“Excuse me?”
“It’s a trap, okay?” She went to the kitchen and threw her bowl into the sink with a clatter. “For people like me anyway. They say ‘Oh, college is your ticket out of here; it’s your big chance.’ They get the guidance counselors working for them. My counselor? McFadden? She goes on these boondoggle trips every year, on the school’s dime. It’s fucking ridiculous. Then all the kids get in, of course, and everyone throws a party, and then—then—they decide to mention you need eighty, ninety, a hundred grand. Us! People like us!”
“Okay, but—”
“‘But you can get financial aid! You can get a scholarship!’” Rose waggled her hands in the air. “Yeah…for two thousand dollars. And by that time, you’ve had the party and you’ve bought your extra-long twin sheets and you’ve seen your ma cry tears of motherfucking joy. So you borrow the rest, and bam, game over. You lose.” Rose shook her head.
“No, but I guess I’m confused?” Mary Ellen pushed her hair away from her face. “I thought your family didn’t want you to go to college.”
“That’s Rose’s family.” Rose sat back down at the table and gave Mary Ellen a hard look.
“What?” Mary Ellen shook her head. She was having a lot of trouble following this conversation, and she hadn’t even had that much to drink.
“I’m not Rose,” Rose said, balling her hands into fists and lowering them gently to the table, unfurling her fingers into two open fans.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m not Rose. I’m Ivy.”
17
If she’d known how good that was going to feel, she’d have done it days ago.
The lady was opening and closing her mouth like a confused fish. “You mean, Rose isn’t your name?”
“I mean, Rose isn’t who I am.”
Mary Ellen jerked her head back, squinting. “Then who are you?”
“I’m Ivy.”
“But the whole college thing—”
“Was bullshit. I’m not running away to go to college; there’s no aunt in Pittsburgh; my dad’s been dead since before I was born. I’ve never written a play. I’ve never even seen a goddamned play. Unless you count school plays, which are fucking stupid.” Ivy paused, enjoying the gush of truth, hoping she wasn’t going too far. “I’m headed out west. I have other plans.”
The lady had turned kind of white, and it occurred to Ivy that she didn’t know CPR. They’d taught it in health class, but she’d cut school that day. “Don’t worry,” she added. “I’m not, like, a psycho or anything.”
“Well, I should hope…” Mary Ellen shook her head and got up to refill her drink. When she came back, she edged warily around Ivy’s side of the table, keeping an eye on her like she was a hairy spider or something. She set her drink down, then casually reached for her camera bag, which was at the end of the table. She shouldered it and picked up her laptop.
“And I’m not gonna steal your stuff,” Ivy said.
“I’m just making sure I don’t forget anything. I want to get packed tonight so we can leave first thing in the morning.” Mary Ellen went to the door and picked up her purse, rooting through it to make sure everything was there. She took everything over to the living room, where the journal and pen were still sitting on the coffee table. She put down her belongings, picked up the journal, and stood for a moment, reading what she’d written inside. She shook her head sadly. “I just—” She closed the book.
“What?”
Mary Ellen came back to the dining room table. “Are you sure you don’t want to be a writer? I mean, I could just see it. You seem so creative.” She gave a half-hearted little laugh.
Ivy rolled her eyes. “No, I’m telling you, I’m not that person.” She went to the hooks by the door and took her wallet out of her jacket pocket. She pulled out the Montana newspaper clipping and looked at it. The picture had always explained everything—to her, anyway. Now she realized the lady wasn’t going to understand a damn thing about it.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.”
“Let me see it.”
Ivy huffed impatiently and slapped the clipping onto the table. “It’s a baby deer hanging from a telephone wire. It’s in Montana. Okay?”
Mary Ellen sat down and studied the clipping, reading the brief story under the picture. “How sad. Why do you have this?”
“That’s where I’m going.”
“Missoula, Montana?”
“Yeah.”
“To see the baby deer? I think it’s probably gone by now. Look, the guy in the picture is—”
“I know it’s gone. Jesus, no. I just want to see stuff like that. Eagles. Mountains. Real mountains, not like this bullshit. The Going-to-the-Sun Road.”
Mary Ellen looked really confused now. “But how are you… I mean, what’s your plan? You’re just going to travel around sightseeing?”
“I have a plan, don’t worry. I’m gonna be a smoke jumper.” As soon as Ivy said this, she knew it was a mistake. The lady’s face screwed up like a stiff old sponge.
“You mean one of those skydiving firefighters?”
“Yes.”
“You’re going to… Oh wow.” Mary Ellen laughed a little, rubbing her eyes like she had a headache. “You’re going to, I don’t know, walk to Montana, in the middle of the winter, and magically get hired to do one of the most physically demanding jobs on the planet. That’s great. That’s perfect.”
“What?”
“Everything. This trip, my photography, Justine, you. I don’t know.” She plunked her chin into her hands and said softly, as if to herself, “It’s all just turned to shit.”
“Excuse me?” Ivy crossed her arms and grabbed handfuls of her shirt.
“Nothing. Never mind.”
“You think my plan is shit? Well, screw you. I don’t care what you think.”
Mary Ellen shook her head slowly. Suddenly, her face began to swell with tears. “It’s just… I liked Rose,” she said, stretching her hand out. “Okay? I really, really… She was like a—”
“Oh, fuck off!” Ivy yelled. “This is me, okay? This is what you get. Accept me as I am, or leave me the hell alone.”
“No!” Mary Ellen sluiced
