said hi and that he better study for his algebra test!” She sees August, and her smile shifts from friendly into something August still can’t name. “Oh, hey, August!”
Myla nudges ahead, extending a hand to Jane. “Hi, wow, I’m Myla, huge fan. Love your work.”
Jane bemusedly takes her hand, and August can see Myla making a whole catalog of scientific observations as they shake. She really should have pushed her onto the tracks when she had the chance.
“Can you please sit down?” August hisses, nudging her toward a seat. She pulls the Pop-Tarts out of her pocket and hands them over, and Jane immediately rips into them. “Um, Jane, this is one of my roommates I told you about.”
“I’ve been dying to meet you,” Myla says. “I had to bribe August with chips. Zapp’s. Sweet Creole Onion.”
Jane looks up from the Pop-Tarts wrapper she’s brutalizing. “Zapp’s?”
“It’s a Louisiana chip brand,” August tells her. “They’re amazing. I’ll bring you some.”
“Whoa,” Myla interjects, “you can eat?”
“Myla!”
“What? It’s a fair question!”
Jane laughs. “It’s okay. Yeah, I can eat. And drink, though I don’t think I can get drunk. I found a flask of whiskey once, and it didn’t really do anything.”
“Maybe your first mistake was drinking out of a flask you found on the subway,” August suggests.
Jane rolls her eyes, still grinning.
“Look,” she says through a mouthful, “if I turned my nose up at everything that’s left on the subway, I would have nothing to do.”
“Wait, so,” Myla says, leaning forward, elbows on her knees, “do you get hungry?”
“No,” Jane says. She thinks for a second. “I can eat, but I don’t think I have to.”
“And … digestion?”
“Myla, I swear to God—”
“Nothing happens,” Jane says with a shrug. “It’s like…”
“Suspended animation,” Myla supplies.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Wow, that is fascinating!” Myla says, and August is mortified, but she can’t pretend she’s not taking mental notes to be recorded later. “And you really don’t remember anything?”
Jane frowns thoughtfully around another bite. “I remember more now. It’s sort of like … muscle memory? Pop culture stuff is easier than personal stuff for some reason. And for a lot of stuff, I have a sense that I’ve done it before, even if I can’t remember it specifically. Like, I know how to speak Cantonese and English, even though I can’t remember learning either. More stuff comes back every day.”
“Wow. And—”
“Myla,” August says, “can we maybe not treat her like a creature of the week?”
“Ah, sorry,” Myla says with a wince. “Sorry! I’m just—this is so cool. I mean, obviously, it’s not cool for you, but it’s fascinating. I’ve never heard of anything like you.”
“Is that a compliment?” Jane asks.
“It can be.”
“Anyway,” August says. “Myla’s a genius and very into science fiction and multiverse theory and, like, smart-people stuff, so she’s gonna help figure out what exactly happened to you and how we can fix it.”
Jane, who has moved on to the second Pop-Tart and is plowing through it like she’s trying to beat a land speed record, squints at August and says, “Are you assembling a task force, Landry?”
“Not a task force,” August says, heart skipping at the sound of her last name in Jane’s mouth. “Just a … ragtag band of misfits.”
The corners of Jane’s mouth press in a sly grin. “Love it.”
“Very Goonies,” Myla chimes in.
“What’re goonies?” Jane asks.
“Only one of the greatest adventure movies of 1985,” Myla says. “Wait, oh man, you missed Spielberg completely, didn’t you?”
“She would have caught Jaws in ’75,” August automatically supplies.
“Thank you, Encyclopedia Brown,” Myla says. She leans in and tells Jane, “August knows everything about everything. It’s her superpower. She should be teaching you all the ’80s movies.”
“I do not know everything.”
“That’s true, you didn’t know about ’70s punk. I had to teach you that.”
Jane looks at her, smirking slightly. August swallows.
“You’re the one who taught her that?”
“Oh yeah,” Myla chirps happily, “I think she wanted something to talk to y—”
“Anyway!” August interrupts. They’re pulling into a station, and she yanks Myla up by her sleeve. “Billy’s isn’t far from this stop, and I’m hungry. Aren’t you hungry? Let’s go, bye, Jane!”
Myla and Jane both seem visibly put out, but August is one embarrassing non sequitur away from throwing herself out the emergency exit. Those two are a dangerous combination.
“Wait, what’s your sign?” Myla shouts over August’s shoulder.
Jane scrunches her face up like she’s trying to remember where she left her keys, not her own birthday. “Don’t remember. Summer, though? I’m pretty sure I was born in the summer.”