Mags didn’t know what to say to that.

It was cold. Noel was shivering. She should give him back his jacket.

“Mags?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you need?”

Mags swallowed.

In the three years she and Noel had been friends, she’d spent a lot of time pretending she didn’t need anything more than what he was already giving her. She’d told herself there was a difference between wanting something and needing it . . .

“I need you to be my person,” Mags said. “I need to see you. And hear you. I need you to stay alive. And I need you to stop kissing other people just because they’re standing next to you when the ball drops.”

Noel laughed.

“I also need you not to laugh at me,” she said.

He pulled his face back and looked at her. “No, you don’t.”

She kissed his chin without opening her mouth.

“You can have all those things,” he said carefully. “You can have me, Mags, if you want me.”

“I’ve always wanted you,” she said, mortified by the extent to which it was true.

Noel leaned in to kiss her, and she dropped her forehead against his lips.

They were quiet.

And it was cold.

“Happy anniversary, Mags.”

“Happy New Year, Noel.”

Kindred Spirits

Monday, December 14, 2015

THERE WERE ALREADY TWO PEOPLE SITTING outside the theater when Elena got there, so she wouldn’t be first in line. But that was okay. She was still here—she was still doing this.

She grabbed her sleeping bag, and the backpack she’d stocked with books and food and antibacterial wipes, and got out of the car as quickly as possible; it looked like her mom might make one last attempt to talk Elena out of this.

She rolled down her window to frown at Elena directly. “I don’t see a porta potty.”

Elena had said there would be a porta potty. “I’ll figure it out,” Elena said quietly. “These guys are figuring it out.”

“They’re men,” her mom said. “They can pee anywhere.”

“I’ll hold it,” Elena said.

“For four days?”

“Mom,” Elena said. And what she meant was: We’ve been through this. We’ve talked about it for weeks and weeks. I know you don’t approve. But I’m still doing it.

Elena dropped her gear on the sidewalk, behind a tall white boy who was second in line. “Okay,” she said cheerfully to her mom. “I’ve got this. See you Thursday!”

Her mom was still frowning. “See you after lunch,” she said, then rolled up her window and drove away.