Page 16

Chapter 16

Isa

As planned, Everett met Grace and me at the courtyard’s center fountain. An invisible hook tugged on my heart when I noticed he didn’t have a souvenir in hand. I didn’t think I had a right to feel this way, but I did. Back when we were friends, Everett always bought me a postcard from whatever museum’s gift shop featuring a woman with a very particular expression on her face, from amused to judgmental to flat-out bitchy. I’d tacked them up on the bulletin board above my desk. The Wall of Badass Women, he’d dubbed the collage.

It was still there.

“Hey, Ev,” Grace said as the three of us fell into step with one another. Our Uber had been ordered and was en route. “What’d you wander off to see?”

“Just this and that.” He shrugged. “The Asian collection was cool.”

“Nice,” Grace said, though she awkwardly crossed her arms over her chest. “I wanted to check it out, but…”

We started down the Rocky Steps while several runners completed the rite of passage, whether it was for the first time or the fiftieth. Grace started talking about the visiting Japanese digital exhibit, but I couldn’t comprehend all the details because I couldn’t stop staring at the photo of my favorite John Singer Sargent painting on my phone; I’d taken it right before Grace had snuck up on me in the gallery. The painting exuded true and effortless love—one so exhilarating that I wanted to take James’s hand and jump into it.

I couldn’t decide whether to send it to James. Would it make him smile? Or would it make his face flame? A photo wasn’t an answer to his question.

But I wanted him to know I was thinking of him, no matter what. I was always thinking of him. He was in history rightnow.

After biting my tongue and hitting send, I glanced up to see Everett swing his arm so that it lightly banged Grace’s. Once, twice, thrice—enough times that I wondered if he was doing it on purpose.

Yes, I thought when Grace banged back, but she only got two good elbows in before Everett grasped her sleeve so she’d look at him.

Ride? he mouthed, desperation seemingly swirling in hiseyes.

Or die, she mouthed back, and got in one last elbow.

Something sharply twinged in my rib cage. Grace had admitted that she and Everett were a babysitting team, but “ride or die?” Had she been downplaying it? Were they really that close?

I couldn’t stop myself from reverting to ninth-grade Isa. Grace had sided with me; she was my ride or die.

Ugh, I was a terrible person. I was competitive, jealous, and terrible. I never should’ve asked her to take sides in the first place.

Our Uber driver ended up being five minutes late. “Oh, yes, finally!” Grace exclaimed once the car pulled up to the curb. “Here we go!”

Doug rolled down his Nissan’s window and smiled at us, but after correctly answering my riddles three, he locked the doors the moment I reached for the handle. “Is everything okay?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Doug replied, his voice much less friendly. “Is this guy coming with you ladies?” He jerked his chin at Everett.

Who I’d forgotten was wearing a Mets hat. Orange-and-blue logo, loud and proud.

“Yes, he is,” I said as I turned back to see Doug sporting…what else?

A red Phillies cap.

Right on cue, Grace groaned. Was Everett asking for heat from Philadelphia fans?

“You a Mets fan, kid?” Doug asked.

Everett nodded. “Damn straight.”

Doug snorted, shifted the car into drive, and as he pulled back into traffic, he laughed and shouted back, “Best of luck finding another ride today!”