Page 121 of The Glittering Edge

And then she finds it. It’s in the back of the yearbook, scribbled near the gutter.

I think I made you up inside my head.—ADL

Penny knows that poem. It’s by Sylvia Plath; she read it in English last year. But it’s not a love poem. If anything, it’s a poem about heartbreak.

Penny closes the yearbook, suddenly unable to catch her breath. She grabs her medication, takes a pill to stave off the panic attack. She never should’ve looked for Alonso’s note. If anything, she has more questions than before. Wasn’t Alonso a mystery she never wanted to solve? Now, all she wants is to dive into his mind. Does the way he looks at her mean anything?

Or is Penny just a silly little girl, like Mr. Barrion said?

Penny grabs her phone, opens her text thread with Alonso. But her fingers hover over the keys. She could text him about her trip to the Barrions’ company, but the words won’t come. She starts to typeI miss youand deletes it. She triesWhat are you doing?but the words don’t sound like Penny. He would probably think someone stole her phone.

A loud ringing pierces the silence, and Penny jumps, her phone falling to the bed. The doorbell.

Could it be Alonso?

Penny kicks the covers off and runs to the front door, holding the corner of the wall to keep herself from falling. She doesn’t even look through the peephole first, a habit her mom taught her when she was young. She unlocks the door and throws it open.

But it’s not Alonso on the other side.

“Corey?” Penny says. “Hey, what are you…?”

Her words trail off as she takes in the sight of him. Corey is dressed in basketball shorts and a YMCA shirt. He must be on his way home from work. But that doesn’t explain why his eyes are bloodshot, or why he’s shifting from one foot to the other. This isn’t the confident Corey that Penny has always recognized. Today, he’s uncertain. Even nervous.

Against her will, she remembers the last time she saw him. It was in the hospital, his eyes half-lidded with judgment.

Penny pulls her cardigan tighter around herself.

“Hey,” he says. “I texted you, but you didn’t answer, so I came over. Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Come in.”

“I can’t,” Corey says. He was staring down, avoiding her eyes, but after another brief silence, he looks up.

There’s so much in his face—concern, regret, respect. It bowls her over, and Penny remembers with stark clarity why she had such a crush on him in middle school. It wasn’t just the cheekbones; it’s because Corey is like a book, but she’s only read a few pages. There’s so much more to him that she doesn’t know. Will never know.

“Are you okay?” Corey asks.

Penny squeezes her eyes shut, the embarrassment hitting her all over again. “You saw the video.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. There are other things going on, and it didn’t feel important.”

Corey swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Then he holds out an envelope. “Here.”

Penny takes it. It’s surprisingly heavy for being so small, and it’s sealed shut. “What is it?”

“An invitation to the gala on Saturday,” Corey says.

“What? Why are you giving this to me?”

“This doesn’t make up for what happened. That’s not the point. But I gave you two guests, so you can bring Naomi and Ronif you want. I know we’re doing the curse-breaker that night, but I thought…” He runs a hand over his hair. “Aunt Helen used to say we have to take the good moments whenever we can, because life is so hard. I thought you could forget about all of this for a couple hours. Finally enjoy your summer.”

Penny tries to laugh. “So this is a pity invite?”

“No,” Corey says, his voice firm. “It’s me owing you more than an apology. What happened was because of me.”

Penny stares at him, and then at the envelope. “Did you tell Dylan that I had feelings for you?”

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