Peaches

You know, Mother Nature and all?”
    Emma just shrugged and went back to work. Murphy looked up at her tree again. Rex was standing on the other side of it, grinning at her.
    “You have a problem with Mother Nature now, Murphy?” His eyes danced, amused. She hated his constantly amused expression.
    “Well.” She hoisted her basket tighter against her. “I always pictured Mother Nature as this wise, nurturing woman, didn’t you?”
    Rex shrugged.
    “But now she sort of sounds like my mom. Scattering trees that won’t grow right on their own, and spending the rest of her time eating Mallomars on the couch and going to Chili’s Bar & Grill to smoke and meet guys.” Murphy had actually come up with this comparison a couple of days ago, when she’d meandered back to Cynthia Darlington’s garden for the first time since being back on the orchard. The weeds she had pulled had already re-rooted and grown back, and Murphy had tackled them again, as a kind of vendetta. She’d gone back yesterday to do more work. She’d probably go back today. It would bug her if she didn’t.
    “Well, you know we’re all doing our best,” Rex said.
    Murphy rolled her eyes. “Right.”
    Rex raised his eyebrows. “Don’t think so, huh?”
    Murphy scowled at him. “You know what, actually.” She tugged on a twig. “I really don’t care. People want to believe they’re one thing and really they’re another. My mom thinks she’s Aphrodite and she’s really Medusa. It’s not worth thinking about.” She felt like she came off really well saying this.
    But Rex’s eyebrows remained raised. “Then why are you so pissed off?”
    Murphy shot back. A million reasons came to her mind in her defense. “Because—”
    “Because if you didn’t care, you wouldn’t be so pissed off,” Rex interrupted.
    Murphy blinked at him. He was still smiling.
    “I loved Darth Vader, by the way,” he said. “It was classic.”
    Already he was backing away with a relaxed lean in his step. Down the row he leaned to whisper something into Leeda’s ear, who’d been watching them, and she slapped him on the thigh.
    For some reason, it made Murphy’s spirits sink.
    Leeda caught Murphy’s eye and gave her a bit of a tentative look—as if she was wondering if they were really friends yet or strangers again.
    Murphy didn’t have an answer for her. She didn’t know.

    Midafternoon, Leeda hauled her second bushel of peaches toward the bins outside the supply barn, where Birdie and Poopie and most of the other women sat in the square of shade cast by the small droopy building, sorting the peaches into two categories: flawed and flawless. Leeda opened the bottom of her harness gently, which released the peaches into the bin, and then sank forward against the table with a sigh, resting her palms on its cool surface. The air wafting out of the barn was blessedly chill, stale, and sickly sweet with the smell of old metal and old wood. Coming from the white-hot rows between the trees, it felt like being doused in a cold drink.
    “Do you guys mind if I come and sort for a while?”
    She waited for Birdie to gloat, but of course she didn’t. Her eyes lit up, and she simply pushed over on the bench besidePoopie so Leeda could have a spot. Leeda looked at the two of them side by side. Birdie. Poopie. Birdie Poopie, which was what her grandmom called bird crap in her thick southern accent. Leeda was still too unsure of Birdie to let her in on the joke. She watched her cousin out of the corner of her eye. The past couple of days she and Birdie had crossed paths a lot and Murphy too, but it was hard for Leeda to tell where she stood with them. This was something Leeda was always gauging. She wanted to know where she stood with everyone, all the time.
    She listened as Birdie explained to her that the flawed peaches got rolled to one side of the huge table, while the flawless ones went to the other. The flawed ones were sold in local markets and the flawless ones were shipped north.
    “Why do the northerners get the good peaches?” Leeda asked.
    “They’re all good, ” Birdie said, slicing into one and examining its insides, surprising Leeda with her confidence. She seemed more relaxed around Leeda than she ever had.
    “They’re just not all pretty,” Poopie finished, answering Leeda’s quizzical expression.
    “What’re you doing, then, Birdie?” Leeda asked, watching Birdie slice open another peach and search the inside.
    “Looking for