Misplaced (16 page)

“I’
ve
go
t
th
e
perfec
t
resolutio
n
t
o
las
t
night’
s
debate,”
V
ictori
a
began
,
standin
g
wit
h
he
r
hand
s
o
n
he
r
hips
.
“
A
s
a
matte
r
o
f
fact
,
w
e
migh
t
f
in
d
th
e
ans
w
er
s
t
o
a
numbe
r
o
f
things
.
Are you game?”

“O
f
course.
”
Thoug
h
Khar
a
smiled
,
V
ictori
a
caugh
t
the
challenge
in
her
voice
and
saw
the
unflinching,
golden
stare
of
a hawk.

“Good. It’s not far.
W
e
’
ll pick up breakfast on the
w
ay.”

Pullin
g
o
n
a
pai
r
o
f
fade
d
jeans
,
V
ictori
a
grabbe
d
a
white
long-slee
v
e
d
oxfor
d
shirt
,
rolle
d
u
p
th
e
cuffs
,
an
d
pile
d
her
hair
into
a
hasty
bun.
She
slipped
on
a
pair
of
black
loafers
and
grabbed her bag as they headed for the car.

The
two
dro
v
e
downtown
and
stopped
at
a
dri
v
e-through
wher
e
V
ictori
a
collecte
d
thre
e
steamin
g
cup
s
o
f
coffee
,
egg
burritos
,
an
d
a
cinnamo
n
rol
l
wrappe
d
snugl
y
i
n
w
a
x
paper
while Khara
w
atched with unreser
v
ed astonishment.
Examining the burrito
closely as
V
ictoria dro
v
e, she asked, “Is this also wrapped in paper?”

V
ictori
a
nodde
d
an
d
gulpe
d
he
r
coffee
.
“Thi
s
i
s
th
e
ultimate
disposable society.”

“
And you are proud of this?”

“Not
exactly,
but
I
like
to
think
that
w
e
ha
v
e
enough
good
qualities to balance us out.”
Kh
a
r
a
unwr
a
ppe
d
th
e
bu
r
rit
o
,
grinnin
g
a
t
th
e
so
un
d
th
e
pape
r
mad
e
a
s
sh
e
tor
e
it
.
Sh
e
bi
t
int
o
i
t
delicately
.
“Hmm
.
What is it I taste?”

“Eggs. In the South
w
est,
w
e wrap e
v
erything in a tortilla.”

“No, not the egg. Something else—a green, bright flavor.”

“That would be the chili.”

“Is
it
supposed
to
burn?
W
e
don’t
ha
v
e
this
at
home.
I
like
it
v
ery much.
V
ictoria?”

“
Y
es?”

“Ho
w
ar
e
yo
u
abl
e
t
o
dri
v
e
thi
s
con
v
e
y
ance—no
,
that’s
the wrong term, isn’t it?
The
word
is
car,
correct?
Y
ou
are
driving,
drinking
hot
liquid
from
a
paper
cup,
carrying
on
a
con
v
ersation,
all
at
the
same time.”

V
ictoria giggled.

“
H
a
v
e
I
s
a
i
d
some
th
i
n
g
t
o
m
ak
e
y
o
u
la
ug
h
?
I
me
a
n
n
o
disrespect
.
I
n
fact
,
I
fin
d
mysel
f
astonishe
d
b
y
you
r
abilities.
W
ill you show me how to do it?”

Though
she
strongly
suspected
Khara
had
not
intended
to
compliment her, she laughed just the same—at herself.

A
shor
t
tim
e
later
,
the
y
steppe
d
ou
t
o
f
th
e
ca
r
an
d
int
o
a
blas
t
o
f
coo
l
fal
l
wind
,
an
d
V
ictori
a
guide
d
Khar
a
acros
s
the
four-lan
e
street
.
“Th
e
exhibi
t
I
w
an
t
t
o
sho
w
yo
u
i
s
inside
.
Once
you’
v
e
seen
it,
you
’
ll
understand
why
I
can’t
do
any
more
until
you decide to let go of this harebrained story of yours.”

“It
grie
v
es
me
that
you
think
I
would
repay
your
immense
kindnes
s
wit
h
lies,
”
Khar
a
replie
d
sadly
.
“If
,
a
s
yo
u
say
,
the
ans
w
ers
can
be
found
here,
no
one
w
elcomes
them
more
than
I.”

Y
ello
w
ros
e
bushes
,
freshl
y
w
atered
,
line
d
th
e
w
alk
w
ay
t
o
th
e
E
l
P
as
o
Internationa
l
Museu
m
o
f
Art
,
a
whit
e
colonial
mansio
n
large
r
an
d
mor
e
exquisit
e
tha
n
mos
t
tha
t
lined
Montan
a
Street
.
Cattl
e
an
d
railroa
d
baron
s
ha
d
buil
t
thes
e
magnificen
t
homes
,
th
e
longin
g
i
n
thei
r
heart
s
fo
r
th
e
Old
Sout
h
evidence
d
b
y
th
e
antebellu
m
architecture
.
Thes
e
days
, the
reno
v
ated
mansions
stood
delightfully
out
of
place
in
a
city of adobe and red-tiled roofs.