Fangirl

nose, but she took it. “What are you doing here so early?”
    “I thought we could study before the party,” Levi said.
    “ Jacob Have I Loved ?”
    He nodded.
    “You’re reading Jacob Have I Loved ?” Cath asked. “That’s a kids’ book.”
    “Young adult literature,” he said. “It’s a great class.”
    Reagan was shoving clothes in her bag. “I’m taking a shower at your place,” she said. “I’m so goddamn sick of public showers.”
    Levi scooted forward on Cath’s bed and leaned an elbow on her desk. “So is that how Baz became a vampire? When the nursery was attacked?”
    Cath wished he wouldn’t talk about this in front of Reagan. “You mean, for real?”
    “I mean in the books.”
    “There is no nursery in the books,” Cath said.
    “But in your version, that’s how it happens.”
    “Just in this story. Every story is a little different.”
    “And other people have their versions, too?”
    “Oh yeah,” she said. “There’re all these fans, and we’re all doing something different.”
    “Are you the only one who writes about Baz and Simon falling in love?”
    Cath laughed. “Uh, no. The entire Internet writes about Baz and Simon. If you go to Google and type in ‘Baz and Simon,’ the first search it suggests is ‘Baz and Simon in love.’”
    “How many people do this?”
    “Write Simon-slash-Baz? Or write Simon Snow fanfiction?”
    “Write fanfiction.”
    “God, I don’t know. Thousands and thousands.”
    “So, if you didn’t want the books to be over, you could just keep reading Simon Snow stories forever online.…”
    “Exactly,” Cath said earnestly. She’d thought Levi must be judging her, but he got it. “If you fall in love with the World of Mages, you can just keep on living there.”
    “I wouldn’t call that living,” Reagan said.
    “It was a metaphor,” Levi said gently.
    “I’m ready,” Reagan said. “Are you coming, Cath?”
    Cath smiled tightly and shook her head.
    “Are you sure?” Levi asked, lifting himself off her bed. “We could come back for you later.”
    “Nah, that’s okay. See you tomorrow.”
    As soon as they left, Cath headed down to eat dinner by herself.
     
    “Maybe I’m not supposed to have a wand. Maybe I’m supposed to have a ring like you. Or a … a wrist thingy like mangy old Elspeth.”
    “Oh, Simon.” Penelope frowned. “You shouldn’t call her that. She can’t help her fur—her father was the Witch King of Canus.”
    “No, I know, I just…”
    “It’s easier for the rest of us,” she said, soothing. “Magicians’ instruments stay in families. They’re passed from generation to generation.”
    “Right,” he said, “just like magic. It doesn’t make sense, Penelope—my parents must have been magicians.”
    He’d tried to talk to her about this before, and that time it had made her look just as sad.
    “Simon … they couldn’t have been. Magicians would never abandon their own child. Never. Magic is too precious.”
    Simon looked away from her and flicked his wand again. It felt like something dead in his hands.
    “I think Elspeth’s fur is pretty,” Penelope said. “She looks soft.”
    He shoved the wand into his pocket and stood up. “You just want a puppy.”

    —from chapter 21, Simon Snow and the Third Gate, copyright © 2004 by Gemma T. Leslie

 
    FOURTEEN
    Their dad came to pick them up the day before Thanksgiving. When he pulled up in front of Pound Hall, Wren and Courtney were already sitting in the back of the Honda.
    Wren and Cath usually sat in the backseat together. Their dad would complain that he felt like a cabdriver, and they’d say, “No, limo driver. Home, James.”
    “Wow, look at this…,” he said when Cath sat in the front seat next to him. “Company.” She tried to smile.
    Courtney and Wren were talking in the backseat—but with the radio up, Cath couldn’t hear them. Once they were on the interstate, she leaned over to her dad. “How’s Gravioli?” she asked.
    “What?” He turned down the radio.
    “Dad,” Wren said, “that’s our jam.”
    “Sorry,” he said, shifting the volume to the backseat. “What’s that?” he asked Cath.
    “Gravioli,” she said.
    “Oh.” He made a face. “To hell with Gravioli. Did you know that it’s actually canned ravioli soaked in slimy brown gravy?”
    “That sounds disgusting,” Cath said.
    “It’s revolting,” he said. “It’s like dog food for people. Maybe that’s what we should have