“Which I don’t,” Nat interposed.
“And that you’d be angry with me—”
“Which I never have been.”
“—because it was lovely of you to invite me. But I actually have something else this afternoon. And I don’t know how late I’ll be.”
Nat propped himself up on one arm. “Do tell.”
“It’s—it’s the Colefax-Lee Foundation program. The interviews are today.”
Nat whistled. “Big stuff. Are you sure they’ll be happening, though? Flood, and all that?”
“The waters are going down.” Emma bounced, her body athrill with excitement again. “And it’s not far. I have to try.”
“Going down is not gone.”
“Oh, I don’t need to worry about that. Look—”
Emma dashed from the room. The sound of rubbery squeaking and a few choice profanities emerged from her bedroom. A few moments later, she pushed open Nat’s door and stood framed in the doorway in all her glory.
“Good God,” Nat said blankly.
A pair of voluminous, violently green rubber waders enclosed Emma from toe to chest. “I kept them from that time at the field station in Senegal.” She beamed. “I thought they might come in handy if I ever wanted to do a survey of the caddis fly larvae in the river here. A colleague of my mother’s in the US is writing a paper on how they might be linked to otter populations. Wouldn’t it be amazing to actually find out if the same is true here?”
“Indeed,” Nat agreed weakly. “Just what anyone would think. Now, take the hideous things off.”
Emma wriggled obediently out of the offending articles. “Anyway, they’re perfect for today. I’ll be as dry as can be. Oh!” Shedashed from the room a second time. “How could I forget? It’s finished. Your costume.” She dropped her armful of fabric into Nat’s lap. Her friend let out a joyful squawk she was sure he would die rather than let his theatre friends hear. “I hope you make an excellent caterpillar,” Emma laughed.
“I will,” said Nat, with absolute confidence.
“And I hope you impress whoever all this is meant for.”
“It’s no one. Nothing. Just a friend.” His neck had flushed bright red.
Emma fought a smile. She wasn’t sure which boy had attracted Nat’s attention this time. His many loves were legend. Unlike Emma, who dated seldom and with a scientist’s detachment, Nat had a way of truly believing every time that at last, this one was true love.
“Lewis Carroll would be proud,” her friend was muttering now, spinning in front of the mirror with the costume draped over his long form. The interminable hours she’d spent in the window seat—listening to the rain and sewing the hundreds of legs—had been worth it. He looked spectacular.
“But, Emma—”
Nat had stopped twirling.
“After the interviews. You could still come to the party, right? It won’t matter if you’re late. Just throw on that blue dress you have, and I’ll say you’re Alice in Wonderland. To go with me. It’ll be fun. They’ll love you.”
Emma pulled a face.
“Em—” The caterpillar hugged her around the shoulders. “You’re one of my favorite people. Truly. But you need more friends than just me. Let the world get to know you. You might be surprised.”
Emma shook her head and busied herself with picking up her waders. “I don’t know if I’ll feel like it.”
“I’m not going to press you if you don’t want to go. You know that. And I love this newfound firmness.” He raised one eyebrow at her, a trick she’d never been able to copy. “It suits you. I’m just tickled that, after all of the idiotic requests I’ve seen you give in to, this party is the one that broke the, er”—Nat eyed her long frame and grinned—“giraffe’s back?”
Emma reached out and swatted him, without any real heat. “Giraffe yourself.”
Then, as an afterthought: “It suits me?”
“Yes, Emma.” Nat could go from theatrical to sincere in the time it took for Emma’s voice to wobble. “And so does your height, for that matter.”
