The new drywall over the hole I patched up hasn’t been painted yet, so it remains a dark gray splotch against the otherwise beige wall. The hole seems like forever ago.
I look back at the screen and start to type. Slowly at first, then gaining momentum as I carry on. Forty minutes later, I stop typing, scan the document, and start rereading what I’ve put down so far.
HOW TO WIN
Winning is an effect of trying. You have to want it badly enough to go through pain, discipline, and failure to find it. To confront it. To claim it. But most of all, you have to fight for it. Everything else—anything else—is absolute surrender.
My eyes snap to the dark patch on my wall again as my heart grows loud and heavy in my ears. Without another thought, I click Send on my half-assed essay, grab my keys, and race out the door.
61 Pixie
The sky grows darker as I head south, the storm clouds closing in on the day and blanketing the earth below in a muted gray. After leaving Copper Springs, I decided to take Canary Road down toward Phoenix instead of the freeway. I haven’t been on this road since the night of the accident. It looks the same.
It feels different.
I hear a sharp crack of thunder and see a flash of hot white lightning cut down through the purple clouds, touching the horizon not far from the road. Less than a minute passes before thick drops of rain begin to splash against the windshield.
Storms are supposed to be terrifying things, reckless and unpredictable, violent and wild, but they energize me. Remind me of life and love and the brink of happiness. The urgency of breathing in, the wonderment of jumping out with your eyes closed.
I think back to the stormy day in the little fort with Levi. The rain. The kiss. The love…
I quickly push the memory away.
The old back road winds through the forestland, barely visible now through the downpour and darkening day. The monsoon clouds split open and a sliver of sunlight shines through the torrent onto the road in front of me, an oddly bright ray of hope against the violent rain and thunder. The patch of light illuminates a large object blocking the road. It’s coming up fast. Too close, too large, to ignore—and it’s right beside the ridge burn, the exact same spot where Charity died.
I slow down as I near. My heart flies into my throat when I realize it’s Levi’s truck, blocking the storm-ridden road.
And in front of the truck, under the gray deluge, is Leaves.
Blue eyes, waiting for me.
62 Levi
Somehow I knew I’d find Pixie here. Not on the freeway. Not on the commonly used back roads. But on Canary Road.
She pulls over to the side, and I’m at her door before she comes to a full stop. I yank it open and stare down into wide green eyes.
“No,” I say, loud enough to be heard over the roaring wind and rain.
She blinks. “No?”
“No, we can’t be just friends.” Rain drips down my face as my heart hammers against my rib cage. “Because we’re more than just friends, and we always have been. And I’m not talking about sex, Pix. I’m talking about trust and comfort. I’m talking about home.” Lightning strikes nearby and the wind picks up. I raise my voice. “You are not my friend, Pixie. You are a piece of my heart and a part of who I want to be.”
She gets out of the car and stands in the rain. “But, Leaves—”
“I love you,” I yell, thunder echoing my words, rain drenching my clothes. “I love you when you’re Pixie and when you’re Sarah and when you’re messy and when you drive me crazy and when you scare the hell out of me. I love you, Pixie. And I know you’re scared.” I step closer so I no longer have to shout, and cup her wet face. I look into her eyes. “But you have nothing to be afraid of. I will never leave you again. Never.”
Hot tears run from her eyes, mixing with the cool rain as I run my thumb over her cheek. “So you can move to New York or fly across the world, but I want to be there too. Wherever you are. By your side. Always,” I say. “Because I’m yours. Even when you don’t want me, I’m yours.”
She puts her hands on my cheeks and halts my speech, looking into my eyes as rain beats down on us. Then she crushes her lips to mine.
I kiss her deeply, still cupping her wet face as I pull her close to me, not wanting to let go, not wanting another minute in this life of mine to pass without her here, with me.
“God, I love you,” she says in between kisses, and the words fill me like nothing ever has before. She smiles against my mouth. “By the way? I’m not going to New York,” she says. “I never was.”
I pull back slightly and scan her face, my heart pounding. “But you left.”
She nods. “I went home to get a box of my stuff from my mom’s, but I was heading down to Phoenix to move back into the dorms with Jenna so I can return to ASU this fall. I declined NYU’s acceptance a few weeks ago.”
“But… why?”
“Because I realized that this is my home. Arizona. Ellen.” She trails her eyes along the lines of my face. “You.” She looks up at me. “I didn’t want to leave. Even if I didn’t have you, I wanted to be where you were. Because I’m yours.” A playful smile pulls at her lips. “Even if you don’t want me…”
I slowly smile. “Oh… I want you.”
“Yeah?” she says, over a roll of thunder.
“Oh yeah.”
Then I’m kissing her all over again. Pixie—beautiful, wild Pixie—is mine. I’m more alive than I’ve ever been.
63 Pixie
Rain pours down from the heavy clouds above, washing over us as Levi pulls me into his arms.
Here, on this wicked road where so much was lost and even more was found, we kiss to the sound of rain. Falling on the scarred earth. Falling on this place of tragedy. Washing away all the painful things and drenching the beautiful things left standing.
And lightning strikes.
Epilogue
“I can’t believe I let you paint on me, Pixie.” Jenna rubs her cheek where I’ve painted a sun devil in maroon and gold. “I feel like my skin is dying.”
“I think it looks cute,” Ellen says, smiling.
The three of us are seated in Sun Devil Stadium, high up in the stands overlooking the brightly lit football field below and waiting for the game to begin. I’m wearing one of Levi’s old jerseys and have my own sun devil painted on my cheek.
“Cute and sticky,” Jenna says.
“It’s called school spirit,” I say as a few crazy blonde curls fall into my face. “We’re here to support Levi and Zack.”
“Um, hello? We’re already giving Zack plenty of support.” Jenna gestures to Marvin, who’s chewing on my shoelace. “I don’t know why you even brought his goat up here.”