Page 24

“You have a lot on your plate.” Annie understood how life could spin out of control so fast that friends and morals disappeared into the ether.

“I was thinking that if you wanted to sleep in the house tonight, you could have Ashley’s bed or the sofa, even. Just until your mattress comes.”

They turned and looked at the army cot at the same time.

“I wouldn’t last a night on that thing,” Helen said. “You’ve been on it for a solid week.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time. And I’ve slept on worse. It’s better than the ground.”

“Anyway, you’re welcome to sleep at the house. That’s all.”

“Thanks.”

After Helen left, Annie changed out the pager batteries. When it lit up green, she watched it to see if she’d missed any calls, but it stayed quiet, and she set it down.

She opened the window to get some air in and stood looking at the house. Helen was standing at the kitchen sink, the phone to her ear. Annie stepped to the side so she could watch from an angle as Helen chatted away.

When Helen looked up, she looked out straight at the garage. Annie froze and held her breath, but it didn’t seem like Helen could see her. After a few more moments, Annie turned away.

She was so tired.

She crawled onto the narrow cot, the slippery fabric of her sleeping bag gasping beneath her. She turned onto her side and pressed her face into the pillow. She prayed the pager didn’t go off again for a long time.

Chapter 5

Annie settled in at oneof the pay phones on campus and fished her calling card out of her backpack. It took forever to punch in all the numbers. She was relieved when she got Lori’s answering machine again, though it was the very reason she had called in the middle of the day. She left a message apologizing for not calling sooner, gave her Helen’s phone number twice, and told her the best times to call. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to her, but when she pictured explaining her situation to her successful friend, it was embarrassing.

She hung up and started punching in numbers again. Her mother picked up. She started in right away. “I don’t like you this far away,” she said. “We can never reach you. I hardly know anything about your life. We’re worried sick!”

“I’m going to school, Mom. You know that. And I’m living in a house that is so, so much better than a dorm. You talked to Helen. She’s nice, don’t you think?”

“She seemed very pleasant,” Patty conceded.

“I have a lot of work with my classes, but I’m going to be better about calling now that I’m getting settled.” Annie made that promise all the time. She always intended to keep it, she did. It was just that life got in the way. Going overseas had been a good excuse for forgetting her promise. Los Angeles, it seemed, was not quite far enough away.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love her parents. It was just that they had a very simple worldview, one that grated on Annie, one she could do nothing about.

“I’ll call again this weekend,” Annie said. “I’m between classes, so I gotta run.”

“Be sure that you do,” Patty said. “Your father has been talking about writing you a letter.”

“I’ll call!” The last thing she needed was a written scolding. She promised again, her tone softer. “I’ll call.”

She made it through her next class, which was an hour and a half of discussing and dissecting municipal codes, then headed to the library. So far, the majority of her homework was reading and more reading, but she had to write a few responses to some of the material, and the professor wanted everything typed, not handwritten, and on a computer or a word processor, not a typewriter. “There are plenty available for use in the library,” he’d said. “Don’t let those expensive machines go to waste.”

She wasn’t unfamiliar with computers; she’d used them to write reports for her bosses in DC. But she had no idea how they actually worked and no desire to acquire one of her own, no matter how many people told her they were the wave of the future.

The workers at the help desk were busy, and she had to wait in line before she could talk to someone. The woman, obviously a student, wore faded jeans and a T-shirt that saidFor People, for a Changeunder an image of the governor of Arkansas.

“I need to type something up and print it out. I was told I could do that here?” Annie asked.

“There’s a computer room on the third floor,” the girl replied. “Check up there.”

Ten minutes later, Annie sat in front of a computer monitor. She’d handwritten most of her response on lined paper, so she just had to type it up into the machine. She stared down at the keyboard and sighed. Her brother was great with computers. He had learned to type correctly and everything. Maybe he’d be willing to move out to LA to be her personal typist.

She hunted and pecked her way through the paper and was standing at the printer, waiting for it to chug out her three pages, when she heard beeping.

The pager.