I pull the sharp heat and bitter taste of the cigarette through my lips, feeling my insides burn and my eyes blur as the smoke expands in my lungs. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to cry. I just want to sit here, beside my hero, and remember.

Exhale.

The smoke floats into the quiet summer sky, swirling above us and fogging up the stars.

I bring the cigarette back to my mouth, but Levi gently pulls it from my fingers before it reaches my lips. Keeping his eyes on the sky, he deftly smothers the burning tip into the dirt as the smoke above us thins out until it clears completely.

Inhale.

The stars are more beautiful without the smoke obscuring their brilliance.

Exhale.

Much more beautiful, actually. Real.

We stay like that, shoulder to shoulder, eyes fixed above, for countless minutes.

Inhale.

Lavender. Summer air. Spearmint.

Exhale.

There aren’t any monsters out here.

46 Levi

This morning, I feel like I’m whole again, like my lungs have expanded and made my chest a paradise for oxygen, as I finish showering and cross the hall to my room.

“Thirty-seven minutes!” Pixie shouts from next door. There’s a lightness in her tone I haven’t heard in a long time, and it makes me wish she would keep speaking, even if only to scold me.

“You need a new hobby!” I yell back.

“Jerk.”

I smile at the wall. “Nag.”

And the day begins.

I get dressed and retrieve my To Do list from Ellen. Scanning the items she’s scrawled out, I glare at her. “Another chandelier?”

She smiles. “The one in the west wing hallway.”

“You haven’t used that chandelier in ten years.”

“Right. Because it’s broken.”

“That hallway is already well lit. You don’t need it.”

“Yeah, but it’s pretty. So fix it.”

I shake my head and smile. “Fine.”

She grins. “Have fun.”

Fun is the exact opposite of what I have for the next two hours as I fix Ellen’s precious hanging piece of hell, but my mood doesn’t sour. I conquer all the items on my list earlier than usual and head back to the front desk to let Ellen know I’m calling it a day.

She cocks her head at me. “You seem chipper.”

“Chipper?”

“Yeah. Happy. Upbeat.” She looks at me suspiciously and then smiles.

“What?”

She just keeps smiling. “Nothing.”

I stare at her, but she says nothing more and now it’s awkward.

“So…” I say. “Anything else you need me to do before I wrap up for the day?”

“No. Oh wait—yes. Can you give this to Pixie?” She hands me a white envelope. “It came in the mail today, but I forgot to give it to her. And while you’re there, can you check the garbage disposal? Mable said it was gurgling.”

“Gurgling. Sure.” I take the letter and head to the kitchen.

When I enter, Pixie looks up from a mess of baking ingredients and smiles. I smile back. A piece of myself that I didn’t know was starving suddenly warms in satisfaction.

“Hey, handsome.” Mable smiles at me. “Haven’t seen you all day.”

“That’s because Ellen has an unhealthy obsession with chandeliers.”

Pixie scoffs. “She has an unhealthy obsession with everything old and impractical.”

“Tell me about it. Ellen wanted me to give this to you,” I say, handing over the letter.

“Thanks.” Pixie takes the envelope and nods at two plates—one red, one blue—of chocolate squares on the counter. “Want a brownie?”

“Sure.”

She pushes the red plate toward me and I grab a brownie and head to the sink. As I reach for the garbage disposal switch, I take a giant bite and—

“Holy mother of hell!” I gag and spit the disgusting treat into the sink. “What the—” I start coughing and stare at the vile brown piece of crap in my hand.

Mable keeps her eyes down with a smile.

Pixie crosses her arms and raises an amused eyebrow at me. “That’s what you get,” she says, looking much too satisfied by my continuing gags and coughs.

“For what?” God, this is the worst thing I’ve ever tasted. I gag again.

“For switching the sugar and salt on me all those years ago and adding vinegar to the vanilla so my brownies came out tasting like sour bars of salt. I finally figured it out this morning and decided to whip up a batch and give you a taste of your own medicine.”

I spit again and smile. “It took you this long to figure it out? Yikes, Pix. You might have to kiss that future in detective work good-bye.” I throw the remainder of the nasty brownie away and gag again. The real kind of gag where I think I might throw up.

“And you might have to kiss what you ate for lunch good-bye,” she says. “Please don’t vomit in my kitchen.”

This only makes me gag harder.

“God.” She rolls her eyes and grabs a brownie from the blue plate. “These are the good ones. I swear.”

“Get away from me, you wicked treat devil.”

She laughs. “Wicked treat devil? Wow. You can do better than that.”

“Evil dessert demon?”

“Still lame.”

“Chocolate temptress of salty death.”

“Now you’re just reaching. Here”—she grabs something—“spare your mouth any future embarrassment.” She shoves another salty-sour brownie against my mouth and I start hacking all over again.

She smiles as she tears open the envelope. She scans the thick piece of paper inside and her face goes slack.

I quit gagging and wipe my mouth. “What’s wrong?”

A bewildered expression crosses her face. “I was accepted into NYU. I can transfer there this fall. I’d have to leave in two weeks.”

“Wow,” I say.

Wow.

“That’s wonderful, dear,” Mable says, then frowns at the dumbfounded expression on Pixie’s face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m just… I don’t know.” Pixie smiles and wrinkles her brow and bites her lip. In that order. “I’m surprised, that’s all.” She smiles again.

I smile at her, but for some reason my gut feels hollow.

47 Pixie

I’m stunned. Shocked. Dazed. Terrified, even. But not because I was accepted to NYU. I’m surprised because I’m no longer excited to go.

I’ve been trying to transfer schools for the past year, and now here’s my chance and I just… don’t care. I should be jumping up and down and squealing. Or at least smiling in a way that doesn’t have Mable looking at me in concern, but instead I’m just standing here, staring at the red plate of brownies.

“Congratulations,” Levi says.

I meet his eyes, and our strained smiles collide.

“Thanks,” I say.

“New York.” Mable smiles. Hers isn’t strained. “What a wonderful city. I’ve only ever been there once, myself, but it was breathtaking. A great place for an artist.”

“Yeah. NYU has a great art program.” I sweep up some sugar with my hands and clean it off the counter. “One of the best in the country.”

“How exciting.” Mable sounds genuine, but keeps glancing at Levi every few seconds.

“You deserve it,” he says, pressing his lips together.

I nod. Nothing else. I just nod and sweep up more sugar.

He clears his throat and wipes a few brownie crumbs from his face and shirt before moving to the disposal, where he promptly gets lost in work after retrieving a few tools.

I concentrate on cleaning up flour and salt, baking powder and sugar, tossing the remainder of my baking mess into the garbage.