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“Fuuuuck,” Brady groans from beneath me, and I’m not sure if it’s pain or the agony of losing.
I scramble to a sitting position, then try to stand—ow. Not bleeding, but that’s definitely going to bruise.
“I’m so sorry,” I say to Brady. “Are you okay?”
“Gonna have a bruise on my ass the size of Jupiter, but yeah. You?”
“Yes,” I say with a wince, hobbling toward the gym.
When he spots me, Neil rushes forward, and I practically topple into his arms.
“Your knee,” he says, but I wave it off. He clutches me tighter, his lips brushing my ear when he speaks. “You are amazing. I can’t believe we did it. We won.”
“You did.” I slide one hand around to the back of his neck and into his hair, not caring what Logan or Nisha or Olivia thinks about us embracing like this.
He pulls back and lifts an eyebrow. “Seriously? There’s no way I could have done any of this alone. Guess we make a pretty good team after all.”
And I honestly can’t not kiss him after that.
I believe it now, that this is how we were always meant to be, and yet I can’t quite wrap my mind around everything that’s happened. We won, and I don’t think it would feel nearly as good if I’d done this by myself.
The trio of juniors descends on us.
“Congratulations again,” Logan says, eyes darting back and forth between us as though she knows exactly what was going on with us back at that safe zone. It’s scary how good a politician she might make someday. She turns and opens the door to the gym. “Your party awaits. Well—as soon as we tell everyone it’s happening.” She motions to Nisha and Olivia, who pull out their phones, presumably to send another text blast.
“Our what?” Neil says.
The gym is bright and festive, decked out in Westview blue and white—streamers, banners, lights. There are rows of carnival games and food vendors, a small stage at one end. A few juniors are still finishing the setup.
“We had some money left over, and we wanted to give all the seniors one more thing to celebrate,” Logan says. “We were going to launch it when the game ended, so we’ve just been waiting—”
“—and hoping we can get sleep at some point,” Olivia puts in.
“But it was worth it!” Nisha says.
I can’t stop gaping at the scene in front of us. Maybe I’m delirious, but I’ve never seen the gym look this beautiful. “Thank you. All of you.”
Neil appears mesmerized by the band unpacking a drum kit and loading their amps onto the stage.
“Oh my God,” he says. “Free Puppies!”
* * *
It’s the best party I’ve ever been to. Nearly all the seniors are here, plus Neil’s favorite band, and he’s just won five thousand dollars, half of which I’ll refuse to accept if he offers it to me. A few teachers show up to chaperone, but we’re not rowdy. Maybe we’re all too tired to cause much trouble.
When they see us together, Mara gasps, and Kirby immediately races over to crush us into a bear hug. “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it,” she yelps. Most reactions fall solidly within that range. Neil and I can’t stop grinning, can’t stop touching: hands linked, his palm on my back, a stealthy kiss when we think no one’s looking. Turns out, someone always is.
The walls are covered with posters for events that have already happened, and there’s a sense of nostalgia in the air, but for the first time tonight, it doesn’t feel sad. Howl has always been a farewell to Westview and to Seattle. A last-day tradition that’s about so much more than winners and losers.
Savannah approaches us while we’re waiting for Free Puppies! to start playing. The sight of her makes me tense up.
“Congratulations, I guess,” she says flatly.
“Thank you,” Neil says, ever polite. Always earnest, beneath all that smirking.
But I’m all out of politeness when it comes to Savannah Bell.
“Hey, you know what I’m craving?” I say to Neil. “Bowling-alley pizza. Like at Hilltop. Do you think they have any pizza here?”
