Free The Appearance of Annie van Sinderen by Katherine Howe Page B

and ripped fishnets and combat boots and tank top. Her bangs perfectly straight, hair braided into Princess Leia coils around her ears. She’s laughing at me, and I’m gripped with irrational panic, like she’s caught me doing something wrong.
    â€œMaking social calls?” she asks me, eyebrows arched. “I hope you’ve got a calling card. There’s nobody here.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” I ask, staring back into the depths of the stairwell.
    â€œI mean, there’s Fatima Blavatsky’s. But the rest of the building’s empty.”
    Her smile is getting mischievous, mainly by seeming to take over one side of her mouth more than the other. She shifts the grocery bag she’s carrying onto her hip, cocking a combat boot out in defiance.
    â€œEmpty? Are you sure?” It comes out more suspicious than I mean. But I can’t tell if she’s just trying to mess with my head. I mean, I
saw
Annie go inside.
    â€œOh yeah,” she says. “I’m sure.”
    Empty? So where did Annie go, if it was empty? If she wanted to brush me off, she could have just said no. I hear no from girls all the time. More often than not. My ex-girlfriend could say no like it was going out of style. Why would Annie pretend to like me if she didn’t?
    â€œHow do you know?” I ask.
    Maddie sighs and puts the grocery bag down at her feet, stretching her arms overhead. I can hear her spine pop when she stretches.
    â€œI know,” she says patiently, “because I was squatting here until three weeks ago. Then they came through and cleared everybody out.”
    â€œYou were . . . What?” I’m confused. She seems kind of young to not have anywhere to live.
    Maddie shakes her head, dismayed by how dense I am. “Squatting. I told you. Come on. I’ll let you carry the bag, and then if you’re really nice, you can buy me breakfast.”
    â€œBut—” I start to protest.
    Maddie’s already picked up her grocery bag, which upon closer inspection mostly contains takeout boxes and spotted fruit, and started walking back down the steps to the sidewalk.
    â€œHurry up,” she calls to me.
    I glance one last time into the deserted stairwell, disappointment crushing the breath out of me, pulling my mouth down. I don’t understand. I thought we were . . . I really . . . She must have felt it. How could she not have felt it, too?
    I sling my bag over my shoulder, shake my head, and turn away.
    For a minute Maddie and I trudge along together in silence. The street is busy now, crowded with people picking up lunch, striding with purpose from one place to another. In New York everyone’s in a hurry all the time.
    â€œI can’t believe she ditched me like that,” I finally grumble, unable to stop myself.
    Maddie looks sidelong at me, and then snorts.
    â€œIt’s a shocker,” she agrees. “Me? I’m shocked.”
    â€œI’m so screwed. Now I can’t get her to sign my thing. She just ditched me! God!” The complaints crowd out of me, one on top of the other, and only then do I realize I’m actually angry.
    â€œWhat thing?” Maddie asks lightly.
    We’re walking south, gradually wending our way east. And then farther east.
    â€œThis stupid release form. It’s not even my film! I don’t know why I care,” I spit. Of course, it’s not the release that’s making me upset. I feel stupid, letting Annie see how much I liked her.
    â€œShow me,” Maddie says, stopping by the gate to an austere cemetery. It looks like nobody’s been in there for a long time. There’s a historic plaque and everything. A marble angel with outspread wings watches our conversation between gnarls of ivy.
    I prop my camera bag on my thigh, fish out the crumpled paper, and hold it out for her to inspect. In a glimmer the grocery bag is in my arms and she’s holding the