Page 16 of Not Your Shoe Size

Or Ty. Never, ever Ty.

“Hey, I promise I’m not trying to be a dick.” Rapunzel’s arm snaked out and pulled her close. “I love you, Macca.”

“I love you too,” Kate said, feeling stupidly close to tears. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“But you might have to, right? For Paris?”

Kate thought about Paris. She’d live in a new city, learn a new language, encounter change on every side of her life. It would be a chance at reinvention—no,revolution—and it was terrifying, but there was no denying it made her pulse skip. She felt herself smile as her insides contracted with excitement so sharp it was almost painful. Then she looked at Rapunzel’s sad smile and her body slackened. “What does it mean that I can’t just be happy with what I have?”

Rapunzel laughed. “That you want an adventure.”

“But why can’t my adventure be getting a promotion at work or tap dancing or…or marrying Ty?”

Rapunzel pulled her close and kissed her on the top of her head. “Because you don’t choose what makes you feel alive. Otherwise we’d all pick the normal stuff and save ourselves the heartache.”

Rapunzel’s voice reverberated like a plucked guitar string, making Kate shiver. She felt like she was being split—not cut wide butpeeled, eased out of a skin she no longer needed. She wanted to ask Rapunzel for more advice, to keep going until her feelings were able to be clearly worded and easily understood, but Rapunzel had jumped to her feet. “Sweet fucking Jesus, that’s her.”

Kate followed her gaze. A battered blue van was pulling into the driveway. Relief and disappointment mingled in her as she stood up beside her friend. She didn’t know when she’d next have the courage to bring this up, or how she could translate any of what Rapunzel had told her to Ty.

So what? You’re not here for you, you’re here for Rapunzel.

Kate wrapped an arm around her friend’s waist, which rose almost to her shoulder. “Hey, whatever happens. I’m here with you, okay?”

Rapunzel smiled. “Cheers, girl. Do I look okay?”

“You look perfect. Wait…”

“What? What is it?!”

Kate wiped a coffee smudge from the corner of her mouth. “There. Now you’re great.”

“Straight person great or lesbian great?”

“I…don’t really understand the question, but you have a septum piercing and anAlison Bechdeltattoo, and you’re wearing Doc Martens and flannel, so I don’t think you’re going to be perceived as anythingbuta lesbian.”

“Excellent. Solid. Fantastic.”

Rapunzel pulled her shoulders back as the van drew to a halt in the driveway. Something about it was weirdly familiar. Kate squinted at the passenger seat, trying to see Rapunzel’s crush, but the windshield was filthy. All she could make out was a pink-haired woman next to a dark-haired man. Presumably Dede and her dad. The van parked, and the doors slid back simultaneously, as though father and daughter were cops in an action movie.

The pink-haired woman waved. “Hi guys!”

“Oh God,” Rapunzel moaned. “I think I’m gonna chuck.”

Kate was going to comfort her—or turn and get a bucket—when she locked eyes with the dark-haired man, the driver. He was supposed to be a stranger, but like his van, he wasn’t a stranger.

She knew who he was.

Kate’s body exploded with nerves, tingling and fighting like crabs in a cage. She was dumbstruck, incapable of making a sound, but she must have, because Rapunzel turned to her. “What’s wrong, Mac?”

Kate didn’t have time to explain. The dark-haired dad was approaching, hand raised and ready for a good old-fashioned handshake. “Good morning, girls! Lovely to meet you.”

Mr. Peterson’s voice was as familiar to Kate’s ears as her mothers. She heard herself laugh, a high, crazy laugh.

“Mac,” Rapunzel hissed. “What the fuck?”

Kate couldn’t have said it better herself. She was falling backward into starry nothingness. She was an idiot. A fool. It was the same van. The same navy colour, same licence plate. WAR8G4.‘War, what is it good for?’ThiswasRape on Wheels, the battered van named by the kids Mr. Peterson had driven to school. Not her, obviously. If teen Kate had her way, it would have been called Heaven on Two Axels. But thiswasthat van. And he was Mr. Peterson. Which meant the pink-haired girl, his daughter, was—

“Dad! You don’t have to get out, you can just stay in the van!”

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