play and it’s premiering tonight. On Fifty-First.”
“But what about Stevie’s dinner?”
“What about it?” I asked, turning to him, surprised by the question. “I mean, I don’t think she’s going to be there. Before we got separated, she said she was going home.”
Beckett shook his head. “She wouldn’t have left you there. Something must have happened.”
For the first time, I let myself consider this possibility, and all its ramifications. “I waited for her,” I said, but with less conviction now. “I waited for a really long time.…”
“She wouldn’t have just left you behind,” Beckett insisted. He stopped walking and I stopped too. “This is Stevie we’re talking about.”
“But…” I tried to get my head around this. What if something had happened and she had gone back and found that I wasn’t there? It was all a lot to try and process, at the very moment I had no time to process it. “I’m supposed to go see this play,” I said faintly.
“You know she might be waiting for you at Josephine’s. She might be sitting there all alone,” Beckett said, his eyebrows furrowing.
I swallowed hard at the thought of it. But I’d come too far and gone through too much to back down now. And if this could do it—if I could guarantee I’d get Cordelia—I had to do it.
Didn’t I?
For just a moment, I thought about it—about changing direction, going down to the Village instead, being there at Josephine’s for Stevie. And we could have dinner together after all, and…
I shook my head, trying to stop this fantasy scene from playing out. The probability was, even if she hadn’t gone right away, by now she was probably back in Stanwich. And then I’d just be alone at a restaurant I couldn’t afford, having missed my chance to impress Mr. Campbell. And then all of this would have been for nothing.
“I have to go,” I said again, trying to sound sure about this but utterly failing.
“Okay,” he said. He nodded down to his pizzas. “I should go too.”
I gave him a small smile. I hoped that maybe—when we were both back in our regular lives—things might be a little better between us now. “I’ll see you back home?”
He gave me a half smile. “See you there.”
I turned my back on him and started walking fast down Fifty-First Street, my thoughts in a jumble. Had I totally messed up everything tonight? Wrecked it like I’d wrecked my friendship with Beckett? I tried to see tonight from Stevie’s perspective. I break her phone—and don’t even apologize—and then when she comes back, I’m gone. Was that what had happened? Or was it something else, some other possibility I wasn’t considering?
I looked around and saw the Echo Theater up ahead. There wasn’t a brightly lit marquee like Broadway. The sign out front was small, and the theater was down a set of steps, in a basement. I knew I should go in—knew that I was already cutting this much too close. But the thought of Stevie, sitting alone at her birthday dinner and hoping I’d be there, was too much for me to take. Could I actually sit through this play, knowing she might be there?
I suddenly remembered the original plan for tonight, and that there was a way to do both.
I could see the play—I was here, after all—but I’d leave at intermission. It would give me enough time to get to Josephine’s in case Stevie was waiting there. Because if there was a chance she was there, I couldn’t leave her there alone. I couldn’t do that to her. And I didn’t want to.
I’d leave a note for Mr. Campbell telling him how much I liked it—because of course I would—and then I’d go. And I might not get as much credit as I would have if I’d gotten to stay afterward and talk to him, but it was better than nothing, and it had to help somewhat.
Buoyed by this plan, I took the steps to the theater two at a time. Outside the door was a framed poster I’d seen on the website, and I thrilled a little as I saw the words A new play by Brett Campbell in orange type across the bottom.
I pulled open the door and stepped inside. I’d assumed there would be a box office, that it would look more like the Broadway theaters I was used to, but there was only a small lobby. A bathroom, a threadbare couch, a refreshment stand with paper cups selling