sub in. When I was the sub, I stood next to her, watched her sway on her feet. Babe, you okay?

Yes, Im fine. And dont call me babe. Thats the name of a pig that talks to sheep. She said. But its my term of endearment for you. Youre such a boy. Girls dont want to be called babe or chick or hot. But I think you are one hot chick, babe. I teased. She smiled and rolled her eyes. Fine, call me babe. I can only stay about 5 more minutes, then I need to walk to the trolley so I can take it uptown and run a few errands. Wendy saw the protest on my face and backtracked. I guess you can drive me to the station, but you cant come with me. No ifs, ands or buts. She added. 5 minutes later, she returned Chases watch and told the boys that we were meeting Saturday at 10, at the library, and to just wait out front until they found either Annie or us. I pestered Wendy all the way on the walk up to the car, and then while we were in the car, and even as we were pulling up to the cable car. Wendy didnt say anything to me, just laughed at the proposals I made. Ill make you pancakes every weekend for a month. Ill gain 5 pounds, Ethan. She said, reaching into the backseat. Okay, then Ill read you a thousand poems. I think you would bore yourself to death. Wendy opened her bag. Ill let you have my guitar. What am I supposed to do with a guitar? I cant very well play it. She opened her wallet and stared inside. Shoot. What? Do you need money? Ill give you money if you let me come with you. No, I have money, but only enough for the two things I want to get, not enough for a new ticket and I left my pass at home by mistake. Ill let you drive me home so I can get my ticket, though, if you really want that much more time with me. Nope, forget it. You just wanted to spend every minute with me, and now you wont even drive me home? Youre an odd fellow, Ethan Harp. She reached for the door, probably to get out and walk home, but I hit the locks on the door. She turned to me, slightly irritated, slightly furious. Where are we going? I asked. What? Where are we going? I repeated, looking at her. Ill stay in the car, but Ill just drive you around. A chauffeur, if you will. Wendy stared hard at me for a moment, her eyes alight with a forest fire, but the flames turned to ash and her eyes softened. First stop is the library. I started driving. At the library Wendy ran up the steps and dropped some books into the slot, checked to make sure she hadnt accidentally dropped the blank book in too, and then got back in the jeep. The next stop was a little store called Heart Art, and she was inside for maybe 5 minutes before she came out, holding a rainbow colored plastic bag in her hand. She paused at the curb, looking both ways twice before she crossed the street. I commented on this when Wendy got in the car.

You can never be too sure. Plus, there are lots of tourists who arent use to driving up and down all these hills, and they might come speeding down the street, looking at a map or something. I didnt ask what was in the bag, and she didnt tell me. She just pointed in the direction of the main shopping center. Tucking the rainbow bag underneath the seat so no one would see it, Wendy paused in the open car door, head ducked. Im going to be here for at least a half hour, maybe an hour, so you can come out and walk with me for the first few minutes if you want. But when I send you away, you must go. Promise? I had gotten out of the car as soon as she said I could, and was already by her side when she finished her sentence. I kissed her lightly and said, Promise. She took my hand and I pressed the clicker, locking the car and pocketing the keys. And we walked together through the hubbub of San Francisco, alone in our own little world.

Twenty- Eight Wendy Ethan didnt ask about what I was buying or who for, just talked to himself about what he saw, narrating everything. Oh, here we have a lady with a fat black dog, out for a walk. This woman, let us call her Susanna, well, Susanna and her dog, uhm, Banjo, theyre going to pass this small family of tourists in a few moments. But then Ethan stopped narrating and started poking fun, which I thought was pretty mea until a robust woman jogged past, and Ethan said casually, Wow, probably time to throw out the Jello, its running around the town. And I started laughing so hard there were tears in my eyes. Okay. I said, trying to suck in some air. Okay, thats enough. I let out a long breath, stopping the laugh. Okay, yes. Now- I released his hand and looked at my watch. Why dont you go find somewhere to eat, and then come back and get me at about 11:50? I looked up and he leaned forward to kiss me, but I turned my head so he could kiss my cheek. Ethan was not satisfied with this, and instead put his arms around my waist and spun me around, my feet flying in the air, my voice coming out in squeals and giggles. He kissed the tip of my nose before walking away, a bounce in his step. I turned my smiling face towards the shops.

Twenty- Nine Ethan I found a little caf where we could get lunch, and claimed a table in the corner where the sun was coming through, a yellow rectangle cutting through the gray blanket in the sky. I checked the clock on the wall and saw I had 15 minutes until I was supposed to go get her. I promised the waitress that I would be back with my girlfriend in about 15 minutes, and to not give the table away, and then I walked outside in the cool late morning air. I walked into the main plaza and watched a couple of guys a year or two older than me play their guitars for tips. I threw a dollar in the guitar case they had propped in front of them. They werent bad. I wandered absentmindedly, my mind taking in everything without actually thinking about it, and it occurred to me that it was pretty crowded today. I saw a long line coming out of a novelty chocolate shop and it dawned on me why. There were exactly 2 weeks and 1 day until Valentines Day, and people were starting the rush to get sweet things for their sweethearts. I stood there for a moment, scrubbing my hands through my hair and turning in a circle, looking around at the shops. What could I get for Wendy? I had to get something for her. She was Wendy. She was my Wendy. My eye caught a little vintage jewelry shop set back away from the hubbub, and I meandered in that direction. It was warm inside the shop, the walls lined with racks of gaudy costume jewelry and tacky rings. I paused at the back of the shop, facing a little display they had set up. A white owl- that was what had caught my eye- was perched on top of a green metal tree, necklaces hanging from the branches. My eyes drew to the necklace near the bottom, a small heart locket that would hang at about the middle of my ribs if I were to put it on. But this was for Wendy, and it had her written all over it. It was 25% off because it was a little tarnished around the edges, but I wouldve paid full price for her. I would pay double price for her. Inside the locket was a small wind-up clock, and if the time was accurate, I had 5 minutes until our rendezvous. I took the locket to the front of the store and purchased it, tucking the little brown paper bag in my jacket and starting towards where I supposed to meet Wendy. She was standing where I had left her, and she was looking around, appearing to be a little lost. I came up behind her and put my hands over her eyes, and she jumped for a moment before relaxing and wriggling out of my grip. Your hands are freezing, Ethan! She was holding a neon blue bag in her right hand, her own purse hung over her left shoulder. Lets go. She sad, extending her left hand. Her warm fingers felt like a safe haven, meshed around mine. At the caf, we ordered and then Wendy hung her purse on my chair-Because you are my boyfriend that doubles as a guard dog.- and dug in the neon blue bag. Okay, big or small? She produced a white bag from inside the blue one, her eyes curious as to what I would choose.

Now, the guy answer here would be to choose the big, because bigger is usually the better gift, like a skateboard or something. The girl answer is small, because smaller is usually like earrings or rings or something. And I, being a guy, chose the large. Close your eyes. Wendy said, and she smiled, tasting the words I had said to her on our first date to the pier. Wendy tugged off my jacket and pulled another jacket or shirt or something up my arms and over my back. Okay. Now you can open your eyes. It was a gray sweatshirt, and it was one of the warmest and one of the most comfortable jackets I had ever felt. Wendy came around the back of me and lifted up the hood, touching her finger to the fabric underneath, just below my neck. I had them stitch in just a shade darker, so you would only see it if you were looking for it. I pulled the jacket off and around so I could see. There, just below the seam of the hood, were two letters: WE. Wendy, this I stopped, letting my eyes speak for me. We both knew my words wouldnt get us anywhere. I know, hun. We stared at one another for a moment, me standing by the table, the gray fabric dangling off my fingers, and Wendy standing beside me, her head tilted to the side, studying me. Okay, I have your food, you set? The waitress said, her and her light green apron interrupting out moment. Yeah. Wendy said, her eyes smiling into mine while she answered. Were set.

Thirty Wendy Back in the car, I pulled the bag from the art store into my lap. What is that, anyway? If you dont mind my asking. Ethan said, backing out of the parking space, his arm braced against the side of my seat, his neck craning over his shoulder, checking for other cars. Its a sketchbook and a set of colored pencils for Annie. She deserves it, for all shes doing for us, and shes really good. I took the gray sweatshirt out of the bag and brought it to my face. It already smelled like Ethan, clean and alive, laundry detergent and skin, and warm from being against his back. He saw this out of the corner of his eye, but didnt say anything, just smiled. It only took us a few minutes to get back to my house, and it was about half past noon. I tossed the bags onto the counter, kicked off my shoes, and threw myself onto the rug. Ethan plopped down next to me, his face turned towards mine, half a smile visible, the other half pressed into the rug. We stayed like that for a minute, our smiles the only thing in the silence, or the quiet honking of cars down the street. And then Ethan sighed, closing his eyes and pushing himself up onto his knees, then standing. I stayed laying on the ground, hoping to prolong his stay. Wendy. He said. I didnt say anything or even move. Wendy. He said again, a tone of annoyance in his voice now. I have to leave now, and if you dont get up, Im going to leave without saying goodbye. Would he really do that? Leave without saying goodbye? We both knew that even though Annie thought we had until August, we might vanish any second. There was always a chance of unexpected errors. I didnt say anything, just stayed there, cheek pressed into the carpet. I could feel Ethan staring at me. Wendy. But he was caving, I could hear it in his voice. He didnt want to leave without saying goodbye, not when he knew that Annie could always make a mistake. For no matter how perfect we thought she was, she could be wrong. She could be wrong. Ethan bent down and grabbed my elbows, pulling me into a sitting position, and then to my feet, leaning in to kiss me. Youre such a liar. You totally need me, dont you? I said, smiling against his lips. Wendy, just because I dont want to leave without saying goodbye doesnt mean that I need you. Ethan stopped and pulled away for a second, looking at me. But I do need you. He admitted, smiling and pressing his lips to mine again. And then, he pulled away, got his keys off the counter, and gave one small wave before leaving me standing alone in my living room, the taste of his lips on mine. The world felt as empty as the house.

Thirty-One Wendy The days had a monotonous feel to them, one day after the other. It was getting close to finals, and the teachers stressed how important they were for our semester grades, that we needed to study, study, study. Monday was slow, because testing didnt begin until Tuesday. Tuesday was slower still, and Wednesday seemed to drag on forever. The dull hour after hour of testing, of filling in Scantrons, of filling in our fates. Thursday meant the testing week was over, and the class periods were filled with the teachers telling us to get a head start on the work for next week. Of course, no one did, just sat and listened to their music and texted across the classroom. I sat in the back of the room, reading the blank book from cover to cover, trying to feel closer to Ethan. Friday, I decided that since it was a new semester, I would clean out my backpack and binders to make room for the new year. Plus I was bored because I hadnt seen Ethan all week and wouldnt see him until tomorrow morning at the library. I took all my books out of my backpack, and turned it upside down on the kitchen floor, shaking pencil shavings and stray pencils out onto the floor for me to sweep up into a pile and throw out. A crumpled piece of paper dropped to the ground, bouncing once from meeting ground, then rolling once towards the counter before coming to rest. I bent down and picked it up, flattening it out against the counter, trying to make out what had been written on it so long ago. It was the note I had written after Ethan first kissed me. Ethan, Last night when we were standing in the kitchen, I forgot to tell you that your lips tasted like macaroni and cheese and that I loved it. And then when you left and I watched you turn into a shadow in the city lights, I fell in love with you all over again. The real you, not the you made out of words and notebooks. That you could be blown over like a pyramid of playing cards, but yet it was that you that kept my feet on the ground and my mind working. I wouldve been lost without that you, and now that I have the real you, I feel spoiled. You put the light in my eyes, and I could swim forever in yours, an ocean forever ebbing andThe bell had rang then, I remembered crumpling it into a ball and seeing all the words printed on my palms, and how that had seemed so minute, but felt odd. Now I knew. My words, they contained some power of a sort, able to bring people to life. Able to influence things. When they had been pressed onto my hands, I had felt strong but weak at the same time, my soul torn between my skin soaking up my own words, and my heart giving away 3% of myself to Ethan. This was it. This was the answer. How to give Ethan himself back without losing all of myself. This was how to save us.

Thirty-Two Ethan I could tell as soon Wendy opened the door that she had something on her mind. She doesnt even look at me, just makes a beeline for the car door, hopping in the Jeep before I can even say Good Morning. I got in the driver seat and stared at her until she looked at me, which she does quickly, annoyed that Im not driving. Why arent you going? Start the car, lets go! Shes practically bouncing up and down on the seat like its a trampoline. Wendy, what the heck is going on with you? Do I at least get a good morning? She leans forward and kisses me, her lips tasting of peppermint toothpaste. There, good morning. Can we go now? I hesitated, my hand on the keys, poised at the ignition, like a racecar driver waiting for the green light. Wendys eyes turn serious for a minute, staring into mine. Ethan, the longer we sit here, the more we lose ourselves. I started the car and began driving without another word. As soon as I had parked the car, Wendy was out of the door and flying up the library steps, speeding towards Annie at the top of the steps. They had a quick conversation, and then Annie looked at me, and ushered Wendy inside. I took a little bit longer coming up the stairs, and when I got inside, they were nowhere in sight. Then Marty appeared out of nowhere, jerked his head in a gesture that meant, Follow me this way and started walking towards the back corner of the library, so I fell in step beside him. Shelf after shelf we passed, journeying past the sci-fi, then the fiction, then the non-fiction, then the dusty classics, past the reference section, all the way to the very back of the library, to abandoned tables to study at. The only other person was a collegeaged guy, with headphones in his ears, his back to us, at the table farthest from ours. Wendy and Annie sat side by side at the table, and Wendy was smoothing a piece of paper on the wood for Annie to see. Chase, Kris and Preston were nowhere to be seen. We neared the table where Wendy and Annie were, and Marty said without me asking, Theyre out looking for books, gathering them up for us to start our first round. But we wont need that, not with what Wendys found. Annie said, looking up at us. What? What did you find, Wen? Marty said, his palms pressed against the table. Wendy pulled the paper back from his view, folding it so we couldnt see the words. Well, I was cleaning out my backpack, and I found a scrap of writing about Ethan, and I remembered that some of the words had rubbed off on my hands when I crumpled the paper up, and while I felt weak because I gave 3% of myself to Ethan- she saw Martys brow arch, added, I explained this yesterday, remember?-, and then continued, but even though I gave some of myself away, I felt strong because my own words were on my skin, bringing a percent or so of that back. Marty shot a look towards Annie, who pulled him to the side and gave him a reminder about the whole percentage deal.

Wendy, can I see what you wrote about me? I said quietly. After all, this was a library. She handed me the paper and I read it over, a smile tugging lightly at the corner of my mouth. She was such an amazing writer, she had a gift that made me hang on every word of hers, that I had never experienced in any novel that I had ever read. I raised my head to say so, but Chase, Kris and Preston came back just then, each with 4 books each, wanting to know why Annie and Marty were so absorbed in talking, and was it about this? Wendy explained to them what was going on, and what she had discovered, but didnt offer to let them read the note, which was tucked safely in my back jean pocket. Annie and Marty came back to the table then, arguing quietly. But it had to work, McFly, theres gotta be something there. Anything, a shred of hope! Annie said, sounding desperate. Every eye turned to her and Marty. Marty placed his hand on the small of her back and gave her a small push towards the table. Annie rubbed her hands together, looking nervous. Wendy I, I hate to say this, but I have some bad news. What Wendy found was worthless. Since she only gave 2% of herself away that time,- and any time after, if she triedit wasnt enough to unfreeze us. We needed one huge pass of percentage to break the ice. If we could do that, then her plan wouldve been perfect for the rest of the time we were together. But since we were frozen right now, our lives slowly melting and dripping into the blank book, we were at a loss for hope. We looked mournfully through the books, searching for something else, when Kris and Preston stopped their talking and got our attention. Weve been thinking about what Wendy found, and we think we have an idea that might help us. Kris said, looking at Preston. You said we needed a bigger percentage to break the ice. Well, what if we just used more powerful words, stronger sentences, buffer paragraphs? Preston spoke directly to Annie. Chase scoffed. What, like, Ethan is the strongest guy Ive ever known.? Thats insane. And a lie, might I add. No. Annie said, sitting up, a spark in her eyes. More powerful as in more emotional. Stronger as in more intense. Buffer as in cleaner, precise, to the point. Preston turned to Wendy. We have to fine tune your writing, sharpen the arrow. Youve been shooting dull sticks into the dark. We need you to shoot a needle-point arrow into the light. I thought I was going to need my girls to think of an idea, but now I need them for different reasons. Annie said. Emilia, for the words. Marty said, leaning against the back of Annies chair. And Lillian, to help Kris and I try to get an exact deadline for us. I can help with the words, too. Preston said, raising a hand in acknowledgment. Annie nodded towards him, standing and gathering together the books on the table. You guys can go, Wendy and I will put the books away. Seems like for now, we have a plan.

Thirty- Three Wendy Annie and I walked up and down the aisles, shelving the books in their proper spots. I carried the stack, and she pulled them off, sliding them into place. Wendy, I know that this sounds like a crazy idea. But I have to tell you right now, I dont know if it will work or not. If it doesnt, then, well, she turned and looked at me. I dont know what to do if this doesnt work. But I thought? I started. Thought I had all the answers? Annie chuckled. Hardly. But have hope. This is a great idea, I think its going to work. I dont know, but I think it will. She sounded more like she was trying to convince herself. I knew it was stupid to expect her to have all the answers, but I did. She was my rock in this ocean of hopelessness, the one thing I clung to that I knew wasnt going anywhere. As much as I hoped Ethan wouldnt be sucked into the blank book, I couldnt hold onto him, because he might drag us both down. If he went in, there was always a miniscule possibility that I could try to coax him back out. But I had hope that this would work. This was a good idea. Half of me wished that Annie hadnt said anything in the first place, that Ethan and I couldve just went on living our lives oblivious, but happy. But I was glad that she had said something, because now we had a chance to stop it. When the last book was shelved, we started back towards the guys. Ethan and Marty were sitting across from one another, playing with a triangle of paper, flicking it through goals made from index fingers and thumbs. Really? Annie said, her fingers dragging across Martys shoulders as she passed behind him to get her bag and coat. Aw, Doc, come on. Its childs play. Childs play for the children. Annie smiled at me, winking once, and taking Martys hand. Ethan, you and Wendy need to come to Martys house next Friday after school, and well go to Emilias house. Thats the first free time I could get with her, and Lillians only available that Saturday. All the weekends after that though, theyre free. I just thought we needed to get together quick. Before you guys start disappearing and all. Oh, I have something for you in the car. I remembered, taking Ethans hand. We had nothing to check out, so all four of us left together, the cold air quickly going to my bone after stepping out of the book-packed library. I gave Annie her art set that I had purchased for her, and her face lit up like Fourth of July, though she quickly covered it up, saying, Wendy, I cant take this. To which I answered, You cant physically take these and use them? Alright, fine Ill take it back if its such an awful gift To which she responded by clutching them to her chest and saying, Ah, I guess I can find something to use them with. Marty got in a small white car with 4 doors, Annie slipping into the passenger seat beside him. Ethan got in the Jeep and started it, and we passed Marty and Annie on the street. For a while, we just drove. Just drove around town, looking at all the people. Finally I said, Doesnt Hannah ever want to use her Jeep?

Ethans ocean eyes grew dark with a storm. Lets not talk about what Hannah wants. I didnt say anything. My silence could be interpreted as agreeing to what he said or wanting to know but being too kind to ask. He let out a big breath, the storm retreating. She wants me to go see a shrink because she thinks Im turning into a hermit, and teenage boys are not supposed to turn into hermits. She says I spend too much time in my room, studying and sleeping. Its not my fault that I have school. Its not my fault that Im always tired. I feel drained all the time now, and I think Im losing myself more and more every day and Im scared, Wendy. Im scared to death. We were stopped at a stop sign, and we were the only car on the street. Ethans knuckles were white on the black steering wheel. I reached over and put my small hand on top of his. Ethan. I said, making him look over at me. The ocean in his eyes was more like a rain puddle, worried, small, easily destroyed. I put my other hand on his face. Ethan. Were going to figure this out. Were going to slow it down, and were going to stop it. I didnt know that you were so tired all the time, or I wouldve never made you drive me all around town, I wouldve let you stay home and- Rest? I dont want to just stay home and rest all day. How boring of a life is that? I want to be involved in this, I want to help. I want to be able to say at the end of this that I contributed to saving our lives. A car pulled up behind us and honked, so Ethan rolled down the window and waved them on. They gave us the finger as they passed, but Ethan didnt even blink, just turned back to me. Im not going to just sit back while you guys have all the fun. Ethan laid his head back against the seat. Its hardly fun, Ethan. Ive been stressing out about this whole thing, trying to find things so Annie doesnt have to, because I dont want to have her all stressed out about this problem that isnt even hers. She already has to deal with all that schoolwork, I dont want to put this on her load and end up giving the poor fawn ulcers. Did you just call Annie a fawn? As in, a deer? Ethan decided it was time to start driving again, and pulled forward. Did I? I said, reaching forward and messing with my shoe. Where are we going? This isnt towards my house or your house. Surprise. Was all he said. We played I Spy on the way to wherever-we-were-going, and I stumped him only once. I spy something that is big but small, warm, soft and tough while gentle. Wendy, I dont think there are any bears around here. What bears do you know of that are gentle? I said, absentmindedly pulling my fingers through his hair. He had taken to swooping it back in a lazy kind of this-is-styledin-15-seconds sort of way, and I loved it. I dont know, and I dont care. But were here. We had pulled up in front of the ferry. Ethan got out of the car and came around to open my door.

What a gentleman. So where are we taking the ferry to? I asked, taking his warm hand in mine. Does it matter? Were having an us day. We are going to sit on the ferry and do nothing for a whole round trip. We are going to sit there and Im not going to have to worry about driving and youre not going to have to worry about anything concerning the blank book. We are going to sit there and stare into one anothers eyes and make all the passengers think that were a bunch of lovesick zombies. We were in line for our tickets now. Ethan paid for both without even letting me try to get my wallet out. When we were boarding the ferry, we wouldnt be separated for even a second. We handed the puncher our tickets simultaneously, and she smiled at us while she punched the cards. How long have you guys been dating? she said, handing back our tickets. 10 years. Ethan answered instantly, not even bothering to stop even a second and admire the look of astonishment the lady got on her face. So we boarded the ferry, sat down in the corner, and felt ourselves drift into the ocean. We left all our worries on the dock.

Thirty-Four Ethan I felt us move away from the dock, felt the ocean catch us and hold us and rock us gently. Wendy and I sat in the corner of a booth, side by side, thighs touching from hip bone to knee. She leaned her head over onto my shoulder, and I found myself leaning over to rest my ear against her head. Wendy fell asleep after 5 minutes, her breath slowing against me. I tried not to be offended that she found this boring. An old woman sitting in one of the seats was watching us. She was wearing a dark green shawl and black pants. Her fingers were frail and thin, the veins exposed through the translucent skin. She held a small blue stone in her hand, weighing it in each of her hands, bringing it up to her lips every now and then, kissing it. I wouldve just sat there and watched her watch me, but then she brought the stone up to her ear and started listening to it, nodding and humming Uh-huh and Oh, yes, I see. So I leaned forward, waved my hand to get her attention and said, Um, excuse me, miss, but, uh, what are you doing? She acted like she didnt hear me, and continued listening to the stone. Miss? Miss! I said, loud enough to get her attention, but not loud enough to disturb the other passengers. The womans eyes focused on mine, one a dark greenish blue, the other a light brown. It was a little unnerving to look at. She pointed a long finger at herself, her eerie voice saying, Gemini. Gemini? Like the zodiac sign? Oookay. Gemini pointed a long bony finger at Wendy, and I started to move to shield Wendy from her. I didnt use to believe in witchcraft or anything relating to magic, but after seeing that Wendy was able to write me out of a book, everything was thrown out the window, and this woman gave me the creeps. But all she said was, Hold tightly, for not much time remains. Then Gemini blinked slowly twice, leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, her body going still. I almost got up, to see if she was still alive, or if I had just witnessed a woman speak her last words, but then I saw the small twitching of her fingers, and she turned her head slightly, and I let out a sigh of relief to see she wasnt dead. But her words were not any less unsettling, for they were true. I didnt tell Wendy, but the words seemed to follow me for the rest of the day. Hold tightly, for not much time remains. I let Wendy sleep until we had to get off at Vallejo, waking her only when the ferry had totally come to a stop and everyone was getting off. Wendy? Baby, its time to go. I said gently into her ear, shaking her shoulder. Wendy blinked once, sat up, rubbed her eyes, and focused on me. Oh, goodness, did I sleep that whole time? Geez, I cant believe how boring I am. She stood and took my hand, and I led her up the ramp and onto the dock.

No, youre not boring. You were tired, that was all. I wouldve slept too, but I am the guard dog, and I mustnt sleep on watch. That made Wendy laugh, and she tugged me towards a bench, stepping up onto it to be taller than me. Is this what its like? Being tall? She looked down at me. I dont know. I guess. Im not the tallest of my group. Youre just a midget compared to all of us. Wendy was quiet, staring out at the ocean that had just delivered us here. She was silent for a long minute, and I stepped up on the bench next to her. This was us, the boy with the eyes like the ocean and the girl that wrote him to life. This was us, the boy that played his love for her on the guitar, and the girl who listened, no matter the tune. This was us, one boy and one girl, hand in hand, standing on a park bench, staring out at the ocean. Is this what its like? I heard my voice but didnt know where the words were coming from. Is this what whats like? Wendy said, turning towards me, but I kept my eyes on the ocean, tossing and turning in its bed. Being in love. Wendy didnt say anything for a moment, considering while the ocean crashed and cars honked and people chattered. Finally she stepped down from the bench, pulling me to the ground beside her, pulling me towards her, pulling my face, my lips, down to meet hers. Yes. Wendy said, tugging me back into the ticket line for our ride home. We took our seats, a mirror of before, hip bone to hip bone, knee to knee, shoulder to shoulder, fates intertwined. This is definitely what its like to be in love. Her words stayed with me even after we arrived back in San Francisco and went our separate ways for the remainder of the day.

Thirty-Five Wendy Sunday: Sunlight through fog. Frozen room. Missing sock. No, found it in the covers. Cleaning the bathroom. Alone, Mothers gone. Mothers always gone. Homework? No, none is assigned. Hover around the phone, thinking about calling Ethan. Plan wont work, dont have his number. What would I say even if I did have his number? Think about making a big breakfast. Instead have a piece of toast, an apple and a glass of milk. Im still in my pajamas. Go into my room, find Ethans Valentines Day present. Its in 8 days. Take it out of the bag, lay it on the bed. Find wrapping paper in the closet and wrap it. Get dressed in jeans and a turtleneck. French braid my hair. Lay on the couch and stare at the ceiling. Consider going for a walk. No, too comfortable here. Lunch? No, its only 11:40. Fall asleep, I guess, because its 12:30 when I open my eyes again. Get up and make a bowl of vegetable soup. Sit against the couch and read poetry while I eat. Read until 5, then go to my room and tidy everything. Looks like a pristine hospital now. Undress, take a shower. Skip dinner, lunch filled me up. Get into bed. Its so warm. Read the blank book until 10. Hear Mom stumble in at 10:45. Fall asleep to the sound of the clock in the hall.

Thirty-Six Ethan The days were moving faster, melting away. I blinked, and just like that, Monday had turned to Tuesday. The second hand made a round on the clock, and it was suddenly Wednesday. I tapped my pencil on my desk, it was Thursday. The door shut softly behind me as I left for school- Friday. Friday the 11th- we were going to meet Emilia today. It was the first time I would see Wendy since the ferry ride. She had given a note to Annie (to give to Marty to give to me) when they ran into one another on the trolley, and the note had said to not come over, because she was trying to focus on saving me, and she didnt want distractions. She signed it with a little heart. I had carried it in my pocket since Tuesday, when I got it. Even though the days had been moving quickly all week, today the clock refused to even move its second hand. I looked at the time 100 times just in 3rd period, but it always seemed to be in the same spot. It was driving me insane. Finally, finally, finally- The last bell. I ran out to the parking lot to get the Jeep- I told Hannah I needed to borrow it today and this weekend, but I would use the trolley again Monday- and was already out of the parking lot before the rush of traffic started. I was idling outside Wendys door when she walked up. I saw her face in my rear view mirror, and resisted looking until she was outside the passenger window. I leaned over and opened the door, and now there was only air between us. Hello, stranger. Might I ask why a young man like yourself is just hanging out in front of my residence? Wendy said, tilting her head and smiling. I noticed everything about her- the dimples, the freckle on the tip of her nose, how her left eyebrow was a fraction of an inch higher than her right, the curve of her neck before it disappeared into her blue shirt, the creases by the knees of her jeans, how her left shoelace was close to untying. She was still standing on the sidewalk. Oh, Im just waiting for my fair maiden to return home. Might I ask why you are still standing out there and letting all the cold air into the car? Wendy grinned and turned to open her house door. She disappeared for a moment, and returned with her book bag instead of her backpack, tossing it in the back. It made a significant thunk on the seat, so I turned to her, eyebrows high on my forehead, and asked, Geezus, Wen, whats in there? Bricks? Wendy pulled herself into the seat and grinned, reaching back to get it. Close. Books. Ive been checking out all the classics, you know, Dickens, Conan Doyle, Verne, Bront, you know. The works. I figured that since I need powerful language, who better to go to than the ones that used their language to go down in history? We rolled to a stop as a silver truck turned in front of us. I looked over at Wendy, who was flipping idly through the pages of a thick novel. A stand of hair from her ponytail had fallen out and was hanging by her ear, and without thinking, I leaned over and tucked it back where it should be before turning back to the front of the car and driving the rest of the way in comfortable silence. When we pulled up, Annie and Marty were leaning against Martys white car, talking to one another. I parked alongside the curb in front of the house, locking the car with the clicker over my shoulder.

You look like such a bad boy when you do that. Wendy said quietly, laughing as she slung her bag over her shoulder. Oh, shut up. I said, but I was laughing too. Annie and Wendy exchanged a quick hello, and Marty nodded an acknowledgement at me, and we all piled into the car. Marty was a careful driver, which surprised me, because he was so reckless in everything else, except for math. I watched Wendy watch me, our hands creeping towards one another across the backseat like we were in middle school. It occurred to me that I never had to go through the awkward dating stage with Wendy, because we just were. Were a couple. Were comfortable in each others presence. Were in tune to each others thoughts. The only time things were awkward were when we fought. Wendy suddenly asked aloud, Do you think that Ethan and I being together all the time could be sucking him into the book more, because were so close to one another? Does that make sense? Annie tapped her chin. Its possible. What do you think, babe? She turned to Marty, and I raised an eyebrow at Wendy, pointing out the word. She stuck out her tongue at me. Well, when youre together, youre both pretty much living one life, doing the same things, right? So the book might take both of you, instead of just one. But when youre apart, youre living separate lives, pulling away from one another, making the book sustain you both, and it might choose one person to pick away at. Either case, youre taking a chance. We pulled up in front of a Victorian house. Its a lose-lose. Of course it was a lose-lose. If Wendy and I were separated by the pages of a book, we both lost someone. Of course it was a lose-lose.

Thirty-Seven Wendy Emilia Bennet was a tree. A very pretty and nice tree, but a tree. She was taller than meeven taller than Ethan by an inch of two, and she had strong shoulders. Annie led the way down the hall with Emilia, because it was Annie that had invited us all over here. Emilia was supposed to be good with words, but Annie said she would let me be the judge of that. The house smelt like grilled cheese, and it made my mouth water. Emilia led us to the kitchen, and took her place behind the counter, cleaning up. An empty plate sat on the edge of the counter, littered with bread crumbs. A Scrabble game was spread out on the dining room table, so I walked closer to it for a better look. The first thing I noticed was that it was at least 3 times as large as a regular Scrabble game, due to the fact that three boards were set side by side, and there was a large bowl filled with the tiles. Emilia came up behind me, looking at it for a moment before taking a handful of letters from the bowl and making STARTLING. You know, she said, leaning on one hip, its one of the few words in the English language whose letters can create a word- in order- if one letter is removed at a time. My eyes widened, and she started naming them off on her fingers. Startling, starting, staring, string, sting, sing, sin, in, I. Neat, huh? My dad and I use to play every night when I was little, one hour each night. If we didnt use all the tiles, we would leave it and pick it up the next night. Somewhere along the line, we stopped playing face to face at night and started playing like this. We dont see a ton of one another, so we have resorted to this. She picked up a teddy bear and set it on top of a golf magazine. That means its his turn. I wish I could actually play face to face with him, but even that he still wants to play a game with me is enough for me. Only problem is that he cheats. Emilia- Ethans voice came from the front room. We followed it out, and found him standing by a piano. Do you play? Oh, yes. When I can. Emilia sat down on the bench and ran her fingers lovingly over the keys. And then, without prompting, she began to play. It was not at all an amateur piece, with swells and delicate patterns that sounded like china plates. Marty and Annie were silent, Annies head leaned against Martys shoulder. Ethan moved quietly over to me and laid a hand on my back, a warm presence to let me know that he was there. That he was always there. Emilia put the last of the dishes in the sink and slumped against the counter. So let me get this straight- you want my help to see if I can help you write something powerful enough to break this ice you guys are trapped in, because otherwise, one or both of you are going to be sucked into this book, because Wendy wrote Ethan out of it in 1st grade? We all nodded quietly, knowing that if we tried to push it on her anymore, shed never believe us. Emilia shrugged. Alright. Ill go with it. So what am I working with? While Annie showed Emilia the books we brought, and the blank book, and told her about how we were searching for just the right words, I stood and walked to the

fireplace, the mantle decorated with trophies. Every one had Emilias name etched on the gold plaque, with different titles stamped underneath. Top Fencer: 5-9 years 3rd place: Nationals 1st place: Regionals and about half a dozen others with various titles and years, not to mention the bakers dozen of medals hung on the wall in a perfectly straight line, a row of pictures of Emilia in her fencing gear, year by year, underneath. I made a mental note to never get on this girls bad side, and turned back to Annie and Emilia. Emilia was looking at the blank book, casually flipping through the pages, my lifes feelings and events, not bothering to even consider what I mightve been feeling when I wrote them. She was frowning, mumbling to herself. What? I said, my tone sharp. Marty and Ethan muted the TV, and I heard them turn towards us. Well, these are all journal entries. Like, a diary. Have you ever written it as a poem, a limerick? I love limericks, I could help you write some. Annie turned to me, her mouth in a small O. I was shocked, too. But Emilia wasnt done. Or what if you wrote a song? And then had someone play it? Ethan, maybe. Dont you play the guitar? She asked over my shoulder, and I heard Ethan get to his feet, and turned to watch him link his hands behind his head, his mouth mirroring Annies. What, why are you all so surprised? Emilia said, confused. Marty answered for us. Because we didnt expect such a blunt answer. Because we didnt expect that it would be so obvious that we werent seeing it. Of course we need a song written by Wendy and played by Ethan. Were surprised because we dont know what to say to someone who just saved two lives, just like that. Oh, Emilia said, smiling lightly. Im just glad I get to help. Want to get started? Songs take longer to write than limericks do, and then to write music and convert it to chords, oh, we have so much work to do! I turned back to Ethan, who had his eyes closed, barely biting his lip, like he was about to cry. When he opened his eyes and looked at me, I could name the emotion on his face, because Im sure it was the one on mine. Hope.

Thirty-Eight Ethan I had only known Emilia Bennet for a day, and I already loved her. Not like I loved Wendy. I could never love anyone like I loved Wendy. I loved Emilia in the way that girls said to their friends when they departed for class, calling I love you! down the halls, waggling their annoying little fingers at one another. No, I loved Emilia because she had just given me hope, hope that Wendy was mine, that Wendy could remain mine, that our love story wasnt over yet. I loved Emilia, because she had given me hope that I could still love my Wendy. We stayed at Emilias for about an hour more, brainstorming lyrics for a song. I could think of a thousand verses, but not 4 that went together to the same melody. And it was driving me insane. Wendy mustve sensed it as we tried for the 10th time to get a chorus to go with our first two verses while Emila played a generic tune on the piano. I let out an involuntary sigh that was deep, rolling through me like the waves Wendy was always saying were in my eyes. She glanced quickly over at me, read the lost hope in my eyes, and turned to Annie. Annie? Hey, yeah, weve just lost our touch for today. We can try again, soon? Maybe next weekend? Marty and I said our goodbyes while Wendy and Annie and Emilia scheduled our next meet. Marty got into the car and I climbed into the passenger seat. We made small talk about the coming basketball game at school, and then the girls piled into the backseat. Our car ride was pretty silent, except for the occasional asking of Wendy and Annie of, What is something that rhymes with _____? and our answering. They werent going to be able to write a life-saving song in the backseat of a moving vehicle, but I had to give them props. We pulled up to Martys house, and Wendy and Annie got out quickly, talking about meeting Lillian tomorrow. Marty and I stood by the passenger door of my own car. Ethan, I know that Im not your closest friend in the group, but since Annie and Wendy are getting so close to one another over this ordeal, I just want you to know that I am there for you, 100%, if you ever need someone to talk to. Marty said. I nodded and said goodbye, got in the car. We drove home in comfortable silence, and I kissed her at her door. I was feeling fatigued all of the sudden, and Wendy saw it. She didnt ask me to stay, just reminded me to pick her up tomorrow at 10. I got in the car, drove home, trudged up the stairs, and fell asleep without eating or drinking. I slept for 21 hours.

Thirty-Nine Wendy We met Lillian Jackson in the Exploratorium that Saturday. She was watching the pendulum swing and draw a picture, due to the turning of the Earth. A cluster of young children stood around, wanting to be given the picture. I knew that only one of them would get lucky. Annie went up behind her and tugged on the long black braid hanging against her stark white shirt. She turned around and revealed lightly tanned skin, and amber eyes. There was a sad looking planet on her shirt framed by the words: Dont worry Pluto, Im not a planet either. As soon as she spotted Ethans shirt- a Queen decal splashed across the chest- she sang, Galileo, Galileo- and left it hanging for Ethan, who quickly picked it up, singing back, Galileo Galileo Figaro. Lillian smiled, moving towards us. Magnificooo, Oh, I love that song. I shall name a constellation after you. What is your name? Ethan introduced himself, and then introduced me. Lillian turned to Annie, who said, Lilly, darling, I need some help figuring out some space and time calculations, and I knew only you or Kris Alexander would be able to do it right. I know nothing about space or time. Lillian scoffed. Kris Alexander, the poser. He couldnt tell you 2 things about Galileo, all he cares about are the elements. Which is cool and all, but guess what about the elements? The existence of helium was discovered in space before they found it on earth. Even the elements know space is better. We descended the steps and exited the building. Lillian automatically went to a large rock that we gathered around, creating the third point in our triangle- Ethan and I, Annie and Marty, and Lillian. She looked up at the sky. I hate day. And I hate night. Everyone in the city floods the sky with light and makes spotting constellations oh-so-difficult. Annie cleared her throat and handed Lilly the notes she had taken. In the margins were algebraic formulas Annie had created. We need help with this. Lillian gave it a once over and looked up at Annie. Why, what will these calculations tell us? We all shared a look, but it was Marty who spoke up. Ethan isnt a real person. He said simply. Lillian looked at Ethan, walked over and pinched his bicep. Ow! Ethan exclaimed. Your nails are sharp. He looks real enough to me. Feels real, too. Lillian said, coming back to complete the triangle. No, what Marty means is that Wendy created him. She made up his character and wrote about him in this book she found. She met him at the library in late January. When was he created? Lillian asked towards me, accepting this impossible idea without doubt. Late 2001 or Early 2002. Thats when I thought of the persona and started writing.

Lillian tapped her lip with a pen she pulled out of her pocket. So were talking roughly 3650 days, give or take. Okay, okay. Pretty nice number. What else you got? I cant work with just that. She smiled. Im a brainiac, not a psychic. We explained the situation to her, answering every one of her questions- and she had a lot of them- with complete answers, trying not to leave anything out. When she said she had enough information, she asked for Annie to show her what equations she and Marty had already thought up, which left Ethan and I without a job. So we took a walk, linking elbows and putting out hands in our pockets. You okay? I asked. He knew I was referring to how tired he was yesterday. A small shrug. I felt it, even though we were both staring at the path in front of us. It was still a little icy, and I didnt want to trip. I went home and slept after dropping you off. I didnt say anything. For 21 hours straight. I turned to him, my head whipping towards him like a robot, ponytail whooshing through the air behind me. 21 hours? Ethan, Im pretty sure thats not normal. Who said we were normal? Were so far from normal, that word doesnt even exist anymore. And who knows what normal even is? Who made up this set of rules and said, This is normal.? Dont go all philosophical on me, Ethan, dont even dare. We need to talk about this. Maybe youre becoming a narcoleptic? Wednesday. We were stopped now, facing each other awkwardly, for we were still linked. Dont use my full name. Why not? Well talk about it later. Can we talk about this later, too, then? No, Ethan. Maybe you should go to the doctor. Wendy. Youre overreacting. Were both just tired all the time, and you and I both know what its from, and know that a doctor cant do anything about it. Maybe they can. Maybe they can? Are you insane? What, we go in there, say, Oh, hello, I was created from a book, and now Im being sucked back in. Is there any medication you can give me so I dont feel so tired all the time, having my soul slowly stripped away? Get real, Wendy. Listen to yourself, youre delirious as I am. You arent delirious, and neither am I. Our words were flying so fast at one another that we werent even bothering to consider what we were saying. The words were flying out of our mouths so quickly that we didnt even think about them leaving our lips. We heard them for the first time as they were spoken aloud. A wire had been cut between our vocal cords and brain. But now we stopped. We stared at one another, staring at the one person who we knew we were meant to be with, and stopped talking. Stopped fighting. Stopped breathing. We held our breath, waiting for the other to speak. When they did, we spoke at the same time, identical twins through and through.

Wendy, Im sorry- Ethan, I hope you forgive- We stopped, hearing the other speak while we did, and chuckled softly, looking down at the ground for a moment, awkward as a first date. Ethan leaned forward and kissed me lightly on the corner of my mouth, so I turned my face upward and kissed him back. I pulled back and looked at Ethan, taking him in for a moment. It dawned on me that I never really did that, just looked at him. I just took him for granted. Im sorry that we havent been hanging out much lately. Its just, with all this going on, Ive been trying to just find time to save us, because I dont want to lose you, Ethan, I dont want to lose you. Ethan didnt speak, didnt kiss me. Just pulled me close, sweatshirt against sweatshirt, heat against heat. Im not going anywhere anytime soon. He whispered into my hair. If only I could believe that.

Forty Ethan The plan was for the whole group of us- and I do mean all of us: Annie, Marty, Kris, Preston, Lillian, Emilia, Chase, Wendy and myself- to meet at a block from Ghirardelli Square after school on Monday. I was out of my seat and out the door, rushing towards the parking lot, before the final bell stopped ringing. I was at Wendys school (I had asked Annie where she attended) when her final bell rang. I spotted her coming out of the front of the school, cautiously taking the steps, going much slower than everyone around her, appreciating everything. She was the eye of the tornado- the only calm in all the chaos. She looked up when she reached the last stair, her eyes instantly finding the blue Jeep. (I had pretty much claimed it for my own now. Hannah had taken to taking the cable car, a taxi, staying home, or tagging along with Nate in the morning to spend the day in town.) Wendy looked both ways before jay-walking, which I found funny, because why take the time to look? Just use the crosswalk- and approached the passenger door, a peculiar smile on her face. Youre too sweet, Ethan. Youre lucky that I have what I need, so we dont have to make a second trip home. Her throat hummed on the m that sounded like home to me. I thought about the watch locket, wrapped neatly in a pocket of my backpack, marking these precious moments with Wendy. Hello to you, too. I said, putting the car in drive. Happy Valentines Day. Wendy said at the first stop light. The car honk behind us had to break us out of our kiss. It was like one of those flash mobs- thats how crowded it was. People everywhere, streaming in from all sides. I found a place to park, and Wendy and I walked to where we were meeting the others, arms linked, hands in our pockets. It was cold today, or I wouldve held her hand. We had thrown away small talk about the weather, for we both knew that I had only so long left, so we were cramming in things that mattered. We talked about our favorite movies, and the underlying plot lines; we talked about what books were popular right now, and what we thought of them; we talked about the way society had programmed us, and how far gone we were. But we stopped there. We werent to speak about losing each other, though we both knew it was inevitable. The only recognition we gave it was clinging to one another. I could tell that when Annie saw Wendy, the first thing she noticed were Wendys eyes. They had been losing their bright brown luster, and were dimming, the leaves slowly dying and crinkling, bags forming under her eyes, battle scars from staying up late. I, of course, hadnt said one word, for I did not notice Wendys flaws. I saw her eyes because I saw that she was hurting, I saw that she was trying too hard to do what I couldnt. What was my job to be? I asked Annie. She didnt know, and instead lumped me with the other jobless- Chase and Marty. Wendy was stripped from my side, plopped

between Preston and Emilia, and they flipped through poetry and song books. Annie was taken from Marty by Lillian and Kris, and they sat across from the Word Group, working on creating a variable, trying to find a factor to slow down the process, trying to track if the rate was speeding up or staying the same, and who was going in, and who was staying. Annie pretty much had told me that I was going in. But she had still said that there was a small chance I wouldnt. I couldnt let Wendy disappear from this world. If that meant that I would have to be the one to leave, I would jump right into the binding this instant. She was Wendy. She was my Wendy. I was sandwiched between Chase and Marty, my chin resting on my arms. We had snagged a table in a caf a little bit off the beaten track, but that was okay. Ghirardelli Square was really just a reference point to meet at- we hadnt planned on actually eating there or anything. We had a round booth table, and I was exactly across from Wendy. She was staring at the book in front of her, pointing out occasional words to Preston and Emilia. Emilia wrote limericks in the margins of her notebook. The only one I could read from here said: I sit here on Valentines Day And yet love is so far away But wait now, I must, For tis love, not lust, That makes a man want to stay. Decent, I had to admit. For just sitting in a coffee shop, absentmindedly writing, it was quite decent. Wendy was tracing her fingertip around the rim of her hot chocolate. She hadnt taken one sip. I had been watching her. Chase and Marty were supposed to be occupying me, but they were talking about some upcoming basketball game at the school that I hadnt even heard about. Then again, I hadnt been listening for it. I didnt care about a lot of things like that anymore. She paused, tapped a word, then read to the end of the page, tapping two more words. Before she turned the page, she leaned over and wrote the words on the pad of paper in front of Emilia. I could make out her script, even upside down and across the table. Intrinsic. Aura. Transient. Emilia read the words, tapped her pencil to her lip questioningly, but didnt ask any questions. Wendy kept searching for words. Preston was reviewing the verses we had come up with 3 days ago, trying to fit them into an actual song, or at least things that all related to one another. Annie and Lillian were both working on the same equation, making sure that the answer they got was indeed the right one, double checking and triple checking. I didnt even know what they were searching for. I honestly didnt believe they were doing much. At least they were doing something. It was more than I could say. I sat up against the hard backing of my chair dug in my jacket pocket for Wendys present. It was a little smashed, but I straightened out the wrapping and sat it in front of me on the table, staring at it. All I had written on the side was For Wendy. I had found

the red wrapping paper in the closet upstairs, along with all the Christmas bows that we would be getting out in 10 months. Or at least Hannah and Nate would. Chase and Preston werent talking over my head, so I turned to them, seeing if maybe everyone had discovered something while I was distracted with the gift. No, everyone was looking at me. I saved Wendys eyes for last, for I knew I wouldnt be able to look away once I got there. And I couldnt. Even with the lavender hoops beneath her eyes, the graying tan of her irises, I couldnt look away. She was Wendy. She was my Wendy. She didnt even have to speak, just gave me a small, inquisitive smile that conveyed everything. Annie seemed to understand it as well, for she made a move to get up from the table. Why dont we call it a day, and meet up another time, maybe next weekend? We all shuffled out the door, giving our goodbyes, calling our farewells. Wendy and I linked arms and started back towards the car. I was still holding the present. Wendy nudged my shoulder. What do you have there, Handsome? What do you think? I smiled, handing it to her. She held it in her palm for a moment, staring at it, possibly imagining what it could be, or maybe just taking a moment to reflect on this odd Valentines Day. Did you not want your hot chocolate? I said. She had been carrying it in the other hand, and handed it to me when I gave her the gift. I wasnt hungry. She mumbled, almost sounding ashamed. I decided not to push it. Let us have just one day. One day. When we got to the car, Wendy hopped into the passenger seat and buckled up, then waited for me to get before she even moved. From her backpack, she produced a green box and handed it to me. What is this, Wendy? What do you think? She answered back, repeating my earlier words. She opened hers first, carefully undoing the wrapping like she was afraid to rip it, savoring every last sparkle in the paper. She got to the little bag it was in and opened it slowly, and let the locket slide out into her hand. Since purchasing it, I had had Marty get a candid shot of us with his cell phone, and send it to me. I had it printed up and cut to fit in the locket. I was looking at Wendy, and she was laughing. I had no idea when it had been taken, but it was my favorite shot. I kept a copy of it in my wallet. Wendy looked at it now, her face expressionless, her mouth a small O. She closed her eyes and smiled, like she was holding back tears, or remembering something. When she opened them, her eyes were shining. Thank you, Ethan. She said as she put it on. Ill always wear it. Your turn. I was careful as I opened Wendys gift, but not as careful as she had been. Inside the box was a little blue guitar pick on a keychain. Inscribed on one side was: W+E and on the other, a heart. It wasnt the most guy-ish thing in the world, but it wasnt some bracelet charm or necklace that she would expect me to show off all the time. No, this was something that was just for me, when I got my keys off the counter or out of my pocket, and I saw the keychain. It was there to remind me of her. What she didnt know was that I was always thinking of her.

Forty-One Wendy Ethan drove me home and lingered in front of my house. I didnt even move to take off my seatbelt. He leaned over and undid it for me before kissing me. His lips tasted like peppermint, and one of his hands found its way into my hair. I wasnt sure exactly how that had happened, but I wasnt stopping it. In fact, I felt myself pulling closer to him. These past 5 weeks,- it was our 5 week anniversary of meeting at the library- we had been so careful with one another, treading softly like we were afraid the other was made of china. He hadnt pushed, and I hadnt either. We just were where we were, and thats how it was. But right now, we came alive. Where his fingertips brushed my arms I got goose bumps, and my hands were cold against his neck, which meant his skin was on fire. In fact, his skin was on fire. He was burning up. I pulled away to look at him, and he stopped for a moment, the heat finally dawning on him. He didnt protest as I pulled off his jacket, and I laid my hands against either side of his face. His cheeks were flushed dark pink, like he had used a whole container of blush. He was so hot, literally. Ethan, we need to get you home. Home is with you. He said, but didnt protest as I pushed him into the passenger seat. Ethan, baby, the only way youre staying with me is if you stay here. Just hang on. Hannah answered the door. I was the perfect amount of agitated- enough to alert, but not so much as to frighten. I told her Ethan had gotten a bit of a fever all of the sudden, so I brought him home. I helped him through the door, where he collapsed onto the couch. Ill see you soon, hun. I told him, kneeling next to him, my voice hushed. Dont let me go, Wen. I promise. I said, giving him my hand. His skin was like touching the flame of a candle. I promise. I saw Annie on Wednesday, at the library. Emilia and I were meeting there to try to write a poem, and possibly convert it to a song later. Preston had some literary meeting to be at. Annie found us at our table in the back, and told me that Ethan had been out since Tuesday. Granted, only two days, but this was serious. This could be the end of his rope. And Annie knew it as well as I did. But for some reason, I didnt go over there. Maybe I could just feel it in my bones that it wasnt the end, or maybe I had some psychic powers, but when Thursday rolled around, I heard through the grapevine that Ethan had broken his fever Wednesday night and was returning to school on Friday. Funny, because Friday was the last day before we had a week-long break. We were all meeting almost every day. Time was crucial. Emilia and I were becoming fast friends, and she and I were making great progress. We were actually almost done with a song, all we needed was a tune and the

last verse. We had already written 2 or 3 poems, but since she had written most of it, they lacked the magic I supposedly had. I saw only bits and pieces of Annie. I could tell she was stretched thin, what with the homework she had been assigned over break, and this Nobel Prize winning formula that she was working on for me and Ethan. I didnt know how I was ever going to thank her. I didnt see Ethan until that Saturday, the 19th. He was looking a little pale, lacking his usual shine that he had about him, but he seemed whole. He walked a little slower that usual, like he had pulled a muscle in his leg and it was painful to walk. We met at Boudins Bread Factory, watching the bread move in separate cars across the ceiling. It was the reduced group of us- Annie, Emilia, Ethan, Marty and I, and we decided to go on the guided tour, for lack of something else to do. Ethan huffed up the stairs, but tried to hide it from me. I had taken the tour several times before, as had many of us, growing up in San Francisco. My favorite part had always been the fog machine, but Annie was staring at the recipe game that was featured, where you had to pretend to mix together flour and other ingredients and see what you could make. I could practically see the lightbulb click over her head as she exclaimed, Of course! Not a catalyst, but an inhibitor! Thats what weve been missing! Oh, I have to go. Come on, Marty! Then she grabbed Marty by the hand and yanked him through the rest of the tour, practically sprinting to the exit. Emilias phone rang as we were nearing the end. It was Preston. He wanted to know if she wanted him to pick her up. They were going to see a movie with Kris and Lillian and did Ethan and I want to come? I answered before I thought: I would love to, but I had to get Ethan home because he still wasnt feeling like his whole self, but maybe another time. Maybe another time. What a lie. We sat on my couch and stared each other for 15 minutes without saying a word. Then: Wendy, what will you do when Im gone? I blinked. Did that mean I lost? It hadnt exactly been a staring contest. Annie doesnt know if youre the one going. Thats crap. I know. So, why did you say it? Because its too hard to think about otherwise. Even in his weakness, Ethan found it in him to take my face gently in his hands. Wendy, please. Ethan, I dont want to think about that, really. Why not? You know that moment right before you go to bed when youre completely and totally comfortable? Yes. Do you think about the inevitable school you have to go to tomorrow, or work on whatever it is you have to do the next day? Or do you enjoy that moment, that absolute bliss?

I enjoy the bliss. Exactly. I love your mind. Im so glad you made me up, so that I had the chance to know you. Dont say it like that, Ethan. I leaned forward and kissed him, to stop him from speaking anymore. He pulled back so he could continue his thought. No, Wendy, listen. His voice was fierce. I want to tell you this so you know. Every moment that I spend with you, its one of the best. I know you probably dont believe that, but please. Just believe me. His eyes were sad, sadder than anything I had ever seen. Youre all I have left. Thats not true. You have Hannah and Nate and Kris and Preston and- All that I have left that I cant live without. All that I ever couldnt live without. You flatter me too much, Ethan. He pulled me into the crook of his arm and rested his chin on the top of my head. All the words I own, all the words in the world, I give them to you. I wish I had command of the English language like you do. But Ethan, I said. No one commands the English language. It does what it wants. You have to coax it cooperate. He smiled, entertaining a thought. You must be quite the word-tamer, to make them jump through the hoops that you create. Dont ever change, Ethan. I dont plan on it, Wendy. Silence. Then: Can we talk about why I cant call you Wednesday now? Laughter.

Forty-Two Ethan Apparently Annie had made some brilliant discovery at the bread factory, and she was refusing to speak to any of us, save Lillian, Kris, and Marty, until she had completed her findings. It was driving Wendy insane. We spent the whole day together now, and I was accustomed to hiding out in her bedroom with her. I sat against the bed while she wrote bits and pieces of poems and songs, reading them out to me, me as her guinea pig. She paced a lot, speaking aloud to herself. What did she say that day? Inhibitor? I looked it up, its the opposite of a catalyst, which means that it slows down a reaction, instead of speeds it up. Maybe that means that shes looking for a factor to slow things down. She was already doing that. Maybe she found a factor but didnt know what it was. Wow, I dont even know what to say to that one. Wendy, Im trying to give you a possibility, and you keep shooting them down. Because none of them work. Listen, Wendy. She turned towards me, her face open for whatever I had to say. Come here, sit down, and listen to me. Wendy descended to the ground, her shoulder up against mine. I put my arm around her and pulled her close, bending my head and speaking quietly, even though we were the only ones in the house. It was a Wednesday, the 23rd. Maybe Annie discovered something about the inhibitor, or maybe that word had just jogged her memory about something- we dont know, and wont know until she tells us. So youve got to be patient. Youre working yourself up and its affecting your writing- thats why youve been pacing so much, because you cant get a thought solid enough in your head to write about, right? So just, listen to me, trust me on this. You need to just forget about Annie and Kris and Lillian and Marty and Emilia and Preston, and Chase, too, I guess, even though he doesnt really do anything. Just, forget about all of them. Were doing this for us- our friends are just kind enough to help us on this. I wish we didnt have to be like this, wish we could just be an untroubled couple, where the only thing I have to worry about is making sure no guys try to hurt you when were out on a date or something. But you know, Im not saying that I wish us away. Because I love us. And Im not saying that this is a hassle, this trying to find a cure that doesnt exist. Because Im not saying that. Im saying that I love what youre trying to find, but you need to stop trying to find it to stop everyone else from panicking. You need to find it because you want to save us. You need to just stop thinking about everything else, and just think about us. Wendy was quiet for a long moment, turning over the words I had given her. Then she moved away, and came back to sit with me, the blank book in her lap, and pencil poised between her fingers. And I watched her write.

Forty-Three Wendy Ever since Ethan had given his little speech, I was writing like mad. Golden sentences lined the margins of blank book, tidbits about us that only were good for a sentence or two before they became rambly. We were forever and never, lasting for all of time, but waiting for the clock to mark the end. There was no him and I, there was only us. You was extinct, my no longer existed- everything was us, we. The sky opened up every night, ate us straight out of our separate houses, and threw us together in the dark to dance among the stars. Annie called a meeting on Friday, at the library, as usual. It was a big long speech that she gave with big words and scientific phrases I didnt know, but the gist of it I got. Basically, Annie had been looking for an inhibitor to slow down the process, to stop it at best. But she was focusing on words, math, numbers, language to do the job for her. It was at the bread shop that she had the epiphany that maybe she was looking at too many specifics, and that she needed to take a step back. What she was asking of us, was to do more. Live more, love more, be more. Go out and spend all day on the town, write each other love letters galore. Of course, with all the guys there, they were all laughing at this (except Ethan, who looked just as tired as I felt) but Annie just ignored them, and let Emilia and Lillian shush them. After all, we were in a library. More? We were giving all we had just to get out of bed everyday, you could see it in both of us now, our limbs drooped, we lumbered around like rag dolls. We were both paying the price, whoever was going into the book. Annie had been wrong. One didnt get stronger as they other got weaker. We were the same person. We felt everything as one. There was no him or I, there was only us. After Annie gave her speech, Ethan and I went to the poetry section and sat on our couch. I didnt grab any books, we just sat there and recited love letters that we would maybe eventually write. Annie was walking the aisles, and from across the library, we heard her phone ring (it was a typewriter, and the ding it made at the end of a line), followed by a chorus of Shhh! Annie talked quietly as she walked quickly towards us- we could see her head moving among the books. She hung up and called to Ethan, quietly at first. Yes? he answered, but she didnt hear, so she called again, a little louder, emotion creeping into her voice. We stared at one another for a moment, registering the tone of Annies voice. Was it panic? Fear? Excitement? Happiness? Ethan! Panic. We stood and walked quickly through the library, trying to get to Annie. Before, the library had been a comforting maze of knowledge, but now we were trapped in the

endless labyrinth of spines. Finally we found her, turning circles in the science fiction aisle. What, whats going on? Ethan said, breathless. Annie pressed her hands to her face, white as paper. Nate, Nate came home and Hannah was, Hannah was on the tile, and he went to wake her up, but she wouldnt wake up, and- Annie, please, we havent got all day! I whispered loudly at her, shocking her out of her stuttering. Hannahs in a coma.

Forty-Four Ethan I opened and closed my eyes slowly. My brain was registering everything around me. The wrinkles in Annies shirt. The bright blue barrette in her hair. Wendys frantic eyes. The dust on the books. Two strands of hair that fell from Wendys ponytail. Everything flashed into my brain at once, and I was only barely catching Annies words. She mustve fallen, hit her head on the counter she had a bruise on her temple, it mustve knocked her unconscious shes still breathing, still alive, just hasnt woken up yet. I was nodding my head. Wendy was shaking my arm, but I only saw it out of the corner of my eye. I was past feeling. Suddenly, I found myself in a car, Wendy in the drivers seat. She drove to the hospital, chanting the whole way, Its going to be okay, Ethan. Its going to be okay. Dont worry. Its going to be okay, Ethan. Its going to be okay. Dont worry. Someone was crying. Shh, Wendy, dont cry. I said, out of reflex. Im not crying, hun. My cheeks were wet. Why is my face wet? Is it raining? Wendy bit her lip, then nodded slowly. Yes, Ethan. Its raining all over the world.

Forty-Five Wendy I dropped Ethan off at the hospital, gave him the parking receipt for the Jeep, then got on the trolley to go home. I moved like a ghost, getting off at my stop, walking to my house, unlocking and relocking the door. It was the middle of the day, but I got into bed and laid there, my face buried in the pillow. I knew that this was our fault. She hadnt hit her head. The bruise was from something else. The book was taking Ethan and I, and now it was going after Hannah. Who would it go for next? We had to fix this. Soon. Ethan called Saturday afternoon, said he would come over Sunday. Hannah was going between showing worse signs, and showing better signs. She had to be on a ventilator for a bit, to help her breathe, but then she wiggled her fingers and started breathing on her own. The doctors were totally confused. And why wouldnt they be, it was us. We screwed up all medical explanations. There was a long pause after he said this, the quiet chatter of the hospital behind him. Then his voice became grave and quiet. Wendy, I need you to write me into the book. Ethan, I dont think thats possible. You and I both know it can probably be done. Ethan, Im not going to do that, even if it can be done. Wendy, listen to me! Im not going to let Hannah or Nate or you, especially you, go into that book because I was too much of a coward to do it myself. I know that you can write me into the book. Im coming over tomorrow to say goodbye. And then we are finishing this. Ethan, Annie is really close to figuring out how to stop this. Screw Annie and her damn formula, we both know it wont work. Ethan, calm down, youre upset and making rash decisions No, Im making clear-headed ones! This finally puts everything in perspective, just, Dammit, do what I say. Ethan, please dont speak to me that way. Wendy. Do. What. I Say. I hung up on him. He called back a minute later, crying. Im sorry, Wendy, Im sorry. I dont want to lose you. But I have to do this. I took a deep breath and swallowed, choking on my words. Ill see you tomorrow, Ethan.

Forty-Six Ethan I knocked gently on the front door of Wendys house, and waited five seconds until she opened it. There were tears in her eyes. As soon as I was in the door I was kissing her, and she was kissing me, but it wasnt a kiss because we felt like kissing, it was because there were no words anymore, because we both knew that by the end of the day, I would be gone. When I tasted her tears on my tongue, I pulled away and turned away, wiping the back of my hand against my own eyes. This was it. This was the end. Ethan. She croaked, then swallowed and said my name again. Ethan, do you want to do this right now? Today, even? You saw what happened to Hannah, I know it wasnt her hitting her head on something. Were both disappearing- thats why were so tired all the time, why I had my random fever. Im hurting all the people I love, and I cant do that. I cant take you guys out of this world. If I just put myself back in the pages, then maybe youll be safe. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, nodding slowly once. Finally she turned her brown eyes back to me. The book is in my room. Ive been thinking about what Im going to write all night, so it should be painless and quick. Her voice cracked on quick and she turned away in a hurry and headed towards her room. So I walked down the hall, towards the end. My end. I tried to let my mind stretch, to create lyrics and calm myself down, but nothing came. Only silence. She was seated against her bed, knees up, creating a desk with her thighs. I could see the book from here. A pencil was wedged behind her ear. I felt the weight of my foot on the ground, felt the muscles of my back leg pull itself forward, felt my body walk without my mind working. Somehow I found myself next to her. I was kneeling. I sat next to her and pressed my cheek against her back, face turned away from the book. I didnt want to witness my death. I wound my arm around Wendys back to her hip, pulled my chest into her shoulder, pressed myself into her. She gave a little gasp, one single sob, then pulled herself together and pressed her pencil to the page. Before when we would sit and she would write- doing homework or writing little bits about me to try to break the ice which we were bound in- her pencil kissed the page, caressed it, caring and slow. Now the wood-encased graphite stabbed angrily at the page, ferocious but hopeless, coming in spurts, like a car slowly breaking down. I felt myself tugged away from my soul- up, down, left, right, out, in. I wrapped my other arm across Wendys stomach, trying to hold myself to her for just a moment more, to my light that guided my life. And suddenly, with a quick snap, my arms were around nothing, my face against nothing. I fell forward, smacking into the ground. I sat up, stunned. What would my death look like? But I was still in Wendys room, like I had never left. She mustve written me into a story that was exactly like her room, her house. So it would be the same. I looked down

and saw the notebook on the ground, facedown. I picked it up, curious if her writing would be in there, and what she had written. As I lifted it from the ground, an envelope fell out. I picked it up and brought it to eye level. My name was written on it, in Wendys writing. It said, Ethan: Read Immediately I tore it open, trying to go fast, but everything seemed to move slowly, like I was traveling through thick water. I pulled out the letter and saw it covered in her script. I stood and went to the window, the suns light as a lamp. Dearest Ethan, If you are reading this, It worked. By it I mean my writing myself into the story. You see, when you called yesterday, I knew that I wasnt going to be able to write you back in. I could only ever write you out. How was I to write you in? Write about you? That brought you out, not put you in. I could write about myself, trying a reverse approach, like when I wrote about you and I went in. If I wrote about me, you would go in. But I didnt think that would work either. So that left me with the final option- no matter how I cut it, I was going into the story. So these past few weeks that weve been cramming our company in, spending every moment together, but all the while you saying goodbye like you were leaving meIn the end I was the one who left you. All I ever had here was you. School was nothing for me- to teachers I was the invisible student, turning in work but not participating in class. To other students I was a girl in the corner. My father and I havent seen each other for 2 months, and my mother hardly notices Im here. Please help her stop drinking. Shes going to drink herself to death. All I ever had, all I ever was- was you. Im sorry to lie to you. Im sorry to go. Im sorry I never get to see your ocean eyes again. I wish I couldve told you all this time, but it would have been nothing but words until now. You made me a better person. You made me see the song of the stars, you sang me a galaxy and strummed out the rays of the sun. You gave me friends, and a sense of family. You gave me life. I love you. Wherever the words I wrote take me, know that my love stays with you. I love you. More than words can convey. And you know as well as I do how much power words have. Remember me. But move on. -Wendy The note slipped from my fingers, and my arms kept reaching, hands grabbing the book. I read Wendys words. There was only a small paragraph.

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Wendy Owl. She was quiet and had wood brown eyes. Wendy Owl wrote a boy named Ethan Harp to life. He had eyes like the ocean and played the guitar. One day, Ethan started to disappear. But instead of just writing him back into the book, Wendy sent herself in. Because although she loved reading and writing words, She loved Ethan mor The r shook like an earthquake had struck at the time of its birth. Only when the book made a loud thunk on the ground did I realize, finally realize. Wendy was gone. And I couldnt bring her back. Even if I could write, I knew that Wendy had a special sort of magic, a gift of some sort that allowed characters to step out of the pages. Wendy had written me out of a book, and written herself in. She had given me hands to hold hers, she had given me lips to kiss with. She had given me ocean eyes. I felt my chest give a twitch, a heart knowing that its other half was gone. The ocean spilled over.

Forty-Seven Wendy I was in limbo: I was in heaven and I was in hell. I was alive and I was dead. I was awake and I was asleep. Conflicting states, yet I knew one thing for certain: I was alone. I was in San Francisco, but it wasnt the San Francisco I had lived in all my life. For one thing: the city was silent. There was no sound of the wind, no crash of the ocean, no barking of the sea lions, no ding of the trolley, no chatter of tourists, no squawk of seagulls, no sound at all. I remembered writing in the blank book, the words forming on the paper but my hand not consciously writing them. I remembered being stripped away from the world, a sticker peeled back, ripped off. I had closed my eyes, because it was painful, being pulled in every direction at once, and then, like a rubber band, everything snapped back to me and I opened my eyes and I was here. Everywhere was foggy, and I floated above the street, just a few inches, but enough to where I was now a ghost in this ghostly world. I floated past a window and stopped, because I noticed a reflection. It was Ethan. He was staring down at the letter I had written him, reading it, and then it slipped from his fingers. When the first tear rolled down his cheek, thunder rumbled overhead. I stood in the rain of Ethans tears and felt my heart slowly torn in two.

Forty-Eight Ethan The first stage of the five stages of accepting death is denial. Health class was burned in my memory and the 5 words repeated in my head. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. All grief lasts psychologically for 15 minutes, all other grief is self-inflicted. Oprah says 6 months is the maximum time it takes to get over something. All these facts bouncing around my brain, but I didnt care one bit about any of them. All I cared about was that Wendy was gone. The first day wasnt even the hardest to get through. I had things I had to deal with, like the fact that Hannah miraculously came out of her coma on Monday. My brother had pulled me out of school for the week though, so I had time on my hands. I actually was numb until a few days later. It was Wednesday. After breakfast in my empty house- Nate and Hannah were at the hospital, with doctors trying to figure out how she recovered, running brain scans- I didnt even think, I let my legs walk for me. They brought me to the counter where they keys were, and then out to the jeep. I got in the car and started driving. Now, they say that you arent supposed to drive buzzed, drunk, on the phone, while youre eating, or if youre in an emotional state. And man, was I in an emotional state. Thank God the side streets were deserted, because I was speeding and rolled through the first 2 stop signs. And then I spotted it. The diner.

Forty-Nine Wendy I watched him, the lone audience of my favorite actor. I watched him live- or attempt to- as he went through his daily routines, waking, making his bed, dressing, eating breakfast, going to the hospital, getting homework delivered to his house by Marty, doing homework, going to bed. Every day exactly the same as the one before. And then one day- it was probably a Wednesday because he seemed sadder than usual- he got in the jeep and drove to the diner. The diner where I had gone after walking through the rain to get away from Ethan during the fight before the start of the end of me. He was getting out of the car before he had even taken the keys out of the ignition. He had to go back to get them. The diner was empty, except for Eliza. She recognized him immediately. Oh Lawd, boy, how are you? I apologize for being so rude that last time, but son, that girl of yours was a mess when she walked in here! Eliza paused for a moment and looked at Ethan, who was staring at the chair where I had sat that day. Boy, you alrigh? You look like how she did. Whats troublin ya? Ethan pulled his fingers through his hair and turned a small circle, looking around the diner. As he did this, I felt a strange pull at the small of my back, and then, instead of me watching the scene in the reflection of a window, I was outside the diner window, and Ethan was turning a circle, his line of sight getting closer to me with every shuffle of his shoe. His eyes found mine for a moment, and his mouth started to form my name, but then the pull on my back became a jerk, and I was back in San Francisco, watching Ethan from my window. He was staring at where I had just been, and Eliza was staring at him. Hey, hey you? You okay, there? Eliza said, snapping her fingers at Ethan. He turned slowly, keeping his eyes on the spot for as long as he could until he was craning over his shoulder to look at the empty space. Yeah, Im fine. I thought I saw someone. I gotta go. And with that he leaped out the door and into Hannahs jeep, revved the engine and peeled out into the street, headed towards home. That was when I realized that I wasnt stuck in this San Francisco. That I might be able to go back. Go back to Ethan.

Fifty Ethan I had a quote by Rilke stuck in my head now: All my words would have to walk around shivering, in the tatters of that voice; if lament were enough. He had written about the loss of Wendy without ever meeting her. After I saw her that first time at the diner, I saw her everywhere, but they were all like this: Her head bobbing along in a crowd, or a glimpse of her walking by my classroom, or even the slight whisper of her voice from behind me, but when I tried to go up to her or see her, She vanished. I started tracking her, using the blank book to write the time, date and place of where she was, and how she was when I saw her. There had to be some pattern, something that could help me predict when the next appearance was, or anything that might tell me where to find her. I went to Annie with my notes on March 8th. Wendy had been gone for 9 days. She was in the library, checking out a book about the Pythagorean theorem, and when I first handed her the book, she stared at it like it was a mutant rat. What is this, Ethan? She sounded tired. You know what it is. But Ive been seeing Wendy, everywhere. They arent hallucinations, I swear to God, they arent. Theyre her, shes somehow back here. I wanted you to look at her appearances and tell me if theres any pattern to it. Annie gave me a long look and sighed, shifting the thick textbook and blank book to one arm. The blank book fell to the floor. Oops. It didnt sound very sincere. But when I was picking it up, a folded piece of paper slipped out of the back. It read, First Completed Song. My heart ached to see her script. What is it? Annie asked. A song. She finished a song? I guess she did. Annie emphasized the did, and I shot her a look. I looked up at Annie. Im going to take it. Whatever, Annie said, as I started walking out of the library, Shes your girlfriend. I stopped and turned. Shes? As in, She is? As in, you still believe? Annie shrugged. Ive always wanted to witness at least one miracle in my life. Maybe Ill get lucky and itll be her. But in my heart, I already knew Wendy was a miracle. The song was about us. It didnt have a chorus, but it was a perfect song. I could almost hear the tune that she had been thinking of when she wrote it. I laid it on my bed and read it out loud to myself. I am a comet, Lost in your orbit So I guess that makes you the sky? And we go together

Like birds of a feather Cause when I am with you I fly. Bound by your gravity Wrought with anxiety We form elliptical lines I am where they start The end is at your heart And the bridge is made of book spines. We can take rocket-ships To the nearest eclipse Where all I can see is your face We can wish on stars And capture them in jars And then hurtle through outer-space. We sail through the galaxies Planets as taxis And before you know it were home. When I look into your eyes I see only blue skies And now know Im never alone. Have you noticed that universe Is u-n-i plus a verse? Its just you and I with a songSo well mix our wishes Together with kisses For together is where we belong. I took the lyrics to Emilia, and told her about the tune that I had in my head for it. She played the piano accompaniment, and I played my guitar. She sang it, and she was pretty good, but it wasnt the voice I wanted to hear. But maybe, with this song, somehow, I could get it. I had a purpose now. My purpose was to bring Wendy back.

Fifty-One Wendy He wasnt supposed to bring me back. I mean, I wanted to go back, but I considered the consequences before trying to push my way back onto Earth. We couldnt both be on Earth- it didnt work like that. We would just be back at the same old place we were before, and wed have to go through this all over again. He was the one that needed to stay- He had all these friends, and a family and a life. People would notice if he disappeared. However, I wasnt a very pronounced person in my class, and the teachers didnt notice that I was gone. My mom hadnt noticed yet, and I had been missing for a 4 and a half weeks. But I didnt try to stop him as I watched he and Annie try to track where I turned up. I couldnt control it. If I thought hard enough about Ethan, I could sort of get the pull started, but whether it pushed me through was entirely of its own accord. And sometimes it caught me by total surprise. Id blink and there would be Ethan- Id blink again and he would be gone. Days passed and I watched Ethans flame of hope slowly dwindle, Annies failure to find a way to fix things the snuffer. It was Wednesday, the 20th of April- Easter break- when she came knocking on his door. I watched him open the door, eyes sleepy. It was 4:35 in the morning. I had been gone for a little over 7 weeks. Annie was practically glowing. Her moms mini-van idled in the driveway. Marty waved from the passenger seat. Kris, Preston, Chase, Emilia and Lillian were packed in the back. Whats going on? Ethan half-yawned. Dont ask, just come on. Get the jeep, or ride illegally in the van, I dont care. Just come on. Quick. Its about Wendy. At these words from Annie, Ethan grabbed a jacket from the hook by the door and started to head out into the night. Annie stopped him. At least put on some jeans and sneakers- were going to the park, youll be freezing in pajamas. While youre at it- get your guitar. Ethan disappeared into his dark house for a minute, and then emerged in his jacket and jeans. He had the keys to the jeep in his hand, his guitar in the other. The streets were dark, and I kept telling Ethan to drive slower. Of course, he couldnt hear me, so he didnt listen. I didnt feel any different in this world than I normally did, but there had been a pull at my back for the past day or so. Maybe Annie was on to something.

Fifty-Two Ethan We were driving to our park, just like old times. The only people missing from our crew were Nadia, who I didnt care about at all, and Wendy, who I cared about with my whole being. I could tell that Annie was on to something by the reckless way she drove in front of me, almost speeding through 2 stop lights and cutting the corners so close that the van almost went up on two tires. She stopped in the parking lot and everyone unloaded. I slammed the door behind me and looked in the reflection of the window. I saw my hair- scrambled in a mess on the top of my head- and my heart squeezed in my chest. This was Wendys favorite way to see my hair. Annie marched towards me, wielding a flashlight and the blank book, which had notebook pages tucked into it. I figured they were her notes. Annie, let us get settled down, babe. Its like, 5 in the morning and were all half-asleep. Let us sit down. Marty said. Even in the dead of night, he had his skateboard. I wondered off-hand if he slept with it. Everyone else sat down on the benches, their flashlights- they all had themmaking white and yellow circles in the surrounding forest. Looking at the forest made me think of Wendys eyes, and I turned to Annie. Please, tell me what you know. My voice sounded broken. Annie was my last hope. Annie heard the desperation in my voice and shushed everyone. I felt a chill run down my back as she took her notes out of the blank book, and handed the blank book back to me. I felt more secure with it in my hands. Annie stood in the middle of the circle we created. Everyone was silent. Ethan came to me a while ago and asked me to find a pattern in Wendys ghostlike appearances. I didnt believe him- how could I find a pattern in 15 places that Wendy showed up? And then, I found belief, when I tracked where she appeared in San Francisco. Annie held up a map, 15 black dots marked on it. Who sees it? She asked. I didnt see it myself, at first. Lillian saw it instantly- probably from identifying constellations all the time, and said, Its a W, a plus sign, and an E. WE? My heart stopped in my chest, and I reached into my pocket for my car keys, rubbing my thumb over the engraved guitar pick. Oh, god. Wendy. I whispered. Everyone looked at me. Yes, Ethan. Wendy. Wendy came to you out of love, as clich as that sounds. But I figured out another pattern. We all waited. The first day she came was a Wednesday, the 2nd. She had only been gone for 2 days. Over the next three days, you saw her 4 more times, and those five appearances made the W. When you came to me, you had seen her two more times, making half the plus sign. Since then, you have told me of 8 more appearances, much more spaced out. The last showing you told me of was a week ago, and it completed the E.

So, whats the pattern? Annie rubbed her neck. Thats exactly it, there is no pattern. Its so random, just spontaneously showing up everywhere, that there is no pattern. She saw the disappointment on my face and continued, But just listen to me. That means that she isnt bound to anything, and that we can call upon her. Why are we all here? Kris asked. I mean, Im all for moral support, but why are we all here at 5 in the morning? Isnt this kind of Ethans thing? Annie shrugged. I needed a random time. She usually came in the middle of the day or at night, and I didnt want to do the same time, twice. She took a breath. I know this sounds crazy, but I think we can make Wendy appear here. Annie looked me dead in the eye. I think we can bring her back. Emilia stood up. This is preposterous. I turned to her, my heart pounding. What do you mean, preposterous? It all makes sense! Do you just not want to help me? Wendy? US? Fine, wait in the car. Im so close to getting her back. Dont tell me I cant. Preston stood up next to Emilia. Ethan, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but this is impossible. Wendy wrote herself into the book, it would seem that the only way to get her out would be to write her out. But someone has to be in the book. Emilia and I have been talking, and we think Wendy had it wrong about the percentages- every time you gave a little to each other, a little bit was stolen from both of you and sent into the book. What Wendy did was send herself in, all that was left in the world, and joined with what was already in the book, so shes now 100%. The bits and pieces of you that were in there came back out, so youre 100% out here. There isnt room for both of you in there, or on Earth. Only one can be in each place. But I knew something he didnt. Wendy was never 100%, and neither was I. I am half of Wendy, so theres half of her here in the world for her to come back to. When we were being sucked in, we both felt the pain of it, because we are the same person. We can both fit in the world. Emilia threw up her hands. This is impossible- youre impossible. Im waiting in the car. I cant be a part of this. You need to get over her, Ethan. She told you to move on, and you arent listening! I cant move on, Emilia! Shes a part of me! I see how you and Preston look at one another. What if he was sucked into a book and it was your fault? Wouldnt you try everything you could to get him back out? Or are you some sort of unemotional bitch? Lillian stood up. Hey! Emilia isnt a bitch, Ethan, shes got a valid point! Yes, we are all sorry to see Wendy gone from us, and we all mourn that shes gone, and we all want her back. But youve got us all mixed up into something that cant be done! Its impossible! Heck, the whole thing was impossible to begin with! Damnit, all of you, shut up! Emilia, Preston- go sit in the car if you need to, if this is too ridiculous for you. Lillian, decide which side youre on right now, or so help me God The anger in my veins pounded in my palms, and I felt the need to break something. Chase saw this, stood and walked quickly over to me, and took the guitar from my hands, bringing his face near mine. Hey, bro, take a breath. You know how Wendy doesnt like you to cuss. I closed my eyes and took a breath, holding onto Wendy, trying to slow my pulse.

When I opened them again, Annie was looking solemnly at Emilia and Lillian walking towards the car, and Preston was sitting dejectedly next to Kris. Annie turned to Preston. I wouldve let you go, too, but I dont want you to regret not being here. Her eyes focused on me in the night, waiting. Okay, Annie. I took the guitar from Chases hands. What do I need to do?

Fifty-Three Wendy It was 5:13 AM and the light was dim as Annie, Ethan, Marty, Kris, Preston and Chase formed a circle. The pull was slowly growing stronger, and I was shaking from anticipation. Maybe Annie was right, maybe I would be back with Ethan by the end of the hour. She told them all to find their strongest memory of me and play it in their mind, over and over. Ethan was to play his guitar. The song he chose was the one he played for me in his room all those weeks ago. I started crying. For some reason, the reflection changed to Emilia and Lillian sitting in the van, talking about Kris and Preston, and how cute they were. Anger filled me, and I found myself beating on the reflection. How could they just dismiss me? I wanted them to move on, but this was just plain rude! My window turned to the car window, and I was beating on the car door. They looked up, found me, and the color drained from their faces. I stepped away, looked down at my hands. They felt real. There was ground underneath my feet, but I could tell that I was unsteady. I turned slowly, towards the clearing down a path, where Ethan was strumming the guitar strings. I called out his name, heard it echo once in the night. I even heard Ethan stop playing and say, Wendy? Then I was gone.

Fifty-Four Ethan I had been so close. Emilia and Lillian said that Wendy had beaten on the car window, stepped back, looked down at her hands, then called out for me. At least they believed now. I sank to my knees outside the mini-van, and the guitar slipped to the ground, the strings humming slightly. I had been so close. I agreed to drive Chase, Kris and Preston home, because Annie didnt want to make all those stops again. And I didnt want to go home again, because it was so depressing to return empty-handed. I dropped them all off and headed for the library- it was 7:30. I could grab some breakfast from the coffee shop next door and then go inside and be as close to Wendy as I could get nowadays. I had a bagel and some hot chocolate, and drew a heart on the back of the napkin, which I crumpled up and threw away. It felt like a good analogy. The library was warm and felt like walking into Wendys arms. My feet took me to the aisle where I first saw Wendy, where our story leapt off the page and into the world. I imagine my brain as a clock, ticking away the memories like seconds, storing them in the gears. A cog mustve been out of place until that moment, and when it shifted into its spot, something pieced itself together in my head. Wendy usually showed up where we shared memories. The library was where we shared one of the strongest ones. I stood next to the bookshelf for a second, and then my mind jumped to the next place we went that day. We had jaywalked and went to the trolley station- that was the one of the few stations in town that I hadnt gone to since she disappeared. I chased the memory out the door and down the steps, looked both ways and crossed the street, and stepped up to the cable car, looking around. And then I saw her. The bottom of the library stairs. Where our story began.

Fifty-Five Wendy I had been avoiding the window since I had been pulled back to my San Francisco, because it made me too angry to think about how close I had been. So when I was suddenly jerked into the real San Francisco, I had no idea what was going on. I was unsteady on my feet, but I looked frantically around for Ethan. When I didnt see him immediately, I looked around to see where the heck I was. Outside the library. I heard my name called from across the street, in a voice that I would never forget for as long as I lived. I spotted Ethan by the trolley, his hair a mess on top of his head, wearing the gray jacket that I bought him because it was the warmest jacket ever and I wanted to borrow it all the time. He took a step towards the curb, trying to get a better look. I tested my feet- after not using them for weeks, only floating, it was hard to remember how to walk- but found that I was not that unsteady, and after taking 3 steps, I remembered how to use them. I stepped off the curb. There was once a movie I watched about how one little action of all these different people ended up having this huge affect, and how if only one of them had done something different, nothing would have happened. The driver of the car was a tourist from Nevada who was visiting with his wife. His name was Gregory St. James, and his wife was named Linda. Linda had stayed back at their hotel after having a small argument with Greg about how much money she spent at the Pier the day before. Greg was out driving to find a bar and wind down, and had dropped his wallet on the floor coming around the corner. He had glanced up twice to make sure there was nothing in the street, and then bent down to find his wallet by his feet. Ethan had been shielded by the trolley when he started to cross the street, so Gregory St. James had not seen him. If one thing had gone differently, if Linda hadnt spent so much money at the Pier, or they hadnt had an argument about it, or Linda wouldve come in the car, or Greg wouldnt have started to drive to the bar, or he hadnt dropped his wallet on the ground, or he wouldve looked up once more when Ethan stepped into sight, then Gregory St. James wouldve driven by and Ethan wouldve been fine. But instead, Gregory St. James did not see Ethan, and Ethan was hit by the car, smashing in the windshield and rolling up over the roof and off behind the car. He laid in a crumpled heap, a paper doll that would flutter away in the wind. I found myself at his side, kneeling by his head. I wrapped my finger around a strand of his hair. There was a large, bleeding cut across his forehead and his arm was bent at an awkward angle behind him. I bit my lip, trying to keep the tears back. Gregory St. James got out of his car and looked at Ethan, and barfed on the street. A woman came running towards me, wielding a cell phone. Miss? Miss? Are you hurt? I shook my head, and she kept talking into the phone. I heard sirens in the distance.

Fifty-Six Ethan A car crash A broken bone A screaming siren A place to call home White and chemical This jail of a room This hospital bed Might as well be a tomb

Fifty-Seven Wendy It was almost comical, the fact that the moment I was to be united with Ethan had to be interrupted by him being hit by a car. I was instructed to sit on an uncomfortable beige chair outside his room, and I started to memorize everything. 67B was the number on his door. There were 43 black dots on the tile beneath my feet. The light above flickered once every 54 seconds. He had been put in there at about 1PM. He had 3 broken ribs, a broken leg, a broken arm and a mild concussion, as well as a heaping handful of cuts and scrapes all over. When they changed him into hospital clothes, I asked the nurse if I could have his jacket. I think she could tell by the look on my face that I might break down if I didnt have it. For some reason, I had the locket Ethan had given me- I had had it in my San Francisco, too, but it was stopped- and to hear the comforting tick of the second hand brought Ethans condition into reality. I closed my eyes and leaned back in my chair, clutching the jacket to my chest and remembering the ambulance ride. It took them about 10 minutes, because it was just around the corner. Ethan had a pulse, but it was faint. Very faint. And disappearing. When they got to the scene, they loaded him in and one paramedic who was supervising looked at me, then jerked his head toward the car, telling me to get in. You didnt have to tell me twice. The nametag on his shirt said his name was Anthony, and he asked me who Ethan was, who I was, who we could contact that was related to Ethan. Meanwhile, they were treating the gash on his forehead and monitoring his vitals. I was clinging to the dwindling beep of Ethans heart, and nearly fell apart at the seams when he flat-lined. Out came the paddles, and they turned Ethan into a flopping fish out of water. There was no response from his heart at all for a full minute, and the guy with the paddles pulled back, shaking his head slightly. I lurched forward, clutching Ethans arm. NO! Ethan, please, please! Dont leave me! I bent my head and touched my forehead to his forearm, and whispered through the tears running down my cheeks, I love you. The flat line turned back into jagged mountains, and Ethans eyes fluttered open for a second. But they found mine, and there was a slight twitch in his fingers. I held them, held onto his life, held him here. The nurse was named Sarah, and she looked about 30. I could tell I started to bug her when I asked about Ethan for the 4th time. Look, honey, hes awake, but only for a few minutes. Hes very disoriented and half asleep and in a lot of pain. Youre gonna have to wait. So I waited- that is, until I found Ethans car keys in the jacket pocket. Sarah mustve overlooked them. I could sit here and wait for nothing, or I could make myself useful and find the jeep and pick up Hannah and Nate- funny, they had just returned home from the hospital. I walked out the door and towards the library.

Fifty-Eight Ethan It sure felt like I had been run over. Everywhere ached. It hurt to breath, it hurt to swallow, it hurt to open my eyes. My mouth was dry and I felt like a giant pincushion. They woke me up every hour- I was told this was because I had a concussion. The fourth time they woke me up, I was coherent enough to ask a question, though my jaw ached from the effort. Wheres Wendy? I grunted. The two nurses- one was blonde and named Christy, and one was brunette and named Sarah- exchanged a glance. Sarah looked at me and asked, Wendy? Is she about your age, brown hair? Yes, where is she? Another look exchanged. This time Christy spoke. Oh, well, she walked out of here about an hour ago. She was wearing your jacket. That okay? My heart fluttered at the thought that Wendy hadnt disappeared this time. Yeah, fine. Do you know she going? When back? Were the only words I could get out. She didnt say anything. She just left. Christy shrugged. Sarah came over and looked at the monitors. Youre allowed to go back to sleep now, Im sure shell be back when you wake up. I ignored that. How bad? Christy frowned. Pretty broken up, and a small concussion. You wont be playing sports for a while. Dont care. I muttered, closing my eyes. I heard Sarah walk away from me and walk out the door. Christy turned on the television to some Spanish soccer game, then she left as well. My heart ached for Wendy. An hour later, when I could actually move some of my face muscles, the parade arrived. Hannah came in, flustered and teary eyed, and patted the top of my head and told me my brother would come soon- he was at the store, and had been called- but then she had to go because Preston and Chase and Kris were all here. They all looked sadly at my leg and arm, and joked how it didnt matter because I was a lame ass basketball player anyway, and that made me laugh, which hurt much more than breathing, and they left, afraid of damaging me further. Emilia and Lillian waved from the doorway, and Annie and Marty came in. Marty shrugged and said, Oh, well there goes my plans to teach you to olly. And Annie couldnt stop smiling. When I asked her why, she just smiled wider. Nate came in, his tie loose and his hair mussed, and he sat down in the chair at the foot of the bed and put his hands in his hair. I was so worried that I had lost you too, Ethan. I almost lost Hannah and I thought I was going to lose you too. Oh God, I thought I was going to have to plan another funeral, I just, Oh God. I said, SOkay, Nate. Youre not getting rid of me that easy. And that made him smile, so I asked, How did you all find out?

Nate stood and ruffled my hair. Your girlfriend, bud. Shes one hell of a girl, Ill tell you that. You dont deserve her. He grinned until all his teeth showed, then looked at the doorway and told me that he was going to go check on Hannah. Shes a wreck, and I dont want her getting too stressed out. Anyways, I think you have one last visitor. He moved aside, and my eyes found home. There she stood, wearing my jacket and twirling the jeep keys around her finger. Heads up! She called to Nate, tossing the keys into the air. Nate grabbed them out of space and pocketed them, and left the room. Sarah and Christy decided to come in at that moment, check on all the numbers, and fuss over the way the bed-sheet laid on my leg. Wendy sat in the chair underneath the Spanish soap opera- the soccer game had ended- and watched them flit around me. Finally, when they left, there was a heartbeat of awkward silence in the room between us. Wendy. Was all it took, and she was at my side, pressing her face into my right hand- my left was trapped in a cast. I lifted her face and watched a tear roll down her cheek. Oh, no, please dont cry, darling. She looked at me for a moment, and I knew that I had been made to look into those eyes, that dark forest waiting for me to explore. I missed your eyes. I said, cupping my palm around her cheek. Wendy smiled. What? I just was thinking about how outside your room, the whole hallway is beige, and its not even a nice beige, its a hideous shade, and I was thinking about how horrible that color is, and how it even sounds bad, like fancy barf or something. I ate that bad shrimp and beiged all over the place. And then I was looking around your room, and this khaki color, its not working either. It sounds like a bad cough. Harold and I were up all night because Francis had the worst khaki I mean, really, who thinks up the names of colors? It was Wendy the way I had always remembered her, and her skin was pink and substantial beneath my fingers. I cant believe youre still here. You died. She said simply, and I blinked. What? What do you mean I died? Im right here, Im alive. I can hear my heartbeat! Which was rapidly increasing. Yes, but you died. Thats why Im still here. She bit her lip. Hm, how do I explain this in a way that makes sense? Her eyes lit up and she leaned forward and kissed my nose. Hang on just a second, hun, I know who can explain it. She had hurried out the door before I could protest, and returned before I could worry. Annie was with her. Wendy explained it all to me in the car-ride over, and I know how youre both still alive. Annie said, sitting next to my bed and tapping a pencil on her leg. Wendy sat beneath the television, slumping against the wall. My body seemed to ache more with her so far away.

You see, Annie said, leaning forward, the pencil stuck behind her ear now, Wendy shouldve disappeared after a few seconds, but you were struck by the car and you pretty much died. You were only 10% alive, and that allowed all the other 90% to come to Wendy, who was in the world. When you totally flat-lined for a full minute, all 100% went to Wendy, and you were zero. But it wasnt the paddles that shocked your heart back to life. It was Wendy. I went to look at Wendy, but found she had moved to my side, her chin by my shoulder. She lifted her head and whispered into my ear, I told you to not leave, I told you to come back. I told you I loved you, and you stayed. I turned my head, and her lips touched mine for the briefest second, but it was enough after being without her for so long. You see, Wendy put love back into your heart, without giving up any of herself. And this whole time youve been in the hospital, youve been gaining your strength back as you stabilized. You are now 100% of Ethan, and Wendy is 100% Wendy. Annie was grinning. Its brilliant math and science! Im still freaking out over it! Something nagged at the back of my mind. What happened to the blank book? Is it useless now? Or is just a regular book? Wendy got a sheepish look on her face and looked at the ground. Annie pulled a black rectangle out of her purse and handed it to me. Whats this? I said, opening it. The blank book. Annie said, matter-of-factly. Its okay, I dont think I was ever going to give it back to the library anyway. Wendy shrugged. I spoke without thinking. Torched, aflame, a charred book, who is to blame, where should I look? It was like that when I found it in the jeep, I swear. Wendy took it from my hands and flipped through the black pages, all burned beyond recognition. I think the blank book knew it had no more use, and destroyed itself. Other than that, its unexplainable. Annie stood and rubbed her hands together. Im done here. Heal fast, Ethan. Good to have you back, Wendy. Wendy watched Annie leave, then walked calmly to my bedside and laid the book on my chest, open to a single white page. Look. This one survived. She said quietly. It was the page she wrote when she disappeared, the single paragraph that canceled her existence. But beneath it was something I had written. No, Wendy, darling, please. Please please, dont leave me. I love you. Wendy bent and looked at me. Ocean Eyes, this is almost exactly what I yelled at you in the ambulance, only minus the third please and the darling. I closed the book and set it on the bedside table. Wendys locket ticked in time with the heart rate monitor. She meant it when she said she would always wear it. What do you think it means? Wendy asked. You know what I think it means? I think it means that we were destined to be with one another, that fate was waiting to reunite us.

Wendy took the book in her hands and stepped back. Ethan, theres something I have to tell you. I cant stay here with you. Even thought right now were both whole, our being together might make us slip back into where we were, and I cant do that, because this time it might be you who is sucked into the book. Wendy, the book is destroyed. Its over. It is over. Ethan, Im sorry. I love you, more than anything. Thats why Im leaving. Im protecting you. Im protecting us. Are you breaking up with me? The words tasted like cardboard in my mouth. Wendy wiped the tears from her cheeks and hugged the book to her chest. Yes. No. I dont know. I guess so. Maybe well meet each other on the street months or maybe years from now, whole as we are now. She put her hand on the doorknob, posed to leave. I felt my heart reaching out, a rope to lasso her and pull her back to me. She mustve felt something, because she came back around to my left side, and kissed me, long and deep. She mustve been joking. How can you kiss someone like this and then leave? I love you, Ethan. Im sorry. I went to grab her, hold her, but my left arm was in a cast and I couldnt reach with my right. I pleaded. Wendy, Wendy, please. Dont. Dont do this. Come back and sit down and well pretend this never happened. She paused at the door frame. Goodbye. Was all she said. The room was silent, disconnected from the buzz of the outside world. I heard only 2 of her footsteps before she blended into the hospital crowd. I stared at the ceiling, my body broken into pieces, my heart shattered. And a song lyric floated into my mind. Owl Owl in the sky, please fly back here and be mine. I would find Wendy, and I would get her back. I would find my Wendy, and write her back into my life. Whatever it took.

Acknowledgements What would this novel be without a page of thanks? First, to my girls: Olivia DelBono- Livy, I still cant believe you knitted me a hat with cat ears. Really, who does that, other than awesome people? And thanks for teaching me how to play Wendys song on the piano and playing countless hours of Scrabble and Boggle with me. I am forever grateful. Oh, by the way- you look fantastic in that red peacoat. Leah Perry- Lovebird, you are one of the most enthusiastic people I have ever met. You also laugh at every hint of a joke in this thing, and make me smile. I hope they name a star after you. Actually, youll probably discover a new one and get to name it yourself. Youre an amazing shooting star of a girl. And Stephanie Pardell- Steph, you are the best email conversationalist in the whole wide world. Thank you for putting up with my constant chit-chat about the novel. I wish I could show you how much it means to me to know that there is always someone listening. Thank you for making this novel that much better, and being my real life Annie. To my mom: For whom I am in eternal debt. Who backed up all the medical bits with her nurse experience. Who only protested a little when I spent several nights in my room, writing this. Who took me to the library many, many, many times so I could stock up on poetry books. Love you, Mom. To my dad: Without whom I would be at a loss. Who makes me laugh every morning in the car. Who helped me put together my bookcases so I could keep all my books in my room. Who gave me the laptop that I typed this whole thing out on. Who told me to shoot for the moon. Love you, Dad. And also, to all the crushes I had sophomore year of high school- Youre all in here, one way another. In Ethans eyes or hair, as a cameo for 2 lines or just in my thoughts when I was writing Ethans lines. Thanks for haunting the halls. Lastly, I want to dedicate this novel to my dog, Sir Olivander Twist, who passed away October 29, 2010. Who sat on my feet at night when they got cold. Miss you, Oliver.