The Appearance of Annie van Sinderen

She wipes her fingertips under her eyes, smiles bravely, and says yes.

We turn away, clasping our hands and walking together without looking back.

? ? ?

Tyler’s bopping down the street through the fading afternoon, and lights are winking on ahead of the coming city night. It’s that moment in New York City summer dusk when it looks like the air should be getting cooler, but it’s not. I pluck at the bottom of my T-shirt to peel it away from my skin.

I glance at Annie, wondering if she feels as hot as I do. I notice beads of sweat on her upper lip. So the answer must be yes. What must it feel like, to be inside her skin right now? Not just in her mind, but in her body? Is her dress heavy? If she thinks too hard about what she is, does it hurt? Is she sad?

What does she think about me?

I have to tell her about Maddie. But I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. It’s weird enough, having two girls notice me at all.

“This girl we’re meeting . . . ,” I start to say. But then I don’t know where I’m going with it.

Annie looks at me curiously.

“She’s . . . ,” I try again.

Annie waits, and when I continue not to say anything, she gives me a wry smile.

“Don’t worry,” she says after a time.

I’m not sure what she means by that, but I exhale all the same. Anyway, aren’t we looking for some cameo that another guy gave her? Maybe she only likes me as a friend. My stomach sinks at this idea, and I edge away from her slightly on the sidewalk, doing my best to pretend like I don’t much care one way or the other. If Annie notices any change in the air between us, she doesn’t let on.

We get to the bar, and it’s early enough that there’s nobody at the door yet.

It’s not as crowded as it was the other night, and when I don’t find Maddie right away I push through the clusters of sweaty kids laughing and clutching beer glasses to the garden in the back. It’s warm enough outside that the garden is sparsely populated, and most of the people back there don’t have laurel leaves tattooed on their necks. In fact, only one of them does.

She’s sitting at a wooden picnic table, looking down into her wineglass as though reading tea leaves. The garden isn’t much to look at—brick patio, strung with Christmas lights, and someone’s set up an industrial fan to stir around the summer heat.

Tyler spots Maddie first and stops, waiting to see how I’m going to handle showing up for what’s basically a date with another girl and guy in tow. The truth is, I have no idea how I’m going to explain the whole Annie situation. Should I make Maddie look through the video camera so she can see her? But what if that freaks her out, like it did Sheila? Should I remind her about signing the release form? Will she even believe me, or will she think we’re all pranking her? I’m already on her jerk list for being late. Basically, there’s no good way for this to go.

While I’m hesitating, trying to decide what to say, Maddie glances up as if sensing that she’s being watched. When she sees us, she breaks into a smile.

“Oh, hey!” she says brightly to . . . Annie? “Hi, Tyler. Hey, Wes. Perfect timing. I’m about ready for a refill.”

“Hi!” Annie says. She climbs over the picnic table bench to sit down next to Maddie, pulling all her skirts and everything out of the way, flashing everyone a long bloomer leg.

“Hey, you. How’re things?” Maddie asks.

“Good, I guess? Better,” Annie says. “How are you doing?”

My head swims. In my peripheral vision, though, I can see Tyler about ready to explode with laughter.

“You guys . . . you know each other?” I stammer.

“Sure,” Maddie says, smiling at Annie. “From around.”

Annie smiles at me and shrugs. “She gave me a beer, one time.”

“She . . . what?” My head is spinning.