Red Leaves. Paullina Simons

and then walked and turned the corner himself, wanting to catch another glimpse of her.

      Kristina’s heart was beating so fast she wanted to skip to its pounding along Main Street. Blew off basketball practice looking into the blue-eyed, full-lipped face of a man with no hair who looked at her in a way she hadn’t been looked at for a long time. Spencer Patrick O’Malley. ‘Spencer Patrick O’Malley,’ Kristina whispered his name to herself, and began running to Tuck Mall, her backpack in her hands.

      When Kristina got back to Hinman Hall, where she lived, her room was unlocked and empty. Aristotle wasn’t there, nor was Jim. She dropped the backpack on the floor and picked up a hairbrush. But her hands were numb from the cold; they wouldn’t obey her. Kristina felt bad she had been such a mess for Spencer.

      Some first impression. Spencer himself hadn’t shaved, true, but he was just so cute it didn’t matter.

      Sitting down on the bed, Kristina waited for a few minutes. Her hands were tingling, and she put them between her knees to keep them warm. She knew she wouldn’t wait long.

      There was a knock on the door. Albert peeked in.

      ‘There you are,’ he said, opening the door further and letting in the dog. Aristotle bounded in, jumped on the bed, and then on Kristina. She petted him without taking her eyes off Albert.

      ‘I walked him.’

      ‘Thanks. Where’s Conni?’

      ‘She is incommunicado this afternoon. Don’t tell me she’s baking me a cake?’

      ‘I won’t tell you,’ Kristina said absently. She was still thinking of Spencer.

      Albert continued to stand in the doorway. She wanted to ask him to come in and close the door, but Jim was going to be coming by any minute.

      ‘Going with Conni to Long Island for the holiday?’ Kristina asked Albert.

      ‘Yup. Same as last year. Want to come with us? Or are you going with Jim?’

      ‘Oh, yeah, sure…’ Kristina trailed off.

      He took a step toward her. ‘So come with us,’ he said.

      Sitting on the bed, Kristina shook her head, never taking her eyes off him. Albert had wanted to be a gymnast when he was younger but had grown too fast, gotten at once too broad and too angular. Now he wanted to be a Zen Buddhist. His long, dark hair was slicked back in a ponytail. He had a small gold loop ring in the left ear.

      ‘Listen,’ Kristina said. ‘I gotta tell you some -’

      ‘How did it go?’ Albert interrupted her.

      For a moment, Kristina didn’t know what he was referring to.

      ‘Howard,’ he said impatiently. ‘How did it go with Howard?’

      ‘Good.’ Kristina paused. ‘Everything’s done.’

      ‘And?’

      ‘And nothing,’ she said, rubbing her hands together to warm them up.

      Albert came closer to her. ‘Was he okay with it?’

      ‘Yeah, he was okay with it,’ Kristina replied. ‘He did ask me if the divorce was my idea.’

      Albert laughed loudly. Kristina for once thought his laugh sounded gaudy. ‘Did you tell him the truth?’ he asked.

      ‘The truth?’ said Kristina. ‘Exactly what is that?’

      ‘A conformity to fact or actuality,’ replied Albert.

      ‘Ahh, of course,’ said Kristina. ‘Well, I told him it was my idea. Is that a conformity to fact?’

      ‘It’s good enough, Rocky,’ Albert said, smiling and coming closer to the bed. ‘It’s good enough.’

      Kristina loved it when he called her by the old familiar nickname, but she put out her arms to stop him from coming too close. She didn’t want to stop him, but it was broad daylight.

      ‘Listen,’ he said. ‘I have an idea for Thanksgiving. What would you think of -’

      He stopped abruptly. Jim Shaw was standing in the doorway.

      ‘Jimbo,’ Kristina exclaimed weakly. ‘Hey. Ready?’

      Albert nodded to Jim, who curtly nodded back.

      ‘I’m ready,’ said Jim, and then stood motionless and silent at the door.

      Tense, Kristina petted Aristotle and then broke the awkward silence, ‘How’s your birthday been so far, Albert?’

      ‘Good,’ he replied. ‘It’ll get immediately worse once I taste Conni’s cooking.’

      ‘You call it cooking?’ asked Kristina, trying hard to lighten the mood.

      ‘At least she’s making you something,’ Jim said in a voice tinged with hostility, and then the three of them just stood there again.

      ‘Well, I’m sure it’ll be very nice,’ said Albert with an edge to his voice. Kristina was surprised to hear it. Albert never had an edge to his voice.

      ‘Krissy, let’s go,’ said Jim.

      ‘Yeah, Krissy,’ Albert said mockingly. ‘Run along now.’

      Flustered, Kristina got up off the bed, picked up her books off the floor, and walked toward the two guys.

      ‘Don’t forget your coat,’ said Albert. ‘It’s freezing out.’

      ‘Where’s your coat?’ Jim asked, standing with his backpack swinging in his hands.

      Kristina looked around her messy room. Though outwardly Kristina maintained that a clean room was a symptom of a diseased mind (for how could she, while studying the world’s greatest thinkers, be bothered with such mundane earthly issues as cleaning?), inwardly she hated untidiness and made a point of spending as little time in the room as possible. Once upon a time she had been the neatest girl in the world, but it had become clear to her even before Dartmouth that an untidy room made it easier to hide stuff from Howard. When everything was in its place, Howard found it.

      Every once in a while, though, Kristina compulsively cleaned everything up before throwing it all around again.

      She wished today had been a clean day, because today she couldn’t find her coat.

      ‘Wonder where my coat is.’

      ‘Sometimes it helps to put coats in the closet when you want to find them again.’

      ‘Thanks, Jim. Where’s my coat?’

      ‘You weren’t wearing it this afternoon,’ Jim said. Albert was quiet.

      ‘I usually don’t wear my winter coat when I play basketball,’ Kristina said. She didn’t mean to snap, but she had just remembered where her coat was.

      It wasn’t at Red Leaves House, because Kristina hadn’t spent last night there. She had left her coat up at Fahrenbrae Hilltop Retreat.

      It was her only coat. Her mother had bought it for her fifteenth birthday, and six years later, the red cashmere was faded and there were some permanent stains on it. It remained one of her favorite things. Next to whiskers on kittens and hot apple Strudel.

      She didn’t look at Albert as she walked past him and said to Jim, ‘Come on, let’s go.’

      ‘Kristina, put something -’

      ‘Come on, Jim,’ she said, raising her voice.

      She saw Jim widen his eyes at Albert, who shrugged his shoulders and smiled, folding his hands together in a prayerful Zen salute.

      Jim followed her.

      ‘You should try locking your door once in a while,’ he said. ‘It’s the house rule, you know.’

      ‘Yeah,