A Sense of the Infinite Read Online Free Page A

didn’t think the limp and mustardy sandwiches were much of a frill, but Mom loved them.
    “They’re meat,” I said, ducking into the kitchen to inspect the shrink-wrapped array.
    “Pick it out.”
    My mother’s advice generally boils down to “Pick it out,” whether you are dealing with a slice of baloney or an arrow in the heart.
    I took a sandwich marked T and started to dissect it, picking out the turkey and everything that had touched it and filling the newly empty space with leftover guacamole.
    “Come take a look at this,” Mom said.
    I wandered to the table with my modified sandwich, and she tossed me a glossy booklet from Northern University.
    “Ooh,” I said, and sank down into a chair across from her.
    Mom had gone to Northern for one year before dropping out to have me, and she talked about it like it was the best place on earth. Some people would hate the place where a terrible thing had happened, but to her, it was a paradise interrupted. She didn’t say it in so many words, but we both knew it would mean a lot to her for me to go there. That it would mean everything.
    I flipped past the sections on academics and sports and went straight to the photos of the dorms. Back in June, the day before Noe left for Camp Qualla Hoo Hoo, we’d spent allafternoon browsing the IKEA website and fantasizing about our future college dorm room. We were going to get a Winkl bead curtain and a Gulört rug and a set of Buffwak bowls and cups for when we felt like eating cereal for dinner instead of going to the cafeteria. I’d loaded the Northern University website Mom and I had been looking at the night before, and we’d pored over the list of campus clubs and decided which ones to join: People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, the Northern University Sophisticated Tea Party Society, the gymnastics team for Noe, and the Campus Outdoors Club for me. We’d get a cactus plant named Hector and a goldfish named Boris, and in our second year, we’d move off campus so we could get a cat.
    “There’s a bunch of stuff from E. O. James, too,” said Mom. “Did you want me to write a check for the senior camping trip?”
    She slid the flyer across the table. I picked it up and skimmed it. Three nights in the Tuscarora wilderness, led by Ms. Hannigan and Mr. Von Ekelthorpe. My cousin Max had gone in his senior year. They’d hiked under the moonlight and gone swimming in freezing water. One night, a bear had wandered through their campsite and started rummaging through the food they’d forgotten to put away, and Ms. Hannigan scared it off by banging on a pot and singing “Old MacDonald Had a Farm.”
    “I have a gym meet that weekend,” I said.
    “Can’t you skip it?” said Mom.
    I shook my head, annoyed. “It’s important,” I said. “You can’t miss the first one.”
    Noe had already enlisted me to help her take photos for the yearbook and videos for the team website she was setting up. We were going to work on it at her house after the meet.
    “Too bad,” Mom said. “You’ve been looking forward to it ever since Max told you that story about the bear.”
    It bugged Mom when I changed my plans because of Noe. And it bugged me that she made such a big deal out of it.
    “Mom,” I said. “You know we only have one class together this year. It’s really important to Noe for me to be there, and I’m not just going to ditch her. I don’t know anyone who’s going on the camping trip anyway.”
    Her disappointment was a fine mist that clung to my clothes all the way upstairs. I took the new leotard out of my drawer and held it for a moment, its synthetic shimmer a promise of the newer, shinier person I might finally become.

9
    I BROUGHT THE NORTHERN UNIVERSITY booklet to school. In English, Noe scrutinized the Food Services page.
    “The freshman cafeteria doesn’t sound that great for vegetarians,” she said, wrinkling her nose at the list of food options.
    “It says they have a salad bar,” I