“Okay, I know—we’ll just chat online all the time. We’ll stop traffic on the Internet.”
Battle smiles a little, and says, “Carrier pigeons.”
“Singing telegrams. We’ll raise them to an art form.”
“Smoke signals . . .”
I lean my head on Battle’s shoulder. “I want a happy ending, dammit.”
Battle says, “It’s not an ending. We’re not even in college yet, for God’s sake.”
“Hey, there’s an idea—we could go to the same school. All of us! You and me and Katrina and Isaac—”
“And Kevin?” Battle teases me.
“Screw Kevin. No, don’t. Kevin can go to some nice music school a long way away from wherever we end up.”
“It’s a deal.”
We shake hands solemnly. Then we look at each other. I’m struck by how ridiculous it is for us to be just shaking hands, after everything that’s happened. Apparently she is too, because she suddenly puts her arms around me and starts kissing me, hard.
“They’re probably wondering where we are,” I say. The last thing I want to do is move right now, but we’ve abandoned Isaac and Katrina for quite some time. And it’s getting a little cold out here.
Battle strokes my hair and laughs. “They’re probably not either.”
“Well, yeah, but where the heck would they be? I don’t see Isaac being the type for a woodland frolic somehow, do you?” I ask. I sit up and reach out to retrieve my shirt, which has ended up several feet away from us.
Battle giggles. “I think he’d be the type for a frolic on nail-strewn concrete if it was with Katrina. Uh-oh—this dress is in pretty sad shape.”
The postmodern Tinkerbell costume is severely grass-stained, and there are a lot of sequins missing from the bodice.
“I don’t think she’ll care,” I say.
Battles giggles. “No, probably not. Zip me up?” she asks. I comply, pausing to kiss the back of her neck before I pull the zipper completely closed.
We link arms and start walking back toward Prucher Hall.