This is it.
“There’s two of us, and only one of him. You have to go for Logan,” I say. “I’ll park as close as I can and try to stop Brady. All I have to do is grab his bandanna.” A laugh tumbles out. “It sounds easy when I say it like that.”
He reaches over to brush my wrist with a few fingertips. Even his lightest touches feel impossibly intense. “Okay. We’ve got this. Then—then we’ll figure everything out later?”
Our bet. Splitting the prize.
I’ve already conquered more tonight than I ever thought I would. Second place has never sounded so great.
“Yes,” I say, following Brady to a parking spot at the edge of the lot and throwing the car into park. “Go!”
Summoning any latent athletic ability I left on that soccer field in middle school and any strength gained from carrying a massive backpack for the past four years, I throw open the door, launching myself at Brady. On the other side of the car, Neil leaps onto the grassy field and heads for Logan.
“Rowan—what the—” Brady asks, but I’m clawing my way toward his bandanna, capturing it in my fist, ripping it off. “Oh, shit.”
We tumble to the pavement, legs tangling. Brady cushions me to some degree, no doubt experienced when it comes to tackles, but I still manage to smack my knee on the way down. I’m too amped on adrenaline to care, especially not when I hear the whoops and cheers from a few yards away. The blow of a whistle. Neil’s stunned laughter.
Breathing hard, I thrust Brady’s bandanna into the air like a victory flag.
We did it.
“Fuuuuck,” Brady groans from beneath me, and I’m not sure if it’s pain or the agony of losing.
I scramble to a sitting position, then try to stand—ow. Not bleeding, but that’s definitely going to bruise.
“I’m so sorry,” I say to Brady. “Are you okay?”
“Gonna have a bruise on my ass the size of Jupiter, but yeah. You?”
“Yes,” I say with a wince, hobbling toward the gym.
When he spots me, Neil rushes forward, and I practically topple into his arms.
“Your knee,” he says, but I wave it off. He clutches me tighter, his lips brushing my ear when he speaks. “You are amazing. I can’t believe we did it. We won.”
“You did.” I slide one hand around to the back of his neck and into his hair, not caring what Logan or Nisha or Olivia thinks about us embracing like this.
He pulls back and lifts an eyebrow. “Seriously? There’s no way I could have done any of this alone. Guess we make a pretty good team after all.”
And I honestly can’t not kiss him after that.
I believe it now, that this is how we were always meant to be, and yet I can’t quite wrap my mind around everything that’s happened. We won, and I don’t think it would feel nearly as good if I’d done this by myself.
The trio of juniors descends on us.
“Congratulations again,” Logan says, eyes darting back and forth between us as though she knows exactly what was going on with us back at that safe zone. It’s scary how good a politician she might make someday. She turns and opens the door to the gym. “Your party awaits. Well—as soon as we tell everyone it’s happening.” She motions to Nisha and Olivia, who pull out their phones, presumably to send another text blast.
“Our what?” Neil says.
The gym is bright and festive, decked out in Westview blue and white—streamers, banners, lights. There are rows of carnival games and food vendors, a small stage at one end. A few juniors are still finishing the setup.
“We had some money left over, and we wanted to give all the seniors one more thing to celebrate,” Logan says. “We were going to launch it when the game ended, so we’ve just been waiting—”
“—and hoping we can get sleep at some point,” Olivia puts in.
“But it was worth it!” Nisha says.
I can’t stop gaping at the scene in front of us. Maybe I’m delirious, but I’ve never seen the gym look this beautiful. “Thank you. All of you.”
Neil appears mesmerized by the band unpacking a drum kit and loading their amps onto the stage.
“Oh my God,” he says. “Free Puppies!”
* * *
It’s the best party I’ve ever been to. Nearly all the seniors are here, plus Neil’s favorite band, and he’s just won five thousand dollars, half of which I’ll refuse to accept if he offers it to me. A few teachers show up to chaperone, but we’re not rowdy. Maybe we’re all too tired to cause much trouble.
When they see us together, Mara gasps, and Kirby immediately races over to crush us into a bear hug. “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it,” she yelps. Most reactions fall solidly within that range. Neil and I can’t stop grinning, can’t stop touching: hands linked, his palm on my back, a stealthy kiss when we think no one’s looking. Turns out, someone always is.
The walls are covered with posters for events that have already happened, and there’s a sense of nostalgia in the air, but for the first time tonight, it doesn’t feel sad. Howl has always been a farewell to Westview and to Seattle. A last-day tradition that’s about so much more than winners and losers.
Savannah approaches us while we’re waiting for Free Puppies! to start playing. The sight of her makes me tense up.
“Congratulations, I guess,” she says flatly.
“Thank you,” Neil says, ever polite. Always earnest, beneath all that smirking.
But I’m all out of politeness when it comes to Savannah Bell.
“Hey, you know what I’m craving?” I say to Neil. “Bowling-alley pizza. Like at Hilltop. Do you think they have any pizza here?”
“You… had the pizza at Hilltop Bowl?” Savannah asks, brows drawing together in an expression of concern.
“No. But I know you did.” With that, I meet her gaze, unblinking, and I bring up my right index finger to tap my nose once, twice. Her face flushes, and it immediately becomes clear she knows what I’m talking about.
Neil catches on. “I’m Jewish too.” His hand drifts to my back. “And this might sound odd to you, but that money’s actually going to make a big difference for me.”
I really, really like him.
“That’s—great,” Savannah manages, and she steps backward until she disappears into the crowd.
Kirby and Mara wind up on one side of us, sharing a gigantic sugary pretzel, and Neil’s friends on the other. They seem about as surprised by our romantic development as Kirby as Mara—which is to say, not at all.
“What are you gonna do with the money?” Adrian asks. “And don’t tell me something responsible like putting it in savings. You have to have a little fun.”
Neil glances at me, and I become putty. “Oh, we will. And I already have some ideas.”
McNasty, Kirby mouths to me.
“What was that?” Neil asks.
“Kirby’s being inappropriate.”
“Did you think that would make me less curious?”
“Oh, we’re going to have fun this summer,” Kirby says.
Mara, though, is a bit of a sore loser. “I only had two more clues left,” she laments, half joking.