They both liked that . A imee shook her head. It must have been the worst . Myron looked toward Erin. Erin had her eyes down. The room went quiet. He waited. She eventually looked up. She looked scared and small and young. He wanted to take her in his arms, but man, would that ever be the wrong move . No, Myron said softly, still holding Erin's gaze. Not even close to the worst . A voice at the top of the stairs shouted down, Myron?I'm coming . He almost left then. The next big what-if. But the words he'd overheard at the top of the stairs Randy drove kept rattling in his head. Beer and shots. He couldn't let that go, could he?I want to tell you a story, Myron began. And then he stopped. What he wanted to do was tell them about an incident from his high school days. There had been a party at Barry Brenner's house. That was what he wanted to tell them. He'd been a senior in high school like them. There had been a lot of drinking. His team, the Livingston Lancers, had just won the state basketball tournament, led by All-American Myron Bolitar's forty-three points. Everyone was drunk. He remembered Debbie Frankel, a brilliant girl, a live wire, that sparkplug who was always animated, always raising her hand to contradict the teacher, always arguing and taking the other side and you loved her for it. At midnight Debbie came over and said good-bye to him. Her glasses were low on her nose. That was what he remembered most the way her glasses had slipped down. Myron could see that Debbie was wasted. So were the other two girls who would pile into that car . You can guess how the story ends. They took the hill on South Orange Avenue too fast. Debbie died in the crash. The smashed-up car was put on display in front of the high school for six years. Myron wondered where it was now, what they'd eventually done to that wreck . What? Aimee said . But Myron didn't tell them about Debbie Frankel. Erin and Aimee had undoubtedly heard other versions of the same story. It wouldn't work. He knew that. So he tried something else . I need you to promise me something, Myron said . Erin and Aimee looked at him . He pulled his wallet from his pocket and plucked out two business cards. He opened the top drawer and found a pen that still worked. Here are all my numbers home, business, mobile, my place in New York City . Myron scribbled on the cards and passed one to each of them. They took the cards without saying a word . Please listen to me, okay? If you're ever in a bind. If you're ever out drinking or your friends are drinking or you're high or stoned or I don't care what. Promise me. Promise me you'll call me. I'll come get you wherever you are.