This Is Where the World Ends

And tomorrow is our birthday.

Sure, Ander fills me full of butterflies that get all tangled in my heartstrings, but Micah adds gravity to all of my black holes. He waters my weeds.

He hasn’t even looked at me since regionals. And he has such nice eyes.

Insert grumble here. Oh, all right. They could almost even be called bedroom eyes. Maybe.

So, I don’t know. Maybe it’s guilt or maybe it’s just that I want him to talk to me again or maybe it’s our freaking birthday tomorrow, but I skip school today, after my parents climb into their cab to the airport arguing about who was in charge of printing out the boarding passes, to set up a treasure hunt for him. I write a note in ink with a pen that has a real nib (which is totally not the one that Mr. Markus is still looking for), and I stain it with coffee and burn the edges and everything. I sneak into his house through the door on his deck and leave it on his bed, along with an ancient Walkman with a CD inside and earbuds wrapped around, and a note that says BRING ME. I swipe his binoculars from inside his desk too, because I couldn’t find mine, and settle in his bushes to wait.

And wait.

And wait and wait and freaking wait.

Oh, hurry up, Micah. I’m chilly. There’s a whole pile of burned matches next to me and still no luck. It’s the eve of our birthday. Don’t do this to me. But it seems like he just might. It’s getting late. I’m about to sneak back into his house and grab the note before he can see it and spare myself some horrible humiliation and also maybe give up on the kind of friendship that keeps the whole freaking world turning—

Yes! There he is! Ninja to mission control: subject is driving onto premises. He pulls into the garage and I raise my (his) binoculars. A minute later, the light in the kitchen comes on, and then the lights in his room. I tiptoe out of the bushes so I can creep on him better. I’m getting a cramp in my neck and I can’t stop thinking about how much easier this was when I was across from his window, but at least I can see him rubbing his eyes before he flops out of sight onto the bed—NOOOO! My note! Oh, come on, Micah, it’s barely ten. You can’t go to bed yet. Roll over. Damn it, I spent so long on that note! Get up. Get up—oh, okay, I guess that works. He rolls onto his side, and the note—oh, my poor baby—must crinkle or something, because he sits up, confused, and feels around for it. Finally.

He reads it, and then he crosses the room and opens the window. I’m almost too slow diving into the bushes. He looks around and just stands there for so long that I’m already deflating, because of course this wasn’t enough, of course he’s still annoyed, and he and I will never talk or look at each other again just because of that one stupid fight at regionals, and our soul will wither and crumble—

His shoes! He’s looking for his shoes! His lights are out! He’s going back to his car!

And now I’m rushing too, and I can’t stop grinning. My half of the soul is dancing, my half is light, and I dive into myself and tell it to shut up, because Micah’s half is totally going to feel it, and the surprise will be ruined. Nope nope nope. I won’t allow it. I spent too much effort on this. On us.

Keep quiet.

Tiptoe through the freaking tulips, soul.

Micah starts up his car, which probably starts an earthquake in Australia. I count to sixty, and then I run after him.

I run three blocks over to where I’m parked. The world is wide, and the moon is rising.

I put my hand in my pocket before I start the car and squeeze. Fear no more—I don’t even need the reminder, or even the Skarpies or matches. Tonight, tonight, there is nothing I have to black out. There is nothing I have to set on fire.

The note had read, “Once upon a time, there was a boy and a girl who found a tree and fell in love with it, until the witch cut it down.”

Micah’s car is nowhere in sight, so I don’t even know if he’s going in the right direction. I think he knows, I think he remembers. He has to. I turn down the street, freeze, and throw the car into reverse. Oh, thank god. He did remember. And he didn’t look back.

Ninja mode activated. And maybe just one more match.

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