“Okay,” Stevie said, picking up her clutch. It was a medium-size black bag and I’d last seen it at the prom. “We good to go?” She glanced at her watch. Stevie was the only person I knew who wore a real, non-Apple one, with ticking and hands and dials and everything. I’d had a plastic Swatch when I was little, but around the time I outgrew it was when I got my first phone, and then I always knew what the time was without having to wear it on my wrist. “If we’re trying to make the four-ten, we need to leave now.”

“Can I put my stuff in your bag?” I asked, my tone wheedling, as I crossed to my bigger purse. I took out what I thought I might need—license, cash, emergency credit card tied to my parents’ account, lipstick. “You know I hate carrying one.” Stevie rolled her eyes good-naturedly and held her bag out to me. “Thank you!” I said as I tucked my things into the zippered pocket.

“Don’t forget your phone,” Teri reminded me.

I met Stevie’s eye and smiled. This was Rule #6 of lying to your parents: Let them occasionally think they’re smarter than you. I’d learned from Eric’s mistake. He’d been grounded for two straight months when his parents tracked his phone and realized that he wasn’t at a study group, like he’d told them, but at Jones Beach at a concert. I’d checked my parents’ phones—both of them had the same password, it was honestly embarrassing—and found they had tracking apps installed so they could make sure I was where I said I was. As soon as I’d seen that, I realized I had to think one step ahead, and was now always careful to leave my phone where I told them I’d be, so that if they did track it, all they would see was that I had been telling them the truth. It was sad, this lack of trust. I mean really.

“I’m actually going to leave it with you,” I said, holding it and saying a silent goodbye for just a moment before setting it down on the coffee table. Even though I knew I had to do this, it was always hard to part with my phone. And despite the fact that I could use Ophelia, it just wasn’t the same. “Would you mind posting a Story or two? Just so that there’s incontrovertible proof I was here. And if my mom or anyone texts, just call Stevie and I’ll tell you what to text back. My lock code is 1717.”

“No problem,” Teri said. She clapped her hands together. “Have the best, best time. And if you think you see a celebrity, take a picture!”

“For sure,” I assured her. “Say hi to Ryan for us.”