Alex:jk, i’ve been in the car all day. Cape Cod for the weekend with Freddy’s mom
Casey:Does Freddy know about you two???
Alex:cute.
Casey:Cape Cod sounds fancy
He sends me a picture of a setting sun bleeding into the horizon over a beautiful beach, his legs and bare feet propped on a wicker table beside a can of pilsner. The wooden planks of a porch staircase spill straight into the sand.
Alex:the fanciest
Knowing he’s there and not here isn’t the reason I get Thai takeout and Sour Patch Kids before heading back to my apartment to watchNotting Hill.It also isn’t the reason I make up an excuse about feeling sick when Miriam invites me to her nurse friend’s art thing at DUMBO House. She doesn’t buy it (because she’s met me), and texts me,I’m calling you out, liar.
I am who I am,I reply.Love me or leave me, babe
She texts back four pictures: an Epi Pen, an acoustic guitar, a horticulture textbook, and theMean GirlsGIF of Karen coughing and saying,I can’t go out, I’m sick,followed up with a single message:are starter packs still cool?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“You know,” Miriam says, “we could always just take avacationto London.”
I turn and glare, but she’s too busy sniffing autumn squash varietals to notice. We’re meandering through a farmer’s market, the canvas bags on our shoulders already heavy with produce weknowwithout a doubt can be eaten raw, since cooking is out of the question. The market smells like flowers, raw pumpkin, and coffee. Miriam’s in a bright fuchsia athletic dress, her short blond hair up in a clip, and I’m wearing ripped jeans and aLITTLE BIG TOWNT-shirt from a concert my dad took me to when I was nine.
I put my bag of produce on Miriam’s free shoulder so I can braid my hair back. “That’s cheating. Imagine if we’d said, ‘You know, we could always just take avacationto Manhattan.’”
“What magazines are even based in London?”
“Take Me There,for starters!” I practically shriek. “The very best one!”
In a bored drawl, Miriam says, “That’s the travel mag, right?”
I scoff. “I know thatyou knowit’s the travel mag, Mir.”
Scooping my bag back off her shoulder, I drift toward a seller shouting the price of chrysanthemums. They’re golden, ruby red, and orange, arranged in lines like a sunset.
“On a scale of one to ten, how confident are you this transfer is happening?”
Something clicks in my brain, and I spin to face her. Miriam becomes instantly fascinated with a mound of russet potatoes. But I’ve known this girl since we were eleven, and I’ve memorized all her tells. “They said it was all but guaranteed.”
She grabs a potato and inspects it. “For what job?”
I am… honestly not quite sure about that.
“Who cares?” I reason. “It’s London!”
Miriam huffs. “London’s not all that.”
My eyes narrow. “That’s my mother’s homeland you’re slandering. And besides, you know Marty never took meanywherewhen I was a kid.”
Miriam flips her middle finger at me. “Cry me a river, Casey. Youalsonever had to haggle on Craigslist for a resold concert ticket and avoid getting stuck with one of the dude’s seven cats he was also trying to get rid of, and it shows.”
We manage three full seconds of glaring before we dissolve into smirks.
I step closer and lower my voice. “What’s really going on, Mir?”
She rolls her eyes and shoots me a stubborn look. “Nothing. I was just making conversation. It’s a very common thing that non-antisocial people do.”
“I’m not antisocial. I just hate small talk.”
