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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

The sun is setting now. We had a late lunch, and we’ll probably have a late dinner. Penelope is lying on the couch with her legs up and hanging over one end, a book leaning against her thighs and keeping her skirt from falling. She always wears skirts or short dresses, never pants …

I’ve seen so much of Penelope Bunce’s knees. Her legs are short and curvy—they’re very goddamn cute, if I’m being honest, and her knees are the cutest part. And, okay, maybe I’m more affected by her cuteness than I want to admit, but what am I supposed to do? She’s right there, and she doesn’t get any less cute. Her cuteness doesn’t abate. It just gets worse the more I’m around her. The licorice thing is killing me. And she’s covered in chalk dust 24-7. It gets on her face and in her hair … I’ve never seen someone with so much hair pay so little attention to it—she’s either got the world’s messiest ponytail, or a mop of thick, dark brown hair, curling every which way, falling halfway down her back. It’s cute. It’s real cute. I am not unaffected, okay? I am very affected. Very. Very, very aware of Penelope Bunce. And how cute she is.

“This is a dead end,” Penelope says. She lets the book she’s reading drop on her stomach.

I’m sitting on the floor and leaning against one of her chalkboard walls. I’ve been reading a book about magical genealogy—when I haven’t been distracted by her legs.

“All of these books are about magicians and mage customs,” she says. “Not marriage contracts. Maybe Debbie was right, maybe we do need a lawyer.”

“Are there magickal lawyers?”

She hums, thinking. “I know of two. But I doubt they’d take your case.”

I look down at my book. “I’m sorry I’m not as helpful as Simon and Baz would be.”

“Meh.” She sits up, and digs a bag of red licorice shoestrings out from between two couch pillows. “Don’t sell yourself short. They both get too emotionally invested and attached to their own ideas. You’re remarkably clearheaded, Shepard. It’s almost like we’re talking about someone else who’s cursed to marry a demon.”

I think that was a compliment …

She holds out the bag. “Do you want some?”

“Sure.” I go sit next to her on the couch, taking a tangle of candy, even though I never eat this stuff. It tastes like chemical glue.

“Do you think the curse would allow you to get married?” she asks.

“In life?”

“Obviously in life.”

“I think so,” I say. “I could probably enter another arrangement that’s ‘till death do us part,’ considering my arms say, ‘at death do us join.’”