Free The Different Girl by Gordon Dahlquist Page B

wreathed with fog and clouds, and then the fourth picture, from the beach out to the sea. He tapped again and again, switching back and forth between them, frowning. Irene watched him.
    “Robbert—”
    “We have to know for sure.”
    “But if she can’t tell us—”
    “Or won’t.”
    “Well—exactly.”
    He spun the notebook to face Irene, but she only tightened her lips.
    “Surely it’s time to eat.” Irene crossed to the counter and took over from Robbert as if she’d been cooking all along. We all went to help and soon it was dinner like normal, with Irene asking us about tomorrow’s weather.
    But weather only made me think of the fog around May’s island—hers only because she’d captured it in a picture, not because she lived there, though maybe she actually did, or had. Anything was possible if what she said wasn’t reliable: which was what Robbert thought, if the dock with the crates wasn’t in Port Orange after all. I knew he wondered if the island in the other pictures was the same island with the dock, and that he was switching back and forth to identify it precisely. I didn’t know why that was important because I didn’t know why May was unreliable. When we didn’t say something it was because we didn’t know, or because no one asked the right way. May was more like Robbert or Irene, who didn’t say things for their own reasons, but I thought of Caroline not being able to talk about her dreams and wondered if May couldn’t talk because Will or Cat had given her instructions.
    “Are you sure May isn’t hungry?” I asked.
    Robbert had his chopsticks halfway to his open mouth. He paused, leaving them in the air, noodles dripping sauce, then set them back in his bowl.
    “You’re right, Veronika. You’re absolutely right. Come here.”
    “Robbert, we can’t keep pressing,” said Irene.
    “I know we can’t.” Robbert had picked up his satchel and reached inside, using both hands to fiddle with something I couldn’t see that snapped and clicked. He zipped the satchel and looped it over my shoulder. Then he scooped the rest of the noodles into a plastic bowl and stabbed another pair of chopsticks in so they stuck up like a bug’s antennae. He held out the bowl for me to take with both hands, then went to open the door. Irene never moved, and the other three just watched.
    “Off you go, Veronika,” Robbert said. “Make sure to set the satchel down on the floor when you go in, and then bring it back when you’re done. Do you understand?”
    “Yes, Robbert.”
    “And make sure May eats the noodles. Stay there and talk until she’s done. Ask her questions.”
    “What if she’s asleep?”
    That was Irene. Robbert knelt next to me. “Then Veronika should wake her.”
    Irene sighed. “Gently, Veronika. Don’t frighten her. Just say her name or very softly touch her arm. And if she doesn’t wake up right away, you come back.”
    “And no whispering,” said Robbert. “May is your friend. Don’t be shy.”
    • • •
    I walked carefully not to drop the chopsticks, especially climbing the classroom steps with no hands. I saw May’s shadow through the screen.
    “Who is it?” she asked in her raspy voice. “Which one of you?”
    “It’s Veronika,” I said, trying to speak loudly. “I brought you dinner.”
    “What is it?”
    “Peanut noodles with protein strips and kelp.”
    “Leave it there.”
    “I’m supposed to make sure you eat it, because you have to recover.”
    “I’m fine.”
    “Not your feet.”
    “Feet don’t matter.”
    “What if you fall down? What if you’re on the cliff?”
    May snorted through her nose. “Where’s everyone else?”
    “Eating.”
    May snorted again. “Or not eating.”
    “If they’re finished. Then they’re cleaning up, or maybe Irene will ask us to sing.”
    May’s voice went soft again. “I heard you last night.”
    “Can I come in?” I asked.
    May opened the door with its wheezing hinge. “I’ll come out,”