“What?” My head jerks up. How can he say that with a straight face? With asincereface?
“I accept your help, Penelope.”
I groan again, loudly. “Shepard, nooooo. You were right all along.”
“No.Youwere right. I should trust you. I do trust you!” He’s gesturing broadly with an unopened bottle of orange juice. “You’re a wise and powerful witch, and I’m grateful for your help.”
“No! No, no, no. I’m none of those things. I’m an idiot!”
“Are you kidding? I’ve known you for two weeks, and I’ve seen you make one daring escape after another. I watched you killthreevampires, Penelope. Single-handedly!”
“Shepard, you only saw me get out of terrible situations because I had put myself—and my friends—intothose situations. Ionlymake bad decisions. It’s even worse than you realize! The day before we met, I got dumped by someone who had apparently already dumped me multiple times. I was just too thick to figure it out!I’mthe reason we were on that disastrous road trip. And it wasn’twiseof me to kill those vampires. It’s probably on YouTube!”
“Oh, it’s definitely on YouTube. I’ve watched it.”
“I’ll probably lose my ring over it!”
“Penelope—” he says, as if I’mjust nowgetting out of hand.
I keep getting there: “And what happened after that? I got captured by a skunk! And a dragon! And more vampires! And I did nothing to get myself or anyone else out of it. Nothing!”
“You saved Agatha.”
“Agathasaved Agatha! I was along for the ride!”
“Penelope, I watched you—”
“That’s a problem, too, Shepard. Magicians aren’t supposed to do magic in front of Normals. Our entire culture depends on secrecy. I should have wiped your memory a dozen times over.”
He smiles again. “To be fair, you did try.”
“Argghhhhhhhh.” I fall back against the headboard.
Shepard leans closer. “I know you’re a good witch,” he says gently. “Your friends treat you like a Jedi Master.”
“Myfriends?” I know Shepard doesn’t mean to be cruel, but that was a low blow. My voice drops away from me. “You mean, Simon? He broke up with me, too. Because I kept getting him in trouble. You heard my mother: I make problems.” I shake my head. “I don’t solve them.”
Shepard finally stops arguing.
I can’t face him. I stare at my lap instead.
After a few minutes, I hear him sigh. “So, that’s it? You’re going to send me home?”
I look back up. He’s got his lips twisted to one side. Like he can’t quite fathom that his powers of persuasion have failed.
“Yes,” I say. “I can send you to Las Vegas if you want. And give you money to get your truck back.”
“Would it be counterfeit money?”
“Yes.”
“You can just send me back to Omaha.”
“All right.”
His shoulders are slumped, and he (finally) looks sad. Maybe he isn’t thinking about how his charm failed him; maybe he’s thinking about howIdid.
“I am sorry that I dragged you here,” I say.
