I power through an English essay that’s due on Tuesday and fall asleep on the living room sofa to some Rick and Morty, still wearing my Uptown Updogs T-shirt. At some point, Ma must have put a blanket around me. I either vaguely remember her passing through the space in a hurry to change before going back to the station or dreamt the whole thing.

When I wake up later that evening and yet again refresh my in-box, I notice a new, unfamiliar entry: an Amtrak train ticket to Montreal forwarded by a Corinne Troy.

Don’t be weird about it, reads the email. I’ll ask my mom to dock your pay to make up for it. Corinne

I quickly dial her number.

“Meet in the lobby at 8:23 a.m. sharp. Do not forget your passport,” she says without so much as a hello.

“Corinne, no.”

“I was patient and listened to your argument today,” she says. “It’s complete nonsense. Your interviewing for McGill in no way affects your Columbia chances. So you’re interviewing for McGill. It’s so simple, it’s barely worth discussing.”

“I don’t want your pity,” I say sharply because, while I’m happy for her Princetonian future, I do not want to be a charity case.

“Look, my aunt already agreed to it.” She sighs, sounding bored by the minutiae of even discussing this. “I was supposed to visit her for spring break, so I just moved it by a few weeks and asked if I could bring a friend along. She has plenty of space, and we’ll be back Wednesday. I checked the website, and McGill interviews are typically slotted early in the week. They have a very transparent system.”

“Corinne, it’s not that—”

“Oh, my God, this is so dull. Yes, it is that simple, and no, it’s not pity. Are you telling me your parents will object to you traveling north for a college interview of all things?”

“Well, no, they wouldn’t but—”

“I’ll see you in the lobby at 8:23 a.m. sharp. I’ve budgeted for travel time to Penn Station. And remember: passport.”

It’s insane, but something about Corinne’s confidence is almost contagious.

It’s impulsive, but I put up a quick Dear Uptown Updogs Customers message on the website, edit a truncated version for my seven clients scheduled for the next two days, and loop in Gigi from the dog run, who is more than thrilled for the opportunity to poach some of my clients by filling in for me. I arrange to leave the keys for her. In a few phone calls, my schedule is cleared until Wednesday. So much for customer loyalty.

“Yo, Dad!” I shout after it’s all taken care of. “Can I borrow your rolly luggage?”

“Sure. Why?” he shouts back from the bathroom, mouth audibly foamy and full of toothbrush.