Apocalypse_Cow: you don’t have to finish them if you don’t want to, e. you don’t have to do anything just because those brats on the forums tell you to.
MirkerLurker: They’re not brats, though, they’re fans. They’re the only reason all of this exists. I have to try to finish it for them, right?
Apocalypse_Cow: no.
emmersmacks: I mean I want to see the end
emmersmacks: But if its going to make you sad then I dont want you to do it MirkerLurker: Whatever, I didn’t come here to talk about Monstrous Sea anyway. What have you two been doing? And Max, don’t say something stupid like eating Twizzlers. I haven’t sent you any Twizzlers lately and I know the only Twizzlers you eat are mine.
MirkerLurker: Em, did you finish school?
emmersmacks: Yes!!
emmersmacks: Got a 92 in that Calc class
emmersmacks: Suck it Professor Teller
Apocalypse_Cow: she actually said that to him too.
MirkerLurker: You didn’t.
MirkerLurker: Tell me you did.
emmersmacks: I might have
emmersmacks: What they dont tell you about college is how good it feels to stick it to dickhead teachers Apocalypse_Cow: i’d give you an a+ just for that alone.
emmersmacks: Thank you
emmersmacks: Ooh ooh!!!
emmersmacks: But Max got back together with Heather!!!
MirkerLurker: Really?
Apocalypse_Cow: yeah, it’s weird. I don’t know if you guys knew this, but your loved ones appreciate it when you, like, spend time with them in person. it’s this new thing I’ve been trying out for the past month or two.
Apocalypse_Cow: works pretty well, actually.
Apocalypse_Cow: but she also plays world of warcraft with me three nights a week, so take from that what you will.
MirkerLurker: Ah, that makes me happy! I’m glad you’re back together.
Apocalypse_Cow: how about you and mr. wallace?
Apocalypse_Cow: how’d he feel when he found out who you are?
MirkerLurker: I don’t want to talk about Wallace, if that’s okay.
MirkerLurker: Mostly I got on here to say how much I love you both. You do so much for me. I don’t say that enough.
Apocalypse_Cow: no need to get sappy on us, e.
emmersmacks: You dont have to say it
MirkerLurker: Yeah, I do. I don’t talk to you for weeks and you still let me come back. You always have time for my problems but I never make time for yours. I didn’t know anything was wrong with Max and Heather at first, and I wasn’t even around when Emmy put her teacher in his place.
MirkerLurker: I’m really sorry, you guys.
Apocalypse_Cow: you better stop that, or i’m gonna cry.
Apocalypse_Cow: and if i’m about to cry, what will poor emmy do?
Apocalypse_Cow: she’s only twelve, for goodness’ sake.
emmersmacks: IM NOT TWELVE
emmersmacks: Im fifteen now
On the day of her departure, Faren stayed awake with her. Neither of them spoke. When the crows outside began croaking—the signal of the early hours, since it was the winter months and the sun wouldn’t rise for some time—they both pulled themselves out of bed and got dressed. During their breakfast of watery oatmeal, the alarm Amity had been given vibrated against the table, signaling that Sato would arrive shortly. The two of them stared at it. Amity set down her spoon. Her stomach had gone suddenly hollow.
Amity didn’t want to meet Sato inside the house. She didn’t want any excuse to have to invite him in, or stay here longer than necessary, so she went out to the stone courtyard and sat on one of the low benches there, surrounded by the blackwood trees, with a clear view of the path up the cliffside. Innumerable crows flocked in the trees around her, blackening her surroundings.
Faren disappeared into the house for a minute and returned with one of his chart papers. It was one of the small ones, the brown sheet creased with age; folded up, it fit neatly in his palm. He sat beside her on the bench and took her hand to press the thick paper into it.
“I know White said you wouldn’t need anything, but I thought this might help.”
She unfolded the paper. On it was an unfamiliar constellation. “Did you make this one up?”
He shook his head. “This is one of the Unnamed.”
She turned the paper around to look at it from different angles. It had no particular shape; nothing jumped out at her. The Nocturnians divided constellations into two types: their own, and everyone else’s. Theirs had names like Faren and Gyurhei; the others went Unnamed, because Nocturnians couldn’t claim them. Amity had never quite understood—didn’t you have to know what a constellation was before you could even call it a constellation? If it was some other culture’s constellation, how could you know that without having spoken to them? But the Nocturnians knew.
“Why’d you draw this one?” she asked
“Because this one is yours.” He took the paper and righted it in her hands. There was no correct direction for constellations, but at the bottom of the paper he’d scrawled AMITY. “I found it a few years ago. Before the Watcher. Amity isn’t its proper name, of course. I don’t know what it is. I wish I could tell you. But I thought . . . for this one, we could make an exception.”
She looked again at the picture. “This is . . . you found my name in a constellation?” It was easy for Nocturnians to do, because they were named after the stars. But for her to be linked to one of the Unnamed . . . did that mean she came from whatever culture that particular constellation belonged to? If she could find out what it meant, where it came from, would she know where she came from too?
He had found her in a constellation.
She flung her arms around his neck. The pressure in her chest shut out all other feelings. He locked himself around her, one hand fisting in her hair. His lips pressed to her neck.
“I’ll come back,” she said. “I’ll be back. I promise.”
CHAPTER 43
I take Davy for walks every day. I sit on park benches and listen to birds sing. I watch my brothers’ summer soccer conditioning. I help my parents with chores around the house, because as it turns out, Mom’s clothes-folding yoga is actually really relaxing. Especially when combined with my new anxiety medication.
My therapist calls it a summer of discovery, and the first thing I discover is that I like being outside. In parks, in the woods, at lakesides, out in the country by cornfields. Wallace takes me to this place where his dad used to play football, a big open field in the middle of nowhere, edged by trees. There are no nearby roads or highways, and no electrical structures. The silence is so absolute it’s eerie. I fall in love with it instantly.
Two months pass, and I think of Wellhouse Turn maybe every other day. The thought is still there, but the seriousness of it comes and goes.