There was something about the wind sifting through the pages of Nora's notebook that calmed her. The sound of them fluttering. The soft taps against her skin as they tried to fly, despite the added pressure of her fingertips. Evidence that she was there—alive, well, and connected to the world around her.

She finished off a line of lyrics and looked up. She was at the railroad tracks, an approximately fifteen-minute and thirty-seven-second walk from her house. It never seemed to age—same metal, same rocks, same railroad crossing sign. The same.

An alarm sounded, and she flinched. How could it have been an hour already?

She wanted to stay longer, but she only had a couple hours until Willow picked her up for a music video session, and she had to clean around the house before she left. Her dad wouldn't be happy if he returned home to his mess. So, she shut off the alarm, packed her notebook and mechanical pencil into her drawstring bag, and started down the road.

She was actually doing good on time. But, as she turned onto Penley Road, her pace slowed. She took more interest in every leaf on every maple. Was that a branch on the ground? A sticker on someone's window—the same sticker she'd noticed a hundred times over?

She tugged her house key out of her pocket as she crossed her yard, ignoring the cement pathway. Her feet sank a little in the grass. Right. It had rained the night before.

Up the steps. She hovered in front of the door—a little ridiculous, because he wasn't even home. She wouldn't even see him today, because she was sleeping over at Willow's.

She unlocked the door and headed straight upstairs. Her songbook returned to its place under her mattress. Her drawstring bag was tossed into her closet. And then it was time to get to work.

It was mid-morning, but her dad's blackout curtains made it seem like the middle of the night. It wasn't safe to cross the room to his window—what if there was broken glass or vomit?—so she settled for flicking on the light. No broken glass, but there was a puddle of puke right next to the bed.

She took a quick tour of the room. No other puke puddles, but there were dribbles of it on his comforter and pillowcase—as well as some sweat stains. She'd seen worse.

Laundry first. It would be the least painful. And, more importantly, her dad would have his bedding for tonight.

She yanked the dirty case off its pillow and haunted the comforter off the bed. Another scan of his bedding, just in case. All good.

The laundry room was a small space next to the downstairs bathroom. The washer and dryer were old-timers, and not the cutest, but they were reliable. They'd cleaned more vomit than she had. She patted the lid once she was done loading the washer. "Thanks, dude."

Clorox wipes, paper towels, and a trash bag in hand, she hurried back upstairs. Could puke cause mold? The question popped into her head every time she cleaned, but she always forgot to look it up. No. She didn't forget—she avoided the question, because if she looked it up and the answer was yes, that was one more thing she had to worry about.

You're selfish.

She knelt next to the puke puddle and unraveled some paper towels. She gagged against the stench and texture as she wiped it away and tossed the soiled paper towel in the trash bag. You'll get used to it. But it didn't matter how many times she told herself the lie—she still gagged.

Two Clorox wipes, just to be safe. And then she was done.

She had barely finished washing her hands when Willow's off-key singing voice blared through the room. "Nooooraaaaaaa, I'm calling yooooou! Pick up the phooone or I'll keep siiingiiiin'! PICK UP THE PHOOOOONE."

Ah, middle school. What a time to be alive.

"What's up, buttercup?" Nora asked, phone to her ear.

"Andy forgot he had work today, so he won't be coming," Willow said.

"Okay." She paused, let that sink in. "Wait! Shoot!"

Willow laughed. "I'll pick you up, don't worry. Is Nolan still coming?"

"As far as I know," she said. "I'll ask him. Please hold."

She hung up and swiped through her contacts. Nolan's name sat under Nathan's.

She bit her lip, free fingers tapping absently against her arm as the phone rang. Would he pick up?

"Hello?"

"Hey!" she said. "You're still going to Willow's today, right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Andy had to cancel, so Nathan's gonna pick us up. Could I have your address?"

Nolan started to rattle it off, but Nora swiftly realized that she wouldn't be good at any position that required a stellar memory. "Wait, sorry, I need to grab a piece of paper."

"Okay."

She bounded up the stairs and snatched one of her class notebooks from where they'd been banished in her closet. "Now I need a pen," she murmured. "I'm so disorganized. I need an assistant."

Silence.

"She snatched her mechanical pencil from the drawstring bag. "Mechanical pencil's close enough, right?"

"Sure," he said.

She laughed. "Okay, hit me."

"Fifteen Truitt Avenue, apartment five," he said.

Her eyes widened. "Oh, wow, that's actually like two streets over from my house."

"Really?"

"Yeah!" To think, he'd just been two streets away this entire time. What a small and funny world. "Ooh, since we live so close, could I just walk over to you so Willow just has to go to one place?"

"Uh, sure," he said.

She grimaced. "Sorry, pushy. It's okay if—"

"No, it's fine. Caleb will be happy to see you."

"Awesome! I'll see you in a few."

She hung up and called Willow.

"You know, putting someone on hold doesn't mean hanging up on them," Willow drawled upon picking up.

"Shh."

"Never be a receptionist."

"Hey, I'd be an amazing receptionist. Speaking of which, I have a message for you, sir."

Willow cleared her throat. "Can it wait 'till lunch?"

"Afraid not, sir."

"Fine. What is it, Sharon?"

"Sharon?"

"Seems like a good receptionist name."

She nodded her head from side to side. True. "Your father is to pick myself and Nolan up at fifteen Truitt Avenue."

"Thank you, Sharon."

"You're welcome, sir."

✝

Nora had to pee. Like really, really had to pee.

She bounced up and down as she scanned the apartment numbers. Crap. Which one was he again?

Five. Or was it four? It started with an F. She distinctly remembered an F.

She pressed the number five. Silence. She bounced and waited.

"Hey," a voice said, coming from the little intercom over the numbers. She would have sagged with relief if that wasn't a hygiene risk.

"Hey!" she said.

The door buzzed, and she yanked it open. She flew up the stairs—was needing to pee the key to winning the Sunday morning races? She'd have to try it out sometime.

She didn't even have to knock on the front door. Just as she reached the landing, the door opened and Nolan appeared. "Hi," she said, legs bouncing.

His lips twitched. "Down the hall, to the left," he said.

"Thank you!"

She rushed past him, through a small kitchen and hall. The door was open when she arrived—on the left, as promised. "Aw!" she cooed as she crossed the space. "Rubber ducky shower curtains? That's adorable!"

"Nora's here?" Caleb asked, his voice close, like he was standing in the hall.

"For a minute."

"Hi, Nora!"

"Hi, buddy!"

She flushed and washed her hands.

"Note to me and you," she said, emerging from the bathroom and making her way back to the kitchen, "don't chug an entire water bottle just before leaving the house."

"Noted," Nolan said. He'd moved over to the counter, leaning against it with his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

At his side, Caleb grinned. "Nora!" He wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed. "What are you doing here?"

"Hi, Nora," Greg said, and everyone turned to him as he leaned against the kitchen doorway. "It's nice to see you again."

"Hey! Right back at ya," she said. "As for why I'm here"—She returned her attention to Caleb—"Nolan and I are hanging out with Willow, and since I live so close by—"

"You do?" Caleb's eyes widened.

"Just two streets over."

"So cool!"

"Yes, yes it is." She grinned and hugged him to her. "Anywho, we're carpooling and one stop is easier than two, am I right?"

"I appreciate you guys picking him up," Greg said.

"Of course!" she said.

"I'll pick him up about two?"

"Perfect." She smiled.

"We could go wait outside," Nolan said.

"Okay," she said. With one last smile at Caleb and Greg, she followed Nolan back downstairs and out the front door.

They settled on the front porch. The breeze was still soft, the sun warming her face. A beautiful day.

"How's your morning been?" she asked, leaning back on her palms.

"Fine," he said. "Yours?"

"Stupendous, thanks for asking." She grinned. "Oh! Before I forget." She pulled her phone from her pocket. "Would you be okay with taking a contact picture?"

He blinked.

"I don't like the default silhouette," she said.

He looked between her and her phone. She'd made him uncomfortable again. "Sure," he said.

"Okay." She smiled. "Now, this is the most important picture you will ever take, Nolan Haynes. This is your contact picture for eternity. No pressure."

His lips twitched again. "Your phone from Ikea?"

She laughed. "Not quite. Okay. Say cheese!"

He put on a small smile. She took the picture.

"Magnifique!" She gave the picture a chef's kiss. "Ah. I should be a professional photographer. Look at this." She flashed him his photo. "Such talent, am I right?"

He didn't say anything, but amusement flickered in his eyes. She'd take it.

"We should set mine," she said, pocketing her phone.

"What?"

"My contact picture." She grinned. "I can't not have one. It's a crime."

He shrugged. "Okay."

Out came his phone. As he poised it in front of him, she beamed and put up a peace sign. "Cheese!" she said.

He showed her the picture. "Okay," she said. "Maybe you should be the professional photographer."

He smiled.

For the next fifteen minutes or so, they sat and talked. Well, she talked. He spoke a little, giving one-to-three worded responses, but she didn't mind, because the longer they sat there, the more at ease he seemed to become. By the time Nathan pulled into the parking lot, he actually looked comfortable.

✝

"Lumpia!" Nora squealed and clapped her hands as Rosamie set a plate bursting with lumpia on the dining room table. "You just made my day. My week. My month. My year. My life."

"Thank you, Mama," Willow said, laughter in her eyes.

Rosamie grinned. "Of course, of course. I'll be right back with the rice."

By the time Rosamie disappeared into the kitchen, Nora was already reaching for the plate. "You have to try this," she said to Nolan, who sat across from her. "It'll change your life."

"Probably not, but at least it'll be good," Willow said, looking up from her laptop. She was still typing away, logging every idea and solidified plan they'd come up with in the past hour and a half. They'd actually gotten a lot done. Nolan had helped Willow with breaking down the screenplay, and they'd filled out all of the breakdown sheets. They'd finished casting—Willow would be playing the main character, the fine fam would be playing the friends, and Nora would be herself. Now, they were brainstorming where to get props and any possible locations for the group outing scenes.

"How's it going?"

Nathan appeared in the doorway, a serving bowl in one hand and dinner bowls with spoons in the other.

"Good," Nora said through a mouthful of lumpia. Yum.

"You're not Mom," Willow said.

"You don't recognize your own mother?" Nathan gasped, then chuckled as he set everything onto the table. Unlike Rosamie, however, he tugged out a chair, plopped into it, and snagged a piece of lumpia. "Have you guys finished casting yet?" he asked. "I think I'm available for the lead. Just need to check my very hectic schedule."

"Sorry, but that's my role," Willow said, flipping a hand through her hair.

"Not for long."

Willow gasped. Nora laughed.

"So, you're the cinematographer, huh?" Nathan asked.

Nolan nodded. "Yup," he said.

"Next time I need a video made for class, I guess I know who I'm going to," Nathan said. He wriggled his eyebrows and chuckled when Nolan blanched. "No worries, no worries," he said, clapping Nolan on the shoulder, "just joshing you."

"Joshing?" Willow's eyebrows rose.

"Yes. Joshing. Don't question me." He grabbed another piece of lumpia and then he was gone.

"Using us for food and a role," Willow said. "Shameful."

Nora grinned. Nolan cracked a small smile.

Nolan reached for a piece of lumpia and took a bite. Nora waited, giddy, as he chewed and swallowed. "Has your life been changed?" she asked.

"Sure," he said.

She grinned.

"Okay, so, next up, we need to choose a place for the MC's bedroom."

Nora stuffed lumpia into her mouth and pressed herself into her chair. She did her best not to shrink into it, despite the desperate urge to make herself as small as possible—to make the option of her room invisible. It wasn't like she could just say, "Nope, not my room." She'd need a reason, and there wasn't one she could give without arousing suspicion.

Her fingers twitched toward her necklace. Maybe Erin—

"Last night, I asked Erin if she'd be up for it, but apparently her room is a disaster," Willow said. "She's moving into Emma's room."

Okay, but maybe Willow—

"We could use mine, but it doesn't really fit the vibe of the character," Willow said.

Erin had written the main character to be a creative spirit. Willow could appreciate art, and loved being in the band, but that was about it. Her walls were basically bare, with some photos of her, her family, and the fine fam from alabam.

"We could decorate your room," Nora said. "Get it more artsy."

"We could."

"If there's a way to save some time and money, though, we'll want to find somewhere else," Nolan said.

Their eyes went to her. No. "We can use my room if you want," she said.

"Are you sure?" Willow asked.

Nora smiled. "Yeah!"

"Okay then." Willow typed onto her laptop. "We officially have our first location. How does it feel, guys?"

Shit. "Awesome," she said.

✝

By the end of their session, they had a second location—Willow's house, for a pool party scene—and some possible locations for group outings. But, despite the accomplishment, Nora's body was like a string so tight it could snap at any moment.

Her house was the main location. Her house.

She'd picked up vomit this morning. Who knew if she'd even gotten it all?

So much could go wrong. They could smell something—the alcohol, the puke, the stench of unwashed clothes. They could see something. What if she didn't notice something while cleaning up? She was vigilant yes, but her dad had cursed more than once because he'd stepped on his own mess. What if they stepped in it? Or, worse, what if they stepped on a shard of glass?

"I'll keep you updated," Nolan said as they walked him to the front door. Wait. Keep them updated on what?

"Thanks," Willow said. "Fingers crossed."

"Leaving so soon?"

They turned, and there was Nathan. "Thanks for having me, Mr. Sison," Nolan said.

"Nathan. And of course. Come back any time."

"Nathan." The word was awkward on his tongue. He smiled politely and reached for the door.

It was as the door started to open that she remembered. "Oh!"

He faltered and looked over his shoulder. She yanked a small wad of money from her pocket. "Here you go."

"Oh." His eyes widened. "But I haven't started filming anything y—"

"You've been working, though." She smiled.

He opened his mouth, shut it. Reached out his hands. "Thank you," he said. He looked at her, so earnest.

"Thank you," she said. "See you later, alligator."

"See you later, alligator?" Willow asked when Nolan disappeared behind the shutting door.

"I stand by it."

Willow laughed.