Free Life as We Knew It by Susan Beth Pfeffer

Nesbitt is something different these days. The electricity is out pretty much all day and most of the night, so it's not like we can watch TV or go online. There isn't any homework to do, and no one feels like socializing.
    "I have a wonderful treat," she said, and she carried in a bowl covered with a dish towel.
    We crowded around to see what she had to show us. She pulled away the towel, like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat, but all we saw were washcloths. She laughed at the expressions on our faces. Then she carefully unwrapped the washcloths. And there were two eggs.
    They weren't very big, but they were still the most beautiful eggs I've ever seen.
    "Where did you find them?" Mom asked.
    "One of my old students brought them to me," Mrs. Nesbitt said. "Wasn't that sweet of him? He has a farm about ten miles out of town and he still has feed for his chickens, so they're still laying. He brought two eggs to me and to a few other people. He said he has enough for his family if they're careful and they decided we might like a special treat. I couldn't possibly enjoy them by myself."
    Eggs. Real honest-to-goodness, actual eggs. I touched one, just to remind myself of what an eggshell felt like.
    First Mom took two potatoes and an onion, and chopped them up and fried them in olive oil. Just the smell of fried potatoes and onions was enough to make us giddy. While they were cooking we discussed all possible egg dishes. By a vote of 4-1, we picked scrambled. We stood around and watched as Mom put in some powdered milk and beat those eggs. Of course we don't have any butter, and we decided against cooking oil, so Mom used a little spray-on stuff and a nonstick pan.
    We each took equal amounts of the eggs and potatoes and onions. I watched Mom, to make sure she didn't cheat herself of any. We got a couple of teaspoons' worth of scrambled egg, and we nibbled to make it last longer.
    Then Matt jumped up and said he also had a special treat he had been saving, but tonight seemed like as good a time as any. He ran to his room, and when he came back he had a chocolate bar.
    "I found this in my bag when I unpacked," he said. "I don't know how old it is, but chocolate doesn't go bad."
    So we each had a piece of chocolate for dessert. I'd almost forgotten how much I love chocolate, how there's something about it that makes life a little more wonderful.
    After supper, we sat around and sang. None of us has much of a voice, and we didn't all know the same songs, but Horton was our only audience and he didn't mind. We sang for more than an hour and we laughed and Mrs. Nesbitt told us stories about Mom when she was a little girl.
    It almost felt like we were happy again.
    June 6
    At lunch today, Megan did the same business with her PB&J sandwich. This time she gave her second half to Sammi.
    If she keeps it up, she'll be the most popular girl in high school.
    I waited for her after school and yanked her away from her church friends. "Why aren't you eating all your lunch?" I asked.
    "I'm not hungry," she said.
    I love Megan and she isn't fat, but I've seen her pack away double burgers and extra fries with a milkshake.
    I looked at her, really looked at her, and noticed she'd lost weight, maybe 10 pounds. The thing is we're all losing weight so it's easier not to notice. It's kind of like the moon: If I don't look I can pretend it's still the same.
    "Are you eating at all?" I asked her.
    "Of course I am," Megan said. "I just don't need to eat much anymore. God sustains me. Food doesn't."
    "So why are you even eating half your sandwich?" I asked. I don't know why. It wasn't a rational question, so there was no reason to expect a rational answer.
    "I figured people wouldn't notice if I ate half," she said.
    "They notice," I said. "I notice."
    "It's only for a couple more days," she said. "Next week no one will see what I'm eating and what I'm not."
    "They can't possibly be telling you at your church not to eat," I said.
    Megan gave me one