When You Reach Me

Things You Count

Right before Thanksgiving, Colin and Annemarie were behind the counter weighing a slimy heap of sliced turkey into quarter-pound piles separated by pieces of waxed paper. Jimmy said they should do a whole week’s worth.

“Won’t it go bad?” Annemarie asked.

“Nah. Stuff’s full of preservatives.”

Colin licked his lips and said, “Yum, yum. Chemical turkey.”

“Shut it,” Jimmy said.

For once, I was happy to be counting the rolls.

Now that he had us, Jimmy seemed to have nothing to do. He sat on one of the stools bolted to the floor in front of the big front window and watched me with his arms crossed over his chest, his hands tucked under his yellow-stained armpits. He had already rejected my V-cut for the day—it was waiting for me on a tray behind Annemarie, getting dry as usual. Luckily, Jimmy didn’t limit our use of may onnaise.

“Lookie,” Jimmy said, pointing his chin toward the window. “There goes one of your little friends.”

On the other side of the street, Julia was walking alone, wearing her orange suede knapsack and an orange suede headband that matched. Matching suede knapsacks and headbands were probably all the rage in Switzerland, I thought.

“You mean Swiss Miss?” I grabbed two rolls and dropped them into the bag at my feet. “She’s not my friend. Not even close.”

He smiled slowly. “Swiss Miss. That’s a good one.” He stared outside for another minute and then stood up. “You’re funny, you know that?”

I shrugged, still counting, but happy. A compliment from Jimmy was a rare thing. When I finished, I folded the top of the bag and lugged it to its spot behind the counter. Jimmy had disappeared into the back. Annemarie was giggling at something Colin had said.

Ever since our foreheads had touched, looking at Colin made me feel strange. But good-strange, not creepy-strange.

“Eighty!” I called out to Jimmy. Right on the nose.

“Better luck next time!” he yelled back.

Colin looked at me and grinned, causing my stomach to sort of float inside my body. “He’s dying for the bread order to come up short, you know. You should throw a roll in the trash one day, just to make him happy.”

“Don’t listen to him, Miranda,” Annemarie said. “He’s just trying to get you in trouble again.”

But while she was talking to me, she was looking at Colin, and her expression was funny, as if her stomach might be floating too.