4
G irl Next Door felt like a cursed relic in MC’s messenger bag, giving off an evil pulse.
But she could handle that. What she couldn’t handle was seeing it displayed at a newsstand she passed in Penn Station, then shouted out in a queer pop culture email blast she subscribed to, after which she was served an ad for it as she tried to scroll the paper.
It was Thursday afternoon, and she’d just managed to catch the LIRR, sweaty from her subway commute yet also freezing in the powerful air-conditioning. Her black T-shirt clung to her skin as the train pulled out.
She reminded herself that Girl Next Door was ultimately just an annoyance.
Something to be lived with and not considered too deeply, until it inevitably dropped off the bestseller list and faded away.
Whatever had come out of Nora Pike’s imagination had nothing to do with MC’s lived experience.
And even if maybe in some ways it did, any insights would’ve been come upon by chance, and were thankfully locked in time, nine years ago, irrelevant to her present moment.
A few nights with her brother and Gabby, however, could not be compartmentalized. Despite Joe’s accusations, she did come home for more than just three hours at a time. But he was right that she stuck to the major holidays and never stayed over.
An hour later, the train whistled. MC winced and uncurled herself. She’d had her knees braced against the seat in front of her for most of the ride, slouched as low as her spine would allow.
“This station is... Green Hills.”
The doors rolled open. MC walked out. The weather was sunny and warm.
She tried to revive herself with it, taking deep breaths as she climbed the stairs to the overpass.
For a few moments, she had a bird’s-eye view of the beat-up hybrid Gabby had been driving since high school, which was now the family car.
A car that, once upon a time, MC had fantasized about getting stuck in with Gabby as an ominous weather event took place outside.
“Hiii!” Gabby called from the open window.
“Hey!” she said, smiling with so much force she wondered if she looked insane. “The Destroyer of Worlds is still with us.”
“And still getting fifty miles to the gallon, baby.” Gabby got out of the car, wearing an oversize tank top and cutoff jean shorts. She barreled into MC, throwing her arms around MC’s neck. “I’m so glad you’re visiting.”
“Thanks for having me,” MC said.
Gabby let go and smiled. She had an easy, good-natured grin with an unwholesome edge to it, a combination that’d given MC butterflies in high school. “I cannot wait to read this novel of yours.”
“Well,” MC said, trying to keep her tone even, “it’s anybody’s guess whether it’ll ever see the light of day.”
“Of course it will! Ms. Kim said she’s been waiting for you to do this since you graduated.”
Their senior year was Ms. Kim’s first as an English teacher at Green Hills High.
She’d volunteered to be the advisor of Explorations , among other roles, and MC assumed her above-and-beyond involvement in student life was why she’d already climbed to the role of principal.
At fortyish, she was probably the youngest person to ever hold the title there.
She hadn’t been afraid to pick an even younger vice principal in Conrad.
Though he’d graduated by the time she started, his reputation must’ve gotten back to her, as she’d poached him only a few months ago from the fancy private school where he’d just gotten some Teacher of the Year award.
MC had learned about these developments from her brother’s Instagram that summer, where he’d posted a picture of himself with some of his old students, followed by a supposedly goofy but clearly just handsome picture of him in high school, under which he’d written a never-ending caption about his journey in education and the humbling power of return.
Congrats dude , she’d texted him. Thx , he’d replied.
“Do you still call her Ms. Kim?” MC said, throwing her bag in the footwell and getting in the passenger seat.
“She was like, call me Jae! And I was like, I literally can’t.” Gabby turned the car on. “We’ll probably see her when we pick your brother up. They’ve been pulling a lot of late hours.”
“Classic.”
“When he was MIA before, I was like, okay, it’s a commute. But now, I don’t know. I got my hopes up he’d be home more.”
“I’m sure it’s just first-week madness.”
They drove down Main Street. Green Hills looked the same as ever.
Scrubby woods and strip malls, fast food and drugstores.
A deli that served pretty good sandwiches.
A new bakery that was vegan, gluten-free, and virtually abandoned.
The Mexican place had gotten a fresh awning.
The Chinese restaurant was still extremely brightly lit.
There was one playground—empty—and two churches, also empty.
“So,” Gabby said, “how’s the city? How’s Joe?”
“Both good. Joe says hi.”
“I wish he’d come visit too. I miss his weird jokes.”
“Maybe he’ll be around at some point,” MC said, though she sincerely hoped he wouldn’t. “How’s work been?”
“Predictable. All my teens are living in one big, nonstop anxiety attack.”
“Some things never change.”
“Every Monday I’m like, why did I go to school for social work?”
MC could’ve told her it was because she was kind, a good listener, easy to be around. But she worried that would sound too intense. “Are you at least enjoying the telehealth lifestyle?”
“I’m definitely happy to be away from my boss. But it’s also kind of lonely.”
“Have you thought about office space?”
“Yeah, just seems like such an unnecessary expense with the whole house...”
MC wondered if Conrad was paying rent to their mom, who was still out in LA. She’d never had the guts to ask. “I know what you mean,” she said quickly. “I feel bad when I buy a cup of coffee.”
“Well, I’m glad that economics has forced us back together.” Gabby smiled. “Do I get to know what your book’s about, by the way?”
MC felt heat rising to her cheeks. “It’s, uh... I’m kind of at the point where it just feels like the worst thing ever?”
“Don’t be silly. I bet it’s brilliant.”
MC was saved by their arrival at the school, a sprawling one-story building with an asphalt circle up front.
The windows were plastered with posters and flyers, and an American flag waved listlessly from its pole over a patch of struggling grass.
Gabby had her window down, so MC could hear the metal clips clanging in the breeze, lending the place an air of abandonment.
She remembered Joe drunkenly peeing on the pole the night they graduated.
“Does it make you feel weird to come back here?” MC asked.
“A little. But I’m one of those lucky people who didn’t hate high school, so.”
Conrad was waving at them from a back entrance that connected to the parking lot, his tie and collar loose, wavy blond hair swept back and shining in the late-afternoon sun.
Sure enough, Ms. Kim—Principal Kim? Dr. Kim?
—was at his side, in a black pencil skirt and a green sweater, her thick-framed glasses enhancing her eyes.
Everyone had had a crush on her in high school.
“Yes!” Ms. Kim called, clutching a tablet to her chest. “You’re back!”
MC got out of the car and gave her a hug. “I hear you’re the boss these days.”
“Trying to be.” She tapped MC’s shoulder. “Wow, you look so cool .”
MC, blushing with pleasure, pretended to be miffed. “Did I not look cool before?”
“I keep telling her she was kind of ahead of the curve with the big pants,” Conrad said.
“Hey, brother,” she said, using that stupid voice from Arrested Development .
She and Conrad had binged two seasons of it when he’d been home for winter break during his freshman year at Harvard.
It was the first time they’d really watched something together, laughed at the same jokes.
It was probably just a reaction to their parents’ dysfunction at the time, their separation the previous summer rapidly turning out to be a prequel to their divorce. But MC still thought of it positively.
“Easy train ride?” he said.
“Yep.”
Ms. Kim beamed. “A great novelist in our midst.”
“I still need to finish the novel,” MC said, feeling a fresh wave of irritation that Conrad had spread this story around, “and it’s average at best.”
She tried to tell herself this was better than her brother informing everyone that she was going through a rough time .
“You should come talk to the students about it,” Ms. Kim said. “I feel like it would be inspiring.” Her eyes widened. “Actually, do you want to run an Explorations meeting tomorrow?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t be qualified—”
“You’re a professional writer!”
“I’m actually just a freelance copywriter, like for ads?”
“And you’re about to finish a novel.”
“Jae,” Conrad said, “I think she’s trying to keep a low profile.”
“MC would do such a good job,” Gabby said, clapping her hands.
MC rubbed the back of her neck, an awkward reflex that’d been with her since childhood. “I don’t know, I haven’t done anything like that in nearly a decade.”
“I’m going to be honest,” Ms. Kim said. “Conrad and I are drowning. A bunch of teachers retired last year, and now we don’t have advisors for five clubs. Five!”
MC could feel herself softening.
“Mr. Pryor agreed to cover a few meetings, but he’s not, shall we say, the most inspiring? Which of course you didn’t hear from me.” Ms. Kim winked. “Having you as a guest advisor would be such a great start to the year.”
MC stole a look at Conrad, who’d been suspiciously silent during the pitch process.
“Just try it,” Gabby suggested. “See how it goes.”
Ms. Kim pressed her hands together. “Pretty please?”
“Okay,” MC said, defeated. “One meeting.” She made herself smile. “I can do that.”
“You’re a hero,” Ms. Kim said, and hugged her again.
After they said goodbye and piled into the car, MC took the back seat out of automatic deference to her brother.
He proceeded to not even offer to switch with her.
She was annoyed with herself for paving the way for someone whose way was already extremely well paved.
And she was even more annoyed at herself for agreeing to do something she absolutely didn’t want to do—in addition to the other thing she absolutely didn’t want to do.
The ride home was a bunch of small talk.
Work was going well for Conrad, but the pace was demanding.
Ms. Kim was going to be, in his opinion, the best principal in the history of Green Hills.
Gabby had run into Jim McDade at yoga that morning, and was there a friendly way for Conrad to tell his bro that his mat smelled like pee?
Also, should they get takeout for dinner?
They arrived at the house a few minutes later.
It was a modest ranch without much yard to speak of.
The oak trees in the back hung dangerously close to the mossy roof, and a new paint job was in order.
Their dad had done all the maintenance himself but hadn’t bothered to teach Conrad or MC any of it.
That was how the Calloways operated. Everyone had the thing they were good at and stayed in their lane.
Not that the place was falling apart. The lawn was mowed.
There were some new raised beds in the front.
Someone—almost certainly Gabby—had planted lettuce.
The interior had brightened considerably since they’d gotten married on the back patio two years ago.
It’d been a small, beautiful, annoying ceremony, featuring Conrad performing an original love song to tears and riotous applause.
Which was not a memory MC was interested in revisiting. Unfortunately, the second she took her eyes off her own house, they fell on Nora Pike’s, a shabby red colonial on the other side of the picket fence.
There was no car in the driveway.
It all came crashing down on her. The purpose of her visit, the sudden escalation of unrelated obligations. The way her reluctance to get down to business felt directly proportional to her sense of impending doom.
She had to get a grip. Check things out and leave. The sooner the better.
“I can pick up the takeout,” she blurted.
“I actually wanted to grab a few books from the library before tomorrow.” If she could just lay eyes on Nora, exchange a few words, she was sure she could shut this whole thing down—prove to Joe that his blockbuster scoop was not theirs to dish. Or at least not hers.
“You should’ve mentioned,” Gabby said. “I feel bad that we drove all the way back here.” The high school and the library were down the street from each other.
“I totally forgot.” MC held out her hand for the keys. “Could use the driving practice anyway.”
“Don’t do too many doughnuts on the town green,” Conrad said.
Before he turned away, she saw his eyes narrow, like he knew she was up to no good.