I nodded, even though I had no idea the next time I’d be in the city—much less with enough time to wander up to the Upper West Side and get a hot dog. But it was a nice thought. “Absolutely.”

“So what’s this play about?” he asked me, after we’d gone into Maverick Cleaners West and Cary had picked up a large black duffel of laundry—since there was only one, it meant he didn’t need a cart this time. “The one we’re making sure you get to on time?”

“I don’t actually know.” I took a last sip of my papaya drink and tossed it into a nearby trash can. “But my drama teacher wrote it. And we were supposed to find out casting for our winter play this afternoon, but… he’s rethinking something.” The second the words were out, I felt an anxious twist in my stomach. “So I thought if I showed up at his play, showed him how committed I am…”

Cary laughed. “A plan! A stratagem. I love it. What’s the play you’re waiting on the casting for?”

“King Lear,” I said. Just talking about the play—even saying its name—was bringing all my anxiety from this afternoon back to me. Just how much I wanted it. How much was hanging in the balance, all to be decided by Mr. Campbell.

“Is that the one with the storm?”

“Yes,” I said, then paused. “Well—I mean, there’s a storm in The Tempest, too. And the Scottish play. And Winter’s Tale. And Twelfth Night, actually, come to think of it.”

Cary rolled his eyes. “C’mon, William.” I laughed. “Does Stevie do theater too?”

“Yeah,” I said, and flashed back against my will to the subway platform, Stevie telling me she was going to throw all of it—everything we’d done together—away. “She’s amazing. But she says she’s done after this year, which doesn’t make any sense to me. I love it.”

“What do you love about it?” Cary asked. When I looked over at him, he shrugged. “It’s just that I have no performing talent whatsoever. The last time I tried was fourth grade, when I was Linus in You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown.” He leaned a little closer to me, like he was sharing a secret. “I was very bad.”

I laughed. We’d done some numbers from it for our musical revue, sophomore year. “A book report on Peter Rabbit.”

Cary smiled, like I’d surprised him. “Yes! God, I haven’t thought about that in years.” He shook his head. “Sorry if that’s a rude question. I’m just curious.”