be updated on the current state of play. “Stevie’s phone… got broken.” I shook my head angrily, thinking about how all of this—our fight, Stevie leaving me behind and going back home—might not be happening if she hadn’t tried to grab her phone back from me.
“Oh no.”
“Yeah, it fell on the subway tracks… and then the subway kind of ran over it. So, to make a long story short…”
“Too late.”
I smiled at that; I’d seen Clue way too many times to be offended. “Nicely done. Anyway, Stevie doesn’t have a working phone. But she’s going to get the keys from her stepbrother, so she’ll be able to get back in on her own anyway.”
“Gotcha.” Cary walked over to a moped—or was it a Vespa? It wasn’t a full-fledged motorcycle, at any rate—that was wedged in between two cars on the street. He took keys from his pocket, unlocked the compartment over the back wheel, and took out a helmet.
“Nice ride,” I said, looking at it, a little surprised. Cary seemed like he was around my age, but then certain things—like riding a motor scooter around New York City—made him seem suddenly older, and like he was living a life outside of anything I’d experienced.
“Beats the subway,” he said with a grin as he pulled the helmet on.
“I bet.” I waved with my free hand. “See you around.” I turned and headed up the street. A moment later, Cary was standing in front of me—a little out of breath, as if he’d run around to be there. “Hey,” he said, glancing at his phone. “Listen. You still have a while before you have to be at the theater, right? When’s the show?”
“Eight,” I said slowly. “Why?”
“Well,” Cary said, “I mean, you could walk all the way up there and then… just wait around for two hours.” He arched an eyebrow. “Or.”
I laughed at his expression. “Or what?”
“Or you could hang out with me while I make deliveries, and then I’ll drive you right to the theater in plenty of time.” He gave me a hopeful, nervous smile.
“Oh,” I said, mostly to give myself some stalling time. Riding around on a scooter sounded like fun—and better than killing time in a pizza place or something that might not even sell me pizza because my bill was too big. But I had to keep my eye on the prize. I had to get to the theater in plenty of time. I didn’t want to be running in late. But I also didn’t want to be hanging around the theater in the cold for hours like a stalker.…
“What do you say?”
“I can’t be late,” I said firmly, and Cary’s smile became happier, the nerves washed away. “Like, I should probably be there at seven forty-five. Or even seven thirty. To be on the safe side.”
“Seven forty? Compromise?” he asked, and I nodded. “Okay,” he said, taking out his phone. “I’ll even set an alarm, so we don’t lose track of time.”
He showed me the alarm on his phone. “Good?”
I smiled at him. “Good.”
He walked back to his bike, unlocked the back compartment, and pulled out another helmet. He held it out to me and raised an eyebrow. “Want to take a ride, Kat?”
CHAPTER 13
Stevie
Half an hour later, as I limped toward Mateo’s dorm on 113th Street, I’d learned several things I hadn’t known before.
For one, heels were an evil, patriarchal invention, and I was never wearing them ever again. With Brad as my witness, I would spend all future dressy occasions in flats or boots and everyone would just have to deal with it. A blister had started forming on my right heel when I’d changed trains at Columbus Circle, and it was soon joined by a friend on my left toe that was throbbing and incredibly painful by the time I got off the subway. There were Duane Reades everywhere, and I was well aware they sold Band-Aids and blister pads, but I hadn’t wanted to break into my nineteen dollars. I needed to stay pretty frugal, in case I couldn’t get back into Mallory’s apartment. It would take me ten dollars to get a train ticket back home, and then I figured I could get a Stanwich Taxi with the rest. It would cost more than nine dollars to get to Teri’s, but I was sure I could borrow the rest from her to pay the driver. Of course, Kat had the hundred dollars, but Kat had left the subway, probably as