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“It is.” Easing into a side chair, I pointed in congratulations. “It’s Friday the twelfth. And classes resume on Tuesday, right after Martin Luther King Day.”
“Oh, thank God.” She slumped back down on the couch in relief. “At least I’m in the right time.”
“Maybe I couldguessyour name,” I said. She seemed to remember things when I brought them up.
She only shrugged, however, as she continued to gaze up at the ceiling. “Knock yourself out.”
“Okay, then. Let’s see. You look like a…Macy?”
“Ido?” Wrinkling her nose, she lifted her face to send me a severe scowl.
“Or not,” I quickly corrected. “We’ll just go through the alphabet then. How about Abby? Alice? Anne? Allie? Ooh. My sister’s name is Amaretto Alison, but we call her Amy?”
“Nope, nope, nope, and nope. Sorry.” Shaking her head, she sighed, only to lift her face and ask, “Hey, don’t you have a sister you call Little?”
I smiled immediately. “Yes. Her name’s Estelle, though. My mom wanted to call her Stella for short, but everyone referred to her as Little Bit for so long that it ended up just becoming Little. She’s my tiny shadow. Amy is a mama’s girl, while my second sister, Brey, is a clear daddy’s girl. But Little is one hundred percent a Foster’s girl.”
“Aww.” Face softening with adoration, the no-name girl on the couch smiled before motioning toward me. “See. I can remember the name of a little sister to some football player I’ve never met but have a serious crush on, yet I can’t remember my own name. That is just—I mean, what is even happening right now?”
“Good question.” I sighed in defeat and scratched my hair a little uneasily, still not sure how to handle her extreme openness about her feelings toward me. “What about Brenda? Or Brooke? Or Brittney? Or Breydan?”
“Meh.” Shaking her head, she mumbled, “Not ringing a bell.”
I sighed but carried on into the Cs and then the Ds until I came to, “Daisy? Dahlia? Daphne? Diana?”
“Diana?” she repeated as if that one resonated with her.
I sat up straighter. “You think your name’s Diana?”
“No.” But she didn’t sound very sure of herself until, a second later, she snapped her fingers. “Diane,” she announced triumphantly. “Mymiddlename is Diane. After my mom.”
I shrugged. “Well, that’s a start. No first name yet?”
“No. Sorry.”
So we continued through the alphabet, both of us tossing out names that might belong to her, but none of them inspiring her enough to claim them, and with each letter, we started to yawn more and burrow deeper into our furniture to get comfortable.
I’m not sure why the game dragged on for so long, but it lingered deep into the night, and I started to get drowsy, even though I liked talking and joking with her. She was fun and easy to be around. Still…
I think I passed out somewhere in the Ps.
* * *
When I came to,it was morning, and brightness was blaring through all the windows.
I could hear seagulls outside, telling me I was near a beach.
Cramped in the side chair I’d slept in all night, I groaned and stretched my arms and legs, which made the girl on the couch stir and begin to wake up as well.
“Morning,” I mumbled as I pulled my arms from over my head so I could wipe crusties from my dry eyes.
The girl jumped in surprise and whirled her attention to me before blinking about a dozen times and hesitantly asking, “FosterUnion? What’reyoudoing here?”
I laughed out a husky sound before scratching my jaw. “What do you remember?”
“Uh.” She glanced around the front room as if lost. “Not a lot.”
“Well, I found you on the roof,” I started. “Suffering under the influence ofsomething.”
