Of the food stands, Sven's Swedish Meatballs had the best view of the phone. Myron approached. Two men worked the booth. They both had dark hair and dark skin and Saddam Hussein mustaches. One's name tag read T Mustafa. The other Achmed.

"Which one of you is Sven?" he asked.

No smiles.

Myron asked about the phone. Mustafa and Achmed were less than helpful. Mustafa snapped that he worked for a living, and didn't watch phones. Achmed gestured and cursed him in a foreign tongue.

"I'm not much of a linguist," Myron said, "but that didn't sound like Swedish."

Death glares.

"Bye now. I'll be sure to tell all my friends."

Myron turned toward the table of mall girls. They all quickly looked down, like rats scurrying in the glare of a flashlight. He stepped toward them. Their eyes darted to and fro with what they must have thought were surreptitious glances. He heard a low cacophony of ' ' ohmygod!ohmygod!ohmygod!he'scomingover! ' '

Myron stopped directly at their table. There were four girls. Or maybe five or even six. Hard to say. They all seemed to blend into one another, into one hazy, indistinct mesh of hair and black lipstick and Fu Manchulength fingernails and earrings and nose rings and cigarette smoke and too-tight halter tops and bare midriffs and popping gum.

The one sitting in the middle looked up first. She had hair like Elsa Lancaster in The Bride of Frankenstein and what looked like a studded dog collar around her neck.

The other faces followed suit.

"Like, hi," Elsa said. .

Myron tried his most gentle, crooked smile. Harrison Ford in Regarding Henry. "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

The girls all looked at one another. A few giggles escaped. Myron felt his face redden, though he wasn't sure why. They elbowed one another. No one answered.

Myron proceeded.

"How long have you been sitting here?" he asked.

"Is this, like, one of those mall surveys?"

"No," Myron said.

"Good. Those are, like, so lame, you know?"

"Uh-huh."

"It's like, get away from me already, Mr. Polyester Pants, you know?"

Myron said "uh-huh" again. "Do you remember how long you've been sitting here?"

"Nah. Amber, you know?"

"Like, we went to the Gap at four."

"Right, the Gap. Fab sale."

"Ultra sale. Love that blouse you bought, Trish."

"lsn't it, like, the total package, Mindy?"

"Totally. Ultra."

Myron said, "It's almost eight now. Have you been here for the past hour?" '

"Like, hello, anybody home? At least."

"This is, like, our spot, you know?"

"No one else, like, sits here."

"Except that one time when those gross lame-os tried to move in."

"But, like, whoa, don't even go there, 'kay?"

They stopped and looked at Myron. He figured the answer to his prior question was yes, so he plowed ahead.

"Have you seen anybody use that pay phone?"

"Are you, like, a cop or something?"

"As if"

"No way."

"Way."

"He's too cute to be a cop."