(“Husband”! Every time I eventhinkthe word, my brain short-circuits like an American blow-dryer in a London outlet.)
I drop my face into my hands as laughter and music float out onto the porch. All around me, all summer long, it’s felt like everyone has moved on from Comet Week. Like everyone else isfocused on thealmostof it all—but thanks to a very real piece of paper hiding under my mattress, my Comet Week choices have followed me home across the Atlantic in a way that feels more permanent even than Ethan’s Demogorgon tattoo.
I’ve gone through the motions of getting ready for this school year: I registered for classes. I completed the online checklist the school sent out. (At my sister Brooke’s insistence.) I bought a shower caddy and a microwave from Target. I’m going through the motions of becoming a college freshman and moving on with my life, but it hasn’t been enough. I can’t move on or forget or breathe a sigh of relief because of what “almost” happened. I dream about sinking boats and missed trains and stolen dogs, waking up each night in a cold sweat, my heart bruising my rib cage with every beat.
“Wren!” The front door slams behind me and I turn to see Naomi in her platform sneakers, a miniskirt, a crop top, and spiky space buns. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” She sits next to me and inhales deeply. “Does it smell like rain or am I getting my hopes up for nothing?” Naomi is obsessed with the weather and already has her future as a TV meteorologist all mapped out.
I miss that feeling.
“It’s usually the second one,” I say in a hollow voice.
She frowns. “What’s wrong?”
I waver. She knows about Theo, but she doesn’t know the full truth about the marriage certificate under my bed. “It’s nothing,” I say eventually, because I don’t want to kill her back-to-school buzz.
“We’re leaving.” She drags me into a standing position, and when I try to protest, she cuts me off. “I was ready to go anyway. Got your pepper spray?” She palms the small bottle ofpepper spray attached to her key ring. I have a matching one—a gift from her mom. Naomi pops open the case to her AirPods and hands me the left one. “Do we need ‘sad girl music’ or ‘F-U music’ for the ride home?”
I don’t know if it’s the ride-or-die look in her eyes or the videos on my phone or the knowledge that Theo and I are on the same continent again, but the pressurized fizz in my blood finally pops.
“What’s on the ‘I’ve made a big mistake’ playlist?” I ask.
“Whatever happened, we can fix it,” she says immediately.
I rub my hands over my face. “Not without a divorce lawyer,” I mumble.
Her eyebrows furrow. “I don’t think I heard you right.”
I don’t blame her for being skeptical. Itishard to believe without the proof. I take a deep breath, ready to spill the secret that I’ve been keeping all summer. “I have something I need to show you.”
CHAPTER2
Any remaining expectations I had for my first week at college quickly fall apart when I walk back into my parents’ home before 11:00P.M.I amnotcool or fun or wild—I am accidentally married and missing my dog.
“Home already?” Brooke asks from the couch as Naomi and I dash upstairs after taking the train from campus. We always talked about going to college together like best friends on a TV show, so at least one thing I wanted came true. (For the sake of our friendship, wewon’tbe roommates.)
I ignore my sister and shut the door firmly behind us. Naomi sits on my bed, which is now stripped of my favorite Squishmallows and my fuzzy blanket. After moving into my dorm at the start of the week, all that’s left in my high school bedroom are my old sheets and a half-empty closet. I didn’t expect to be back so soon, but my blood is buzzing with familiar excitement as I turn to Naomi and take a deep breath.
The first glimmer of a plan is coming together in my mind, and it feels good.
“You’re freaking me out,” Naomi says. “Are you pregnant?”
“Definitely not.”
“Is it your parents?”
This throws me off. “No. Wait—what about my parents?”
“Are they finally, you know—”
Oh.“Getting a divorce? No. I don’t think so. They’re in therapy. They go on dates now.”
“Then why do you look like your dog got hit by a car?” She sees something in my expression that makes her jaw drop. “Is Wally okay?Didhe run away?”
“No. Stop guessing! Your guessing sucks.”
“Then tell me already!”
“I want to get out of town before school starts,” I announce. “Let’s take a road trip.”
