“I just . . . You can’t be with him, okay? You can’t follow him where he went, as much as you might want to. So stop trying.”

“Shit, Henry. I didn’t think—”

“That’s exactly what I mean. You don’t think. You’re taking hairpin turns so fast, your tires are burning. That whole thing was not okay.”

“I just wanted to feel like myself again.” When I didn’t say anything, Grace stood. “C’mon. There’s a restaurant about ten minutes from here, tucked away in the trees. Let me buy you lunch to apologize.”

And with those words, the near-death horror of the last half hour melted away, replaced by the giddy feeling I got when Grace did the occasional nice thing that made me think she was falling for me too. Which was really messed up.

The restaurant was set on a cliff overlooking the seaside. She bought me lunch, like she said she would, and we ate outside together on the grass, basking in the sunshine.

Lola messaged me as we were eating.

LOLA LEUNG:

Where in the name of sweet baby Jesus are you?

HENRY PAGE:

Ugh, you’re so needy. National park. It’s too nice for classrooms.

Get your ass to school right now or I swear I will rat you out to Hink for your wantonness.

Who uses “wantonness” in general conversation?

You better be brainstorming a fucking awesome theme for this stupid newspaper. I’m not even joking anymore, Henry.

Don’t make me save you from yourself. I hate being the reluctant hero. It’s why I don’t wear a mask and fight crime on the streets of Gotham every night.

ORGANIZE YOUR SHIT.

Dude, I’m all over it.

You better be, or I’m going to put one of the Kardashians on the cover. Or maybe ALL of the Kardashians.

I need the newspaper for my college applications as well. Don’t forget that, dickbag.

Sorry, La. We’ll pull ourselves together soon.

Good, because I’ve got Widelene Leung on my side, and she will get up in your grill if you wrong me. She knows where you live.

Noted.

When the food was done, Grace and I lay together under the vast blue sky, neither of us talking until she said, “I’ll be back soon.” I watched her as she stood and limped to the garden at the edge of the cliff and picked the last of the fall flowers. Then she walked back up the softly sloping hill of grass toward the restaurant, the small bunch of yellow blooms grasped in one hand, her cane in the other.

She was only gone for ten minutes. I thought nothing of it. Just another quirk of Grace Town.

• • •

On Thursday afternoon we stayed back late at the newspaper, then caught a bus to the little boutique movie theater near my house. We ate hot dogs for dinner before the movie. Grace spilled ketchup down the front of her oversized Ramones T-shirt but made no attempt to sponge it off.

“I’ll pretend I have a stab wound,” she said as she licked ketchup off her fingers.

I stared at her lips and thought about her naked.

Inside the theater, we did what we always did in the dark. We pretended like we were together. She kissed me, once, before the movie started, and then she ran her fingers in soft circles around my palm. Like a palmist, uncertain of the future, trying to divine her destiny from the wrinkles that cut through my skin.

I don’t know what she read there. Maybe nothing at all.

We walked home together when the movie was over, each of us with our hands by our sides. Eventually, Grace grabbed mine with a sigh. It didn’t feel like a victory. It felt like I’d failed a test.

We walked back to my place, her hand in mine, and for the first time, I felt like we were really a couple. That this was really, actually going somewhere.

My God, I thought as we walked, I’m really falling for her.

Don’t be stupid, said another voice in my head. You can’t fall for someone after knowing them for two months.

Jack and Rose were in love after, like, four days, I argued.

You really wanna use Titanic as proof this is gonna end well? the voice said.

Damn it.

“Well, thanks for inviting me, kid,” she said when we reached my house.

“Anytime, Town.”

Then she kissed me halfheartedly on the garden path that led to my front door, her body warm against mine despite the cold.

I’m going to marry her, I thought as I watched her walk home, and I smiled to myself, because for the first time since The Kiss, I felt like I knew something in this world for certain.

A WEEK PASSED. It was a good week, full of Good Grace Days. We were productive. Our junior writers submitted content for the newspaper that wasn’t about cats. Lola had designed almost half the pages. Our Magic: The Gathering feature article had been edited down to five thousand words. I attempted some math homework. I didn’t necessarily understand any of it, but there was an attempt nonetheless.

Grace and I also had sex again. She didn’t cry this time, so that was nice.

Things were starting to look up.

On Thursday night she came to my house for dinner. We were sitting on my bed in the basement, laughing and teasing each other while Mom and Dad cooked dinner. I wondered if tonight would be the night we’d finally make it official. Are you my girlfriend now? I practiced it over and over again in my head, practiced the point I’d slip it into the conversation. And then, of course, once she’d said yes, there would be the public aspect of it.

I imagined what people would say when we changed our Facebook relationship statuses. I mean, not that I needed that. But it was nice to fantasize about. The people who’d known from the start—Lola, Murray—would comment things like Ugh, God, FINALLY and You’re punching above your weight, mate. The people who’d had no idea would be shocked. I thought about the Um . . . WHAT?s and the comments from Grace’s friends who didn’t know me. So happy for you, Grace. So, so glad you’ve found someone.