In memory of Nicole Lewanski

The Princess Bride
.”
I laughed.
He opened the trunk and rummaged around in the dark. He stopped when he
heard the rustle of paper. “Oh, I almost forgot! I got you a present.”
“You did?”
“Yeah,” he said, handing me a brown paper bag. “I saw it in a shop window
and thought of you.”
I put my hand in the bag and drew out a hard round object.
“It’s a snow globe!” I peered at the miniature scenery of a tiny town set against
the backdrop of snowcapped mountains. “Oh, it’s so pretty.” I tipped it upside
down then back up again. We watched as the bits of tiny white confetti swirled
around the globe.
“I remember what you said that day we met, about snowcapped mountains.”
“Oh.” I was suddenly overcome with emotion. It felt like the person standing
in front of me knew me better than anyone else. On impulse, I took a step
toward him, and we put our arms around each other. It felt like the most natural
thing in the world.
“Thank you,” I said, putting my head on his shoulder. He was wearing a blue-
and-white checked shirt that felt both soft and rough against my cheek. My face
was inches away from his neck, and I caught the scent of soap and something else
that was warm and comforting, like freshly laundered sheets.
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it.”

---

“I do.”
“I hope you’ll find your way there someday, to that little mountain town, and
write your book.”
“I hope you’ll write yours too.”
I pulled away from him reluctantly. “We should get back or they’ll send a
search party.”
“Okay.”
“So this is it then, I guess.”
“It feels kind of like a breakup, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, in a weird way it does.” I couldn’t imagine how I would stop myself
from calling him, and I sensed he felt the same way. It was a new thing for me,
feeling this attached to another person, especially since we’d known each other
for such a short time.
“Do you think we’ll stick to the plan?” I asked.
“The one where we stop talking?”
“Uh-huh.”
He seemed to think it over. “Have you got your phone on you?”
I reached into the pocket of my new Audrey jacket and pulled it out. At the
same time, he fished his phone out from the back pocket of his jeans.
“Let’s delete each other from our phones.”
“Now?” I felt a wave of sadness wash over me.
“Yes, on the count of three.” He gave me a sheepish grin. “Otherwise we’d
never stick to it. I know I won’t.”
“Okay.”
“Ready?”
I nodded.
He began to count. “One . . . two . . . three.”
I pressed the delete button on his contact page and looked to see that he had
done the same.
“You know, I’m really glad I met you, Audrey,” he said, putting his phone
away.
Tears began to well up in my eyes. I looked away, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
“I just wish I had met you sooner,” he continued.
“I know.”
“Maybe one day we’ll end up at the same campus, like what Lucy said. Things
might be different then.”
His words gave me a sense of optimism. It sounded like a dream, studying at

---

the same campus as Rad, seeing him every day. And it wasn’t unrealistic. If I did
well in my exams, I could be there next year.
“I like the thought of that,” I said.

---

Six
I 
BROUGHT
A
bottle of Pinot and a small yellow cactus plant to Candela’s
housewarming party. I had stuck googly eyes on the cactus and made him a tiny
paper top hat.
“He’s sensational!” Candela declared holding him out for everyone to see. “I’m
going to name him Reginald.” She set Reginald down on a nearby coffee table
and introduced me to the guests. There were a handful of people I knew, and I
guessed the rest were friends of the punk flatmate on the account of all the
piercings and tattoos. “Ramona!” Candela called out to a girl who was coming
down the hallway. She grabbed my arm. “Come and meet my friend Audrey.”
Ramona wasn’t her real name. It was Sheila. She had always hated the name, so
on her eighteenth birthday she walked straight into the registry and changed it to
Ramona. “Look at me,” she said, her large, expressive eyes boring into me. “Do
I fucking look like a Sheila?”
“Not at all.” I meant it—she looked every inch a Ramona.
“What was your name again?”
“Audrey.”
“Audrey—?” She tilted her head to one side and studied me carefully.
“Field.”
“Oh, nice,” she said approvingly. “Audrey Field sounds like a writer’s name.
Like Charles Bukowski or Virginia Woolf. It’s almost like they were preordained.
Do you write?”
“Not really.”
“Yes, she does!” Candela countered. “She rarely shows her work to anyone,
though.”
“Well, you’ll be a writer; mark my words. You have the name for it,” she said
with an assertive nod. “Although I knew a guy named Brady Leclair. Sounds hot,
right?” she asked, looking at us for confirmation. Candela and I both smiled
agreeably. “Well, sorry to disappoint ladies, but—” she stuck her fingers in her
mouth and made a gagging noise. “Absolute troll and personality to match. Great

---

name, though. I’d fuck that name.”
“R
AMONA
’
S
A
RIOT
,” Candela said, “but Ally is a real bore.” We were sitting
outside, on the patio steps, while Candela had a smoke. “I don’t think I’ve seen
her at all tonight.”
I tipped my head up toward the inky black sky. It was a beautiful, clear night,
and I could see the cluster of stars that spelled out Sagittarius, my mind projecting
the outline of a centaur, arrow poised and ready to launch. I thought about Rad
and wondered whether he was thinking of me.
“No one ever sees her,” Candela said. “She’s always in her room, with her
head in a book. It’s a Saturday night, for Chrissake.” She shook her head.
“Anyway, looks like Lucy is still a sick puppy.”
“I spoke to her earlier. She sounded awful. I can’t believe that flu is still going
around. Duck couldn’t get the night off because there are too many people off
sick.”
“Oh God, I hope I haven’t caught it. I missed my flu shot this winter,”
Candela moaned. “I literally cannot afford to get sick anymore.” She stuffed her
cigarette butt into an empty can of Asahi and fished around in her jacket pocket
for another one. “I went for a job interview the other day. Beauty assistant.”
“Beauty assistant?” I looked at her amused. “You?”
“Yeah,” she said with a shrug. “The pay wasn’t too bad.” She held the
cigarette between her lips and lit it before taking a drag. Tilting her head up, she
blew out the smoke, a little at a time. “The lady who interviewed me was so
fucking weird, though. I mean, she made me peel a hard-boiled egg.”
“What?” I said.
“Yeah, for real. She went off in the back room and returned with this sad-
looking egg and told me to peel it.”
“And did you?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she laughed, “but I butchered it. The whole thing was a mess. Then
she pressed her hand to her forehead like this—seriously, Audrey,” she continued
when she saw my incredulous look. “She basically said in this whiny bitch voice,
‘Our clients have 
very
delicate skin, and what you just did to that egg’—then she
closed her eyes and shook her head like she was so disappointed.”
“She had such high hopes for you, Candela,” I said, laughing.
The door opened suddenly, and Ramona burst out from behind it. “What are
you cocksuckers doing out here?” she shrieked. She was off-balance and clearly

---

wasted. “Dex is getting ready to paint up my tits; you’re missing out on all the
fun.” She pouted.
“He’s a body painter,” Candela explained, seeing the look of confusion cross
my face.
“A bloody good one too,” Ramona drawled. “But first I’m going to give him a
lap dance.” She began swaying her hips suggestively, looking dangerously
unstable. “Not that it’s gonna do anything for him. He’s gay as fuck.” She hooted
with laughter just as someone called out to her from inside the house. “I’m
coming,” she called. “Hold off on the orgy ’til I get inside.” She shot us a
lascivious wink, then blew a kiss in our direction. “Don’t be too long, bitches.”
With that, she turned, slamming the door shut. I looked at Candela and raised an
eyebrow.
“Mum can’t stand her,” she said. “Thinks she’s a bad influence.”
“I wonder why she would think that,” I said under my breath.
Candela grinned. “Don’t be a smart-ass, Audrey. Ramona can be a little wild,
but she’s really nice once you get to know her.”
“How is your mum coping with you moving out?” I asked.
“She’s pretty pissed about the whole thing,” said Candela. “Especially with
exams coming up. Anyway,” she stretched her legs out and sighed, “I’m thinking
of quitting school.”
“You’re what?” I said, alarmed.
“I’ve given it a lot of thought.”
“But Candela, school’s over in a few months. You might as well stick it out.”
“Yeah,” she said, with another shrug. “But it’s getting to be a pain, you know?
I have to get up at seven every morning now, to make the bus. And I’ve taken
on all those extra shifts at Lambell too, now that I’m paying rent.” Lambell was
an upmarket steakhouse where Candela waitressed.
“Why don’t you just move back home for a while? You’ve made your point.”
“No way,” said Candela. “I’d rather die than give my mother the satisfaction of
seeing me come back.”
“Seriously, your mum isn’t that bad. I have to live with mine, and she’s a
million times worse.”
Candela knew what my mother was like, so she didn’t have a good enough
comeback.
“Why are you doing this, Candela? I thought you wanted to go to college and
do an arts degree or something.”
She was quiet for a few moments, and then her face began to crumple.

---

“Candela,” I said, putting my arm around her. “What’s wrong?”
“I just can’t do it anymore,” she said, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Do what?” I said, feeling my stomach clench. I’ve known Candela my entire
life, and I had seen her cry only a handful of times.
“I can’t walk through those school halls or run the track or sneak a cigarette
behind the bike sheds without seeing Ana’s face. I can’t keep pretending that
everything is normal, not while I’m still there.” She was sobbing now, and I tried
my best to comfort her, the way she always did for me. “I’m trying to be strong
about it, Audrey—I really am,” she gulped. “But I let Ana down. She was like a
sister to me. I just—I can’t be there anymore.” She shook her head, wiping her
tears with the back of her hand.
“Candela,” I said, as a fresh new wave of guilt washed over me. “I don’t want
you messing up your future because of what happened to Ana. It’s not fair.”
She sighed deeply and was quiet for a while. “I don’t care about my fucking
future.”
“Don’t say that.”
She shrugged. “Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Maybe you should see someone about Ana.”
“I don’t want to. Besides, I can’t afford a shrink, and there’s no way I’m asking
Mum.”
“Do you have to quit right now? Why don’t you think it over for a couple of
weeks?”
“Stop fretting about me, Audrey. I’ll be fine, honestly. I know what I’m
doing.”
“I don’t know if you do,” I said, still unconvinced.
“Anyway, let’s face it,” she said with a smirk. “I’m not as brainy as you and
Lucy. I was never going to ace my exams.”
“You don’t know that.”
She gave me her best “don’t-bullshit-me-Audrey” look. I opened my mouth to
protest but closed it again. I knew my friend. I could talk until I was blue in the
face, and it wouldn’t make an iota of difference. It was clear that Candela had
made up her mind.
“S
O
HOW
IS
the boy?” asked Ida, an unlit cigarette dangling between her brightly
painted nails.
We were in the middle of our third session together. It was a particularly warm

---

day, and the fan was whirring noisily above us. The lazy drone of a plane flying
overhead made me feel suddenly sleepy.
“We’re not in touch anymore.”
“Oh? What happened?”
“It was a mutual thing,” I shrugged. “I suppose it was getting kind of messy.
We thought it was best we keep our distance for now.”
“That’s very mature of you both.”
“It is?”
She nodded.
I leaned back into my chair and stared up at the ceiling, mesmerized by the
hypnotic spin of the blades.
“How do you feel about your decision to end the friendship with Rad?”
I thought about it for a minute.
“Lonely,” I said finally. “It’s a lot harder than I thought it would be. I mean,
it’s not like anything romantic happened between us. But I miss talking to him.
Every time I come across something I think he’d like, I just wish I could call him
up or send him a text. Like the other day, I saw this movie,