1642734778_punk-57-pdf

like it, come home. If you do like it, I’ll be waiting when you’re done.”
I can feel my nerves firing, and I don’t know how to deal with this. I’d
rather not think about it today at all.
Would I like to drive around in an old rented bus and play some music
this summer? Maybe. That was the plan up until February.
But now I have Ryen, and I can’t imagine not seeing her every day. I
don’t see the goddamn point of wasting a minute without her in it. I won’t
be happier just because I have the music.
But she’s right. She’s going off to college, and although I can, too, it
won’t be the same school. I could go with her, but…I can’t follow her. We
both need our own work someday, a way to be fulfilled.
“If you don’t try,” she says, “you’ll wonder later if you should’ve. Don’t
put that guilt on me.”
I give a weak laugh. Geez, punch me in the nuts, why don’t you?
“If I do this, I have a condition of my own,” I tell her, looking up into
her eyes. “I want you to write a letter.”
She breaks out in a gigantic smile. “A letter? I’ll write you more than
one while you’re gone.”
“Not to me.” I shake my head. “Delilah.”
Her face instantly falls. I can tell the prospect of facing that demon
unnerves her.
“She left Falcon’s Well in sixth grade. I wouldn’t even know where she
is now.”
“I’m sure she’s just a Google search away.” Which she knows. She’s
just looking for an excuse to not face it.
She turns her head away, biding time, but I nudge her chin back to me
again.