I disassociated in the window seat as the Greyhound drove out of San Francisco.

  "Dream Sweet in Sea Major'' by Miracle Musical played in my earbuds.

  Was I supposed to have learned something from all this? Why did I lose the people I loved?

  Maybe I deserved it.

  "Stop feeling sorry for yourself," Rowan said from the seat next to mine. "You hate when other people do that."

  I wanted to disagree, but all my excuses felt weak. Rowan lost much more than I had, and they still woke up early to plot revenge every morning.

  But revenge isn't a great color on me.

  Besides, I had nobody specific to blame for my suffering besides myself.

  And maybe my parents. But at a certain point, blaming your parents for your problems just feels adolescent, you know? You're an adult. Move forward.

  But blaming myself felt good and proper. I failed my brother. Again. I left my friends and boyfriends. I hurt people. I should hurt. It wasn't self-pity. It was fair.

  Rowan watched me with sad eyes. "So you've decided to suffer. How tedious."

  "What do you want from me? I'm alone. I'm a loser. I was a fool for playing."

  "So you're gonna give up then? Lie down in front of this bus?"

  "Of course not."

  "Then what's the plan?"

  "I don't know! What's your plan?"

  Rowan smirked and sighed. "Morgan, Lyn, Hinata, and I will make it to Lona. Then we'll find a safe passage to Safo. There's a sanctuary on Safo, not unlike Sprigga's Sanctuary. We'll hide out there for a while. Mourn our losses. Figure out next steps. Eventually, we'll find the Fae Remnants, but you know that already. It's your story. I'm just your avatar. But since I'm you, I'll put your question back to you.

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  "Why did this happen?" Rowan asked me. "Why did I lose the people I loved?"

  The question took my breath away. By virtue of having written it, I killed Rowan's family. Not Adam. Not Timothy. Me. And Rowan wanted to know why. Like I wanted to know why I had lost my family. And what could I say?

  "Characters suffer so they can overcome. The more they lose, the greater the catharsis when they finally win."

  That sounded right, like something Professor Rees might say.

  "But the story is over, and we didn't win. There's no catharsis," said Rowan.

  "Your story isn't over," I answered. "You already have a plan: Find a sanctuary. Mourn. Figure out next steps from there."

  "It's a pretty good plan, don't ya think?"

  "Yeah. As far as short-term plans go, it's not bad."

  "Thanks. It's yours."

  I gave Rowan a quizzical expression.

  "You need a plan. Take mine: Find a sanctuary. Mourn for a bit. Figure out next steps from there."

  I turned from Rowan to look out the window.

  But Rowan wouldn't let up. "Oklahoma, huh? Yikes. What are you going to do there?"

  I shrugged. "Hell if I know. Finish my book, I suppose. Start the next one. I'll probably be bored senseless. Should have plenty of time to write. Maybe I'll enroll in a local university. See what they teach at… whatever the opposite is of CCSF."

  "So your story isn't over, either," Rowan offered gently.

  "It's not the same. Your life is a story. Mine isn't."

  "Are you so sure? Is yours not the Hero's Journey?"

  I frowned.

  "You left home because you wanted to experience gay life. You entered San Francisco, a kind of Elsewhere, adapted to it, got what you wanted, paid a heavy price for it, and now you're returning to familiarity, having changed. Hero's Journey. Are you certain it isn't you speaking to your author right now? How do you know your life isn't a story?"

  "Because I'm not a hero. Not in the literal or literary sense. I'm a trash person, just another street urchin with nothing and no one. If this was a test, I failed it. Who would read this crap? It's bleak."

  "Shrek was a swamp ogre, and he became king. Aladdin was a street urchin, too, remember."

  "Those were comedies. My story is tragic," I said, realizing this scene was practically lifted from the film Stranger Than Fiction. "Maybe that's the takeaway from all… this: my life is a tragedy."

  "Doesn't fit the narrative. You're not a hero. Said it yourself. And according to Professor Rees, a tragic hero must be essentially noble and good. The fall of an unscrupulous person evokes laughter and applause."

  "So my story is either a comedy or a tragedy depending on how you judge my character. That's something to chew on, at least."

  "You're being flippant. But I've got another point in comedy's favor," Rowan teased.

  I raised an eyebrow.

  "Comedies usually end in marriage or birth or some symbolic victory of life. 8 Eden ends in a marriage. 8 Jude ends with a baby being born. Comedy."

  I scoffed. "If the goal is subverting expectations, sure. Let's call it a comedy."

  Rowan became very serious. "This story is a comedy. I can prove it."

  "How's that?"

  "I'm pregnant."