Wayward Son - Rainbow Rowell Page 0,14

“I already have, half a dozen times. And you just won’t hear it!”

“I’m certain you never said, ‘Penelope, I’m breaking up with you.’”

“I said it every other way! We went two months without talking, and you didn’t even notice!”

“I’m sure I was working on something very important!”

“I’m sure you were, too! Something much more important than me!”

At this point, I’m very tempted to say, “No, Micah, you’re wrong. This is a mistake, and I don’t accept it.”

And maybe I would if this Erin person weren’t standing right there. I think she’s a Normal, unless she’s got a wand up the back of her dress—nothing she’s wearing could hold magic. Cheap bangles and flip-flop sandals. If it weren’t for her, I’d announce, “I’m leaving now. Call me when you’re feeling reasonable.”

Instead I say, “My mother set eyes on my father in third year and knew immediately that they’d be married someday.”

“That’s not us,” he says. “That’s practically nobody.”

He’s right.…

…

… How mortifying.

I walk out of the house then, without saying good-bye to him or Erin or Mrs. Cordero. I’m halfway down the walk when Micah catches up with me.

“Penelope!”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore!”

“No, you—you’ve got my mom’s dog.” He takes the Pomeranian from my arms, and it barks like it wants to come back to me. Micah jogs back into the house.

I’m crying, and I can’t believe I have to face Simon and Baz now. I can’t believe I have to explain this to them.…

The car is gone.

They’re not here.

13

SIMON

I’m driving, I’m actually driving. I mean, it’s a housing development called Havenbrook, not the autobahn, but I’m behind the wheel and operating multiple pedals, and if I think too hard about it, I push the brake instead of the clutch, and the car shakes and dies—but that’s only happened twice, and Baz is acting like I’m some sort of natural-born talent. “Perfect, Snow,” he keeps saying. And I wish he was saying, “Perfect, Simon,” but I’ll take “perfect.” He’s got his hand on my shoulder, and I feel like there’s nothing I’m doing in this moment to let him down.

“I think you’re ready for an actual street,” Baz says.

“I’m not ready for other cars.”

“The only way to be ready is to do it. There’s no practice traffic.”

We’re driving past the Havenbrook Estates entrance. I can see the main road. “Should I try it?”

“Yeah. Do it, Snow. Live dangerously.” Says the vampire teaching me how to drive.

“What about Penny?” I say. I’m stalling.

“I can’t imagine she’s missing us, but I suppose we could check.”

“Do you remember the address?”

We both look up. Every house in Havenbrook Estates looks like the same house, slightly rearranged, and painted one of five muted shades.

“I think it was light brown,” Baz says.

“This light brown,” I say, pointing at a house, “or that light-light brown?” I point at another.

“That’s not light brown, that’s a warm grey.”

“They’re all sort of a warm grey,” I say, “even that green one.”

“I don’t see a green one.”

“That one there.”

“Surely, that’s tan.”

* * *

We never would have found the house again if Penny weren’t sitting out on the kerb in front of it. She stands up when she sees us and climbs into the car before we’ve fully stopped or opened the door, falling flat into the back seat.

“Sorry, Bunce. Snow was driving in circles.”

“All the streets in this neighbourhood are circles!”

Penny’s covering her face. “Let’s go.”

I crank around in my seat. “But I want to meet Micah!”

“You’ve met Micah.”

“Also I have to use the loo.”

“Just drive, Simon!”

“I should probably drive,” Baz says.

He gets out, and I crawl over, leaning into the back seat to look at Penny. “Are you okay?”

She rolls onto her stomach.

“I’m sorry we left you sitting outside,” I say. “Was he not there?”

Her voice is muffled. “I don’t want to talk about it, Simon.”

Baz drives us out of the cul-de-sac. “Let’s talk about where we’re going instead.”

“To the loo,” I say.

“San Diego,” Penny says.

* * *

Baz takes me to a Starbucks to use the facilities, and when I come out—with a massive rainbow-striped Frappuccino—he’s shouting at Penny: “Thirty-one hours to San Diego?!”

“That can’t be right,” Penny says. “That’s like driving from London to Moscow. Let me see.” Baz has been looking at her phone, and she takes it back. “But it’s the same country,” she says.

“I thought we wanted a road trip,” I say, getting in the car.

“Three hours is a road trip,” Baz says. “With a nice picnic break in the middle. This is three days