I believe.

And so while Ryan is goofing with Lila, I picture Shane’s face and smile.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Prom is in three weeks.

At the start of the year, it never occurred to me that I might go. Then, after I got together with Shane, I pictured myself in a pretty dress and him in a tuxedo. Even in my head, my weirdness about cars made it a little complicated to imagine how we’d get there because it seems unlikely that biking would work in formal wear. I walk past the girls selling tickets at the table; it’s decorated in keeping with this year’s theme, which is Sparkle and Shine. This means they’ve papered it and covered that with glitter and hung silver ribbons that flutter when people pass by.

“You should buy some tickets,” Lila says.

“Why?”

“So you can go with Ryan and me.”

“You’re going to prom with him?” This surprises me.

“Not like that.” But from her expression, maybe she wishes that was the case.

“Lila, do you like Ryan?”

“We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. And every girl should put on a pretty dress, so she can dance in the gym.”

I smile. “You present a tempting offer.”

“You could always bring Conrad. I think he likes you.”

I stare at her. “Seriously?”

“It was just an idea. Look, if you can afford it, you should buy the tickets. Just in case.”

“Of what?” The only person I want to attend prom with, and, well, I don’t even know where he is.

Lila ignores the question, instead joining the line at the table. She’s digging into her wallet. “How much?”

“Seventy per couple.”

She counts out the cash and takes her packet. “Now you.”

It’s uncanny the way she knows I’ve got money on me today. Usually I wouldn’t, but I was planning to stop at the P&K for groceries on the way home. I dig into my backpack for my wallet, but an arm covered in worn green fabric reaches in front of me, holding three twenties and a ten. “I’ve got it.”

I whirl, unable to believe what I’m seeing. “Shane?”

Yes. It’s him—worn jeans, black T-shirt, green army jacket, and the bluest eyes in the world. His hair is a little longer than it was, curly more than shaggy. And he’s buying prom tickets? I can’t even process what this means. Joy and disbelief war within me as he concludes the transaction, then draws me gently into an empty classroom. From the pictures on the wall, this is health, but I can hardly think right now, let alone speak.

“You must have questions,” he says softly.

I just put my arms around him and lean my head on his chest, shaking. The tears trickle down my cheeks. It’s ridiculous because I’m happy, not sad, but I have no control over my emotions. He hugs me to him, resting his chin on my hair.

“Okay then, let me do the talking. I ended up fostering with this crazy religious couple. No phone. No Internet. No TV. No music. It was pretty close to hell. I think … it was actually worse than juvie.”

“They wouldn’t let you write to me? Not even a postcard?”

“I lost your address,” he admits. “When my release came, I had your letter, but by the time I unpacked, I couldn’t find it. I’m so sorry.”

“So you’re back?” I tip my head back, devouring his face with my gaze. It feels like I could never get enough of him.

He smiles at that. “It seems that somebody was pressuring my dad, making him think about me. And … it worked. So he contacted my social worker and started the process to get custody of me, at least until I turn eighteen. He’s taken a local route with the trucking company, he’ll drive a delivery circuit and be home at the end of each night.”

“Oh my God,” I breathe. “They approved his petition?”

“Yeah. I guess you made quite an impression on him. Says I’m lucky as hell to have you. Like I didn’t already know.”

“Wow. But it took a while I guess?”

“Not as bad as it could’ve been. Since Dad’s never been convicted of a crime, never had a problem with drugs or alcohol, and there’s never been any allegations of abuse, it was pretty easy for him to get me back, once he started fighting. I … just never expected that he would. He’s better at running away.”

“I bet once he offered proof he’ll be home at the end of the day, it helped a lot.”

“From what my social worker says, yes. We’ll have regular home visits, just to make sure things are still okay, but I don’t expect any problems. And I’ll be eighteen in July. So if my dad can’t take living with me, then he can bail, and I’ll be fine. Thanks to you.”

“I’m so happy you’re home,” I whisper, hugging him tighter.

“I hear you started a Free Shane campaign and got me out of juvie, and then, obviously, you worked on my dad until he was willing to spring me from foster care. Damn, Sage. Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Say good-bye to you.”

“My mom believed in me like that … but nobody else, since. Not until you.”

“It doesn’t matter where we’ve been,” I tell him. “Only where we’re going.”

“I have no doubt,” he says, stroking my hair. “But I want to make you a deal.”

“Hm?” The way I’m basking in him, I’d probably agree to anything.

“You’ve fought for me, figuratively, from the beginning, and I needed somebody to care. You have no idea how much. Then I lost my mind over the idea of anyone hurting you and fought for you, literally. But … we’re both okay, right? Let’s stand down now. And just be together. Okay?”

“Deal,” I say.

He smiles with both his eyes and his mouth. “So … I have these tickets. And I was kind of hoping you’d go with me. Interested?”

“Try and stop me,” I answer.

Then he kisses me, and all the pain and sadness slips away with the heat of his mouth on mine. I’ve had so many people leave, but this is the first time anyone’s come back. I hold him tighter, press closer, but we’re cut off by the bell.

“I’d suggest getting out of here, but I don’t want to get in trouble.”

So we step out of the classroom together, holding hands, and nearly bump into Dylan. Despite his participation in Green World, he’s been walking around alone a lot lately, and he looks tired. He can’t meet Shane’s eyes. Then someone shoves him into a locker. I hear he’s banned from playing baseball this spring, and the coach isn’t sure he’s letting him back on the football team next fall. Coach says his players need to be honorable; they need to be leaders, and Dylan let the team down. This means he has almost no shot at an athletic scholarship, so he might not be going to college. Straightening, Dylan threads his way through the crowd and continues to class.

I break away for a sec, dig into my backpack, and pull out my Post-its and my pen. I write It will get better … it did for me, and stick it on his locker. Since he offered an olive branch at Green World’s garden day, I can, too. Maybe if the rest of the school sees that I can forgive him, they’ll move on. This is who I want to be, the girl Shane fell in love with. She’s real. She’s me.

“That was nicer than I’d be,” Shane says softly, watching me.

All around us, people are yelling, “Shane!” like they’re happy to see him. Someone calls out, “Hope you’ll be back at the Coffee Shop. Love your music.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he says to the girl. Then he adds to me, “I need to talk to the manager at the P&K, too. See if I can get my job back.”

The rest of the day passes in a happy blur. I’m on a Shane high, giddy with relief and excitement. For the first time in weeks, the color’s back in my world. No more monochrome; there are vivid swirls of red, green, and blue, all vibrant, all beautiful.

That weekend, I go shopping with Lila at the thrift store downtown. This area has mostly shut down, though a few funky boutiques, including the shop my aunt manages, are still squeaking by. I love this store; it’s always got such interesting clothes.