Page 82 of Just Like the Brontë Sisters

She squeezed my hand. “Mitch, whatever reservations you have, whatever potential guilt you might be feeling—it will all go away soon enough.”

But if something like guilt existed, how could it just magically go away?

“Magda,” I said, “Do you remember how, back in Middle School science class, we learned that everything in life is formed by atoms, and that matter is just atoms hugging each other because their electrons compel them to?”

“I guess.”

“But I never agreed with that theory, because what about the stuff in life that isn’t formed by matter? What about your red cloud, or Amanda’s tidal wave, or Jo Beth’s ghost?”

Magda stopped walking and released my hand. “You’ve seen Jo Beth’s ghost?”

I hesitated telling her only for a moment. “I see Jo Beth all the time and I don’t think she’s going away. It’s like her atoms are hugging my atoms, because our electrons won’t accept that death kills, or that guilt can be dissolved.”

Magda raised up on her toes, ballerina-like, so close that her red aura surrounded the three of us. She leaned in, smooshed Bijou against my chest, and kissed me on the mouth. I swooned, not with desire like a heroine from one of Skylar’s favorite novels, but because my head felt so light I thought it might float away. My dizziness was back in full force and I had to grab Magda’s shoulder to steady myself.

“What was the kiss for?” I asked.

“For being honest.”

“If I can’t be honest with you, I can’t be honest with anyone.”

“Exactly.”