Year of Mistaken Discoveries (3 page)

chapter three

B
efore Nora could reach me, Shannon grabbed my arm.

“Holy shit. Did you and Colton really break up?” Shannon whispered. Lydia was standing right behind her, looking ready to cry.

“Not officially. We’re taking a break.”

Shannon’s right eyebrow went up. “A break?” At least I wasn’t the only one who thought the whole “break” concept was weird.

“Hey,” Nora said, reaching my side. At least Brody hadn’t followed her.

I shot Shannon and Lydia a look letting them know I had no intention of getting into the Colton discussion with Nora right there.

My friends aren’t a group of mean girls. Everyone always
tries to make cheerleaders into the villains, like they pass out uniforms and attitude at the same time. People see a group of girls in cheerleader uniforms and assume we must all be class A bitches, but we’re not. It’s not like there is some official kind of ranking, but I guess we’re three of the most popular girls at school. You can tell there are expectations of those who have that kind of social ranking, and one of them is that popular girls don’t hang out with someone like Nora. Her dark, brooding “I’m so very misunderstood” shtick didn’t blend with many people. They found her to be a downer. Then there was the fact she was always telling wild stories. Half the time I couldn’t even tell if she believed the stuff she was saying, or if she was making them weirder and weirder just to see how people would respond.

“Hey.” I pressed my mouth into what I hoped would pass as a smile. “I didn’t expect to see you here. I didn’t know you and Ryan were friends.”

Nora looked around as if she almost found herself surprised to be at the party. “Yeah. Not so much.”

Shannon held out a can to me. “Hey, Avery, I got you a Diet Coke for the road.” Her eyes slid over to Nora. She took in her outfit, which made Nora look like a crow. Shannon was Nora’s exact opposite. She never met a shade of pink that she didn’t love. It was like being friends with someone made of cotton candy. She smiled at Nora. “There’s a bunch of stuff to drink in the kitchen. I don’t know what you like, but I’m sure Ryan has it.”

“Blood of virgins, mostly,” Nora said in a flat voice. “Look at the bright side—you probably don’t need to worry.”

Neither Shannon nor Lydia laughed. I poked Nora in the side with my elbow. “She’s joking,” I clarified. I felt my blood pressure rise. It was just like Nora; she didn’t even try to be normal. Would it kill her to make an effort to get along with my friends? I hadn’t talked to her in months and she had to pick tonight to show up, just when I thought things couldn’t get worse.

“I need to get going. I’m late for my curfew,” I said, as if I was really bummed I had to cut this conversation short. This is where normal people would say how they were glad to see you and hoped you had a good night, but Nora just stood there. “These guys are coming over,” I explained. Shannon and Lydia nodded in tandem.

“I need to talk to you,” Nora said.

“It’s not a great time.” This was the understatement of the year. “Maybe give me a call tomorrow or something,” I suggested. All I wanted to do was get out of this party, and it was turning into one of those horror movies where the person’s feet are stuck, or sinking into the floor.

“I came here to find you,” Nora said. “It’s important.”

Shannon and Lydia stood behind me, ready to help me make my escape. I couldn’t think of a single thing that Nora and I had to talk about at that instant. I opened my mouth to tell her that she’d have to call me.

“Come on, you can’t spare five minutes? For old times’ sake?” Nora pleaded.

“Fine. Look, can you guys meet me by my car in five?” I turned back to Nora. “It can only be a few minutes. I’m late for curfew.”

“I’ll tell Karl I’m leaving,” Lydia said.

Shannon shot Nora a dirty look. “Sure. I’ll grab my stuff and text my parents to let them know I’m staying at your place. We’ll be out in five.” She stressed the five.

As soon as I stepped outside, the air hit me like a sharp slap. It was at least twenty degrees colder outside than in the house. A layer of frost had covered everything since the party started, making the windows of the cars parked all over the lawn opaque. The grass under our feet was crunchy, like walking on corn chips. My breath plumed out like a dragon’s.

“So, what’s up?” I asked.

Nora looked down the street. “You decide on a senior project yet?”

Of all the things I thought Nora might have hunted me down about, homework wasn’t even on the list. Northside High made every senior do a project and present it as a requirement for graduation. We were supposed to partner up with someone so that we could learn teamwork. Did she actually think we’d do a project together after all this time?

“Uh. Yeah. Colton and I are doing a project on education reform.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I paused.
Would we still be doing the project? We’d come up with the idea over the summer. We’d already been working on it since the first week in September. Colton planned to major in public policy when he got to Harvard. I didn’t know what I wanted to major in, but I was sure our project was going to be the perfect thing that would put my Duke application over the top. I’d already turned in my early application and mentioned it. What was I going to do if we broke up? My stomach tightened. Getting into Duke was everything.

“Wow. Sounds riveting,” Nora said.

I felt a flash of annoyance. “It’s an important issue.”

Nora nodded. “I bet.” Her voice came out flat. “I just thought you’d do something you felt passionate about. Like writing a book or doing a book drive for kids or something.”

I snorted. “Can you imagine Colton wanting to write a book?”

“No. I can imagine you doing it.” She met my eyes. “You used to be a great writer. Remember those stories you used to write down all the time?”

“I had an overactive imagination.” I felt suddenly embarrassed, like she’d dragged out photos from junior high where I’d shot up really tall and looked as awkward as I felt. It wasn’t that I thought there was anything wrong with writing, but it felt sort of artsy-fartsy. I couldn’t imagine the Duke admissions team being impressed with my bad poetry. “The stories were stupid.”

Nora was quiet for a beat. “I thought they were great.”

Now I felt like I had somehow insulted her, which made no sense, because they were my stories. “Anyway, if you’re still looking for a partner, I could check around and see if I know anyone looking.” For the life of me I couldn’t imagine any of my friends wanting to partner with Nora.

“I’m partnered with Brody,” Nora said.

Her answer struck me like an electric shock. “Oh. I didn’t know you guys were friends.” There was no reason for me to feel surprised. It wasn’t like she owed me a list of who she hung out with. It wasn’t that unusual, they were both part of the Island of Misfit Toys, the people who didn’t really fit into any other social crowd. “He seems like a nice guy.”

“Nice?” Nora shot me a look. “He’s not a golden retriever.” She pulled her sweatshirt sleeves down so they were covering her hands. “Brody’s cool.”

“What are you guys doing for a project? Something with photography?” I glanced back at Ryan’s house to see if Shannon and Lydia were coming.

“I quit the photography store.”

I spun around, surprised. “When?” Nora had worked at the camera store at the mall since our sophomore year. Her dad had been really into photography, and when he still lived with them, he’d had a darkroom in their basement for developing film. He’d left a year ago, trading Nora and her mom in for his secretary, who was still in her twenties. It was gross. Nora had
grown up knowing about telephoto lenses and what someone meant by the term “f-stop.” I knew she was mad at her dad for leaving, but I hadn’t thought she’d give up taking pictures. I couldn’t imagine her without a camera.

“A month ago. I didn’t see the point.” She shrugged. “Our project was to find my birth mom.” She saw my expression. “I know. A waste of time, right? Isn’t that what you’re always saying?” Nora had been abandoned at a Catholic hospital in Costa Rica when she was a few weeks old. The pointlessness of searching for her parents when there wasn’t any information on them didn’t stop Nora from lurking on various adoptee websites and blogs. Nora had always maintained that I couldn’t understand how she felt because I knew so much more than she did. While my parents never tried to act like my adoption was a secret, or something to be ashamed of, I couldn’t shake the feeling that they wished it were something we could pretend hadn’t really happened.

My parents always told me they were there to talk about how I felt about being adopted, but their tone told me they didn’t really want to discuss it. It was the same as when they gave me the big sex talk. They told me I could ask anything then, too, but you could tell they really hoped I wasn’t going to ask them anything too awkward or embarrassing, like asking about what people meant by the term “blow job.” Saying you’re willing to talk about anything is the kind of thing you’re supposed to say if you’re a parent.

“It’s not that I think it’s a waste,” I hedged. I really hoped she didn’t want me to somehow help with her project. The fact that we were both adopted didn’t seem reason enough to me. I shivered from the cold. “It’ll be hard to find her.”

“She contacted me.”

My mouth fell open. “What?”

Nora chuckled. “You should see your face. Yep. I was on one of those online adoption sites and she reached out to me. Her name is Carla. She told me she never abandoned me.”

“So a bunch of Catholic nuns stole you?” The disbelief in my voice came through loud and clear.

“No.” Her tone took on a note of condescension, like she was talking to a small child who was learning disabled. “Carla told me that there are people down there who take babies because foreign adoptive parents will pay big bucks. You know what my parents paid for my adoption, right? You think money like that in a poor country doesn’t inspire people to do shit they shouldn’t? Carla was told that this guy was going to take me to a medical clinic for vaccinations. She didn’t know what had happened to me until after I’d already been adopted.”

My bullshit meter was going off. The whole scenario seemed over the top. Nora was watching for my reaction, so I tried to keep my expression neutral. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d tried to get a rise out of me. “Listen, you don’t have to come up with some kind of story to get my attention.”

“It’s not my story. It’s hers.” She barked out a bitter laugh.
“You knew it was a lie right off the bat. I’m always teasing you about being the Mary Poppins type, but you see through her and I didn’t see a thing.” Her voice was hard and cold. She didn’t meet my eyes. My stomach sank. This wasn’t one of Nora’s elaborate lies. There was something more going on.

chapter four

I
tried to make sense of what Nora was saying. The conversation was moving too fast. There were bursts of music and voices from the party whenever the door opened that made it hard to focus. “She wasn’t your mom? She made it up?” I asked.

“The whole thing was a scam. She asked me for money. She’d pay me back as soon as possible, of course, and then we could meet face-to-face and have a great mother-daughter reunion. Blah, blah, blah.” She smiled, but it didn’t extend to her eyes. “Even as much as I wanted to believe she was my mom, I knew then it was a con. I might be stupid, but I’m not a total moron.”

My stomach sank. “You’re not stupid. What she did was twisted. She should be arrested, or sued, or something. Did you tell the cops?”

“Why? So it could be public how pathetic I am? Poor sad
orphan searching for her mommy.” She tried to make it sound sarcastic, but the pain was on her face. A tear ran down her cheek.

It took a lot to hurt Nora. When we were in junior high, some of the high school kids made fun of her on the bus for what she was wearing. She turned around, stared them in the eye, and told them she didn’t give a shit about their opinion, so they should feel free to stop giving it. Nora was tough, but she was crying now.

“I’m sorry,” I said. I reached for her, but she backed up a step, slipping a bit on the icy ground. I had the sense she was afraid if I touched her she’d fly apart.

“It doesn’t matter.” She shrugged, her chin jutting up in the air.

“Okay, time to hit the road!” Shannon called out from the front door. She had her giant hot-pink Coach bag thrown over one shoulder and a hat jammed over her hair. Lydia planted a kiss on Karl and then pushed him back inside toward the party. I waved at them, holding up a finger so they would give us a minute more.

“Listen, why don’t you come over tomorrow?” I acted like it was no big deal, even though I couldn’t remember the last time I’d invited her to my house. “We could just hang out if you want. We haven’t caught up in forever.”

For a second I thought she was going to start crying again, but she swallowed hard and then put a smile on her face. “No, it’s okay. I only came by to give you something.” She reached
into her beaten leather messenger bag and pulled out one of those black Moleskine notebooks. Written on the front in silver pen was:
Field Guide to Finding Your Family
. She passed it over to me. I flipped it open and recognized her tiny slanted writing. “It’s everything I learned looking for my mom. Thought you might find it useful if you ever went looking for yours,” she explained.

I stared down at the notebook. As kids we’d made a blood vow (not much blood, to be technical; we’d each poked our thumbs with a tack, but it hurt like a son of a bitch) that we’d help each other to find our birth moms, even if the search took us to the ends of the earth. I couldn’t speak for Nora, but I’d been pretty sure at some point we’d be crashing through the Costa Rican jungle in full-on Indiana Jones outfits, hot on the trail of her mom. Somewhere around junior high I’d lost interest in the quest, but she never had.

“I can’t take this,” I said, trying to pass the worn notebook back to her. “I’m not looking for my birth mom.”

“I want you to have it.” She shrugged. “Besides, you never know.”