I hovered by the sinks. “Seriously, go away.”
“Oh, please, Annabeth. Like nobody’s heard you pee before.”
“Steven.”
“What? I thought we were friends.”
“Just because we’re friends doesn’t mean we need to be pee sisters,” I said.
“Pee sisters! Pee sisters!” Steven sang.
He went into a stall, the door swinging free behind him. A few seconds later, I heard a voluminous splashing.
“Come on, Annabeth. Pee with me.”
I opened my mouth to scold him, but instead I shrugged and went into a stall myself. Steven talked the whole time.
“You know that unisex bathrooms are the new thing. In fifty years, our grandchildren are going to think we’re so old-fashioned because we grew up with segregated toilets.”
I started talking too, mostly to cover up the sound.
“There will be pee riots,” I said. “The gender symbols will be ripped from bathroom doors and burned in public squares.”
“Exactly!” said Steven.
“Thousands were arrested in the great pee riots of 2024,” I said in my best news-announcer voice. “But in the referendums of 2025, bathroom suffrage was achieved at last.”
We joined at the sink to wash our hands.
“Pee sisters?” I said as we exited the bathroom.
Steven made a cockeyed salute. “Pee sisters forever,” he said.
We came upon Noe a few steps later. She was walking down the hall with Kaylee and Lindsay from the gym team.
“You guys looks awfully pleased with yourselves,” she said.
“We’re pee sisters,” I said.
Kaylee and Lindsay exchanged a look.
“Excuse me?” said Noe.
Steven giggled. “We subverted the dominant paradigm of gender-specific bladder relief.”
“We brought an antidisestablishmentarianist perspective to bear on the issue of male/female urination roles,” I said.
“O-kay,” Noe said. It was strange to see her like this, performing for Kaylee and Lindsay instead of joining in on our fun. It gave me a curious urge to poke her. The other day in gym practice, I’d overheard Noe telling them that she and Steven had come this close to doing it the last time she was at his house, which struck me as a pretty big elaboration considering what she had told me. Sometimes I forgot that Noe’s self-confidence had limits. When it came to other girls, she could be downright insecure.
“Speaking of gender roles,” Noe said to Steven, “you’re driving us to the movies at eight o’clock tonight.”
He seemed to sober up. “Yes, ma’am,” Steven said.
He fell into step beside her, hooking his pinky finger through hers like they always did. I groaned inwardly. Surely, Noe wasn’t worrying about what Lindsay and Kaylee thought of Steven. She was Noe. Who cared what anyone thought?
“You two are too cute,” said Lindsay Harris, she of the fallen-out tampon.
It was jarring to hear Lindsay Harris commenting on Noe and Steven in a familiar way, as if they belonged to her. What are you doing? I almost said. That’s mine.
As we walked down the hall, I found myself at the back of the group, and wondered how that had happened.
“Does anyone know what lunch is?” said Noe.
I tried to tell her it was spaghetti and slaughter balls, but everyone was talking so loudly I don’t think she heard.
22
BOB WAS LISTENING TO HIS audiobook again when I went in for my second appointment. He was doing something on the computer and didn’t notice me slip into the room until I’d been sitting in the Sorting Chair for almost five minutes. I didn’t try to catch his attention. I rested my head on my chin and listened to the story. It was pretty dumb—something about fairies and swords and people trapped in ice—but I found myself getting sucked in anyway. Bob realized I was there when we both laughed out loud at something the Jocular Wizard said.
“Annabeth!” said Bob. “When did you come in?”
“What book is that?” I said.
He blushed and rummaged in his desk for the CD case. He passed it to me. Kingdom of Stones. It had an unfortunate rendering of a bawdy wench on the front, with a landscape of cairns and crags behind her.
“Cool,” I said.
He reached for the CD player and clicked it off.
“Do you want to see my food journal?” I said.
Bob flipped through the lined pages and added a few things up on a chunky calculator that looked like it had been rescued from the 1980s.
“Wow,” he said. “Very thorough.”
I smiled, but I felt guilty. The truth is, I hadn’t really been keeping track of my food. It was too much trouble. Instead, Noe had helped me fill in the past month’s worth of columns yesterday afternoon in English.
“How about an omelet for Monday?” she’d said. “That’s protein-y.”
“Can I have hash browns too?”
Hash browns, Noe noted on the page.
“How about some toast?”
Toast, 2 pcs, Noe wrote.
“Oh, and green beans.”
“For breakfast?”
“I should have a vegetable, shouldn’t I?”
Noe shook her head. “He’ll smell a rat.”
“Are we almost finished?”
“Yup. Just need Tuesday lunch. I’m thinking a burrito, a salad, and a glass of milk.”
“You’re too good at this,” I’d said.
Noe cackled, and wrote down Rice Krispie square for good measure.
“The numbers look fine,” said the nutritionist. “I guess I can’t make you keep coming. But if there is ever something you feel like talking about, you’re welcome anytime.”
He smiled one of his sad smiles and gave me a pizza coupon.
I held it in my fingers, feeling like there was something I was supposed to say. There wasn’t, so I stuffed it into my pocket and left.
23
AT LUNCH, I WAVED THE PIZZA coupon at Noe and Steven.
“I’m off the hook with Señor Bob,” I said.
“That’s no fun,” said Steven. “You didn’t even get to show him your self-portrait.”
“He loved the journal,” I said to Noe. “The Rice Krispie square was a masterstroke.”
She put her arm around my shoulder. “Anytime, doll. Anytime.”
That afternoon, I went to the Java Bean with Noe and Steven, and Oliver walked in. I had to go hide in the bathroom while Noe ordered a coffee for me.
“Was that your orchid house lover?” said Steven when I came back. “He ordered a very large cruller.”
I groaned and sank down in our booth until I was practically under the table, and Noe had to drag me back up. “Leave her alone, Steven.”
“What? What? He’s a big guy. Big guys eat big donuts. Did I say something weird?”
Noe put her hand over his mouth to shut him up before I died of mortification. “Just. Stop. Talking,” she said.
I guess the movies had gone okay. Noe and Steven seemed better than ever. I snuck a glance at them across the table, quietly pleased with the way they snuggled together, matching hearts drawn on both their hands in red ink. It was good to see two people I liked loving each other. It filled me with vicarious warmth.
I picked up a wooden stir stick and waved it in the air above their heads.
“What are you doing?” Noe said.
“Anointing your union.”
They giggled and bowed their heads, giddy smiles creasing their faces while I dipped the stick in coffee and shook it over them again and again.
It felt like Oliver should have been in Alaska already, but I saw him again at the Walmart, and again from the car window, walking down the street with a Super Gulp from the 7-Eleven, while Mom and I were driving to Nan’s house for dinner.
Finally, I saw online that he had left for Alaska, so I didn’t have to worry about him anymore. On Halloween, Noe, Steven, and I dressed up like pirates and hung
out at Noe’s house handing out candy. Afterward, we went on a long, rambling walk around the neighborhood, through the graveyard, and past the big construction site on the edge of Lorian Woods and back through the park where the ground was wet and squishy and the chestnut tree had lost its leaves.
When we got back to Noe’s house I waited, gazing at my shoes, while Noe pressed Steven up against his car and they kissed for what felt like forever. After a while, I glanced up. I could see the top of Steven’s head poking up above Noe’s swirls of hair. They didn’t seem to be kissing anymore, but their foreheads were pressed together. Noe said something and I heard Steven laugh. It was just a scrap of laughter, but it stood out like a spray of pink flowers on the side of a muddy road. It had a note of delighted wonder, of celebration at one’s own dumb luck.
Noe came speed-walking up the driveway as he drove away, her cheeks flushed.
“He said it,” she blurted.
I hooked my arm through hers and hurried into the house with her.
“Noe,” I exclaimed. “Noe!”
Steven had said I love you. And Noe had said it back. In her room, we danced around in our pirate costumes.
“Everything’s happening,” we said over and over, until it turned into a magic spell, an incantation, sweeping us out of Noe’s bedroom and into the great rushing hugeness of the rest of our lives.
24
THE SECOND WEEKEND OF NOVEMBER was Gym Expo Northeast. It wasn’t a meet, exactly, but a big gathering where you could take workshops, watch demonstrations by university gymnastics, cheerleading, and dance teams, shop for fancy leotards, and collect free samples of energy bars. Noe and the other advanced girls had raised money to go last year. I’d helped out at the car wash, standing on the corner waving a cardboard sign. In practice on Thursday, it was all anyone could talk about. They were going to leave on Friday after class, and stay in a hotel for two nights, and eat in restaurants, and on the way home they were going to stop at the giant mall in Baxterville and go shopping.
I spent the weekend raking leaves with Mom, first at our house and then at Nan’s. As we raked, we talked about all things Northern.
“It’s so silly they schedule campus visits for December,” she said. “You should see it right now. The forest is a blaze of endless color, and the air smells like . . .” She trailed off. “I wish I could get the time off so we could go up together.”
She told me all about the dormitory where she and Pauline had lived in their freshman year, and the Ecosystems class where the professor, Dr. Clarke, assigned them to spend all day in a tree, observing the weather and wildlife.
“You’re going to love it, Annabean. It’s a small school. You get to know all the professors. I’ll never forget Dr. Clarke’s class. She was such a genius, so inspiring. I wanted to be just like her.”
I felt a twinge when Mom said that, like the monster had plucked a string inside me, just to remind me it was there.
“I think Noe and I are going to go on exchange to Paris in our second year,” I said to cover my anxiety. “Either that or move off campus. Max said we could have his trampoline.”
“Oh, lordy,” said Mom. “Now there’s a crucial piece of furniture.”
Later, Mom stopped by my room to ask if I wanted to go to a movie. “What happened to your homecoming dress?” she said, stepping inside to finger the dirt-stained satin. I’d taken it out of my closet along with a few others to try on, like I sometimes did when I was feeling bored. My heart began to hammer.
“Two words,” I said. “Noe. Somersaults.”
Mom let out an amused snort. “What would homecoming be without somersaults? Too bad about the dress, though. It was a nice one.”
After she wandered out again, I folded the dress into a ball and hid it in my bottom drawer. It had other stains she hadn’t noticed—that I noticed myself only after she left the room. I couldn’t wait until Noe came back so I could tell her a funny story about the whole almost-disaster. It was the somersaults, Mom, I swear!
I sat on my bed and smiled to myself, remembering, until Mom called that it was time to leave for the theater.
25
ON MONDAY, NOE AND KAYLEE AND Lauren and Rhiannon came to school with matching water bottles with GYM EXPO NORTHEAST on the side, and matching bracelets from the big mall they had stopped at on the way home. Apparently, they’d had a crazy time at the hotel. They snuck into the pool after hours and got caught by the cute night manager, and Kaylee said, “Sorry, sir, we were just so hot and bothered.” At our lunch table, they kept laughing about it and doing impressions while Kaylee pretended to be embarrassed. “I meant to say we were hot and bored! I can’t help what comes out of my mouth late at night, guys, you know I’m a spazz.”
Noe had taken an advanced beam workshop with a former Olympic gymnast, Sphinx Lacoeur. Afterward, he had led her aside and asked about her plans for college. She reported the conversation breathlessly.
“I was like, ‘No plans!’ and he said, ‘You’re from E. O. James, right?’ and I said, ‘Um, yes,’ and he said, ‘Have you heard that Gailer College is getting a gymnastics team next year?’ and I said, ‘No,’ and he said, ‘I’m coaching, and I intend to take the team to nationals,’ and then he looked into my eyes and said, ‘Noe, what can I do to convince you to be a River Rat?’”
Noe looked so happy: blushing and breathless, like a bride, or a princess. I shot her a questioning look.
“Campus visits are going to be so fun,” said Kaylee. “My brother promised he’d get us into the Alpha Delta Phi tiki party, but we need to get orange bikinis.”
They all squeezed each other’s hands in the middle of the table.
“I can’t wait,” said Noe. “Three weeks!”
Joyous squealing. The plan had clearly been brewing since at least Sunday.
I could imagine them talking about it on the drive home from the Gym Expo, everyone crammed into the car with all their new loot.
Don’t panic, I thought to myself. Don’t panic.
I started to wrap my sandwich in a napkin.
“What’s Annabeth doing?” Kaylee said.
The gym girls had long since given up on trying to get me to talk and taken to asking Noe instead. The truth is, I preferred this arrangement. Noe was so much better at explaining me than I was.
“Annabeth’s spirit animal is a squirrel,” Noe said. “She hates throwing things out.”
“I’m saving it for later,” I protested, folding the napkins around the remains of my food so that it formed a tidy white package. I tucked the packet into my backpack and zipped it up, blushing slightly under Kaylee’s gaze. I didn’t like to have my rituals watched. Noe was used to them, others not so much. For this reason, I avoided eating lunch with new people.
“She’s so cute,” Kaylee said, and everyone laughed.
I tried to catch Noe’s eye again—You’re just having fun with the Sphinx Lacoeur thing, right?—but a couple of freshmen from the choir came up to ask her a question, and then the bell rang for our next class.
26
I SPENT MY NEXT TWO CLASSES trying not to fall apart.
Outside the window, the first flurries of winter were falling. I watched the flakes dust the soccer field, a thin, fuzzy layer of white like a consolation prize for actual snow.
“Ms. Schultz,” roared Mr. Genanotron. “Will you please read the next paragraph out loud?”
Suddenly, I was in ninth grade again, too small and too quiet and afraid of everything, my heart beating like a rabbit’s every time anyone looked at me, certain that everyone could tell; that they could look at me and see all the slimy things crawling around in there like worms inside a compost bin. Dead inside and coming to life only in the moments that Noe alighted beside me, like a bike light that lights up and flashes only when someone is turning the pedals, like a radio that fritzes and statics unless calmed by the right hand.
Mr. Genanotron was staring at me, and people were starting to snicker.
&nbs
p; Oh, to be a snowflake, a blade of grass, a bird, a chunk of concrete. Anything but what I was: half human, half disease. Half things that yearned to grow and live, half thing that craved to die.
Gailer College wouldn’t be so bad, I thought to myself. It wouldn’t be so bad.
“I don’t know where we are,” I said.
“Speak up,” Mr. Genanotron barked.
“I don’t know where we are.”
27
“ARE YOU COMING TO GAILER FOR campus visits?” said Noe. “Kaylee needs to let her brother know how many tickets to get for the tiki party.”
She was in full Noe planning mode, making lists in her notebook, sorting out carpools and other logistics. Her day planner was splayed open on the table. On the days in which I’d mentally inserted our road trip to Northern University, she’d penned in a meeting with Sphinx Lacoeur, a Gailer College River Rats hockey game, and an orange bikini–shopping expedition at the mall.
I had been planning this whole confrontation—What about Northern? What about our dorm room? What about Paris?—but as I watched her scribble another item onto her agenda, the indignation drained out of me. It was dangerous to accuse Noe of anything. What do you mean? she would say, her voice sharpening. I never agreed to anything. Even worse was the creeping suspicion I had that she’d be right. I’d extrapolated a few fun conversations into a full-blown plan. It was wishful thinking, and sort of pathetic. Still, it hurt that she wouldn’t even acknowledge my disappointment.
“Probably,” I said. “I’m probably coming.”
“Good girl,” said Noe, and wrote my name down on her list.
I hesitated. “What are you doing after this? Want to come over?”
“I can’t,” Noe said. “I’m having coffee with Darla.”
“Who’s Darla?”
“Steven’s mom.”
She said it as if I ought to know, like I would naturally keep track of the names of her boyfriends’ parents.
“Why are you having coffee with Steven’s mom?” I said.
A Sense of the Infinite Page 6
