“That looks…” I swallow hard as I inspect the package more closely. Tofurky. “Actually, I’m not that hu—”
“Relax,” she replies, tossing a pack of honey ham right on top.
“Oh, thank God.” I breathe a sigh of relief.
I watch as Nora slaps a few pieces of very wet-looking Tofurky onto her bread. She stops assembling to throw me an irritated look, but I can still see half of an amused smile underneath it.
“Can you stop looking at my food like it’s a pile of cow shit on a plate? I will actually be eating it soon.”
“Sorry,” I reply with a laugh, trying to smooth out the wrinkles from my look of disgust.
“You really can’t even tell the difference once I get done,” she says.
“Oh, I’m sure,” I reply as she adds lettuce, tomato, and then mayonnaise and Dijon mustard onto mine.
“That’s my favorite combo, the ultimate condiments,” I say in approval. “My dad loves it that way too.”
She stills and looks at me and then back at the sandwich.
“Just one of my many talents,” she says, but then her eyes shift just left of my head as a door creaks. I peek behind me through the doorway to see Mrs. Martin kicking her shoes off inside the heavy front door.
“Come on,” Nora whispers, sliding me the plate with my sandwich on it. She leads me out of the kitchen, up an old wooden staircase, then down a narrow hallway whose gray walls are completely bare.
I follow her through a door and up a steeper set of uneven stairs, each one creaking underneath us with a different sound. It opens up to a large room with wood-slatted, sloped ceilings that peak in the center along the roofline. A finished attic. Cool.
“This is my room,” Nora says, watching as I pick up my sandwich and take a small bite.
“Mmm. It’s good. Thanks,” I tell her, then dig in for a bigger mouthful.
I walk farther into the room, the faded floorboards almost bending under my shoes. The walls are just about as empty as the rest of the house except for three small Polaroids taped above her bed.
“Oh, I always love these instant photographs,” I say. Leaving Nora standing in the doorway holding her untouched sandwich, I walk over to get a closer look at the photos.
The first is a shot of an open field, brown cows dotting the background. The second is Pittsburgh, the closest city to us, about an hour and a half away, with its big yellow bridge stretching across a wide river. And the third looks like it was maybe taken back in the woods where we just were. There’s a girl sitting on a stump, facing away from the camera. It takes me a second to realize it’s Nora. Hmm, that’s a little odd.
Taking another bite of my sandwich, I step past her bed, and my eyes land on her side table. I swap my plate for the book that’s lying on top, a California travel guide packed full of sticky notes. I open it up, fanning through the pages until another Polaroid falls out and floats toward my feet, landing facedown on the floor.
“Ooh, California. Are you taking a trip?” I ask, bending down to pick it back up, but before I can, Nora practically dives on the floor to grab it out from under me. She nabs it, holding it close to her chest.
“Sorry,” I say, realizing I maybe shouldn’t just be rifling through this girl’s things when I just met her. I hand the book back to her.
“No, I’m…” She plops down on her bed, dropping her head as she runs her thumb over the worn cover. “I’m staying right here,” she says disappointedly.
If there’s one thing I can relate to, it’s that. I sit down beside her on the bed.
“It’s funny, I actually always thought I might like to live somewhere like California, but apparently I’m going to Bower. I guess we’ll both be stuck in Wyatt,” I say, looking over at her.
“You’re going to Bower?” she asks, looking almost as surprised as I was when I first found out.
“Yeah. Are you?”
“No. I’m not going to college,” she replies. “I’m going to work here full-time.”
“Oh. Well… I’ll be around if you want to hang out.” I shrug, letting out a big sigh.
“Maybe you’ll still make it out there someday. To California,” she tells me.
“Maybe you will too,” I reply, nudging my leg into hers.
