“It is?” I asked—startled, trying to ignore the weird thing my heart did at the sound of her voice. We hadn’t talked since our fight on the T platform, though I knew she’d probably heard from Duncan about what had happened with the campus police. “I’m surprised, actually. My money would have been on you.”
“I mean, that’s because I’m usually right,” she admitted. “But, you know. Not always.”
“Most of the time,” I said quietly, and hit the button to let her upstairs.
“I owe you an apology,” I told her when I opened the door a minute later. She was wearing a parka the size of a sleeping bag, her dark hair in an enormous knot on top of her head.
“You do,” she agreed immediately. “But I’m not here for that.”
“You’re not?” I raised my eyebrows, my gaze even on hers. “What are you here for?”
Holiday cleared her throat. “I’ll tell you in the car,” she said, stepping past me into the apartment. “Go get dressed.”
“Where are we going?”
“Field trip,” she told me, her dark eyes shining. “And we’re kind of on a schedule here, so, you know.” She nodded in the direction of my bedroom. “Pitter patter.”
For the first time in a week I felt myself lighten, somethingrusted shut inside me creaking open a fraction of an inch. Biggest fight of our entire relationship or not, if Holiday was here, that meant everything wasn’t over yet. Endless weirdness between us notwithstanding, she had still shown up.
“Okay,” I said, and headed for the hallway. At the last second I turned and grabbed her arm, pulling her around to face me; I overshot, though, and we wound up nose to nose. “Um,” she said as I let go in a hurry. “Hi.”
“Hi.” I took a deep breath. “I’m really sorry I didn’t come to your showcase,” I told her. “I should have—” I broke off, holding my hands up a little helplessly. “I should have.”
Holiday tilted her head. “I mean,” she said calmly. “Yes.”
“You’re my best friend,” I continued. “You’vealwaysbeen my best friend, even when we weren’t talking, ever since the time we were four and I shoved my hand up the bathtub faucet at your parents’ house and it got caught.”
“I did save your ass that day,” Holiday mused, the hint of a smile quirking at the very edges of her mouth. “If it wasn’t for me you’d probably still be sitting there alone, crying.”
“I’d definitely be sittingsomewherealone and crying,” I agreed. “I get stuck up my own ass sometimes, you know that.Iknow that. But I can do a better job. Iwantto do a better job.”
Holiday seemed to think about that for a moment. “My roommate’s name is Ebony,” she said finally, “and she’s great.”
“I’m glad,” I told her, and I meant it. “You deserve great people in your life. Which brings me to my next point, which is that I was being a dick about Duncan for no reason. Obviously if youguys want to—I mean, not that you need my—” I shook my head. “You know what I mean.” I sighed. “I’m really sorry, Holiday.”
Holiday nodded, holding my gaze for a moment; for a second it seemed like she might be about to tell me something, but in the end she just jerked one thumb at the door. “Put your clothes on,” she said finally, “and let’s go.”
21
Saturday, 12/14/24
“You know,” I said forty minutes later, sitting in the passenger seat of Holiday’s filthy car as we cruised through Newton, a tony suburb west of Boston, “clearly I am not in a position to be questioning anything about your investigative methods at this particular moment. But onemightmake the argument that I’d be a more effective stakeout partner if you’d tell me what we’re looking for.”
“Who says we’re even on a stakeout?” Holiday shot back, flicking on her turn signal with a flourish. “I mean, for all you know I’m just taking the scenic route back to my dorm. There’s something I need on a high shelf that I can’t reach.”
“You’re taller than I am,” I pointed out.
Holiday’s smile was brilliant. “I know.”
She turned left, then right again—navigating without the benefit of her phone or any map that I could locate, like possibly she had the entire road atlas of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts tucked neatly away in her brain—before finally pulling into theparking lot of the public high school and cruising to a stop in front of the main entrance. “Okay,” I said as she pulled the parking brake. “Now what?”
But Holiday only shrugged. “I don’t know, Michael. You did miss my stage debut,” she reminded me. “I feel like I’m entitled to a few theatrics.” She nodded at the entrance, where a steady trickle of high schoolers were making their way through the main entrance, heads ducked against the sharp December wind. “SATs today,” she observed.
“Thinking of reapplying?” I teased. “Going to try to get into business school after all?”
Holiday shook her head. “They couldn’t handle me.”
“That’s a fact.”
