That's a Good Question

35: how do you know it's the end?

We're on the roof of a Chick-Fil-A, and though the only thing I can smell is chicken grease at the moment, God, I can see everything.

It's not the highest building in the city; in fact, I'm sure there's an infinite amount of skyscrapers higher than this, but Midge said this was good enough. She's kneeling near the roof's edge, preparing some incense or some other witchy thing, and I'm standing beside her, one foot perched upon the ledge. The sun's still low, just touching the tops of the city like a gentle palm. I watch everything: the Georgia Tech students dragging themselves to morning classes, the cars easing slowly through the interstate like through molasses, the birds arcing and dipping and singing in the sky.

Wind tosses Midge's hair into her face; she grunts and pushes it behind her ear, then stands. She looks at me, half squinting with the sun in her eyes. In this light, everything about her's softer, rounder-edged. She looks like a freaking angel. And she's mine.

"Are you ready?" I ask.

She hesitates, but then nods, looking out over the city again. Another breeze blows by, and the trees rustle so fiercely that Midge's small voice is almost swallowed up. "Yeah," she mutters, practically under her breath. "I guess so."

I adjust my jacket with a chuckle. "Aw, are you scared? Do you need me to hold your hand?"

She blows a raspberry at me, but then takes my hand anyway. I look down at her in question, and she just huffs and lifts her wand to the sky. "I'm not holding it because I'm scared," she says. "I'm holding it because I love you."

And it doesn't register to me until she's already focused on the spell that she's never said that before.

Midge finishes the spell, and everything doesn't immediately feel that different. Not that it's supposed to. Not until the subject of an attack comes up in a conversation with someone who's not Safiya, Midge, Jamie, River or me and they ask, "What attack?"

We'll always remember, but everyone else won't. That's okay with me. I don't want to forget. I want to go to Rocco's grave and be reminded that I put him there and that this summer was the one summer that changed everything. Forgetting would make it too easy.

Besides, I'd have to re-meet Midge, and it was perfect the first time.

Minus the stabbing.

After the spell, Midge is a bit tired, so I let her lean against me as we stagger out from the alleyway. I'm pretty sure my arm's the only thing holding her up, and I'll be damned if I'll ever let her go.

But then we reach the sidewalk and I'm so positively startled that I almost do drop her. She perks up as much as me though, balancing herself.

Leaned against an all-black sedan, even the windows tinted darkly, is Safiya, clothed in what's basically the definition of a little black dress and a pair of red bottoms. I have no idea where the hell she got red bottoms. I knew the chick was rich, but I didn't know she was that rich.

She straightens when she sees us, lowering her shades just minimally. "Took you long enough," she says, pursing her blood-red lips.

I have a bursting urge to slide my arm out from around Midge, but I fight it. Like Safiya said, everyone already knows, and I don't want to hide it anymore. Yes, Midge and I are together. And for God's sake, she's amazing, so maybe I just want the whole world to know. I want to rub it everyone's faces that she chose me and not any of their sorry selves.

I blink at Safiya. "How did you..."

She just gestures at the car's rear window, which slowly rolls down to reveal a beaming Jamie. "Grey!" he exclaims, like I didn't just see him an hour ago.