“Annabeth!” said Bob. “When did you come in?”
“What book is that?” I said.
He blushed and rummaged in his desk for the CD case. He passed it to me. Kingdom of Stones. It had an unfortunate rendering of a bawdy wench on the front, with a landscape of cairns and crags behind her.
“Cool,” I said.
He reached for the CD player and clicked it off.
“Do you want to see my food journal?” I said.
Bob flipped through the lined pages and added a few things up on a chunky calculator that looked like it had been rescued from the 1980s.
“Wow,” he said. “Very thorough.”
I smiled, but I felt guilty. The truth is, I hadn’t really been keeping track of my food. It was too much trouble. Instead, Noe had helped me fill in the past month’s worth of columns yesterday afternoon in English.
“How about an omelet for Monday?” she’d said. “That’s protein-y.”
“Can I have hash browns too?”
Hash browns, Noe noted on the page.
“How about some toast?”
Toast, 2 pcs, Noe wrote.
“Oh, and green beans.”
“For breakfast?”
“I should have a vegetable, shouldn’t I?”
Noe shook her head. “He’ll smell a rat.”
“Are we almost finished?”
“Yup. Just need Tuesday lunch. I’m thinking a burrito, a salad, and a glass of milk.”
“You’re too good at this,” I’d said.
Noe cackled, and wrote down Rice Krispie square for good measure.
“The numbers look fine,” said the nutritionist. “I guess I can’t make you keep coming. But if there is ever something you feel like talking about, you’re welcome anytime.”
He smiled one of his sad smiles and gave me a pizza coupon.
I held it in my fingers, feeling like there was something I was supposed to say. There wasn’t, so I stuffed it into my pocket and left.
23
AT LUNCH, I WAVED THE PIZZA coupon at Noe and Steven.
“I’m off the hook with Señor Bob,” I said.
“That’s no fun,” said Steven. “You didn’t even get to show him your self-portrait.”
“He loved the journal,” I said to Noe. “The Rice Krispie square was a masterstroke.”
She put her arm around my shoulder. “Anytime, doll. Anytime.”
That afternoon, I went to the Java Bean with Noe and Steven, and Oliver walked in. I had to go hide in the bathroom while Noe ordered a coffee for me.
“Was that your orchid house lover?” said Steven when I came back. “He ordered a very large cruller.”
I groaned and sank down in our booth until I was practically under the table, and Noe had to drag me back up. “Leave her alone, Steven.”
“What? What? He’s a big guy. Big guys eat big donuts. Did I say something weird?”
Noe put her hand over his mouth to shut him up before I died of mortification. “Just. Stop. Talking,” she said.
I guess the movies had gone okay. Noe and Steven seemed better than ever. I snuck a glance at them across the table, quietly pleased with the way they snuggled together, matching hearts drawn on both their hands in red ink. It was good to see two people I liked loving each other. It filled me with vicarious warmth.
I picked up a wooden stir stick and waved it in the air above their heads.
“What are you doing?” Noe said.
“Anointing your union.”
They giggled and bowed their heads, giddy smiles creasing their faces while I dipped the stick in coffee and shook it over them again and again.
It felt like Oliver should have been in Alaska already, but I saw him again at the Walmart, and again from the car window, walking down the street with a Super Gulp from the 7-Eleven, while Mom and I were driving to Nan’s house for dinner.
Finally, I saw online that he had left for Alaska, so I didn’t have to worry about him anymore. On Halloween, Noe, Steven, and I dressed up like pirates and hung out at Noe’s house handing out candy. Afterward, we went on a long, rambling walk around the neighborhood, through the graveyard, and past the big construction site on the edge of Lorian Woods and back through the park where the ground was wet and squishy and the chestnut tree had lost its leaves.
When we got back to Noe’s house I waited, gazing at my shoes, while Noe pressed Steven up against his car and they kissed for what felt like forever. After a while, I glanced up. I could see the top of Steven’s head poking up above Noe’s swirls of hair. They didn’t seem to be kissing anymore, but their foreheads were pressed together. Noe said something and I heard Steven laugh. It was just a scrap of laughter, but it stood out like a spray of pink flowers on the side of a muddy road. It had a note of delighted wonder, of celebration at one’s own dumb luck.
Noe came speed-walking up the driveway as he drove away, her cheeks flushed.
“He said it,” she blurted.
I hooked my arm through hers and hurried into the house with her.
“Noe,” I exclaimed. “Noe!”
Steven had said I love you. And Noe had said it back. In her room, we danced around in our pirate costumes.
“Everything’s happening,” we said over and over, until it turned into a magic spell, an incantation, sweeping us out of Noe’s bedroom and into the great rushing hugeness of the rest of our lives.
24
THE SECOND WEEKEND OF NOVEMBER was Gym Expo Northeast. It wasn’t a meet, exactly, but a big gathering where you could take workshops, watch demonstrations by university gymnastics, cheerleading, and dance teams, shop for fancy leotards, and collect free samples of energy bars. Noe and the other advanced girls had raised money to go last year. I’d helped out at the car wash, standing on the corner waving a cardboard sign. In practice on Thursday, it was all anyone could talk about. They were going to leave on Friday after class, and stay in a hotel for two nights, and eat in restaurants, and on the way home they were going to stop at the giant mall in Baxterville and go shopping.
I spent the weekend raking leaves with Mom, first at our house and then at Nan’s. As we raked, we talked about all things Northern.
“It’s so silly they schedule campus visits for December,” she said. “You should see it right now. The forest is a blaze of endless color, and the air smells like . . .” She trailed off. “I wish I could get the time off so we could go up together.”
She told me all about the dormitory where she and Pauline had lived in their freshman year, and the Ecosystems class where the professor, Dr. Clarke, assigned them to spend all day in a tree, observing the weather and wildlife.
“You’re going to love it, Annabean. It’s a small school. You get to know all the professors. I’ll never forget Dr. Clarke’s class. She was such a genius, so inspiring. I wanted to be just like her.”
I felt a twinge when Mom said that, like the monster had plucked a string inside me, just to remind me it was there.
“I think Noe and I are going to go on exchange to Paris in our second year,” I said to cover my anxiety. “Either that or move off campus. Max said we could have his trampoline.”
“Oh, lordy,” said Mom. “Now there’s a crucial piece of furniture.”
Later, Mom stopped by my room to ask if I wanted to go to a movie. “What happened to your homecoming dress?” she said, stepping inside to finger the dirt-stained satin. I’d taken it out of my closet along with a few others to try on, like I sometimes did when I was feeling bored. My heart began to hammer.
“Two words,” I said. “Noe. Somersaults.”
Mom let out an amused snort. “What would homecoming be without somersaults? Too bad about the dress, though. It was a nice one.”
After she wandered out again, I folded the dress into a ball and hid it in my bottom drawer. It had other stains she hadn’t noticed—that I noticed myself only after she left the room. I couldn’t wait until Noe came back so I could tell her a funny story about the whole almost-disaster. It was the somersaults, Mom, I swear!