Free Nowhere Girl by Susan Strecker

door to see Chandler and Odion at the stove. “It smells good,” I told Chandler, and he pulled me into a quick hug.
    â€œLover Boy met someone,” he whispered.
    I’d brought a bottle of Chilean from Greg’s wine cabinet, and I passed it to Chandler. “David?” I asked while he opened the wine. “Where?”
    â€œThat dorky workshop he went to last weekend.”
    â€œThe model car one?”
    â€œThat’s the one,” Chandler said.
    A girl who played with toy cars. Perfect. David came in wearing his microscope glasses on his head, his hair messy like he’d just gotten out of bed.
    â€œHow was it?” I kissed him on the cheek.
    â€œIt was what it was,” David told me. His eyes were red as if he hadn’t slept. “Where’s Gabs? Did she desert us?”
    â€œShe’s on her way back from Hoka Hey training.”
    And then there was a knock on the kitchen door, and when it opened, Brady Irons was standing there.
    â€œYou’re here.” My voice was full of holes, breathy, the pudgy girl with her high school crush.
    Brady was wearing jeans and boots, and his hair was slicked back. It suddenly embarrassed me, standing in David’s kitchen with Brady—Chandler and Odion glancing up blankly.
    â€œCome in,” I said.
    But as he stepped through the door, he seemed so out of place.
    â€œLook who’s here,” I said to David, throwing my voice over my shoulder, hoping he’d act hospitable. “Brady Irons from high school.”
    â€œHell,” David said. “Great to see you again.” His hair stuck up like a jackknife. “It’s been a while.” He put out his hand.
    Brady shook it, watching him the same way he had me in the parking lot, like he was remembering something and wasn’t sure if he should say it or not. I was certain it was Savannah. It was always Savannah.
    â€œNice place.”
    â€œI haven’t had time to clean,” David said quickly, stacking a pile of magazines on the kitchen table. It occurred to me he was going to kill me when this was over for not telling him Brady was coming, but in fairness to me, Brady hadn’t told me for sure.
    Brady was holding a bottle of wine, and Chandler took it from him and extended his hand.
    â€œChandler Morris,” he said. “Good to see you again.” Then he nodded to the lasagna sitting on the stove. “Hope you like Italian.” Odion stepped forward and stood beside Chandler. “This is my boyfriend, Odion Eze.”
    â€œNice to meet you,” Brady said, shaking his hand. There was a beat of silence, and then Brady turned to me. “Thanks for the invite,” he said quietly. It seemed like he didn’t know what to do with his hands, and finally he stuck them in his pockets. “Are you sure it’s okay I stay? I don’t want to intrude.”
    â€œWhat? Of course. I invited you, didn’t I?” Suddenly, I felt feverish with the need to keep him there. “You guys have like sixteen years of catching up to do.”
    But David was turned away, scrubbing dirty glasses in the sink as if he cleaned all the time.
    â€œI’ll open Brady’s wine. I think we’re going to need two bottles tonight.” Chandler winked at me.
    Odion took five plates out of the cupboard. “Come,” he said to me. “We will set the table.”
    â€œAye aye, Captain.” But I was worried; I wanted to stay in the kitchen to make sure David and Chandler were being nice. Brady and I had already spent a few afternoons together talking about prison life, and besides my fascination with him, I was starting to feel like I might have a book, even if the murderer was growing on me.
    Chandler brought in the wine, and I tugged on his shirt, leading him to the corner of the dining room.
    â€œWhat’s up with David?” I asked. “He’s so grumpy.”
    He glanced in the kitchen. David