The last time Willa and Taylor spent time alone together was in seventh grade, when Finley was away for the weekend, visiting her grandparents in Columbus. They met at the mall, where they shared a giant cookie from Mrs. Fields, spritzed perfume on themselves at the cosmetics counter at the department store, and tried on sneakers at the sporting goods store just because the guy who worked there was cute. Nothing earth-shattering, but fun is fun. And going to see Sister Kismet might be that kind of fun.

“Yeah, okay,” Willa says. “Thanks for inviting me.”

Instead of responding, Taylor crunches into her first taco and moans with happiness. “This was the best idea.”

Willa laughs. “It’s going to be so hard to go back to ramen after this.”

“So maybe we should make it a regular thing.”

“Taco Sunday?”

Taylor smiles, shrugging a little. “Maybe not a specific day. Just whenever we need them.”

40.7128° N, 74.0059° W

Take a bite out of life.

Taylor

TAYLOR FEELS AS THOUGH SHE might burst from excitement as the subway car sways, carrying them across lower Manhattan to the Donut Shop. Her insides are practically vibrating, and she wishes she were a fly, because two eyes aren’t enough to see everything all at once. She drinks in the people riding the subway, staring at the woman who’s been holding a wooden crucifix above her head since she boarded the train and the man clipping his fingernails onto the floor. Taylor glances around the subway car to see if she’s the only one noticing these things and makes eye contact with a cute brown-skinned boy beside her. His short dreadlocks bobble as he shakes his head and grins. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Is it that obvious?” Taylor asks.

“I mean . . . kinda,” he says. “This is pretty normal compared to some of the strange things I’ve seen. One time, this guy sitting across from me reached into his coat and pulled out a slice of pizza, ate it, then pulled out a second slice. Another time this dude got on wearing a pink lace thong over his jeans, and I didn’t want to judge his lifestyle, but it was not a look. Maybe keep ’em on the inside in public, is all I’m saying. And just the other day I saw a dead horseshoe crab lying on the floor, and I didn’t even question it because of course there was a dead horseshoe crab on the subway.”

Taylor laughs. “I feel so Midwestern right now.”

“Is that where you’re from?”

“Yeah. Ohio.”

The boy nods a little. “Welcome to the city.”

She smiles. “Thanks.”

He gives her another grin before he looks back down at his phone and Taylor checks to see if the woman is still holding the crucifix above her head. She is.