Cath wasnt sure where Reagan went on the nights when she didnt come back to the dorms. Maybe to Levis. Cath looked over at Levi now.
Still sitting on Caths bed, eating what must be his second Blueberry Bliss bar. He was wearing black jeans and a black T-shirt. Maybe Levi worked at the Olive Garden, too.
Are you a waiter? she asked.
Presently? No.
Do you work at the Lancôme counter?
He laughed. What?
Im trying to figure out why you wear all black sometimes.
Maybe Im really gothy and darkhe smiledbut only on certain days. Cath couldnt imagine Levi ever being gothy and dark; he had the smilingest face shed ever seen. He smiled all the way from his chin to his receding hairline. His forehead wrinkled up, his eyes twinkled. Even his ears got into the actionthey twitched, like a dogs.
Or maybe I work at Starbucks, he said.
She snorted. Really?
Really, he said, still smiling. Someday youll need health insurance, and you wont think working at Starbucks is funny.
Levi and Reagan were always doing that to Cathreminding her how young and naïve she was. Reagan was only two years older than Cath. She wasnt even old enough to drink yet. Not legally. (Not that it mattered on campus; there was booze everywhere. Wren already had a fake ID. You can borrow it, shed told Cath. Say you got hair extensions.)
Cath wondered how old Levi was. He looked old enough to drink, but maybe that was just his hair.
Its not that Levi was bald. Or anywhere near bald. (Yet.)
But his hairline came to a peak on his
forehead, then retreated, dramatically, above his temples. And instead of letting his hair hang down or forward, to minimize itor instead of giving up and wearing it really short, like most guys wouldLevi swept it straight up and back in a sloppy blond wave. And he was always messing with it, drawing even more attention to his wide, lined forehead. He was doing it now.
What are you working on? he asked, pushing his fingers through his hair and scrubbing at the back of his head.
Studying in silence, she said.
* * *
Cath had only posted one chapter of Carry On, Simon this week, and it was half as long as usual.
She usually posted something to her FanFixx page every nightif not a full chapter, at least a blog entry.
The comments on her page all week had been friendly. How are you? Just checking in. Cant wait for the next post! Gah! I need my daily Baz. But to Cath, they felt like demands.
She used to read and respond to every comment on her storiescomments were like gold stars, like May Day bouquetsbut ever since Carry On, Simon took off last year, it had all gotten too big for Cath to manage. She went from getting around five hundred hits per chapter to five thousand. Regularly.
Then one of the heavies on the biggest fansite, Fic-sation, called Carry On the eighth-year ficand Caths FanFixx page got thirty-five thousand hits in one day.
She still tried to keep up with comments and questions as much she could. But it wasnt the same anymore.
She wasnt just writing for Wren and the friends theyd made in the old Snowflakes forums. It wasnt just a bunch of girls trading birthday fics and cheer-up fics and cracked-out I wrote this to make you laugh stories.
Cath had an audience now, a following. All these people she didnt know, who expected things from her and questioned her decisions. Sometimes they even turned against her. Theyd trash her on other fansites, saying that Cath used to be good, but shed lost the magicthat her Baz was too canon or not canon enough, that her Simon was a prude, that she overwrote Penelope.
You dont owe them anything, Wren would say, crawling onto Caths bed at three in the morning and pulling Caths laptop away. Go to sleep.
I will. Im just I want to finish this scene. I think Baz is finally going to tell Simon he loves him.
Hell still love him tomorrow.
Its a big chapter.
Its always a big chapter.
Its different this time. Cath had been saying this for the last year. Its the end.
Wren was right: Cath had written this story, Baz and Simon in love, dozens of times before. Shed written this scene, this lineSnow Simon, I love youfifty different ways.
But Carry On was different.
It was the longest fic shed written so far; it was already longer than any of Gemma T. Leslies books, and Cath was only two-thirds of the way through.
Carry On was written as if it were the eighth Simon Snow book, as if it were Caths job to wrap up all the loose ends, to make sure that Simon ascended to Mage, to redeem Baz (something GTL would never do), to make both boys forget about Agatha To write all the good-bye scenes and graduation scenes and last-minute revelations And to stage the final battle between Simon and the Insidious Humdrum.
Everyone in fandom was writing eighth-year fics right now. Everyone wanted to take a crack at the big ending before the last Simon Snow book was released in May.
But for thousands of people, Carry On was already it.
People were always telling Cath that they couldnt look at canon the same way after reading her stuff. (Why does Gemma hate Baz?)