The Favor

Annabel's mother said she was sorry, that she didn't realize Annabel wouldn't want to go to Jeremiah's house, but Annabel knew her mother wasn't really sorry, and that she had accepted the playdate invitation only because she felt guilty that she wasn't a better friend to Jeremiah's mother. Annabel was almost twelve, in the waning months of sixth grade, too old for a parent-arranged playdate. Annabel and Jeremiah didn't even know each other that well. They had only one class together, art. Every Friday at the end of class, Jeremiah would ask Annabel to "go with" him, and Annabel would always say no. He was a scrawny, strange boy, with lips that were constantly chapped. Underneath the dead, flaking skin, his lips were very red, their deep color contrasting sharply with his pale complexion. He once drew a self-portrait on black paper with pastels, and for his skin, he used lavender. His drawings were the only thing Annabel liked about him.

Annabel's mother had a bumper sticker that said, "If You're Not Angry, You're Not Paying Attention." She displayed it on the refrigerator, not the car, which Annabel's older sister Louisa said was cowardly, but Annabel's mother said it was better to have it on the fridge because then she saw it first thing in the morning, while she was listening to the news. Annabel's mother and father both followed world events with a sense of purpose, as if the Cold War was ending, at least in part, because people like them read the international section. They always fell behind in their reading and back issues of the Washington Post ended up stacked on top of the refrigerator. Matilda, their cat, loved to sit up there, on the warm newsprint. This wasn't allowed, but she ignored scolding and even the little water spritzer the vet promised she would obey.

"She's like you," Annabel's mother said. "She just quietly does what she wants."

This was a version of what Annabel's ex-best friend Greta had said, a few weeks before, when she dumped her in front of everyone in the cafeteria.

"You always say just what you want," Greta proclaimed, loudly enough for the people sitting near them to hear. "It never occurs to you that no one wants to hear about the articles you read or the things your mother says."

Annabel was bewildered by her complaint, which had come after she had asked—innocuously, she thought—if Greta could please hurry up and finish her lunch so they could go outside to recess. Greta's reply had been that Annabel ate too quickly and that she was going to get fat if she wasn't careful. Annabel didn't think this made any sense, since how fat you were had nothing to do with how quickly you ate, unless eating quickly made you eat more, which in their case was not possible since their food supply was already limited by what was packed in their lunches. And then, you had to factor in metabolism, and the fact that they were growing, and on top of that, Annabel's mother had told her that she should never worry about her weight because that was just the culture pouring poison into girls' ears.

In retrospect, Annabel felt she should have known to keep her mouth shut. Greta had cut off their friendship once before, in the fall, at the behest of Greta's mother, who thought Annabel was a bad influence because Annabel had told Greta that it was not unusual for people to have sex before marriage. Annabel knew this from a variety of sources—books, TV, movies, and even the Bible. She also had the vague sense that her sister Louisa had sex, though it wasn't something she could ever ask about. Greta was the only person with whom she could discuss such things. And it had to be the same for Greta because she renewed their friendship after just a few weeks, albeit secretly. Annabel wasn't allowed...