“Yeah,” I said, not wanting to admit my phonelessness was because I didn’t want my parents to track me. That would probably seem super juvenile to someone who lived in New York and was friends with deli guys and worked six jobs. “Luckily, cute guys in bodegas are helping me out,” I said. I saw Cary’s cheeks flush, but he had a small, pleased smile on his face as he unlocked the phone and handed it to me.

“Google away.”

I pulled up the address, but as soon as I did, another problem presented itself. Was I just supposed to memorize the address and hope I wouldn’t forget it? “You don’t have a piece of paper, do you?” I asked, feeling like I’d already asked him for too much. “And… a pen? Sorry about this.”

“It’s fine,” he said. He started to set his grape soda on the ground, but I reached out and took it from him. “Thanks,” he said as he slung his messenger bag off his shoulder and pulled out a black sketchbook, covered in stickers. He flipped through it—most of the pages were covered in drawings—before ripping out a blank page. He pulled out a pen and handed both to me.

“Thanks,” I said, scrawling down the address to the Echo Theater, which, it turned out, was on Tenth Avenue and Fifty-First Street. The paper was thick vellum, and the pen was much nicer than the ones I normally used; this felt like the kind you bought in art supply stores. While I was at it—because who knew when I would have access to another pen—I wrote down the address that Willa had told me. I needed to remember where to avoid. Just the fact that my parents were currently in the city was not good, and I knew I would feel better giving wherever they were a wide berth. 18 9th Avenue, I wrote quickly, then capped the pen and handed it back to him. “Thanks a lot.”

“Anytime,” he said, with a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. A second later, though, his expression turned worried. “Why don’t I give you some cash?” he asked, starting to reach into his messenger bag again. “I’ve got some smaller bills.…”

“No,” I said quickly. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Cary straightened up, but I could still see a question in his eyes, and I nodded firmly. “Really. But thank you. And for the snacks, too. It’s really nice of you.”

“Well, okay,” he said, slinging his messenger bag across his chest again. “It was nice to run into you. And I guess I’ll see Stevie when she comes for the keys.”