Page 189 - My FlipBook

T R A I L O F C R U M B S

One minute passed. Two minutes. Then: You mean right
now?
In about half an hour.
Greta knew Priya was probably in the middle of a class.
The phone screen slipped into sleep mode, waiting. A minute
later it brightened with a message. See you in half an hour.
This had better not be a repeat of her meeting with Rachel,
where she’d basically said, “You’re an attention-hungry prude

who preys on innocent jocks.” Greta stood on shaky footing—a
homemade rope bridge dangling over a ravine—but held fast to
the one fact: I didn’t say yes. Then clarity got lost in the details.
She always returned from that memory with a blank feeling of
loss. She didn’t need someone kicking more dirt on it.
Greta threw on the previous day’s clothes and ran a brush
through her hair. As Ash stirred in bed, she slipped out the

front door and jogged two blocks to catch a bus. Sun glared
off the snow, making water prick her eyes. Her parka hung
open, cooling her flushed body.
Mulligans was three blocks from the school, the kind of
place that made grilled-cheese sandwiches and called them
“panini” or served Sprite from a can as “limonata.” Priya sat
in a booth near the window. For some reason, Greta had
wanted to get there first, to anchor herself in a spot before
Priya showed up.

“Hey.” Greta slipped into the vinyl seat across from Priya,
suddenly breathless.
“Hi, Greta.” Priya paused between words, like she had
to think about Greta’s name. Then she smiled, as if waiting

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