I’m riding my bike home in the dark and the rain, and all I can think about are Marvel’s words. Her story. The whole, complete story. I picture her hiding in her closet, the madman below lighting himself and the rest of the family on fire. I see her protected and talked to by God. It’s crazy, I know it’s totally crazy. Maybe she made up the whole thing in her mind to block out the pain of what happened with her mother and sister, but I don’t know.

I don’t know.

I think of all the years I’ve blocked out what’s gone on with my father, the hurt and awful pain he’s brought me night after night. The fear of doing something wrong or slipping up and being completely terrorized. I think of how many years I’ve lived in this hell without anybody to tell or any kind of hope.

Then Marvel walked through the door.

The rain comes down hard, but I don’t care. I have a nagging feeling that has nothing to do with bullies or bad guys or dead bodies or crashed cars or awful things we can’t talk about.

I shouldn’t be going home. I need to go back to the store and tell Marvel how I’m feeling. I don’t want to wait another night. Because tomorrow might not be there.

There might be some stalker up ahead waiting to jump out at me and finally do what he’s been wanting to do for a long time. I might end up in the Fox River without any leads or motives or anything for the cops.

I don’t want to go to bed without telling Marvel what I need to tell her. I can’t wait. I need to tell her, and I need to tell her face-to-face.

I turn the bike around and start pedaling as if my very life depended on it.

By the time I get back to the store, she’s waiting in front of the building under the little awning by the Fascination Street sign. Her ride must be coming soon. I’m a sopping mess, but I don’t care. I get off my bike and lean it against the side of the building. Lightning lights up the sky, followed by a blast of thunder.

“Brandon!” she says in surprise.

“I needed to come back. To tell you something.”

The rain falls, and the door is closed and probably locked. Marvel stands there by the building with wet hair and sad eyes.

“Just hear me out,” I say.

I face her and take her hands. For a moment, she hesitates. “No.”

“I don’t care what happens,” I tell her. “I don’t care what’s meant to happen or what your destiny is supposed to be. I’m crazy about you, Marvel.”

“You don’t understand. . . .”

“And neither do you. Do you? You believe this . . . this thing, but you don’t know when it will happen and you don’t know what it will be. So let me stand by you. Let me help you. Marvel —let me love you.”

She shakes her head, tries pulling away, yet I still hold those hands. “Brandon . . .”

“No. I knew. I knew the moment you walked through those doors. I’ve known ever since all the crazy, weird stuff has been happening. I knew the moment you held my hand and we saw those fireworks going off. Don’t tell me it’s not there. I know you feel the same. I know it.”

“But it doesn’t —it shouldn’t matter. . . .”

I move closer and hold her in my arms. “But it does matter.”

I lean down and kiss her. It feels right, and it definitely matters. Marvel doesn’t pull away. She gives me a gentle, affirming kiss that is worth every single moment of waiting this whole summer.

When I step back to look at her, I can’t tell whether she’s crying. But she has regret and fear on her face. Thunder roars above us.

“The sky can fall and I’m going to stand next to you, Marvel.”

She shakes her head. “I didn’t want this to happen. I told myself over and over it couldn’t happen. That there shouldn’t be an us. That we shouldn’t be.”

“It happened. Okay? I’m here.”

I take hold of her hand again and bring her closer to me. We kiss again.

The storm continues to rage above us, but we’re standing here together. The sky might truly fall, but we have found each other.