All That's Left Behind - ronance

chapter 6

Beans have never smelled so good to Nancy in her entire life.

She tries not to eat unless she’s absolutely starving, and right now her stomach’s twisting in painful knots. Part of that might be because she’s remembering how much Holly liked baked beans.

She waits until the cans are bubbling before picking them carefully off the burners and setting them on the table. She digs out plastic spoons from one of the drawers and turns to hand one to Vickie, who reaches for it with a hand wrapped in a bloody rag.

She stares at it. “What the hell did you do?”

Vickie looks dismissive. “It was just glass,” Vickie tells her. “It’s nothing.”

She makes the other girl unwrap it, noting to herself the degree of grime and calluses on Vickie's hand. It’s not nothing, as she expected. It actually might’ve warranted a few stitches in an ER. Nancy doesn’t have a suture kit, but she wouldn’t be comfortable doing unpracticed ones on Vickie anyway. Ignoring Vickie’s protests, she uses up half a water bottle and most of the vodka cleaning it out. The taller girl doesn’t show much discomfort other than a sharp intake of breath and a grimace, which is impressive.

“There,” she says, tying the last knot. “I’ll check on it again in a couple of days.”

Vickie pulls her hand back, looking puzzled and impressed. She nods as she bends her fingers. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Nancy says casually. She wipes Vickie's blood off on her pants as best she can and digs into the can of beans with gusto, careful not to let the food touch her fingers.

It’s about five minutes of silence before Vickie says (predictably), “I’ll tell you something if you tell me something.”

Nancy represses a sigh. Vickie’s been playing this game for a while—ever since their heart-to-heart in the car—but she’s been playing alone. So far, Nancy knows that her favorite color’s green (like Nancy's, but she doesn’t think about that), she hates pineapple on pizza, she can ride a horse, her first girlfriend’s name was Lilly, and she got the scar on her left hand in a fight (which she won). She doesn’t actually know what Vickie knows about her, but she likes having as much control about that as possible. She wonders absently if Vickie's even telling her the truth, or if she’s just painting a picture for her—of some girl she’s actually not. No, she thinks. No, I’d see through it. She doesn't know how she can be so sure about that.

“I hate this game,” she says.

“I was a history major in college,” Vickie offers.

That mildly surprises Nancy. Vickie doesn’t seem like the college type. In fact, she seems better suited to this new world than anyone should. Nancy has no idea if Vickie's sister is actually still alive, but she can completely believe that Vickie will keep looking for her until she’s dead—and maybe after that, too. It’s actually…endearing. Nancy pushes the thought away.

“Your turn,” Vickie prods around some beans.

Nancy decides to throw in a bone. “I was studying journalism at Emerson,” she says.

Vickie is surprised at first, and then she’s grinning. Impressed by the girl in front of her. “My favorite speech is Speech to the Troops at Tilbury”