After several weeks of extracting every morsel of knowledge to be found in various blogs, videos, and articles, Emmy deemed her preparation complete. She remembered the moment when she set her pen down and closed her computer, feeling ready for the next step.
“I’m gonna have May take me to the hardware store after we drop you off.” She had turned around in her seat and frowned down at her best friend. “What are you doing?”
Sarah, her dirty blonde curls tied back in a frothy ponytail, was sitting on the floor, surrounded by scraps of paper and several magazines that had already seen the business end of her scissors. She finished cutting out yet another picture from the magazine sitting in her lap before she answered.
“It’s for art class,” was the only explanation she offered. She held up the picture of the slender, grinning model, then severed her head with one decisive snap of the scissors. Then she frowned. “The hardware store? Why?” Her eyes tracked to the closed laptop. “Oh, my God! Are you finally done with all the nerd stuff?”
“I keep telling you, it’s not nerd stuff. It’s research.”
“Which is nerd stuff,” Sarah countered easily.
“You’re cutting the heads off supermodels,” Emmy pointed out.
“Yeah, but that’s art nerd stuff.”
“Oh, right. So different.”
Sarah started to pack up her magazine clippings and gather the trash. “I’m just saying, you buy some seeds, you throw them on the ground. It’s not that complicated.”
Emmy shook her head, smiling at what she knew was feigned disdain on her friend’s part. “You should host like… abadgardening YouTube channel. ‘Hey, guys, today I’m going to teach you how to plant flowers.’” She mimed holding a fistful of seeds and spiking them at the ground like a triumphant football player. “‘And there you go! All done! Like and subscribe! Catch you next time.’”
Sarah laughed. “Honestly, that could work. But I’ll stick to art nerd shit.”
Emmy went to her nightstand to get her wallet, only to discover that it wasn’t there. She was sure she’d left it nextto the lamp, but maybe… nope, not in the drawer either. To be certain, she pushed around the various knickknacks, odds and ends. She did find a flash drive she’d been looking for a couple weeks back, so that was a plus.
“What are you doing?” Sarah asked.
“Looking for my wallet.”
Sarah watched Emmy move to her desk, open one drawer, then another. “You spent a hundred years taking notes on how to grow plants, but you can’t find your wallet? You are the most organized disorganized person I know. Or is it disorganized organized person?”
Emmy dug into her dresser. “I’m not disorganized.”
“You are looking for your wallet in your underwear drawer.”
“Which is organized, in case you didn’t see. Aha!” She pulled the wallet out of the middle dresser drawer. “I put it in with my jeans.”
“Why?”
“I dunno. I guess I thought I’d be wearing jeans the next time I needed it.”
Since she was currently wearing a comfy pair of sweats, Sarah could only sigh at her and shake her head.
“No more throwing shade,” Emmy ordered her friend. “Let’s go get May.”
They made their way out of Emmy’s room, and Sarah waited in the hall, her backpack slung over one shoulder, while Emmy went to tell May they were ready to leave. May’s door was open, but when Emmy stepped up to the threshold, she saw her sister was on the phone. She appeared to be listening intently to whoever was on the other end of the call. With the phone squeezed between her shoulder andher ear, she tested out a new eyeshadow palette, rubbing a stripe of color on the back of her hand, blending it a little, holding it up to the light. Emmy saw at least four different colors on her already.
“Okay, hold on,” May said suddenly. She looked up, noticed Emmy in the doorway, and shot her a quick apologetic look. “No, wait. Just take a second. Did you talk to him about what Izzy said?” She paused to listen to the response. “I get that, but listen to me, you need to do this face-to-face. Not because he deserves it, but becauseyoudo. Wait until you’re calm. Then talk to him. You’re jumping to so many conclusions.” More listening. Emmy could hear the vague buzz of May’s friend as she responded. May brushed another careful line of color on her hand. Then nodded. “That sounds good. See? You can do this. You have a plan. Text me as soon as you’re done talking to him. I want to know what he says. Okay? Okay. Yeah… I’ll be here. You can do this!”
“You should start charging people for dumping all over you like that,” Emmy said after May had hung up.
“Nah.” May closed the eyeshadow, then put it on her overburdened, but meticulously organized, makeup shelf. “She’d do the same for me.”
“When has anyone ever had to let you dump all over them?” Emmy asked. “When have you ever caused drama?”
“It could happen.” At Emmy’s dubious look, she laughed. “What can I say? I enjoy life.”
“No one enjoys life,” Emmy countered. They left May’s room and Sarah automatically fell into step with them. “I think you’ve got something else going on to make you so happy. I know you’re not on drugs…” She cocked her head. “Are you a robot?”
