“Maybe tonight you’d like to come down there again,” he says.
“Maybe.”
He claps me on the shoulder then gets up to fetch his coffee. I watch him pour the coffee into a mug. He looks so normal doing that. Like he could be the dad in a commercial or something.
But my father isn’t normal.
Sort of like me.
I sit on the couch, staring at the dark television screen until my father leaves for work. It isn’t until he’s gone that I flick the news station back on. I want to hear more about Mandy Johansson.
I have to flip around to a few different news stations, but I finally find another reporter talking about Mandy. This station is interviewing Mandy’s family. Her mother, with the same blue eyes as she has, is staring at the television screen, begging for her daughter’s safe return home.We love Mandy so much. We just want to see her again.
“What are you watching, Nora?”
My mother has wandered into the living room in her housecoat, her brown hair sticking up in every direction. I hadn’t even heard her come in. She’s looking at the screen, her eyes narrowed.
It’s too late to turn off the TV and pretend I was watching cartoons. “It’s the news,” I say. “There’s this girlwho went missing in Seattle. Her name is Mandy Johansson.”
Mom watches the program for a minute. I look up at her face, which is slowly turning green. “Oh God,” she murmurs under her breath. She clasps a hand over her mouth and rushes to the kitchen sink.
I can hear her retching.
_____
After class is over, Marjorie and I meet up behind the school.
She looks the happiest I’ve ever seen her. It makes me realize I don’t think I’ve ever seen Marjorie look happy. I guess I can’t blame her. The other kids never let up picking on her. Nobody ever stands up for her and tells them to stop. Not even one person has ever stuck up for her.
She even looks prettier today. Her hair is shinier, which makes me wonder if she doesn’t usually brush it. And she has a little pink circle of excitement on each of her cheeks. Her whole face lights up when she sees me.
“Hi, Nora!” she says. “You came!”
“Of course I came,” I say. “Why wouldn’t I?”
She has no answer for that.
“Did you tell anyone that you’d be meeting me?” I ask sternly.
She shakes her head so hard, her chin wobbles. “I just told my mom I was staying late at school.”
Good.
We decide to go to Marjorie’s house. By the time we get started walking, most of the kids have left the schoolgrounds. I doubt anyone is paying attention to us. And pretty soon, we’ve turned down a quiet street.
As we walk, Marjorie will not shut up about how much fun we’re going to have at her house. I know she’s excited, but it’s super annoying. I wish there were a mute button I could press on Marjorie.
“I can’t wait for you to see my room,” she says. “I’ve got like eight Barbie dolls.”
I look down at my sneakers. “I don’t like Barbie dolls. They’re for babies.”
“Oh.” Her face falls. “What do you like?”
Before I can come up with an answer to her question, we walk by that hiking trail off the main road. I nudge Marjorie with my elbow as I slow to a halt. “Do you ever go down there?”
She shakes her head. “My mom won’t let me.”
“Oh. Because I was thinking it might be fun to explore. Like a game.”
