I glance around. “Not in here. Sorry.” But Franko is already sifting through a pile of papers on the counter. He knocks the phone off its hook, and I grab it. “Careful!”
“Did you find it?” Franko spins around as I’m coming up. His elbow jams into my face and knocks my glasses to the floor. “Whoops. I got it, Lola.”
There’s a sickening crunch of plastic.
“FRANKO!” My world has turned into blobs of color and light.
“Whoa. Sorry, Lola. Were those real?”
Anna rushes in. “What? What happened? Oh.” She bends over to pick up what I assume are my glasses. Her voice doesn’t sound promising. “Dude.”
“What is it?” I ask.
“You can’t see?” She holds them closer to my face. Pieces. Many, many pieces.
I moan.
“Sorry,” Franko says again.
“Will you please go back to second-floor concessions?” Anna asks. He leaves. “Do you have another pair? Contacts? Anything?” she asks. I moan again. “Okay, no problem. Your shift is almost over. Your dad will be here soon to pick you up.”
“I was supposed to take Muni.” Of course tonight is the night my parents are busy and leave me to public transportation.
“But you can still take it, right?”
“Anna, you’re two feet away, and I can’t tell if you’re smiling or frowning.”
“Okay . . .” She sits down to think but immediately jumps back up. “Étienne and I will take you home! You’re only a quick detour from my school.”
“You don’t have—”
“It’s not a question,” she interrupts. And I’m relieved to hear her say it. I’m useless for the remainder of my shift. We’re ready to leave when the guys return, and Anna approaches the St. Clair–shaped blob. “We’re taking Lola home.”
“Why? What happened?” the Cricket-shaped blob asks.
I stare toward my shoes as I explain the situation.
“You can’t see me?” St. Clair asks. “You have no idea what I’m doing?”
“Stop it,” Anna says, and they laugh. I don’t know what’s happening. It’s humiliating.
“I’ll take you home,” Cricket says.
St. Clair protests. “Don’t you have—”
“I’m next door. It’s not out of my way.”
I’m ashamed of my own helplessness. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” The sincerity behind this simple statement tugs at me. He’s not teasing me or making me feel bad about it. But Anna sounds worried as she hands me my purse. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
The implied question: Are you sure you’ll be okay with Cricket?
“I’m fine.” I give her a reassuring smile. “Thanks.” And it’s true until we step outside, and I trip over the sidewalk.
Cricket grabs me.
And I collapse again from the shock of his touch. He lifts me up, and despite the coat between us, my arm is buzzing like a fire alarm. “The sidewalks here are the worst,” he says. “The earthquakes have buckled them into land mines.” Cricket removes his hand. I blink at him, and he cautiously offers his arm.