Carry On: The Rise and Fall of Simon Snow

by Rainbow Rowell

I wonder if I could take the magic from him if I tried, but the thought turns my stomach. I change in the bathroom and brush my teeth, and when I come out, I see that Snow is sitting up in his bed. “Baz?” “What.” I sit on my own bed, on top of the covers. “I . . . can you come here?” “No.” “I can come over there, then.” I cross my legs and arms. “You may not.” Snow huffs, exasperated. Good, I think. “Just. Come here,” he says. “Okay? I have to try something.” “Can you even hear how ridiculous you sound?” He gets up. It’s dark in our room, but the moon is out, and I can always see him better than he sees me. He’s wearing grey flannel pyjama bottoms, school-issued, and his gold cross. His skin is as grey as mine in this light, and shining like a pearl. “You can’t sit on my bed,” I say as he sits on my bed. “And neither can Bunce. My bed reeks of intensity and brownies.” “Here,” he says, holding out his hand. “What do you want from me, Snow?” “Nothing,” he says. And he means it, the actual bastard. “We have to try again.” “Why?” “So that we know that it wasn’t a fluke,” he says. “It was a fluke. You were fighting a dragon, and I was helping you—it was a fluke squared.”