chapter forty-five.

Simon - present day

"Ginger Snap, Ginger Snap! GIN-GER SNAP. Are you alive? Siiiimoooonnnnn. I know you can hear me, you prick."

It's a rude awakening if I've ever experienced one. Before my older brother's voice cut suddenly into my head, I was passed out on the holding cell's bench, my hand my only pillow. I sit up, groggily. My head aches and my body aches and everything aches. What happened? Am I in jail? Last I really remember was the police officer's light shining in my eyes. When did Noah get here? Am I back in Boston?

I peel my eyes open. Standing in the doorway of the holding cell with his arms folded and his eyes bloodshot is my brother. His whole face crumples with relief when he notices I'm awake. "Hey, buddy. Thank God. Thank fucking God."

I cringe as bright light splinters my vision. "I don't think God would like you using His name and 'fucking' in the same sentence."

Noah just laughs. It's been a while since I've heard him laugh like that. Sober, anyway. "You really are okay."

You really are okay.

How bad is it for him to say something like that?

Noah casts a glance down the hall, then enters the cell, sitting beside me. I start to ask what he's doing but then he's grabbing my face and pinching my cheeks and staring intensely into my eyes. "You're you," he says. "I don't understand. Why didn't you just show him your license? Your license, I mean. Simon St. John's."

I blink. It's starting to come back to me now. "I don't think I knew who I was."

Noah goes still for a moment. "Simon," he says, his voice wary, cautious. "Is there something you're not telling me? Are you...are you sure you're well?"

"I'm fine," I lie. "Don't worry about me. Just—how the hell did you get me out of this, anyway?"

Noah's frown evaporates into one of his award-winning smiles. The one he gives Mom and Dad to earn their praise; the one he wears to job interviews; the one that earned him a date with Samantha Kinsey, the hottest girl in school when we were younger. It truly is blinding. "I used my overwhelming charm, of course."

I wait, silent, for him to give me the actual answer.

He sighs. "I made up a lot of stuff. Mostly I just kept talking until they went cross-eyed and took my money."

"Fair enough. You are very obnoxious."

Noah smiles again and jumps to his feet, gesturing for the door. "Let's go, Ginger Snap. They're waiting for you in the car."

I don't have time to ask who they are, because by then Noah's already yanked me down the hall.

There are two people sitting in Noah's decrepit red and gray hatchback when we reach it. One of them is my cousin, Larry, and the other is Val.

Last time I saw Larry, he was plotting to kill someone. Last time I saw Val, she was looking at me like I was someone she no longer knew. This is to say that I don't exactly know what to say to either of them.

Graciously, Noah leans into the passenger side window and tells Larry to sit in the back, beside Val. Then Noah takes the driver's seat and I take the front seat, and all four of us sit there and none of us talk.

Noah's car smells like oil and ocean air freshener, a weird cocktail of scents that almost makes me want to throw up in my mouth, if there was anything in my stomach in the first place. My body is still hurting, my head is still pounding. My mind swims in and out of focus. I've never felt so close to the edge.

Noah announces, "It's freezing," and turns on the car engine to start up the heater.

The engine gurgles to life and warm air starts to bubble up through the vents. I sink down into my coat. "My car?" I ask, suddenly.

"I drove it back to your apartment," Larry says from behind me.

"Thank you."

"You wanna tell me what you're doing getting in trouble with law enforcement, squirt?"

There it is again. Squirt. Like I am small and insignificant and he could not care less about me. I've always hated when he calls me that, and though I've corrected him countless times before, it's never enough times for it to stick.

Val coughs and looks out the window.

Noah puts the car in drive. "I could use coffee. Anyone else want coffee? Let's get coffee."

I start to ask if it's really the right time for that when I see the sun peeking up above the tree line. God. When was the last time I even slept through the night?

But I know when it was.

It was the night Val and I made love. That was the last time I fell asleep and woke up with ease. That was the last time I felt so at peace, so anchored, so much like myself, that nothing else truly mattered. It was a few days ago, but it feels like forever ago.

I catch Val's eyes in the rearview mirror, just for a second. In her eyes is something I can't read, or maybe something I can't face. We both look away in an instant.

Noah pulls out of the police station's parking lot and onto the road. For a moment it's only the sound of the tires thundering upon the asphalt, but then Larry starts up again. "You didn't answer my question, squirt."

I notice Noah frown. "Larry—"

"It was just a bad time," I answer, before Larry gets any more peeved and Noah gets any more peeved at Larry's peevishness and Val gets any more uncomfortable with the general peevish atmosphere of the car. "I was messed up and I couldn't think straight and they just caught me at a really bad time, okay? I'm sorry. I'm sorry you guys had to go through the trouble."

Noah? Larry? Okay, I get why they're here. Val is the inexplicable one. She looked at me like she never wanted to talk to me again, and now she's riding in the backseat of my brother's car, and the two of them keep exchanging looks I don't know the meaning for. It's like I've woken up in a different universe.

I am extremely confused.

"If there's something wrong," Larry says, after a moment, "you should tell us."

Yet he says it like he already knows, probably because he does. Though I've never thought of him in this context, it makes sense. He's a shapeshifter too, after all. He must have lost control before. Maybe even the same way I have.

But I can't. I can't tell them. Telling them is acknowledging it's a problem. Telling them is saying, Okay, this is real. Telling them, worst of all, is burdening them.

I've burdened all three of them enough as it is.

"Nothing's wrong," I say. "I'm fine."

Larry rolls his eyes. "I can see it, you idiot. I can see it. No one knows this like I do, Simon. You're not fine. Tell me what's going on and tell me now."

I shake my head. "No, Larry. I'm perfectly fine. I'm a little rattled after being arrested and everything, but other than that I'm fine. Right now, I just really wanna go home and sleep it off and wake up and pretend like nothing happened."

"Simon, your fingers are still shaking. You're moving like you're moving through slush. You're in obvious pain. Your skin's burning hot," Larry spouts off, and though he seemed like he was going to cut in, Noah closes his mouth. "I've seen this before, okay?"

"You've seen jack shit, Larry. Stop pretending like you know everything!"

"Oh, forgive me for being concerned about you, little cousin. Did you really let them brainwash you that badly? Did you let your parents and everyone else convince you that I'm so cancerous, I'm so positively awful, that you now refuse to believe I care?" Larry snaps back, his voice rising enough to make all of us flinch. My vision's beginning to wash with white. The slight tremor in my fingers grows to a frightful quake. "I'm trying to save your life, but if you don't care, I don't care. Throw it away, for fuck's sake. It's all I've been trying to get you not to do, but go ahead. Go ahead!"

"Larry," Noah hisses. "If he says he's fine, he's—Simon? Simon, oh my God. Hey, he's—"

It's not the same this time. It is so much worse.

I hear Larry, but his voice sounds like it's very far away, or underwater: "Pull over, Noah. Just pull over!"

I think the car stops and I think someone blows at us but I'm not sure. My hearing has resolved to a constant, tinny ringing. Everything's on fire—every one of my cells, burning, shaking, hot. I glimpse my hands as they warp and change shape, feel my stomach tightening and loosening again. Every muscle spasms and I shove the car door open with my shoulder and lurch forward and fall into the grass, vomiting.

It is so cold outside but I am so hot. Someone's arms are around me. Val? Noah? Larry? Simon. Simon. Please stop. Oh my God. Please stop, you're scaring me.

I have expelled what little was in my stomach and I'm dry-retching now. The sounds coming out of my mouth don't sound human. Nothing about me feels human. The changing continues and it doesn't stop.

Kid? Hey, kid? Larry's voice, I think. He smacks my face. It feels weird. Like being hit with a rubber glove. If you can hear me, wiggle a finger.

I purposefully wiggle my index finger, though it takes significantly more effort than it did before.

Okay. Good. You're gonna be fine. Hear me? You are absolutely fine. You can breathe normally. Your heartbeat's slowing down...you're in a safe, safe place...it's warm, you're comfortable. Do you believe me? Do you believe me?

I want to believe him.

Val is here. She loves you very much and she says she's so, so sorry. Noah is here. He loves you very much and he says you'd better come back so he doesn't have to deal with Abbie by himself. I'm here, too. I need you to come back to me, squirt. I need you to come back.

On the inside, I'm smiling, but on the outside, I can't seem to gain control of my face.

See that? You're coming back to us now. You're alright. You're okay. You can breathe, you can breathe, you can breathe...

There's something right in front of me and I don't care what it is, I grab it and take hold and everything goes still.

I'm on my knees, fists pressed into the soil, nails dark with dirt. My skin is a gentle brown, so definitely not my own. I lift my head. Larry's kneeling right in front of me, his calloused hands on either side of my face. His eyebrows are knitted and he's frowning and something in his eyes looks so sorrowful that it hurts to look at.

Behind him, Val is turned away from me, and though I can't see her face, I know she's crying because her shoulders are shaking and Noah's holding her awkwardly. Noah's face is wet, too.

I've made my brother cry.

I've never made my brother cry.

Larry pulls his jacket sleeve up over his hand and wipes away a trail of spit from my mouth. He says, "Simon, how long has this been happening?"

The burden grows heavier.

"Too long," I say. "Way too long."