She returned to her fries. “I find all the secrecy sort of romantic, don't you?” I didn't know how to answer that, considering how deep the secrets went around here.
“In my town, the pub is on the same street as the church, and the congregation moves directly from one to the other. Sometimes we even eat Sunday dinner there.”
I smiled. “Is it divinely delicious?”
“Nearly. Maybe not quite so hot. But the drinks are not quite so cold.” She pointed at her sweet tea with a fry. “Ice, my friend, is something you find on the ground more often than in your glass.”
“You have a problem with Gatlin County's famous sweet tea?”
“Tea is meant to be hot, sir. From a kettle.”
I stole a fry and pointed it back at her sweet tea. “Well, ma'am, to a strict Southern Baptist, that is the Devil's drink.”
“You mean because it's cold?”
“I mean because it's tea. No caffeine allowed.”
Liv looked shocked. “No tea? I'll never understand this country.”
I stole another fry. “You want to talk about blasphemy? You weren't there when Millie's Breakfast ’n’ Biscuits over on Main started serving premade freezer biscuits. My great-aunts, the Sisters, pitched a fit that nearly took down the place. I mean, chairs were flying.”
“Are they nuns?” Liv stuck an onion ring inside her cheeseburger.
“Who?”
“The Sisters.” Another onion ring.
“No. They're actual sisters.”
“I see.” She slapped the bun back down.
“You don't, not really.”
She picked up the burger and took a bite. “Not at all.” We both started laughing again. I didn't hear Mr. Gentry walk up behind us.
“Y'all get enough to eat?” he asked, wiping his hands with a rag.
I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“How's that girlfriend a yours?” He asked as if he was hoping I had come to my senses and dumped Lena by now.
“Um, fine, sir.”
He nodded, disappointed, and walked back toward the counter. “Say hello to Miss Amma for me.”
“I take it he doesn't like your girlfriend?” She said it like a question, but I didn't know what to say. Was a girl still technically your girlfriend if she drove off with another guy? “I think Professor Ashcroft may have mentioned her.”
“Lena. My — her name is Lena.” I hoped I didn't look as uncomfortable as I felt. Liv didn't seem to notice.
She took another sip of her tea. “I'll probably meet her at the library.”
“I don't know if she'll be coming by the library. Things have been weird lately.” I don't know why I said it. I barely knew Liv. But it felt good to say it out loud, and my insides untwisted a little.
“I'm sure you'll work it out. Back home, I fought with my boyfriend all the time.” Her voice was light. She was trying to make me feel better.
“How long have you guys been together?”
Liv waved her hand in the air, the weird watch sliding down her wrist. “Oh, we broke up. He was a bit of a prat. I don't think he liked having a girlfriend who was smarter than he was.”
I wanted to get off the subject of girlfriends, and ex-girlfriends. “So what's that thing, anyway?” I nodded at the watch, or whatever it was.
“This?” She held her wrist over the table so I could see the clunky black watch. It had three dials and a little silver needle that rested on a rectangle with zigzags all over it, sort of like one of those machines that track the strength of earthquakes. “It's a selenometer.”
I looked at her blankly.
“Selene, the Greek goddess of the moon. Metron, or ‘measure’ in Greek.” She smiled. “A little rusty on your Greek etymology?”
“A little.”
“It measures the moon's gravitational pull.” She turned one of the dials, thoughtfully. Numbers appeared under the pointer.
“Why do you care about the moon's gravitational pull?”
“I'm an amateur astronomer. I'm interested in the moon, mostly. It has a tremendous impact on the Earth. You know, the tides and everything. That's why I made this.”
I almost spit out my Coke. “You made it? Seriously?”
“Don't be so impressed. It wasn't that difficult.” Liv's cheeks flushed again. I was embarrassing her. She reached for another fry. “These chips really are brilliant.”
I tried to imagine Liv sitting in the English version of the Dar-ee Keen, measuring the gravitational pull of the moon over a mountain of fries. It was better than picturing Lena on the back of John Breed's Harley. “So let's hear about your Gatlin. The one where they call fries by the wrong name.” I had never been any farther than Savannah. I couldn't imagine what life would be like in another country.
“My Gatlin?” The pink spots on her cheeks faded.
“Where you're from.”
“I'm from a town north of London, called Kings Langley.”
“What?”
“In Hertfordshire.”
“Doesn't ring a bell.”
She took another bite of her burger. “Maybe this will help. It's where they invented Ovaltine. You know, the drink?” She sighed. “You stir it in milk, and it makes the milk into a chocolate malted?”
My eyes widened. “You mean chocolate milk? Kind of like Nesquik?”