Wayward Son - Rainbow Rowell Page 0,54

the wind does to your hair.”

Shepard tells Simon he has to lie down in the truck bed; apparently riding back there is dangerous and illegal. “Both my middle names,” Simon says.

“You don’t have a middle name,” I say. Which seems to hurt his feelings, which I immediately regret. I’m just worried about him. I grab his hand, trying to make up for it. “Just be careful,” I say. “Plenty of time for derring-do when we’re fighting vampires.”

“What’s ‘derring-do’?” he asks.

“Your middle name.”

He tugs on my hand. Crowley, we’re bad at this. I can’t ever tell what Simon wants. Does that tug mean “I like you”? Or is it “Take care”? Or “Give me my hand back”? I swear what it feels most like is “I’m sorry.” We can’t even hold hands without exchanging apologies. If we knew how to talk to each other, it’d be over, wouldn’t it? If either of us ever found the words …

“Basil, get in.” Penelope’s holding the door open. She’s making me sit between her and Shepard.

I squeeze Simon’s hand, then do as I’m told.

38

SHEPARD

Yes, yes, yes.

I am in. I am more in than I’ve ever been in before—and I’ve midwifed a centaur foal! I’ve helped an unfairy with his taxes!

But nobody gets to hang out with Speakers and vampires. Speakers don’t hang out with anyone! And if they do, they don’t let on. I’ve heard that sometimes Speakers marry Talkers and still never tell them about their magic.

It’ll be hard keeping all this a secret. I’d love to drop it on the message boards. It’s the get of all gets. But I’ve kept secrets before—I never told anyone about Maggie until yesterday. (She told them first, I think.)

Knowing is better than telling.

And maybe, if I help these three get their friend back, they’ll keep me around. I could be their Normal friend! (Simon calls himself a Normal—but he has dragon wings.)

“I feel like we still haven’t really met,” I say, when we’re back on the highway. “You know that I’m Shepard.… And you’re Baz, right?”

The vampire nods.

“And you’re Penelope?”

“I suppose,” Penelope says. The first time I saw her, her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Now it’s mostly falling out of a ponytail, hanging in wild and frizzy brown curls around her face. She doesn’t seem to care. She hasn’t complained about her clothes either, though she’s been wearing the same plaid skirt and knee socks since we met. I like her shoes—shiny black Doc Martens Mary Janes with silver buckles.

My pickup isn’t really meant for three passengers; Baz and I are elbow to elbow.

“You really don’t bite people?” I ask.

“Not yet,” he says.

“I didn’t think you could help it.”

He glances over at me without turning his head, then rolls his eyes.

“Then why don’t more vampires do that?” I ask him. “Not bite people?”

“I’m not sure.…” he says. “But I suspect it’s because people taste really good.”

Penelope huffs and leans around him to look at me. “Do you even know where we’re going?”

“Well, I figured we’d head to Vegas—”

“And then what? ‘Excuse me, sir or madam, could you direct us to the vampires? Not the old, bad vampires. The new, worse ones.’”

“We can cast a spell to find them, if we’re close enough.” Baz has turned to her, closing me off.

“I’ve got a friend in the area,” I throw in. I need them to keep on needing me. “She’s got connections. She’ll help us if she can.”

39

SIMON

You’ve never seen sky so blue.

I’m lying on my back in the bed of the truck, using Shepard’s sleeping bag for a pillow. Baz fixed my wing up with magic. He bought me a pair of knock-off Ray-Bans and a case of bottled water at the last service station. And every once in a while, I see him cranking his head around to check on me.

I’m fine.

I’m so fine.

I can almost believe, under this sky—you’ve never seen sky so wide—that he and I will be fine, too. Him and me. We’re getting by, aren’t we? Mostly? Even with people tying us up and shooting at us.

We’re getting by. He keeps touching me, and I keep letting him. And I haven’t felt, I don’t know, that static that I usually feel, like what’s happening between us is a building I have to run out of before it collapses on me.

Baz is touching me, and it’s good.

(Touching Baz is always good; it’d be easier if I could just touch him all the time. And kiss him. And not have