“It’s all right.” I rest an elbow on the back of the couch and pull one knee up, so I’m facing her. “You know how they always tell kids,‘This divorce isn’t about you, it isn’t your fault’?”
She nods. “Yeah . . .”
“I remember thinking,Of course, it isn’t! Why would you even suggest that? Is someone out there pinning this on me?”
Penelope laughs, and for once, she doesn’t try to hide it. “Did your parents fight a lot?”
“If they did, I don’t remember. My dad was gone all the time, for work. And then, he was just gone.”
“Did they get remarried?”
“My mom did.”
“Do you like your stepdad?”
“He’s fine. My mom likes him.”
“Do they know . . .” She glances down at my arms.
I laugh. “Have I told my mom that I’m going tohell? No. She wouldn’t even let me play Dungeons & Dragons when I was a kid because she didn’t think Jesus would approve. This would be way too much for her.”
“So she doesn’t know you hang out with giants and fairies . . .”
“She does not.”
Penelope leans one shoulder against the back of the couch and refolds her legs, so she’s facing me. “Shepard . . .”
I push up my glasses. “Penelope.”
“Did youreallygo home with a fairy?”
“I tried.”
“What was her name?”
“Fey.”
She rolls her eyes. “That wasn’t her real name . . .”
“It’s the name she told me.”
“Why would a fairy name their kid Fey? That’s like a magician naming their kid Warlock!”
“If I ever see her again, I’ll ask her.”
Penelope gets another piece of red licorice, and spins it with one hand, watching the end whip around. “So you don’t keep in touch?”
“We do not.”
“Is there someone else you keep in touch with?”
I clear my throat. I’m looking at Penelope. At her messy ponytail. And her excruciating knees. She isn’t looking at me. “Is that you asking if I have a girlfriend?”
“Or a boyfriend,” she says quickly.
“I usually date girls,” I say.
“Youusuallydate magical creatures—”
