I get a six-pack of athletic socks upside the head for the affront and can’t help but laugh.

High-rise kids are what we call a certain specimen of children of Manhattan (and a few in Brooklyn too). They’re that breed of rich kids that rarely take the subway or even cabs because there’s always a family car service waiting for them around the corner. FATE is full of them. Their buildings, expensive multi-floor high-rises, have apartments as big as any suburban home, with gyms, entertainment centers, and rooftop pools. Ming technically qualifies, living in Hudson Yards, overlooking the Hudson River with a dental surgeon as a father and a regular retired surgeon as a mother. Ming also hates being referred to as such.

He is, in truth, a high-rise kid.

“Don’t pout,” I say, throwing a bundle of socks at him.

“So, what are you doing tonight? Maybe hang at your place?” Ming asks.

Despite my best efforts, I can feel myself tense up. I’ve gotten used to planning FATE study groups, social gatherings, and cram sessions before finals anywhere around the city but at my place, but Ming will occasionally bring it up so casually like this that it will slip right past my radar. No one from FATE has ever seen or been to my place. Not since the days of Daniel Halkias.

Daniel was probably my first friend at FATE freshman year. Halkias, Haltiwanger: that nominal connection found us standing in line with each other at almost every gathering in which students were alphabetized by last names.

Pokémon, Dragon Ball Z and Super, and Fortnite: the kid was literate in every corner that filled my brain back then, and we pretty much spoke the same language right off the bat. We might have been friends all through high school if a.) Daniel and his family hadn’t moved away last year, and b.) I hadn’t made the mistake of inviting him over.

I begged my mom to make all the good Haitian food. But I still remember the specific way Daniel’s face fell when he stepped through our door. It wasn’t even a sad-face emoji; it was a brand-new release not yet distributed across all operating systems. Confused with a touch of frightened and just a hint of “Get me out of here, now!” coloring.

Something about the memory must be playing out on my face because Ming starts laughing that knowing laugh of his. “Or not.”

“I’ve got pups to walk tonight. See you tomorrow, dude.” I wave off on my way out of the store. “Those black ones are also fake, by the way! Don’t you dare buy them.”

“You should be an app!”