day, reading the classifieds in the public library or some coffee shop, staying warm and out of my way. And I couldn’t call her anyway. Jimmy still had her phone.
“I don’t know what you want me to do,” I said.
He sighed. He looked as if he really felt bad for me.
“You’re really not that smart, are you, Veronica?” He shook his head, answering the question for me. “Book smart, maybe. You do okay with school. But you just can’t apply it to the real world, right? I have to spell it all out for you?”
Here again, though I knew I shouldn’t, I wondered if he had a point.
“My last class gets out at one,” he said. He spoke slowly, enunciating each syllable, as if he were talking to a small child. “So does Simone’s. That gives you a whole hour to figure something out. You can pick us up at the fountain.” He lifted his chin, his gaze still steady. “Don’t you dare be late.”
Gretchen wasn’t in her room. Neither were her keys. I considered calling Tim, and quickly decided I shouldn’t. At half past noon, I ran across the parking lot to the dining hall, searching the tables for anyone I knew even remotely. But all the people I asked said they didn’t have a car; or, if they did, they were on their way to class, already late, their keys locked in their rooms. I suspected some of them were lying, and really, I couldn’t blame them. I could guess what I looked like: bug-eyed and breathing hard, rain-soaked hair in my eyes—not the sort of person you would just toss keys to without a worry. When the third-floor RA—who I knew had paid for her Jeep by waitressing two summers in a row—looked away and mumbled something about wishing she could help, I lost the will to ask anyone else.
On the way back up to my room, I leaned my head against the back wall of the elevator and closed my eyes. My heart was still pounding, but I could already feel myself calming, sweat cooling under my sweater, my skin clammy beneath. It was a relief, really, to just give up, to admit there was nothing more I could do. I reached into my pocket and turned off my phone. Jimmy would call soon, and he would call later. For now, I just wanted to go to sleep. My mother would be gone all day, and I would have my room to myself. I was only putting off misery; but all I could think was how good it would be to lie down in a dark room by myself for a while, and not worry about what was coming.
I opened my door to find my mother and Marley sitting on the floor next to my bed, a large bag of M&M’s between them. Marley was braiding my mother’s hair. Bowzer slept peacefully on my bed. Both beds were made, the pillows fluffed. The windows looked suspiciciously clean.
“Oh! Veronica! Hey!” My mother looked up at me as best she could without moving her head. Marley was making pigtails, one on each side; the braid she had already finished curled up a little at the tip. “How’s she doing back there? I don’t see how she’s going to pull it off. I’ve got layers, I’m pretty sure.”
“Natalie, keep your head still.” Marley shook her head and smiled. She was wearing the pig slippers and a dress that was denim on top, a flowered skirt at the bottom. Her horn case lay open on the guest bed, the horn brightly gleaming in a snug bed of crushed blue velvet.
My mother’s eyes rested on mine. “Sorry, honey. I was on my way out, but then your friendly neighbor stopped by, offering chocolate and music.” She scrunched up her nose and smiled back at Marley. “How could I resist? And hey, have you ever heard her play?” She nodded back at Marley, as if I might otherwise not guess who she meant. “It’s really something! It’s one of the most difficult instruments to play well. Did you know that? Someone else told me that once. You wouldn’t know it, watching this girl. She has to think about her breathing and her hands and even the way she’s holding it. Marley, you’ll have to show Veronica when you’re done.”
“Okay,” Marley said. She looked up at me. “What’s the matter? You look really weird.”