Memento Nora by Angie Smibert Read Free Book Online

stopped crawling, collapsed back into its shell, and slid back down to where it had started. It was like it couldn’t get anywhere with that bag on its back.
     
    The next thing—a windmill of metal hands beating at the air—started moving. The flailing motion of the hands as they reached the top of the windmill and then started back down reminded me of someone drowning. A limb fell off into the sand. The spiky-haired girl from Micah’s drawing scooped up the creature’s hand and then clicked a button on a remote control. The creature shuddered to a stop.
     
    Winter Nomura bounded up the walkway to meet us. I could imagine her skinny arms and legs spider walking her way up the Plexiglas tower we’d just passed through.
     
    “I’m going to have to redo the servo mechanism on that one,” she said quietly, almost as if she didn’t want it to hear.
     
    “That shopping bag crab is still the glossiest thing you’ve ever made,” Micah said.
     
    She cringed.
     
    “That thing is so not glossy,” I said. I blurted it out before I really thought about it. I didn’t mean to insult her work. I meant the opposite.
     
    Winter peered at me as if she’d just noticed Micah wasn’t alone.
     
    She looked exactly like he’d drawn her, except that her hair was now blue. She had an intensity that was hard to capture on paper. Very quiet, yet if you shook her up, she’d explode like a bottle of soda. Her almost black eyes bore through me as if she had X-ray vision and could see exactly how I worked. She was more unnerving than her creatures.
     
    “It’s not supposed to be,” she said after what seemed like an eternity. “Glossy, that is.” She turned off that X-ray vision and almost smiled. Almost. I felt like I’d passed some test.
     
    Micah didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he was used to Winter by now. He was babbling on about this project of ours and how we needed her help. We let him babble.
     
    “Your garden is beautiful,” I said, adding, “in an eerie sort of way. It’s—unsettling.”
     
    “That it’s supposed to be,” she said. And this time she did smile.
     
    She showed us the other sculptures she was working on—“kinetic” sculptures she called them. The last one was just a pile of canvas and wires and circuits so far.
     
    “I have this idea,” she said, excited, “to do something with solar sails. Not sure exactly what yet.” She led us to the pagoda in the center of her garden. There she’d laid out dozens of tiny solar cells on a low table. She’d also cracked open several old mobiles and other electronica and was creating something on a circuit board. “I think the sails will be like chimes, the sunlight powering ring tones or something crazy like that. Maybe car alarms.”
     
    I picked up a mobile she’d gutted. “I thought you weren’t supposed to open these,” I said. There was clearly a warning sticker on the back: under penalty of law blah-blah-blah.
     
    “If you can’t open it . . . ,” she began.
     
    “You don’t really own it,” Micah finished for her as if he’d heard it a million times.
     
    “Anyway,” she said, “I’m going to put one final piece in here.” She pointed to the table. “Don’t know yet what it’ll be, but it’ll run off the solar panels on the roof. And it’ll kind of sum up everything.” She shrugged. “Whatever that is.”
     
    A gate on the other side of the garden creaked open. A wiry older man, dressed in track pants, a T-shirt, and a black hat like you see in old black-and-white movies, brought out a tray.
     
    “Win-chan, tea for your guests.” He set out cups and a teapot on the table. “Two sugars for you, Micah.” Micah bowed his head slightly. “One for you?” he asked, looking at me, scrutinizing my sugar intake, I guess. I nodded. “And a triple shot of espresso for my little whirlwind.” The liquid in the cup he handed Winter was as black as ink. “Six sugars,” he added with a grimace.
     
    “I’m