The Here and Now Read Free Page A

things.
    At the park it’s me, Katherine, Jeffrey Boland, Juliet Kerr, Dexter Harvey and a few others who go to school in Rockland County. Jeffrey falls asleep in the sunshine, Dexter puts on his headphones, and Katherine and I go for a walk around the reservoir.
    “So hard to see Aaron’s face up there on the screen,” I say slowly, glancing at the side of Katherine’s face as we walk. I see the color blooming in her nearly transparent skin.
    Aaron lived around the corner from her. He had a little dog, a pug mix or something, named Paradox, that used to run to Katherine’s house every chance it got. Katherine worried about Aaron. It was harder for him than for most of the rest of us. Maybe I worried too. Katherine gave Aaron her old Mongoose BMX bike, and you always saw him riding around on it.
    I know how sensitive Katherine is, and I know she’ll hide everything she can, but I want to say something. I want to say at least one true thing.
    “He wasn’t much of a swimmer. He never was,” I add. It’s a morbid point for me to make. I realize that, but Katherine looks relieved because it’s my way of telling her that I’m not trying to be too honest here. I’m not trying to challenge anybody. I’m accepting the story of Aaron’s demise, as we all must, even though we know it is total bullshit.
    She smiles a tiny bit. I can see the tears welling in her eyes. I see her look up at the cherry blossoms spread like an awning over the bridle path. I can see how much she doesn’t want to cry.
    I reach for her hand. I hold it for a moment and let it go. She is the only person I can do that with.
    “They renamed his dog,” she says, so faintly I can barely hear her.
    “What?”
    “Aaron’s dad renamed his dog Abe. He doesn’t come to it.”
    We all meet up again on the Great Lawn and head twenty blocks uptown, where we’ve got the big upstairs party room of Big Sister’s Diner rented out. We usually have our gatherings in New York City because we all live within a thirty-mile radius of it and there’s a lot of good transportation, but even more because it’s so giant and chaotic it easily swallows everyone without a burp. We prefer not to be noticed.
    Tonight on the second floor of Big Sister’s there are streamers hanging and big foil pans of food laid out buffet-style and café tables set up around the room. Right at the front I see a few chaperones I recognize from other socials.
    “Prenna? Right?” A woman about my mother’s age with silver-and-black hair comes over as I’m taking off my jacket.
    “Yes … Mrs.…” I feel like I should know her name.
    “Sylvia Teller. From, uh … We live in Dobbs Ferry,” she says. She looks uncomfortable. My mind is leaping around nervously, and then I realize it’s just the usual reason. She was a friend of my father’s. They went to college or graduate school together. She is racking her brains for a contemporary connection between us, because those are the only kinds we can mention, and she can’t think of one.
    I know I resemble my father, who was striking-looking and who knew practically everybody. I can see that’s the first thing that comes into people’s heads when they look at me. I amtall like him and have his straight dark hair and wide, Asian cheekbones. I look nothing like my mother, who is small and blond, except for the silvery eyes. Nobody ever connects me with her at these events but only, uncomfortably, with a person who can’t be mentioned.
    I don’t want to feel sad. I go to the bathroom to wash my face and put on some lip gloss. I nearly slam into Cora Carter coming out of the bathroom and we both take a step back.
    “Hey, Prenna.” She smiles.
    “Cora. How’s it going?”
    We don’t kiss on the cheek or embrace or anything. The people in our community hardly ever touch each other.
    “Good.” She studies my outfit. “You look great. I love your belt.”
    I look down at it. “Thanks. You look great too.”
    “Did you see