Love & Luck(68)

He exhaled. “Okay. Pink Starburst is always tough to follow, but here goes.” He rocked anxiously on his feet, a move that looked Ian-inspired. “Three days ago, I was sitting in my broken-down, crappy car when I saw this girl tackle her brother in a parking lot. I thought she was surprising. And different. So I talked her brother into letting her come with us, which ended up completely ruining her plans.” He looked up guiltily, shuffling his feet.

“But then the next three days were incredible, because I found out she was more than just feisty. She was smart. And loyal. And completely incapable of dressing weather-appropriate. And we talked about things I’d never talked about with anyone. And even when our car flooded, and we got chased by guard dogs . . . I just kept thinking, I wish this week would never end.”

He lifted his chin, looking me straight in the eye. “And I wanted to tell you that you don’t need that guy back home. You don’t need anyone, unless you want them. You’re enough all on your own. You’re more than enough. You’re Maeve.”

A warm, peaceful feeling settled on my shoulders, light as a second shawl. This was the thing that I’d lost track of this summer. That being chosen—or not chosen—was not the thing that made me valuable. I was valuable regardless. I was enough, all on my own. I wanted to climb down and rest my head on his shoulder, but instead I just ducked my head. “Thank you, Rowan,” I whispered.

“You’re welcome. All hail Queen Maeve.” He bent to lower the rock, softening his voice so only I could hear. “I wish I didn’t have to say good-bye to you tomorrow.”

“Me neither,” I whispered back.

Lina met my eye gleefully over the top of Rowan’s head, unable to contain her smile. I smiled back.

Rowan returned to his place, and Ian stepped forward, holding up his candle to his open notebook, a string of words marching across the page. He’d prepared something. I straightened up.

“You know that question Mr. Hummel likes to ask at the beginning of the semester? ‘If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?’?”

I nodded. It was one of those problems designed to make your brain run in circles.

His candle bobbed. “Well, the first time I heard that question it made me think of you. Because my whole life it’s felt like unless you were there—helping me blow out my birthday candles, cheering me on in the stands, out on our field trips—whatever I did didn’t actually matter. That it didn’t count. You’re the only person who knows my whole life—who’s been there with me through everything. Which makes you my life’s witness.” He lowered his notebook to his side. “So what’s the answer? If a tree falls in a forest and your little sister isn’t there to hear it, did it make a sound? I’m not really sure. I’m just glad we’re in the same forest.” He set his rock down, then stepped back with the others. “All hail Queen Maeve, my best and oldest friend.”

Tears puddled under my chin, and I stood looking at Ian, his eyes forming a shiny mirror, reflecting all the things he saw in me. Then one more voice chimed in, this one in my mind. What about you, buttercup? What do you see in yourself??

I looked hard. I saw a lot of things: bravery, compassion, perseverance, insecurity, even fear. But rising out of all of it, I saw Maeve. Her hair shone, and she held a shield, her throne solid behind her. And suddenly it was me on the throne—my robe thick and soft around me.

The upcoming year was going to be hard, no doubt about it. And maybe even the year after it. But I was strong enough. And brave enough. I was Maeve, and I was going to make it.

I jumped off the stump and let my friends encircle me in a warm, tight cocoon.



Everyone who wasn’t already on the lawn in front of Titletrack’s stage was headed there, streaming from every possible crevice. It wasn’t just our main event—it was everyone’s main event.

A muffled, faraway noise sounded over a loudspeaker, instigating a dull roar from the crowd and making us all quicken our pace. Ian bounded ahead, his toga trailing in the mud. None of us had bothered to change out of our ceremonial garb; there wasn’t time. It actually made us fit in more with the rest of the festivalgoers.

“I’m going to find us a spot.” Ian disappeared into the crowd.

“I hope we can find him when we get there.” I held tightly to Rowan’s hand, partially to keep us from getting separated and partially because once the group hug had ended, it had just happened. I couldn’t get over the way our hands fit together. Like they’d been sitting on opposite ends of the globe just waiting for the chance to meet.

The crowd was turning brutal, bordering on absurd. We’d just survived a near-collision with a man on a bike wearing a peacock costume when a high-pitched choking noise that sounded vaguely like oh, no erupted from behind me.

“Lina, what’s wrong?” Ren asked.

“Addie.” Lina put her hand on my back, her voice still choked. I turned to meet her wide eyes, but instead got snagged on something moving rocket-fast toward me through the crowd. Was that . . . ?

It was.

The rocket was my mother.

“Oh, no,” I choked, echoing Lina. Run, my brain advised, but even in my panicked state I knew that was a terrible idea. Running would just mean pursuit.

My mom was next to me in a matter of milliseconds. “Hello, Addison. Lina.” Her pitch had reached new and terrifying depths. “You’d better start talking. Fast.”