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Back Any Way the Wind Blows Save as PDF
Chapters (100)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. 77
  81. 78
  82. 79
  83. 80
  84. 81
  85. 82
  86. 83
  87. 84
  88. 85
  89. 86
  90. 87
  91. 88
  92. 89
  93. 90
  94. 91
  95. EPILOGUE
  96. AGATHA
  97. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  98. Also by Rainbow Rowell
  99. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  100. Newsletter Sign-up

I lay my shirts and jackets out on the bed, then find my duffel bag and take it to my chest of drawers. I open the top drawer. (Am I really doing this? Taking pants to Simon Snow’s flat?) I rest my hand on a stack of boxer briefs and clear my throat. “Are you sure about this?”

“Are you?” Simon asks.

I turn around. “I asked you first.”

He’s looking at the floor. His tongue is in his cheek. Like he’s frustrated. Or angry.

I turn back to my pants. Right. Simon isn’t sure. Of any of this. I’m putting all of my eggs in his basket, and it’s a ramshackle basket—he already warned me.

I close my eyes for a second. Right.

I open my eyes and scoop up the entire stack of boxers, then dump them in the duffel. I empty the whole drawer. I grab most of my T-shirts, as well, and half a dozen pairs of jeans and trousers. I’m going to need another bag for shoes.

Simon watches me pack. He’s still hugging my violin.

I zip up the duffel and look at him. “I’m sure,” I say.

When we come out, Fiona is still guarding her bedroom door. Still puffing on her nicotine whistle like a second-rate Instagram influencer. She looks at my bags. “Going somewhere?”

“I’m going to stay with Simon for a few days.”

“A few days or a few months?”

I lower an eyebrow at her. “You’re going to get lung fungus. And the worst part will be that everyone will know you got it from vaping.”

She sneers over my shoulder. “Take care of my nephew, Simon Snow.”

Simon is already sneaking out the door.

“Take care of my aunt, whoever you are!” I shout.

40

SHEPARD

For the first time in two years, I know exactly what the tattoos on my arms say. Debbie translated the incantation that Ken gave me, too—most of it.

Now I know what I said that day, to summon the demon.

I finally see how I ended up like this.

I never thought I’d get this far or understand this much—and it only happened because of Penelope Bunce. Who isn’t speaking to me and won’t even look at me.

I don’t blame her.

I shouldn’t have lied. It didn’t start as a lie … It just happened … That day on Agatha’s balcony, with Penelope’s hand on my collar. I just thought, I’m probably never going to see this girl again, and I’m never going to meet another girl like her, and the last thing I want her to know about me is that these tattoos are a fucked-up engagement ring.