Wayward Son - Rainbow Rowell Page 0,58

a sucker for Westerns.” He pitches another book over the rail. “I would have brought more, but I didn’t know I was coming. I did get this, though, on the way.” He holds up a radio. “Waterproof.”

“No shhuchh thing,” she drips.

“Well, water-resistant,” he says, dropping it in. The water gushes up to catch it. “I’ll be back when I can to change the batteries.”

“Thankshhhep. You’rre a good frriend.”

Simon has wandered down the walkway a bit, now that we have as much as we’re going to get about Agatha. He’s flapping his wings to look farther over the rail.

A wall of water rises up in front of him, and the woman’s shape seems to walk through it, reaching for Simon’s chin. “I know you,” she says, daubing at him.

Simon lands on the pavement, standing very still.

“You werrre the drrrain.”

He nods. “Yeah.… Sorry. Did I take your magic?”

“Not mine. The worrrrld’sh, yeshhh?”

“I’m sorry,” Simon says again. “I didn’t know.”

She smooths his hair back, sopping it. “Shhookay,” she burbles. “You put it back. And morrre.”

He bows his head and lets her hand fall over him.

Baz and I are transfixed. So is the security guard a few feet away.

I hold up my amethyst. “These aren’t the droids you’re looking for!”

“These aren’t the droids I’m looking for,” the man says, turning away. “Why was I looking for droids.…”

“We have to go,” Baz says. He looks at the river. “Thank you.”

“She wasn’t that much help,” I mutter. Baz elbows me.

The water has returned to Shepard to say good-bye. He’s promising to come back as soon as he can. To visit her headwaters at La Poudre Pass. “Shhhep,” she implores of him, “won’t you blow up the dam forrr me?”

“Not this time,” he says. “But I’ll continue to think about it.”

“It would be betterrr for everryone.”

“Everyone but me,” he says. “But I’ve got it on my list of long-term goals.”

“That would be terrorism!” I say.

“Liberrrashhion,” the river disagrees.

“Magic save us from radicals,” I say, sounding, to my dismay, pretty much exactly like my mother.

41

BAZ

Sometimes Bunce’s boldness is just arrogance. She harangues Shepard all the way back to the truck. As if there’s no way the guards will see through our magic, and like the river definitely won’t change its mind and sweep us all off the top of the dam.

“Why did you throw litter into the water?” Bunce asks at full volume.

“Because she gets bored,” Shepard says. “People used to drop all sorts of things into her. Newspapers, matchbooks, divorce papers. Now all she gets is chemical runoff and iPhones that break as soon as they touch her.”

“How does one even meet a river?”

“By introducing oneself.”

“Is that right, Shep.”

Simon is flying just above us, still taking advantage of being unnoticeable.

“You should fly more,” I say, when he touches down near the truck.

“Sure,” he says. “Up Regent Street, through Piccadilly Circus.”

“We could go to the country. There’s still my family estate.”

“I’d probably show up on Google Maps.…”

“I’d magic you before we got there.”

Simon shrugs.

Penny is waiting for me to get in the cab. “Come on, Baz, let’s go.”

Simon takes my elbow. “Ride with me,” he says, looking at the place where his hand is touching my arm. “There are stars.”

His hair is hanging between us in wet ringlets. I lean forward and bump his head with mine. “Yeah,” I say. “Okay.”

I can’t see him smile, but I think it’s there.

He swings up into the back of the truck, and I follow. Penny sighs and gets in the cab. She’ll have to argue with Shepard without leaning over me. (I’m not worried about her safety; I’ve cast three intention spells on the Normal—he means us no direct harm.)

There’s a sleeping bag spread out back here, and Simon lies down in it, carefully leaving room for me. I’m still crouching, looking around. The truck starts, and I lose my balance.

“Come here,” Simon says.

I really hate riding back here. I feel like a cup of tea left on top of a moving car. “This is so dangerous,” I say, kneeling. “What if we hit a bump?”

“You’ll be fine, you’re Kevlar.”

“What about you?”

“Wings.”

I look down at him. The truck has already picked up speed.

“Baz,” he says, reaching out to me. “Come here.”

SIMON

Come here.

Come on.

Please.

Give us this.

BAZ

I lie down next to Simon, and his left arm slides under my waist. The truck is hard beneath us, and you can feel every piece of gravel under the wheels—but it’s better lying down, letting the wind blow over you, not through.

Even though the day was