I exhale roughly and stand up.
Then I turn towards the door and bow my head. I speak softly, so that none of the other bones can hear:
“I know I usually come down here to tell you I’m sorry. But I think today I want to tell you that I’m going to be all right.
“Don’t let me be one of the things that keeps you from peace, Mother. I’m all right.”
I wait for a few moments, just… just in case. Then climb out of the Catacombs, brushing the dust from my trousers.
***
It’s an especially grim leavers ball. The few friends I have left at Watford are here with dates—or avoiding me. Dev and Niall haven’t quite forgiven me for befriending Simon. Dev said I wasted their entire childhood plotting against him.
“Oh, what else were you going to do with your childhood?” I asked.
Dev didn’t bother answering.
I end up standing next to the punchbowl, talking to Headmistress Bunce about Latin prefixes. It’s a fascinating subject, but I don’t feel like I needed to put on a black tie for it.
I think Professor Bunce is sad that Penelope’s not here. I consider consoling her with the fact that Penelope probably would’ve skipped the ball even if she’d stayed in school, but the headmistress is already wandering off to the other side of the courtyard to check her e-mail.
“I was hoping there’d be sandwiches,” someone mumbles.
I ignore him because I’m not at Watford to make friends or small talk, especially on my way out.
“Or at least cake.”
I turn around and see Simon Snow standing on the other side of the punch table. Wearing a suit and tie, with his hair properly parted and slicked to one side.
He shouldn’t have been able to sneak up on me like that, but he smells different these days—like something sweet and brown. No more green fire and brimstone.
“How’s the party?” he asks.
“Funereal,” I say. “How’d you get here?”
“Flew.”
My jaw drops, and he laughs.
“No,” he says. “Penny drove me. She let me off at the gates.”
“Where’re your wings?”
“Still there. Just invisible. Someone’s already tripped over my tail.”
“I’ve told you to tuck it in.”
“It makes my trousers fit funny.”
I laugh.
“Don’t laugh at me,” he says.
“When will I ever laugh, then?”
Snow rolls his eyes, then cuts them nervously to the side. Towards the White Chapel.
“You don’t have to be here,” I say.
