Again, But Better

22. I Must Dream of the Things I
Am Seeking
The Tube is packed with people today. I’m smooshed up
against the rear wall, but I can’t bring myself to care because I
had the most wonderful day at work. Honestly, it’s been
amazing these past two weeks. I finally feel like things are
clicking! Everyone said they missed me when I came back last
Tuesday after break, and I’ve been shadowing people every
day since. Today, Donna asked if I’d like to sit with her as she
organized a piece about Rio. She walked me through her
process, and she talked to me like I’m part of the team, not just
the intern.
She asked me for opinions!
I step off the train at the South Kensington stop today. It’s
Thursday, not Wednesday, but today calls for a celebratory
shawarma. 
Donna cared what I thought about her piece!
As I
close in on Beirut Express, I throw myself into a little happy
twirl, landing with my hand on the door and yanking it open.
Inside the restaurant, I take a seat at the bar. There’s no one
manning the area right now, so I dig Horcrux Nine from my
bag, eager to document the day.
I’m clicking on my pen when I hear someone swish back
in behind the counter. “What are we having today, doll?”
“Oh, I’ll have—” Before me is the copper-haired woman
from the plane and Starbucks and Paris. I almost slide off the
stool. I drop the pen, grasping at the table so I don’t fall over.
“Jesus Christ! Are you stalking me? What’s happening?”
“How’s it going?” she asks casually.

---

I’m so confused. I look behind me and then back at her to
make sure I’m not hallucinating. Now she’s holding my
notebook.
“Oh my god, give that back!” She’s riffling through it.
“What are you doing?” I throw my hands up in frustration,
trying to make eye contact with anyone else in the vicinity, but
no one looks at me. She wraps the cover around to a certain
page and drops it back on the bar in front of me.
1/1/11
COLLEGE, TAKE TWO: STUDY ABROAD GOALS
1) Kick ass at internship—turn it into a paid
summer job.
2) Make friends you like to hang out with and who
like to hang out with you.
3) Kiss a boy you like. Stop kiss-blocking self.
4) Have adventures in the city you’re in. You’ve
done nothing in New York City during the 2.5 years
you’ve been there, you idiot.
5) Maybe try getting a little bit drunk. Don’t black
out or anything, but find out what it’s like in a
controlled, self-aware environment. You’re legally
allowed to in the UK!
6) Start your great American novel. You’ve spent an
absurd amount of time trying to think of the perfect
first sentence. Stop it. Just write.
I blink at the list.
“How’s the internship?”
I struggle for words, flabbergasted. “Fine. Great!”
“Friends?”
I roll my eyes. “I have them!”
“Have you kissed that boy you like?” She winks.

---

“Stop winking at me!”
“Well, have you?”
“Well, no!”
“Your novel?”
“I’m trying.”
I drop my head into my hands. 
What’s going on? Am I
hallucinating, for real?
I look back up. “Why are you following me?” I growl
slowly, enunciating each word as if she doesn’t speak English.
“Get on it, darling. Steer the raft.”
I shake my head. “Who are you? How did you—? Did you
just read that in my—?” I hop off the stool, swipe the
notebook off the counter, and sprint out into the street.
I’m out of breath, freaked out, starving, and shawarma-less
when I throw open the door to the blue kitchen back at the
Karlston. 
Who do I tell about this? Do I tell people about
this … or will that make people think I’m insane?
“Hey, Shane!”
I jump, whirling to my right to find Atticus and Babe
seated on the couch in front of a laptop, laughing.
“Holy crap. I didn’t see you guys there.”
“We’re about to watch 
Glee
. Want to join us?”
“I…” I breathe in and out a few times, calming my heart.
“What, did you run home?” Atticus chuckles.
I shake my head and make a dismissive motion with the
hand that’s not white-knuckling Horcrux Nine. “No, I,
nothing, okay.” I walk over and flop down next to Babe.
On 
Glee
, Mr. Schue’s class is prancing around and singing
“Blame It on the Alcohol.” Babe and Atticus are singing

---

along. I can’t stop thinking about the lady. 
How does she know
where I’m going to be? Did someone hire her? Could my
parents have arranged for a babysitter? Has she been mere
steps away this entire time?
The door to the kitchen swings open, and Babe and Atticus
seize up mid-note. I look up from the screen as Pilot walks
through the door with a girl.
You’ve got to be shitting me.
A slim girl with long, brunette locks tags behind him. It’s
her. She’s smiling up at him. I still haven’t talked to him.
Atticus pauses 
Glee
.
Guilt seeps into my cheeks. 
But I didn’t do anything! I
haven’t done anything!
“Hey,” Pilot says, as the door thunks closed. They stand
facing us. Amy only glances over before fixing her stare at the
floor and positioning herself mostly behind Pilot.
“Hey,” we answer in chorus.
“This is Amy,” he says quickly. Dread builds in my chest
at the thought of conversing with Amy. 
I can’t talk to Amy. I
can’t.
“Hi!” I throw up my hand up in a nervous wave.
“Hi, Amy!” Babe says enthusiastically.
“Hey, nice to meet you!” Atticus exclaims.
Amy makes a face almost like a smile, but it doesn’t quite
get there. She doesn’t say anything. Is she anxious? She’s
wearing tight, skillfully ripped skinny jeans and a white
sweater, and she’s naturally pretty in that way that makes me
feel insecure about the fact that I feel the need to wear
makeup.
Pilot moves, walking over to the sink, and Amy shuffles up
right behind him, grabbing his hand as he fills up a clean glass
with water. She leans into his ear and talks softly so none of us
can hear. I stare blatantly. I don’t want to stare. But I can’t 
not

---

stare. Pilot chugs his water and places the glass down in the
sink.
This silence is deafening.
“Okay.” He turns to look at us again. “I’m off to go show
her the—” He’s cut off by an obnoxiously loud rapping at the
door. As one, all five of our heads whip toward the sound.
I leap off the couch like a spooked gazelle at the sight of
my dad’s face in the window.

---