But then Evelyn began shouting at me. Even Miss Betty turned to look.

“Franny!”

“You found something.” Acid rose into my throat.

“This.” She carried the large book to my side of the table and then dropped it down in front of me.

Evelyn’s nose twitched when she got excited. I don’t think she realized she was doing it, but when she pointed to the picture her nose was moving so quickly she reminded me of a rabbit. “Look!”

It was a black and white photo and even despite its plastic protection, it was faded. In it, a young man was pointing to a painting and the headline read: “YOUNG ARTIST TAKES TOWN BY STORM.”

The painting had swirls of black and gray, like a tornado. In the center, he had painted an eye that was big and round with lashes that curled upward, making them look like the petals of a flower. He was smiling, pointing proudly toward his creation. Next to him stood a beautiful woman. Leah. My Leah. Even though the photo was old and blurred, I could see that she was smiling at him. The caption underneath the photo read “ARTIST. LIONEL KOZTERLAND.”

Evelyn’s nose was twitching. “That’s him, isn’t it?” she asked.

I didn’t answer, but it didn’t matter. Evelyn was busy scribbling into her notebook. I looked back at the picture then closed my eyes; I didn’t want to see any more. Her lovely face hung on the insides of my eyelids and wouldn’t disappear, no matter how tightly I shut them. I heard a faint humming in my ear that became louder and louder until finally it sounded like a roar. It became so loud, I wondered if Evelyn could hear. When I opened my eyes again, she was still writing in her notebook. She hadn’t heard a thing.

I turned to look at Miss Betty. I wished that she wasn’t so busy with the three people who had just lined up at her desk. I wished she would catch us with our bags of grapes, throw us out, and ban us from ever coming back. But she didn’t even look up. So I closed the book and pushed it to the middle of the table and waited for Evelyn to finish.

That afternoon, Evelyn’s mother drove us home and I sat quietly in the car until she pulled up in front of Leah’s house. Even though I could see that lights were on, I used my key to open the front door.

When I got inside, I stood quietly. And listened.

She was in the kitchen, humming, and I smelled food cooking. A round itchy ball formed in the opening of my throat. I dropped my backpack on the ground and watched as Leah came out of the kitchen.