“That girl,” he said. “I’ve seen you with her. I get the sense she annoys you.”

“She’s my new roommate.”

Boo was doing a really good job at pretending she couldn’t see him. She was waving at me and talking really loudly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Boo was saying into the phone. “She’s right here. You talk to her . . .”

“She’s very loud,” the man said. “That’s something I find quite annoying, how everyone speaks so loudly all the time into their mobile phones. Those weren’t around when I was alive. They make people so rude.”

Boo reached out to me, both hands on her phone. She was gripping it strangely, fingers on the keypad.

He lurched forward and grabbed her by the wrists. In one fluid motion, he swung her into the road, directly into the front of a passing car. It was so fast—two seconds, three seconds. I watched her hit the car. I watched her break the front headlight and slide up over the hood and smack into the windshield. Then I watched her roll down as the driver skidded to a stop.

“Next time,” he said, “tell the truth when I ask you a question.”

He was right in my face. I felt no breath coming out of him because, of course, he didn’t breathe. He was just cold. I kept absolutely still until he backed away and walked off. The driver’s screaming stirred me to action. He was out of his car and standing over Boo, saying, “No, no, no . . .”

I stepped into the street, to where Boo was. My legs felt like they weren’t quite connected to my body, but I kept moving forward and got down on the ground next to her. There was some blood on her face from where she’d been cut, but mostly, she looked like she was asleep. Her leg was at a terrible, unnatural angle.

“What was she doing?” the driver cried, grabbing his head. “What was she doing? She jumped—”

“Call for help,” I said.

The man from the car was still clutching his head and having a meltdown, so I had to yell at him. He took out his phone, his hands shaking.

“Boo,” I said, holding her limp hand, “you’re going to be okay. It’s all going to be okay. I promise. You are going to be fine.”

I heard the driver giving the information about where we were, his voice cracking. People hurried up to us. Other people were on phones. But I kept my eyes on Boo, my hand on her hand.

“What happened?” the driver said. “Was she drunk? Did she jump? I don’t understand . . . I don’t understand . . .”