Butter tastes better than oil, she figured. So she made the popcorn with a little bit of oil in the pan, but then melted a big old hunk of butter to drizzle over it when it was done. Her house was usually so empty. She resoundingly, ringingly had not noticed, until it wasn't empty. How Mary ended up here today was like a tiny, pinpoint miracle in itself. Mary had just happened to be in the hall outside the office when the principal had gotten finished with Gwen, so she was the first and only one to see the astonishment and amusement on Gwen’s face. It had been about something else! It was just some stupid little thing about ||who had checked out one of the digital cameras last week ||a form that had gotten filled out wrong for class selection next semester. They still didn’t know. They still didn’t know! She really felt like skipping out of school, but Mary said hi, and she said hi, and they just started walking, out the door, down the wide cement steps, down the sidewalk as if the whole thing was perfectly mundane and they did it every day. Gwen kept alternating between giddy disbelief and a strange kind of serenity. They talked about just whatever, bands, stupid annoying people, what kind of tree that was, nothing. It was just uncomfortable enough to be heightened, electrified. A ginko tree was flaming yellow, hadn’t been yesterday at this time. There was really no reason for Mary to have turned south at ———’s, but she did, and neither of them commented on it. Well, I—Gwen said, slowing down in front of her house. Can I come in? Mary said, slowing down the entire universe. Yeah! It was a little too chipper, but today that was okay. Where’s your—? For some reason, she didn’t finish the question, but looked around instead. Gwen realized the decor was shabby. Faded. What was the word? Threadbare. Old curtains hung strangely off of stuff. The whole lower floor had the look of a vacated museum or a vacation cottage from a vanished era. I just—love this place, Mary said, turning slowly around to take it all in. Well there was a certain grandeur about it, Gwen had to admit to herself. The way the afternoon sun slanted in through the tall dusty windows. It looked almost like an old church. It’s like the set of a play or something! Yeah, okay, or that. Ooh, can I go upstairs? Gwen wasn’t a hundred percent sure there was no trace of mockery in the girlish enthusiasm, but she was too giddy to stop and worry about it. She let Mary lead the way up, and watched again from below. Those calves. The steps here creaked, unlike at Mary’s house.