“And which one, might I ask?”

“Bryn Mawr.”

At this she lights up like a birthday cake. “OOHHHH! Bryn Mawr! Well, why didn’t you say so?! You buried the lede, you silly girl!”

I have no idea what those words mean but am grateful she’s finally not looking quite so sternly down that long nose of hers. I was beginning to feel like I was on the witness stand. But now, now I am a member of some form of club. I guess I will not tarnish this newfound warmth by divulging my plan to run in front of a moving vehicle sometime between now and Thanksgiving break.

“Well, now that I’ve delivered the delicious and, might I say, exquisite jam, I must be going. I really just wanted to pop by and see that the new girl had arrived.” She quickly walks back through the hallway and begins collecting her things. “Bryn Mawr! What a funny little thing! You know my cousin went there and quickly became a lesbian! Absolutely stormed into it! Are you planning on becoming a lesbian?”

“I wouldn’t put it past me.” I shrug.

“Oh, you kids! You’re all so maddeningly open about everything. It makes me long for the days when we were ashamed! Ashamed of our own shadows!”

And now she’s put on her expensive orange crumpled hat. “Well, I’m just down the road. Don’t hesitate to drop by if you get bored contemplating your future identity or whatever it is you plan on doing here on your own. My door is always open. Ta-ta!”

With that final gesture, she’s out the entryway and down the front stairs without even a look back.

She gets to the end of the gravel driveway before I decide.

I like her.

Chapter 5

I’ve never been very good at sleeping. Even in kindergarten. There were always too many things to be excited about. Or scared of. For instance, being left. What if you put your head down and went off to happy dreamy cloud land . . . woke up and, poof, everybody was gone? Just like that?

And what about tonight? I’m just supposed to lie here and easily fall asleep in my little converted attic?

Yes, I understand there are two perfectly wonderful and grand bedrooms downstairs. We’ve been through this. Not only is there nothing museum-like or breakable here, this attic fits my state of being.

But it isn’t easy to sleep. This is more of a toss and turn situation. I can’t seem to get comfortable and there is that one thought, that very specific one, that I have been avoiding all day.

Here, on my first night, that thought wants to drag itself out of my brain’s recesses and into the open. But there is no way I am letting that happen.

Nope. No, sir.

The problem is, it’s quiet as a tomb here. Silent enough to allow just about any thought to pop into your head. Like, if you went deep enough, you could solve the mysteries of quantum physics. You could invent a replacement for money. You could do just about anything.