15
M C took a mirror selfie that night and sent it to Joe.
He replied instantly.
Nope.
MC stared down at her black T-shirt and black jeans.
You need to revert to your old style. Set the mood.
I think I gave all my flares to Goodwill.
I remember you in cargos.
Cargos and what? An old man sweater?
Open flannel shirt.
So, Avril Lavigne.
Except authentically butch.
MC sighed and went back to her closet, digging through old boxes of clothing.
When Gabby and Conrad had moved in together after college, they’d gone room to room, packing up the remains of MC and Conrad’s childhood, trying to make the place their own.
MC had helped for about twenty-four hours, mostly by twining together old issues of Fine Woodworking and hauling them to the town hall for bulk recycling.
She figured her brother had a vision for how he wanted everything, and it didn’t include her, so why stick around?
After he and Gabby had gotten married, she’d expected them to move out anyway.
But whether they were paying rent or not, it must’ve been a deal compared to the cost of leaving, because they’d stayed ever since.
She sent Joe another selfie.
Perfect.
She put her phone in the pocket of her gray cargo pants and blinked at her reflection.
She fit the zip-up sweatshirt and flannel better now.
Otherwise, she looked exactly the same. A few lines at the corners of her eyes.
A trace of veins on the backs of her hands.
It was hard to imagine that nine years had passed.
She shouted to Conrad down in his basement lair and headed out.
Nora was still inside when MC crossed the gate in the picket fence.
She realized she’d been half expecting the air to feel different on the other side.
To find some pixie dust or enchanted creature that spouted the secret to writing bestselling novels from a nest in one of the window wells along the stone foundation.
But it was just another suburban house, curls of red paint casting long shadows in the setting sun, a pile of leaves gathered against the garage.
MC was about to step onto the porch and knock when Nora finally emerged in an army jacket and high-waisted jeans, maroon Doc Martens gleaming. Her hair was down, tucked behind her right ear, which sported a gold earring in the shape of a bowie knife.
“Are your parents living here these days?” MC asked.
“Only on paper.”
They walked to her car. “Where are they now?”
“Guatemala. Are you wearing your clothes from high school?”
MC looked down at herself in disbelief that she’d let Joe guide her fashion decisions. “I didn’t pack right for the weather. Had to break into the archives.”
“You’re like a cross between a middle school boy and my electrician.”
“I’ll save that description for my dating apps.”
“It’s kind of charming.”
MC cleared her throat and ducked into the passenger seat. “So, your parents still travel a lot?”
“More than ever.”
“When’s the last time you saw them?”
“About ten months ago.” Nora turned on the car. “Sometimes they’ll go six weeks between emails.”
“Do you worry about them?”
“Not really.”
“Do you miss them?”
“Not anymore.”
As Nora pulled onto the main road, MC wanted to ask more about her parents, why she hadn’t decided to get a place of her own after all these years—especially given the advance she’d been paid on her book, plus the royalties she’d seeing by now, neither of which MC could actually mention.
But the bigger obstacle to MC’s digging was that she didn’t want to make Nora uncomfortable.
In fact, the whole underlying purpose of this date, of MC’s presence in Green Hills, was starting to make her sick.
“Did you actually have other plans tonight?”
Nora shrugged. “I did.”
“You should just bail on me.”
“We’re already on our way.”
“But it’s not like we have to commit to this. I can just open the door, jump out into the woods, find my bike...”
“They weren’t important plans.”
MC sighed. “I don’t know why Gabby got so invested in making this happen.”
“Probably because she loves poking her nose in everyone’s business.”
“Or she just really wanted to hit up this dance party in Brooklyn tonight.”
“I thought she was working.”
“Joe bought tickets for me and him, for my birthday. But I didn’t feel like going, so I offered them to Gabby. I think she felt guilty about taking them.”
“Why didn’t you feel like going?”
“I don’t know. Not my scene, I guess.”
“Really?” She shot MC a sly look. “Because I happen to remember a certain performance you and Joe did for the junior year talent show.”
“Oh god.” MC’s stomach twisted. “Please don’t remind me.”
“Why not? It was incredible.”
It was hard for MC to see what was incredible about dancing around to Massive Attack’s “Teardrop” in front of their entire school—an earnest and overly serious attempt at modern dance that flew in the face of all MC’s preferences for blending in.
Joe had confessed to her later that his insistence on participating was actually an attempt to catch the attention of Jim McDade, whose mom ran the dance studio in town where they practiced every day for two months leading up to the show.
“I didn’t know you saw that,” MC muttered.
“Mr. Marquet asked me to do set design. Plus, I might’ve seen you practicing your moves in the backyard and gotten intrigued.”
MC buried her face in her hands. “This is unbearable.”
“Why?”
“We were a laughingstock.”
“I wasn’t laughing.”
“Well, you were the only one.”
“I thought it was beautiful.” Nora paused. “Maybe the only genuine work of art to come out of our entire high school experience.”
MC had to laugh. “Wow.”
“If we drink enough beer tonight, will you do a reprise?”
“Not even if I get blackout drunk.”
Nora smiled. “That’s a shame.”
As Nora looked for parking, MC wondered if there was a talent show dance scene in Girl Next Door , and how Nora had brought that particular horror to life.
But part of her was flattered Nora had been impressed.
They ended up paying to use the municipal lot.
“Had my first kiss here,” Nora said, putting her keys in her pocket and setting a brisk pace. “In the back seat of a woman’s van, right next to the dumpster.”
“How old were you?”
“Eighteen.”
“Was it good?”
“Like my tongue got caught in a vacuum cleaner. Plus, the garbage smell.”
Suddenly MC felt hyperaware of the distance between them. “Have you always known you were gay?”
“Ever since I had the hots for Mrs. Eriksson.”
MC struggled for a moment to remember their fourth-grade teacher. "Was she the one with the Swedish accent? And the leopard-print leggings?”
“I like a surprise combo.” Nora didn’t slow down, but MC sensed her changing trajectory slightly, so that she was a little closer to MC. “What about you? When did you know you were queer?”
“It’s hard to pinpoint. I wasn’t thinking about anyone romantically until high school.”
“Late bloomer?”
“Something like that.”
“The power of Gabby.”
MC winced. “You picked up on that?”
“Uh, yeah.” They crossed an alleyway. “Did Conrad know?”
“At the time, I don’t think so.”
“What about now?”
“We haven’t discussed it. Anyway, it was such a long time ago.”
Nora raised an eyebrow, but they’d turned the corner. Delfino’s was upon them, and MC was eager to get inside. Nora walked off to claim a booth as MC took a spot in line at the counter. The menu was straightforward, just pizza and only three ways to get it: cheese, extra cheese, and pepperoni.
“One large cheese,” she said to the guy in front of the ovens. “And what kind of beer do you have?”
“Miller and Miller Lite.”
“Let’s go with Miller, please.”
In her peripheral vision, she saw Jen Turner.
“Wuss eyes.”
MC blinked, looking back at the guy in the flour-dusted T-shirt.
“Sorry,” she said, “didn’t get that.”
“Wuss eyes,” he said again.
Her throat felt dry. She didn’t know why she couldn’t understand what the man was saying to her. She peeked over her shoulder and saw Jen striding over to the booth Nora had picked out.
“What size, lady?”
“Oh. Pitcher. Please. Thank you.”
He raised his eyebrows, like it was incredible that she managed to remain alive from minute to minute.
Willing her hands to stop shaking, she carried the frothy pitcher to the booth, smiling as broadly as she could manage.
“Hey, Jen,” she said.
“MC, we meet again.” Jen was in an old varsity jacket and tight pants. She gave MC a look that was very different from the one she’d given her in the library. “Nora told me she had to do a favor for a friend tonight. Didn’t realize you were the one who needed the favor.”
“It’s my birthday. My brother and my sister-in-law were both busy, so...”
Jen frowned. “Don’t you live in New York?”
“I’m just visiting. For the weekend.”
“Even though your family’s too busy to hang out with you.”
“The trip was a last-minute idea on my part.” She toed the grease-streaked floor. “My brother did make me a cake for breakfast.”
“Aw,” Jen said. “That’s sweet.”
“MC’s not telling the whole truth,” Nora said. She was already pouring herself a cup of beer. “She’s been coming home to work on a novel.”
“What’s it about?” Jen said. “Let me guess. A twenty-something suburban girl moves to the big city and walks around having big thoughts about life.”
Nora cut in again. “It’s actually historical fiction.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Set during the Byzantine Empire.”
“So, like... Rebecca Sloane.”
“A response to Rebecca Sloane,” MC said, irritated that Jen knew the reference.
“You have your work cut out for you. She’s a terrible writer.” Jen shrugged. “Well, I’m just picking up a pie for some friends, but you two have fun.” She put a hand on Nora’s shoulder and squeezed. “Text you later?”
Nora raised her eyebrows and waved her off.
MC saw Jen sneak a backward glance at them as she walked away.
“A favor to a friend,” MC said, sitting down across from Nora and filling her plastic cup to the brim.