“But I didn’t do anything,” Rose protested.

Nancy shook her head under the street lamp, and its golden light caught the tears dinging to her eyelashes, making them sparkle.

“Yeah, you did. Listen, I can’t come to your house. I have to go. Thanks for asking me, though.” She gave a watery smile and backed away. “Thanks a lot.”

“Really … it was nothing. .. .” Rose said, bewildered, but Nancy had turned and was trotting down the dark street on her chubby legs. Poor piglet, Rose thought, you’ll never be a cheerleader, and she felt a flash of anger at Doreen, the cheering squad captain. Doreen’s skinny legs were at least forty feet long, and everyone on the team was chosen to match.

She went home and took a hot bath and never gave another thought to Nancy Emerson or whatever her problem was. Nancy was two years behind Rose in school anyway. Their paths didn’t cross. After a while, it was as if that wintry meeting had never happened.

The Potters said a prayer for her over the turkey and stuffing and cranberry sauce, and all ate too much, as usual, and fell asleep in front of the football game on TV. Rose woke with a fuzzy head and dry mouth. Her dad was snoring. Her brother Jerram was simultaneously watching the game, reading a book and doing his math homework. Mom was in the kitchen, washing out the roasting pan. The house still had the Thanksgiving smell, nice but a little greasy. When Rose walked into the kitchen, her mother asked if she wanted a hot turkey sandwich.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“You’ll all be hungry again later. Just when I’ve got all the leftovers nicely arranged in their containers and the kitchen is spotless, you’ll all be in here for another meal.”

She looked so cosily motherly at that moment, wearing her yellow plastic apron over her good dress, her face all satisfied with having Thanksgiving almost over. Rose hugged her.

“I was thinking about that girl,” she said, hugging back.

Rose almost said “Me, too,” but in truth she hadn’t given Nancy a thought since dinner.

“It must be terrible for her parents. Not knowing is worse than knowing the worst,” Mom said.

They stood with their arms around each other, their reflections safe and sound in the window over the kitchen sink.

By eight-thirty, everybody did want hot turkey sandwiches. Jerram ate his with his earphones on, tapping on the kitchen table so it shook and fiddling with his calculator.

Dad announced he was going to spend the entire weekend on the couch.

“You always say that, Carl,” Mom said. “But you never sit down for a minute.”

“I’ve been sitting down all afternoon, and I’ll still be sitting come Sunday night. That’s a promise.”

“We’ll see,” Mom said smugly.