lottery? We eat Chinese and pizza most of the time at my house."
“Chinese and pizza sounds pretty good to me. Mom's a research assistant for a lawyer, and she works from home about half the time. She usually makes something for dinner on the days she's home."
“How come she doesn't pick you up from school?"
He shrugged. “She says just because she's home doesn't mean she's not working."
“Well, that's too bad. It means you get to keep me company on the bus, though.” She twirled around, an impromptu ballerina. “How do I look?"
Cory had never dealt with a girl his own age in such proximity before. How did you answer that? What would she think if he said she looked pretty? Would she think he liked her? Did he like her? “You look fine,” he said cautiously.
“Aren't you a charmer?” she said, but it was good-natured. “I was just going to come right over, but my mom's big on making good first impressions, she said I shouldn't meet the neighbors for the first time looking all grubby. She braided my hair and made me change—she wanted me to wear a dress ! I don't even like wearing dresses to church."
Cory wouldn't have known what to think if Heather had shown up here in a dress—he certainly would have felt uncomfortable in his own jeans and t-shirt, even if this was his house.
“Want to see my room?” Cory asked.
“Sure.” She followed him up the stairs. “You'll have to come to my house sometime, and check out the woods out back. They're really cool."
“I go back there a lot, actually. There's some really nice, quiet places. The woods are pretty big, too, bigger than you think at first."
“Ever get lost?"
He hesitated, always unwilling to make himself sound foolish. “Yeah, once. I finally came out of the woods about a mile away on the highway, and walked back from there."
“I haven't gone far enough to get lost yet, but I'm sure I will.” It sounded like she relished the idea—like it would be more of an adventure than an embarrassment. Maybe, for her, it would be. And maybe if he went exploring with her, he could learn to look at getting lost in the same way.
He showed her his new computer, and the Bogart poster he'd gotten for Christmas. She really liked his microscope, sitting dusty on a shelf—seemed a lot more interested in it than he'd ever been, truthfully. “Oh, good books!” she said, looking over his row of Charles de Lint and Orson Scott Card. She tapped a copy of Ender's Game with her forefinger. “I read this in school last year.” She pulled down one of his Sandman trade paperbacks. “I've never read these. Are they any good?"
“They're awesome."
“Let me borrow them sometime? You can raid my shelves, too, if you want."
“Sounds good.” So what if she liked bad movies? She had good taste in books, at least.
They talked about books for a while, then played video games. She was better than him at killing zombies, but he excelled at racing futuristic cars through decaying cityscapes.
Cory's dad got home right before dinner. He was nice to Heather—he was always nice to everyone. His parents mostly talked to Heather during dinner, asking about her old hometown, what her parents did, and so on. Cory learned a lot about her that way, and Heather seemed perfectly at ease around his parents. Dinner was chicken parmesan with salad and some kind of sun-dried tomato bread—a nicer meal than they would've had if they didn't have company over, Cory suspected.
After dinner, Cory walked with Heather out in the yard. “Sorry about that,” he said. “My parents playing twenty questions with you that way."
“It's okay. They're parents, they do stuff like that. I didn't mind. As long as you can play the same game when you come to have dinner at my house."
Cory felt warm. For the first time since school had started, he began to think that this year wouldn't be horrible. It was possible Heather would meet other people, find out Cory wasn't exactly at the top of the social
“Chinese and pizza sounds pretty good to me. Mom's a research assistant for a lawyer, and she works from home about half the time. She usually makes something for dinner on the days she's home."
“How come she doesn't pick you up from school?"
He shrugged. “She says just because she's home doesn't mean she's not working."
“Well, that's too bad. It means you get to keep me company on the bus, though.” She twirled around, an impromptu ballerina. “How do I look?"
Cory had never dealt with a girl his own age in such proximity before. How did you answer that? What would she think if he said she looked pretty? Would she think he liked her? Did he like her? “You look fine,” he said cautiously.
“Aren't you a charmer?” she said, but it was good-natured. “I was just going to come right over, but my mom's big on making good first impressions, she said I shouldn't meet the neighbors for the first time looking all grubby. She braided my hair and made me change—she wanted me to wear a dress ! I don't even like wearing dresses to church."
Cory wouldn't have known what to think if Heather had shown up here in a dress—he certainly would have felt uncomfortable in his own jeans and t-shirt, even if this was his house.
“Want to see my room?” Cory asked.
“Sure.” She followed him up the stairs. “You'll have to come to my house sometime, and check out the woods out back. They're really cool."
“I go back there a lot, actually. There's some really nice, quiet places. The woods are pretty big, too, bigger than you think at first."
“Ever get lost?"
He hesitated, always unwilling to make himself sound foolish. “Yeah, once. I finally came out of the woods about a mile away on the highway, and walked back from there."
“I haven't gone far enough to get lost yet, but I'm sure I will.” It sounded like she relished the idea—like it would be more of an adventure than an embarrassment. Maybe, for her, it would be. And maybe if he went exploring with her, he could learn to look at getting lost in the same way.
He showed her his new computer, and the Bogart poster he'd gotten for Christmas. She really liked his microscope, sitting dusty on a shelf—seemed a lot more interested in it than he'd ever been, truthfully. “Oh, good books!” she said, looking over his row of Charles de Lint and Orson Scott Card. She tapped a copy of Ender's Game with her forefinger. “I read this in school last year.” She pulled down one of his Sandman trade paperbacks. “I've never read these. Are they any good?"
“They're awesome."
“Let me borrow them sometime? You can raid my shelves, too, if you want."
“Sounds good.” So what if she liked bad movies? She had good taste in books, at least.
They talked about books for a while, then played video games. She was better than him at killing zombies, but he excelled at racing futuristic cars through decaying cityscapes.
Cory's dad got home right before dinner. He was nice to Heather—he was always nice to everyone. His parents mostly talked to Heather during dinner, asking about her old hometown, what her parents did, and so on. Cory learned a lot about her that way, and Heather seemed perfectly at ease around his parents. Dinner was chicken parmesan with salad and some kind of sun-dried tomato bread—a nicer meal than they would've had if they didn't have company over, Cory suspected.
After dinner, Cory walked with Heather out in the yard. “Sorry about that,” he said. “My parents playing twenty questions with you that way."
“It's okay. They're parents, they do stuff like that. I didn't mind. As long as you can play the same game when you come to have dinner at my house."
Cory felt warm. For the first time since school had started, he began to think that this year wouldn't be horrible. It was possible Heather would meet other people, find out Cory wasn't exactly at the top of the social
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