Page 10

Rose was sitting on the steps under her school’s front entrance, waiting out the rain and trying to calculate how much water the soil could hold before it started to flood. Most of her classmates had left already, their clusters of bright umbrellas huddled together, but Rose’s had finally ripped earlier in the day.

She was in no hurry to return to her foster home. As long as she could remember, Rose had been alone, the consequence of being given up by her mother as an infant and left to survive the world on her own. Everyone had someone else more important to tend to, except her, so she’d learned to stay out of the way.

She knew her mother must have given her up because she thought something was wrong with her baby. There had to be a reason why she was unwanted. Why else would a mother abandon her child?

And ludicrous or not, the belief in that mysterious wrongness had caught in her mind like a hook, embedding into her so early in childhood that her soul had grown around it and swallowed it whole, had made the question a fundamental part of her identity.

Why?

Maybe it was because her mother wanted a boy instead. This is not impossible; statistics show that hundreds of thousands of girls around the world are abandoned for being the unwanted sex. Or perhaps it was because she was a bad baby. Up to 40 percent of babies suffer from colic, afflicted with excessive and inconsolable crying, and maybe she’d driven her mother away with it. Or maybe her mother simply didn’t want her. In the wild, animals often reject their young if they find them lacking—pandas abandon one twin so that the other can survive, baby chicks starve so the strongest one can live. That was a scientific possibility, too.

Whatever the reason, there was something wrong with her. She just needed to figure out what it was, so she could fix it.

So she stayed on the steps, reading a thick biology tome about human pathology that wasn’t even one of her assignments. Maybe it had the answers she was looking for. And if she became a doctor someday, if she saved lives, then maybe people could love her for that.

A splashing sound caused her to look up. A girl was running through the rain with an oddly shaped backpack over her head, making a beeline for her.

It’s remarkable, how clearly the human brain can store a memory. Like looking through a magical window at another lifetime, an out-of-body experience, a dream. Even years later, the moment feels perfectly preserved—Laine’s long blond waves frizzing in a halo around her face, the backs of her sneakers splashing in puddles, her arms up as she kept the backpack hoisted over herself.

Rose watched as the girl ducked under the ledge and let out a breath of relief, her hands coming up to smooth down her hair. Initially, she was annoyed to be robbed of her lonely reprieve, but soon she found herself admiring the girl’s vintage Oasis sweater.

At last, Rose called out, “Is that a normal backpack? It’s so long.”

The girl glanced over in surprise, as if she hadn’t noticed Rose sitting there. Then she uttered a warm, genuine laugh. “Bow and arrows,” she said. At Rose’s expression, she shrugged bashfully. “For archery practice at school. Or the zombie apocalypse. You never know.”

It was such an unexpected answer that Rose laughed. In that moment, she thought about how it takes only a tenth of a second for the human brain to form an impression of a stranger from their face. And in that instant, her impression was this: She is the kind of friend you keep for life.

The girl tucked a curly strand behind her ear. “I’m Laine,” she said.

“I’m Rose,” Rose replied.

“Nice to meet you,” the girl named Laine said. “I go to St. Thomas. This rain came on so suddenly, didn’t it?”

Rose shrugged. “It always does.”

Laine wrinkled her nose at the sky. “Better than the never-ending drizzle in Seattle, I guess. I moved here four years ago, to live with my dad.”

Rose smiled wanly. “I’m from Rochester. Moved here last year.”

Maybe Laine noticed how Rose didn’t mention a family, but she didn’t pry. “Do you like it here?” she said instead.

Rose’s voice was polite but hollow, as if emotions had abandoned her long ago. “It’s all right.”

Laine grinned, like she’d said something hilarious, then leaned over conspiratorially, so that if you were watching from a distance, you’d think they were already best friends. “You know what, though? We’re the lucky ones.”

Rose had to laugh again. What a strange sound, coming out of her. “And why’s that?” she asked.

“Because you appreciate the small joys. I can tell.” Laine nodded at the rain. “You know. Reading in bed? Good hair days?”

“Definitely reading in bed,” Rose declared.

Laine lit up like a light bulb. “My favorite.” She peered curiously at Rose’s book. “What’re you reading?”

Rose didn’t feel like telling her it was a long, dense biology tome, nor did she want to explain why she was so into medical science. So she said, “Just homework.”

“Oh. Well, I’ve been making my way through an absolute decker of a fantasy lately,” Laine said.

“As in, it’s really complex?”