When we break apart, I position myself in the crook of Ollie’s arm, where it’s warm and familiar. He shifts his gaze across the courtyard, pulling the collar of his coat up in a way that tugs at my heartstrings and makes me, for just a minute, wonder what it would have been like, what it could have been like, had we not been best friends since third grade. Had we met somehow differently, under other circumstances. Had Levi never come to Darkwood.
“Walk down with you to the lake?” Ollie smiles.
I nod and accept his hand, and we start down the path that will lead us to Theodora’s memorial.
• • •
The memorial is everything it should be. Mostly the Similars talk, and Pru, Ollie, and I listen, as they share stories of Theodora as a child, and how she loved drawing. I think back to the first time I ever really noticed her. How lovely her handwriting was. It’s such a tiny detail, barely anything. The truth is that I wish I’d known her better, and now I’ll never have that chance.
Tessa asks the Similars for permission to speak. She talks about the first two weeks of the summer before last, when Theodora first arrived at her home on Central Park West, and how thrilled she was to finally have someone to confide in. Someone who would understand her. Someone who could be her confidante, the sister she’d always wanted but thought she’d never have. “I understand now why she did it,” she says. “Why she uncovered my dad’s crimes. Even my mother understands. So I guess what I really want to say is, I’m sorry, Pru, that you got caught in the middle of my breakdown. That’s all.”
After the memorial, we scatter. Some of us go back to the dorms, others go to walk along the beach. Everyone’s talking about graduation next month, and colleges. We already knew Madison would be heading to Stanford after this gap year campaigning for her mom. Pru and Pippa modestly tell the others that they’re Harvard-bound, which makes me happy. Ollie and Ansel are both heading to NYU, where Archer goes, though Ansel wouldn’t be caught dead in the drama department and plans to study history and anthropology. Even Jake’s heading off to UCLA to play soccer. Tessa will join the first years at Dartmouth.
My friends walk back up to campus, but I turn the other way, toward the water. I’m standing on the shore of the lake when someone calls my name. I turn to see Levi there, the moonlight glinting off his too-long hair, and now, in the glow of the evening, my pulse quickens to what feels like a possibly fatal rate. He is here. I am home.
“Levi,” I say, closing the two feet between us in one fell swoop and crashing right into him, my lips landing on his, my arms grabbing his shirt, and a feeling of complete want rising from my belly to my cheeks. He responds, kissing me hard and hot and fast, and as I sink into him, trying to press every bit of surface area of my body to is, I know, in an instant, how right, and wonderful, and final this is. Levi is who I want; it has always been him. I will always love Ollie unconditionally, but Levi is mine.
When the kiss finally breaks, I burrow my head into the spot under his shoulder that feels like it was built for me. Wordlessly, he traces a finger down my cheek, and we take in the night: the lake, the crisp air, the sliver of a moon.
“I love you, you know.” It’s not the first time I’ve said it, but even so, it shocks me every time I do. The old Emma, the one who started her junior year a broken wreck, had no idea how to love anyone. I was always so afraid I’d lose anyone I got close to. But Levi and I went through a year no one else will ever understand. We are bound to each other, and only a year so wrong, on so many levels, could make this—us—so right.
We spend the late hours of the night lying on the sand, looking at the stars. For the first time I can remember, I feel a certain kind of contentment, being here with him, right where I belong. There were days on Castor, months when I thought we’d never have this. Knowing now that we have real futures, together—it’s still hard for me to believe.
“I think about them all the time,” I tell him. I mean Duplicate Emma and Levi. We’re only graduating because they went to our classes, applied to colleges, lived our lives for us. It isn’t fair that they had to die. I’ll never stop mourning the lives they had to give up.
“How could we not?” Levi answers.
The next morning at breakfast, we’re greeted with a presentation on the view screen. It’s Ollie’s highlight reel. The film, even in its nascent stage, is brilliant, not that I’m biased or anything. It tells the story of everything that happened on Pollux Island, and one thing is overwhelmingly clear: the Similars stopped Gravelle and Seymour from implementing their plans—plans that would have been catastrophic for so many Darkwood families, and the rest of the world. And they risked their lives to do it.
When the credits roll, Ollie gets a standing ovation from most of the student body. Harlowe sulks in a corner, and a smattering of students seem skeptical, others bored. But the majority of the kids at our school, including Ivy and Graham, jump to their feet, full of admiration. Especially for Ollie, who showed them the truth.
We sit together for the very first time. All of us. Me, the Similars—and their originals. Tessa and Madison, who seem to be on campus a lot these days. It’s almost like they’re looking for an excuse to hang out with us. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that. Archer’s eating with us too, here during NYU’s spring break. He’s never looked happier to be back at school. And, of course, Ollie and Pru, who sit on either side of me, with Levi across the table. I catch Levi’s eyes as we stand, clapping, supporting Ollie in this moment that feels big, bigger than any of us. I smile, because I think I finally know who I am now, or who I might become, anyway. I think I might like her.
Acknowledgments
A giant, over-the-top, group hug thank-you to everyone at Sourcebooks who has supported this series from day one. I can’t thank you enough for your enthusiasm for Emma, Levi, Ollie, and the Similars. Annie Berger, I am so lucky to have gotten the chance to collaborate with you on this book—your insights have been so sharp and spot-on, and I could not have made it to the finish line without you. (Thank you for talking me down off the overplotting ledge!)
To the Sourcebooks team: Beth Oleniczak, Mallory Hyde, Valerie Pierce, Ashlyn Keil, Heidi Weiland, Steve Geck, Cassie Gutman, Michelle Lecuyer, and Sarah Kasman—thank you. You are superstars at what you do, and just in case I haven’t said it enough already, I appreciate it all. To Nicole Hower, who designed the most dark and deliciously twisty cover imaginable for this book and The Similars paperback: thank you! And huge thanks to Robin Macmillan for an image that so perfectly encapsulates the Darkwood vibe.
Thank you, thank you, to my agent, Sasha Raskin, whose dedication and early support made this series a reality when it was just a fever dream in my head. You’re the best.
Stephen Breimer, Leigh Brecheen, Matt Sadeghian, Chloe Pisello, David Martin, Jazmine Hill, Alexandra Kundrat, and everyone on Team Similars at Avalon: you know how amazing you are. Thank you.
Barry and Felicia Ptolemy, thank you for the book trailer that launched a thousand ships. You are both visionaries.
Gretchen Koss, thank you for your belief in me and my books!
Ansley Fones, you are my web diva/genius—what would I do without you?!
To my family—Mom, Dad, Jessica, and Nicholas—thanks for never tiring of my weird hypotheticals and for appreciating the way my brain works. Love you all so much. Ray, Sonya, Amy, and Jacob: you’ve been there from the beginning, and I can’t thank you enough for your eternal support.
To my friends who are like family: Bill Hanson, Winnie Kemp, Stephany Gabriner, Victoria Frank, Celeste Oberfest, Alexa Gerrity, Nidhi Mehta, Tammy Camp, Wayee Chu, Allison Manzari, Jackie Ankumah, Lyndsay Lyle, Lauren Belden, Caitlin Crawford and Andy Lurie, my JCC moms (you know who you are!), Live Oak moms (ditto!) and the HBS ladies (of course!)—thanks for years of pep talks, for buying books in bulk, for bolstering me, and for being the best friends anyone could ask for. Bill and Winn
ie, your critiques and feedback are literally what made this book what it is. Prolific-4-evah. And special thanks to my SMS classmates (go turkey), my Stanford friends and our community in SF: you’re all the best.
Laura King, you are family to me; no one else on the planet could do what you do for my kiddos, and I am so grateful.
Several of my author and writer friends have been lifelines to me through this journey: Danielle Paige, Jill Lorie Hurst, David Kreizman, Lillian Clark, Natasha Ngan, Yangsze Choo, and Allison Raskin, thanks for being my therapists and spirit animals.
And thank you to Kimberly Hamilton, Cody Harris, Sarah Lacy, and Alli Deeter for organizing book clubs and events, and for introducing The Similars to new readers—so appreciated!
To Ethan: because of you I can tell wild stories, and that is everything. Thanks for years (years!) of letting my mind wander to those worlds, and even being a little bit proud of it, and me. You are the best dad, friend, soul mate, and cofounder of the Kurz crew, and you make me laugh more than anyone—still! To Leo and Quincy: Yes! I get why Captain Underpants is so, so funny. Dav Pilkey is a genius, and reading is the best! I love you both so much, and no, I probably won’t stop writing, but I promise I’ll find a way to also pick you up from school (sometimes).
To every book blogger, BookTuber, bookstagrammer, reader, librarian, teacher, and bookseller who has read, reviewed, championed, or snapped a pic of this series: THANK YOU. And to every single reader who has reached out to me—you are what makes this all worthwhile.
About the Author
Rebecca Hanover is a television writer, sandwich lover, and young adult author. She earned a bachelor of arts from Stanford University in English and drama and was awarded an Emmy for Best Writing as a staff writer on the CBS daytime drama Guiding Light. Rebecca lives in San Francisco with her husband, Ethan, and their two sons. Follow her online at rebeccahanover.com.
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