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Rainbow Rowell

Carry On

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    maybeweirdhar citeretfor 6 måneder siden
    That Simon Snow is alive.

    And I’m hopelessly in love with him.
    Daria Diachkovahar citeretfor 2 år siden
    Couldn’t you just drink some of a person’s blood, then walk away?”
    “I can’t believe you’re asking me this, Snow. You, who can’t walk away from half a sandwich.”
    Annette Rosehar citeretfor 2 måneder siden
    “I’m not the Chosen One,” he says.

    I meet his gaze and sneer. My arm is a steel band around his waist. “I choose you,” I say. “Simon Snow, I choose you.”
    Annette Rosehar citeretfor 2 måneder siden
    “What you are is a fucking tragedy, Simon Snow. You literally couldn’t be a bigger mess.”

    He tries to kiss me, but I hold back—“And you like that?”

    “I love it,” he says.

    “Why?”

    “Because we match.”
    b4488788452har citeretfor 3 måneder siden
    “There are only so many hours in the day, Simon. Two, three people—that’s all any of us have time for.”
    b4488788452har citeretfor 3 måneder siden
    It feels like a party. Just the two of us, nothing to do. No one to hide from or fight.
    Lenore Romerohar citeretfor 4 måneder siden
    I’m brilliant with fire. As long as I don’t get too close.
    No …
    The cruel joke of it is that Simon Snow smells like smoke.
    Lenore Romerohar citeretfor 4 måneder siden
    The operative word there is “hopeless.”
    That was evident the moment I realized I’d be the one who was most miserable if I ever succeeded in doing Snow in.
    It dawned on me during our fifth year. When Snow followed me around like a dog tied to my ankle. When he wouldn’t give me a single moment of solace to sort through my feelings—or try to wank them away. (Which I eventually tried that summer. To no avail.)
    I wish I’d never figured it out. That I love him.
    It’s only ever been a torment.
    Sharing a room with the person you want most is like sharing a room with an open fire.
    He’s constantly drawing you in. And you’re constantly stepping too close. And you know it’s not good—that there is no good—that there’s absolutely nothing that can ever come of it.
    But you do it anyway.
    And then …
    Well. Then you burn.
    Lenore Romerohar citeretfor 4 måneder siden
    And when I felt myself slipping too far, I held on to the one thing I’m always sure of—
    Blue eyes.
    Bronze curls.
    The fact that Simon Snow is the most powerful magician alive. That nothing can hurt him, not even me.
    That Simon Snow is alive.
    And I’m hopelessly in love with him.
    Lenore Romerohar citeretfor 4 måneder siden
    This bed, at Watford, is more mine than that one ever was.
    I roll over onto my side, facing Snow. He’s sleeping, so it doesn’t matter if I stare at him. Which I do. Even though I know it doesn’t do me any good.
    Lenore Romerohar citeretfor 4 måneder siden
    Sharing a room with the person you hate most is like sharing a room with a siren. (The kind on police cars, not the kind who try to entrap you when you cross the English Channel.) You can’t ignore that person, and you never get used to them. It never stops being painful.
    Lenore Romerohar citeretfor 4 måneder siden
    In all of this, I’ve never seriously considered that Baz might be dead. Hiding, yes—plotting. Maybe even kidnapped or hurting, but … not dead.
    He promised to make my life miserable.
    Lenore Romerohar citeretfor 4 måneder siden
    She looks over at his empty bed, and her sadness is so potent that in that moment, I’d do anything to get him back for her. (I’d do anything to bring him back.)
    Lenore Romerohar citeretfor 4 måneder siden
    She looks back at me, over her shoulder. “Fix what, Simon—our relationship?” She turns to face me again. “What is our relationship? Is it just me being there when you need a date to the ball? And crying for joy every time you come back from the dead? Because I’ll still do that for you. I can still do all that. Even if we’re not together.”
    Her perfect pink chin is thrust forward and quivering. Her arms are still crossed.
    “You’re my girl, Agatha,” I say.
    “No. Penelope’s your girl.”
    “You’re my—”
    Her arms fall. “What Simon, what am I?”
    I knot my hands in my hair and gnash my teeth. “You’re my future!”
    Agatha’s face is contorted and wet with tears. Still lovely, though. “Am I supposed to want that?” she asks.
    “I want it.”
    “You just want a happy ending.”
    “Merlin, Agatha, don’t you?”
    “No! I don’t! I want to be someone’s right now, Simon, not their happily ever after. I don’t want to be the prize at the end. The thing you get if you beat all the bosses.”
    Lenore Romerohar citeretfor 4 måneder siden
    “They died in a plague,” he said.
    “Who?”
    Baz raised his hand—I flinched back.
    He cocked an eyebrow and swept his arm in a flourish at the room around us. “Them,” he said. “Les enfants.” A lock of black hair fell over his forehead.
    “Is that why you’re here? To track down a plague?”
    Baz stared at me. He was 16, we both were, but he made me feel 5. He’s always made me feel like a child, like I’ll never catch up to him. Like he was born knowing everything about the World of Mages—it’s his world. It’s in his DNA.
    “Yes, Snow,” he said. “I’m here to find a plague. I’m going to put it in a steaming beaker and infect all of Metropolis.”
    I gripped my blade.
    He looked bored.
    “What are you doing down here?” I demanded, swinging the sword in the air.
    “Sitting,” he said.
    “No. None of that. I’ve finally caught you, after all these months—you’re going to tell me what you’re up to.”
    “Most of the students died,” he said.
    “Stop it. Stop distracting me.”
    “They sent the well ones home. My great-great-uncle was the headmaster; he stayed to help nurse the sick and dying. His skull is down here, too. Maybe you could help me look for it—I’m told I share his aristocratic brow.”
    Lenore Romerohar citeretfor 4 måneder siden
    And it’s not like he’s my dad. He’s not my anything.…

    But he’s the closest thing I’ve got to anything.
    Lenore Romerohar citeretfor 4 måneder siden
    I like the uniform. I like knowing what I’m going to wear every day. I don’t know what I’ll wear next year, when I’m done with Watford.…
    Lenore Romerohar citeretfor 4 måneder siden
    like the uniform. I like knowing what I’m going to wear every day. I don’t know what I’ll wear next year, when I’m done with Watford.…
    Lenore Romerohar citeretfor 4 måneder siden
    Baz plays for our school. Of course. The tosser.

    He’s the same on the field as he is everywhere else. Strong. Graceful. Fucking ruthless.
    Lenore Romerohar citeretfor 4 måneder siden
    “My mum said that nobody really knew where you came from. And that you might be dangerous.”

    “Why didn’t you listen to her?” I asked.

    “Because nobody knew where you came from, Simon! And you might be dangerous!”

    “You have the worst survival instincts.”

    “Also, I felt sorry for you,” she said. “You were holding your wand backwards.”
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