in Brookings and, by early May, the bookstore was theirs and they were moving from their small cabin in Orick to an even smaller house in Crescent City.
But the months crept by and still things weren’t finalised with Mr Barnes. Until they were, money was tight, her dad worked long hours at the store, and Laurel was stuck in high school.
Her mom laid one hand over hers, warm and comforting. “Laurel, aside from the cost, you also need to learn to conquer new things. This will be so good for you. Next year you can take Advanced Placement classes and you could join a team or a club. Those all look really good on college applications.”
“I know. But—”
“I’m the mom,” she said with a grin that softened her firm tone. “And I say school.”
Laurel humphed and began tracing her finger along the grout between the tiles on the countertop.
The clock ticked loudly as her mom slid the pans into the oven and set the timer.
“Mom, do we have any of your canned peaches? I’m hungry.”
Her mom stared at Laurel. “You’re hungry?” Laurel traced swirls through the condensation on the soda can with her finger, avoiding her mom’s gaze. “I got hungry this afternoon. In last period.”
Her mom was trying not to make a big deal of this, but they both knew it was out of the ordinary. Laurel rarely felt hungry. Her parents had bugged Laurel about her weird eating habits for years. She ate at each meal to satisfy them, but it wasn’t something she felt she needed, much less enjoyed.
That’s why her mom finally agreed to keep the fridge stocked with Sprite. She railed against the as-yet-undocumented detriments of carbonation; but she couldn’t argue with the 140 calories per can. That was 140 more than water. At least this way she knew Laurel was getting more calories in her system, even if they were “empty”.
Her mom hurried to the pantry to grab a jar of peaches, probably afraid Laurel would change her mind. The unfamiliar twisting in Laurel’s stomach had begun during Spanish class, twenty minutes before the last bell. It had faded a little on the walk home, but it hadn’t gone away.
“Here you go,” she said, setting a bowl in front of Laurel. Then she turned her back, giving Laurel a modicum of privacy. Laurel looked down at the dish. Her mom had played it safe - one peach half and about half a cup of juice.
She ate the peach in small bites, staring at her mother’s back, waiting for her to turn round and peek. But her mom busied herself with the dishes and didn’t look once. Still, Laurel felt like she’d lost some imaginary battle so, when she was finished, she slid her backpack from the counter and tiptoed out of the kitchen before her mom could turn round.
The bell sounded in biology and Laurel hurried to stow the evil bio book as deep into her backpack as possible.
“How was day two?”
Laurel looked up to see David sitting backwards in the chair across her lab table. “It was OK.”
“You ready?”
Laurel tried to smile, but her mouth didn’t obey. When she’d agreed to join David and his friends for lunch yesterday, it had seemed like a good idea. But the thought of meeting a whole group of complete strangers made her cringe. “Yeah,” she said, but she could tell her tone wasn’t convincing.
“Are you sure? Because you don’t have to.”
“No, I’m sure,” she said quickly. “Just let me get my stuff.” She packed her notebook and pens slowly. When she knocked one of her pens on to the floor, David retrieved it and handed it to her. She tugged on it, but he didn’t let go until she looked up at him. “They won’t bite,” he said seriously. “I promise.”
In the hallway David monopolised the conversation, rattling on until they entered the cafeteria. He waved to a group at the end of one of the long, thin tables. “Come on,” he said, putting a hand at the small of her back.
It felt a little weird to have someone touch her like that, but strangely comforting too. He guided her through the crowded aisle, then dropped his hand as soon as they got to the correct table.
“Hey, guys, this is Laurel.”
David pointed to each person and said a name but, five seconds later, Laurel couldn’t have repeated any of them. She sat in an empty seat beside David and tried to catch bits and pieces of the conversation around her. Absently, she pulled out a can of soda, a strawberry-and-spinach salad, and a peach half in juice her mother had packed that morning.
“A salad? It’s lasagne day and you’re having a salad?”
Laurel looked over at a girl with curly brown hair who had a full tray of school lunch in front of her.
David spoke up quickly, cutting off any response Laurel might have attempted. “Laurel’s vegan - she’s very strict.”
The girl glanced down at the small peach half with one raised eyebrow. “Looks more than vegan to me. Don’t vegans eat, like, bread?”
Laurel’s smile was tight. “Some.”
David rolled his eyes. “Leave her alone, Chelsea.”
“You look like you’re on some kind of mega-diet,” Chelsea said, ignoring David.
“Not really. This is just the kind of food I like.”
Laurel watched Chelsea’s eyes return to her salad and could sense more questions about to erupt. It was probably better to just spill than answer the twenty questions. “My digestive system doesn’t handle normal food very well,” she said. “Anything except plain fruits and vegetables makes me sick.”
“That’s weird. Who can live on just green stuff? Have you seen a doctor about this? Because—”
“Chelsea?” David’s voice was pointed but quiet. Laurel doubted anyone else at the table had even heard.
Chelsea’s grey eyes widened a little. “Oh, sorry.” She smiled, and when she did, it lit up her whole face. Laurel found herself smiling back. “It’s nice to meet you,” Chelsea said. Then she turned to her meal and didn’t even look at Laurel’s food again.
Lunch break was only twenty-eight minutes long -short by anyone’s standards - but today it seemed to drag by endlessly. The cafeteria was fairly small and voices bounced off the walls like ping-pong balls, assaulting Laurel’s ears. She felt like everyone was shouting at her all at once. Several of David’s friends attempted to draw her into their conversations, but Laurel couldn’t concentrate when the temperature in the room seemed to be rising by the minute. She couldn’t understand why no one else noticed.
She’d chosen a full T-shirt that morning instead of a tank because she’d felt so out of place the day before. But now the neckline seemed to grow even higher until she felt like she was wearing a turtleneck. A tight turtleneck. When the bell finally rang, she smiled and said goodbye but hurried out of the door before David could catch
