There was something very soothing about being out in the studio by myself, with Grandpa on the old TV. Sometimes when I think back on that summer, this is what I choose to come back to. If I blur the edges of my memory, the feeling comes back to me. A warm, soft quiet; the certainty of science in my grandfather’s voice. The scent of dry grasses and wildflowers and oak trees coming through the big windows. The light, steady and golden all afternoon, until it slanted into bluer and bluer shades toward night. It was a pocket of calm in which Jacob had never happened, my friends and I were okay, and all I had to do was sort the files and listen to Grandpa tell me about the wave-particle duality of light.

Chapter 6

On Wednesday, Steph, Mel, and Lisa were late, so I had plenty of time to second-guess why I was going out with them. I didn’t know them at all, and although I’d never gone to an open mic and had little idea what it would be like, I was somehow sure it would mean listening to terrible amateur singers, like American Idol auditions in person. If Tasha or Haley had asked me why I agreed to go, I would have lied and told them I had nothing better to do.

While I waited for Steph and the others to arrive, I worried about my outfit, scrutinizing my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I’d put on rolled-up jean shorts and a slouchy white blouse, but I wasn’t sure if it was right for an open mic in Fairfax. I thought about wearing something else, but my wardrobe choices were limited, and then Analemma started to bark. I grabbed my purse and went down to the front door, which Joan was already opening. Analemma plunged outside and I heard Steph greeting her.

“You never told me you sing,” Joan was saying.

I came outside to see Steph give Joan a slightly embarrassed smile. “It just never came up, I guess.”

“Sometime you’ll have to sing for me,” Joan said.

Steph seemed even more embarrassed now. “Sure, yeah.” She straightened up and said to me, “Sorry we’re late.”

“No worries,” I said. “Bye, Joan.”

“Have a good time,” she replied.

“Bye,” Steph said.

Joan called Analemma back inside, and Steph and I started down the path toward the street. She was wearing faded jeans and a gray T-shirt printed with a black tattoo-like illustration of a bird that wrapped around her shoulder. She looked so much like a boy—a cute boy. I wondered what Haley and Tasha would think of her.

“We’re going out to eat after,” Steph said. “Probably somewhere in Fairfax. That okay with you?”

“Sure.”