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“Are you sure you’re okay?” Penny takes my hand and turns to face me. Her lips are smeared with blood, and they must sting as badly as mine do. My own lips are on fire, and I resist the urge to spit out blood.
At least you’re not on fire. I remind myself, giving the burning car a side look. Penny follows my gaze and winces.
“Agatha.” My eyes are drawn back to her. “You brave, beautiful girl.”
My breath catches, and I rest my forehead to Penny’s- not unlike how I did in the car. She sighs wearily, and I close my eyes. Her eyelashes brush my cheek- the only part of her that’s butterfly gentle. The rest is big, bold, blunt, and present.
Beautiful, in its own, unique way.
I squeeze Penelope’s hands.
“We’re alive.” I whisper, and Penelope nods, bumping our heads. A bit of purple hair gets trapped in the blood on my mouth. It stings, but I don’t care.
I’m alive.
Penelope’s alive.
In that moment I realize how glad I am to have her. How I clung to those phone calls, even though I told myself and her that I hated them. How I struggled with adjusting to California, but every text and ridiculous old-school voicemail told me that I had a support system to fall back on if I ever needed to. Penny kept me going.
Wrapping my arms around her, I whisper, “ Thank you.”
Penny returns the embrace, our arms weak with the after effects of adrenaline. We’re supporting each other, both literally, and figuratively.
I know she understands.
Smart girl.