BooksBarbecue
Back Any Way the Wind Blows
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

She makes another disappointed noise. This one is for herself, I think. “Micah made sense for me … So I plugged him into all of my important equations. It was like I solved wrong for x, and it threw off the other variables.” She ties the top of the bag in a knot. “I must sound like a child to you.”

“No … You sound like a person who doesn’t know everything about love. That’s most of us.”

“You’ve got it all figured out. You’ve been in love three-point-five times or something.”

“If I had it figured out, I wouldn’t be alone and engaged to a demon.”

“It’s not a real engagement,” she says softly.

“Thanks.”

She turns her head towards me and looks into my eyes. Penelope only looks in your eyes when she expects something.

I wait for her to tell me what it is.

PENELOPE

I’ve been in this room too long with no one but Shepard.

He’s starting to feel more real than everything else. He’s starting to feel like the one thing that’s supposed to be here.

It should be the opposite—it is the opposite. Shepard is a Normal. And Normals don’t matter. I mean, I’m sure they matter to other Normals—but they’re not supposed to matter to me. They’re supposed to be like ants. Or plants. Important to the overall ecosystem, but not important.

My mother always said there was no sense in making friends with Normals, because what could you even talk about, if you couldn’t talk about magic? What’s left?

(Have I ever said that?)

(Is that what drove Simon away?)

But Shep and I have been talking for days. And we’ve been talking so much about magic. And so much about everything.

And I know that he’s a Normal, it’s not like I ever forget, but I can’t really imagine what would be different about being here with him if he had magic. I suppose he’d understand me a little better, he’d know what magic feels like … But magic feels different for everyone, even among mages. You can’t ever really know what it’s like to be someone else …

“Shepard.”

He pushes up his glasses. “Penelope.”

“Do you wish that you could do magic?”

He bites his lip. His bottom lip is pinker than the top, and there’s a dimple in the middle, so that the top of his bottom lip is shaped like the top of a heart. I only noticed this yesterday, and now I can’t stop.

“I feel sort of like you’re asking me whether I wish I could fly,” he says. “And the answer is—of course. Yes. I would love to do magic. But I don’t wish that I was something else. Does that make sense?”

“Sort of…”