3
A ll MC wanted was to have the apartment to herself that night, even just for thirty minutes.
She needed to shower. To remember that the world was exactly the same as it’d been before Joe had texted her that afternoon, before he’d shown her that stupid book.
But when she reached the third floor, she saw the usual deathtrap of fixed-speed bicycles and Pat’s longboard.
“What up?” said Pat, standing in the kitchen. He was drinking brine from a jar of dill pickles that belonged to MC.
“Not much,” she said.
He flipped his long brown hair out of his eyes. “Want a sip?”
“I’m good.”
“Oh my god,” said Laura, emerging from their bedroom half-dressed, red hair mussed at the back. “Loved that book.”
MC tucked Girl Next Door into her bag, even though there was no way anyone would associate her with the blonde bombshell on the cover. “A client recommended it.”
“The literary magazine stuff is so cute.” Laura grabbed the pickles from Pat and gulped. After she’d exhaled with pleasure, she said, “And the scenes where everyone’s all grown up... ugh. It’s, like, one of the most romantic things I’ve ever read.”
“Trail of rose petals to the bed?” Pat cooed.
“The emotions are just dead-on.”
“Wow,” he said, winking at MC, “hot.”
Laura put the pickles back in the fridge. “It actually is hot. There’s this one scene—”
MC coughed and said, “I should go get changed.”
“Party night?” Pat said.
“Sleep night. Long day.”
She turned and walked as fast as she could down the long, dark hall to her room with its one barred window overlooking what was supposed to be a courtyard but was really just an open-air love motel for feral cats.
She wanted to shake off her increasing sense of doom.
But when she flopped down on her futon and opened her bag, the twin specters of Theodora’s Concubine and Girl Next Door spilled out to haunt her.
Freshly overwhelmed, she put on her pajamas, pulled up The Matrix on her laptop, and lost herself in the green-and-black glow until she passed out.
The next morning, she woke up late, got dressed in a disoriented haze, and went for a walk on Eastern Parkway.
The pedestrian path ran alongside the bike lane, a jet of activity that normally absorbed her attention.
She’d always been a people watcher. She was a people person, or at least a certain kind of people person, fascinated by the infinite variety of experiences and perspectives out in the world.
But today she felt exposed, singled out, though no one gave her so much as a passing glance.
By the time she’d looped back to her apartment, she’d convinced herself to get some work done. Real work, for a normal client. Something to take her mind off what she said she’d do for Joe.
But then she found him standing in her kitchen. In an apron.
“Dear god,” she said.
He smiled. “Hope you’re hungry.”
She sat in one of the threadbare couches crammed like circled wagons in the common room. Pat’s bong was on the coffee table, along with some half-melted candles and their fourth roommate Zeke’s tarot deck.
“When you said ‘mission prep brainstorming sesh,’ I assumed it would take place somewhere that is not my gross living room.”
Joe’s big, sunny one-bedroom was a mere five blocks away, in a much nicer building, on a much nicer street.
But last year, when he’d asked her to keep being his roommate, just in a much more luxurious setup, she’d had to turn him down.
She couldn’t afford any of the places he was looking at with his latest raise from Jawbreaker.
He’d offered to split rent unevenly, but they both knew it would get awkward.
So they’d started living apart. Joe had been self-conscious about the situation ever since.
But it was fine. He was always at her place anyway.
“I was craving more of a scrappy PI vibe than lesbian James Bond,” he said, vigorously grating a potato. “Look in my bag, by the way.”
“I’m starting to develop a Pavlovian response to your surprises.”
“Salivation?”
“Panic attack.”
“I’m making you an exquisite hashbrown. Open the bag.”
She looked into his black pleather backpack. “Yearbooks? Are you serious?”
“If we’re going to pull this off, we need to be prepared.”
“I agreed to check things out for you. That’s it. No preparation needed.”
“First thing to note: Nora doesn’t have any social media. The only thing I could find about her online is that she works at the town library.”
“Just like in her book,” MC grumbled, pouring coffee into a chipped mug. “And let’s not forget her heart of gold.”
“How much of it did you read?”
“None.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“It’s not as bad as you think.”
She sipped her coffee. “I seem to recall a review that described my character as ‘next-level clueless.’”
“I think that’s reductionist. Not that I’m trying to defend Nor Dog.” He wrapped the shredded potato in a dishcloth and squeezed. “You should just read it.”
She grimaced at the yearbooks again. “Pretty sure all we’ll find about her in here is, like, one photo.”
“Senior quote: ‘Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I took the one that led to royalties .’” Joe turned on the burner and groaned when he looked in the cabinet. “Not a single cast-iron.”
“What’s wrong with nonstick?”
“That you even need to ask.” He lit a cigarette. “Can you look in the lazy Susan, Lazy Susan?”
“The name’s Michaela Carson, remember? I’m going to open a window.”
After Joe had fried up omelets, hashbrowns, and perfectly crunchy bacon, they sat down at the coffee table and poured mimosas.
MC went for senior year, their main focus, and looked up Nora’s portrait.
“Jeez,” she said, “I forgot they made all the girls wear a black velvet neckpiece.”
Joe leaned over, already smoking another cigarette. “Wow.”
“What?”
He smiled. “Nor Dog was actually low-key fine.”
“You realize saying things like ‘low-key fine’ makes us seem even older than we are?”
“I mean, do we think she’s high-key hot now?”
“I have no idea.”
Nora’s choppy black hair stood out among the middle-parted, flat-ironed looks of every other girl on the page, as did an intricate silver chain around her neck. MC tapped the jewelry with her finger.
“Her parents were always traveling for work,” she said. “Azerbaijan, Malaysia...”
“So, they were CIA agents.”
“International business consultants.”
“Same difference.” He squinted at her. “Did you ever see inside her house?”
“No.”
“It’s okay, you can tell me if you guys were secret lovers.”
“We weren’t.”
“I’ll be sad you didn’t trust me, but also, I’ll get over it.”
“Joe, we never even kissed.”
“But did you want to?”
“Wouldn’t have occurred to me.”
“Too busy being hopelessly obsessed with someone else, weren’t we?
” He flipped to Gabby’s portrait. College should be a breeze for you, she’d written to him in loopy scrawl.
All-nighters aren’t hard when you spend the day in a coffin!
MC blinked, then remembered that Gabby had taken to calling him a vampire on account of his general sleeplessness.
They’d all had so many inside jokes back then.
It didn’t take long to go through the yearbooks.
Nora hadn’t done any clubs, sports, or activities, except Explorations , and even that had only been for a year.
She hadn’t stood for the National Merit Scholars picture or the National Honor Society picture.
She didn’t go to dances, pep rallies, or even bake sales, and thus made no appearance in the candids either.
MC, however, was in an embarrassing number of them. Joe, too, with his gelled, Cup Noodles hair and massive flannels. They looked young. Oblivious and hyperaware all at once. MC was stunned by how many vests she’d owned.
“I wish I had a copy of the mag,” Joe said. “Do you think Gabby has one?”
“Probably.” Gabby had been the most sentimental member of their crew. “Is that poem in Nora’s book, by the way?” She hoped she sounded casual. “The anonymous one?”
“No. But there’s a reading-night scene.”
She sipped her mimosa. “And an after-party scene?”
“That’s the big one.”
“Meaning?”
“It’s when Nicole and Michaela have their first kiss, and then an epic fight, and end up going their separate ways.”
She stiffened. “What do they fight about?”
“Are you sure none of this happened?”
“For the hundredth time, none of this happened.” At least, not the way Nora had written it.
Joe pursed his lips. “Basically, they’re getting into it when ‘Abby’ walks in on them. Michaela gets flustered, which makes Nicole—who has the usual trust issues—feel shitty.”
“And what does Michaela say about all this?”
“She admits that she’s still really into Abby.”
“Wow. Flattering.”
“You said none of it happened.”
“There are... parallels.”
“That’s what makes this such a fun mess to untangle.” He smiled. Then his phone buzzed. “Gotta take this real quick.” Ashing his cigarette in the candle, he put the phone to his ear and said, “Oh my god, it’s been forever ...”
Overwhelmed, MC leaned back and tried to tune Joe out.
Then she realized who he was talking to.
“Joseph Khoury!” she hissed, launching herself from the cushions. “Get back here!”
She chased him down the hall like they were fifteen.
He locked her bedroom door in her face like they were twelve.
“Thanks, Con, I really appreciate you getting back to me so fast,” he was saying. “No, she’s totally fine.”
She wanted to scream, but Laura was walking into the apartment just then, waving at her from the other end of the hall. MC waved back.
“She’s just been super absorbed in writing a novel,” Joe was saying.
MC seethed in silence.
“I know, right? I thought she’d given up on the writing thing.
But she’s just been keeping to herself, working away at it, and now she’s really close to finishing.
The only thing is, it’s impossible to focus here.
You wouldn’t even believe what a coworking space costs.
That’s why I thought maybe she could crash with you and Gab?
Like, just for a few days? She’d never want to impose on you, but I think it’d be super helpful.
” He lowered his voice. “Also, between you and me, she’s kind of going through a rough time.
I’m sure she’ll tell you more about it.”
MC closed her eyes.
“Amazing,” he said. “She’s going to be thrilled.”
The door opened a minute later. Joe was smiling like he’d just gotten laid.
“Thrilled?” she said.
“You will be, when this story launches you into literary stardom.”
“I won’t be writing a single word. Of an article or a novel.”
“A journey of a thousand miles...”
She sighed. “Begins in Green Hills, apparently.”