Come Fly With Me (73 page)

She
blinked
in
surprise
at
his
turnaround,
but
recovered
in
time
to
hurl
a
hail
of
insults
his
way.
"You
know
what
Alex,
you're
a
real
bummer;
you're
no
fun
at
all.
How
dare
you
preach
to
me,
you
barely
have
your
own
act
together?
I'm
sorry
I
ever
asked
you
out."

"And
I'm
sorry
your
father
died
and
left
you
with
a
mess
to
sort
out.
But
being
sorry
is
only
the
first
part
of
the
story.
What
you
do
about
it
is
the
second
part,
and
from
where
I'm
standing
you're
doing
nothing.
You're
choosing
to
do
nothing
when
clearly,
something
has
to
be
done.
So,
do
yourself
a
big
whopping
favor,
and
unfreeze
yourself
and
join
the
rest
of
us
in
the
world."

She
watched
wordlessly
as
he
left
and
then
stomped
furiously
up
to
her
loft.
Her
hand
shook
as
she
tried
to
get
her
key
in
the
door.
Walking
into
the
dark
apartment,
she
couldn't
remember
the
last
time
she'd
felt
so
livid.
Well,
that's
what
you
get
when
you
open
yourself
up
to
somebody—you
get
knocked
right
onto
your
ass.
She
swept
all
the
clothing
off
her
bed
that
had
been
carelessly
thrown
there
earlier—when
the
evening
had
held
promise.
She
washed
off
her
makeup
and
quickly
changed
out
of
her
things
before
falling
into
the
comfort
of
her
bed.
Alex
was
dead
wrong;
he
was
wrong
about
everything.
The
first
tear
fell
a
minute
later,
and
then
many
more
before
she
fell
into
a
restless
sleep.

Allison
stood
impatiently
at
the
light
on
Sixth
Avenue
while
she
waited
for
it
to
change.
Still
freezing
in
late
March,
it
was
shaping
up
to
be
an
endless
winter.
She
dashed
through
the
doors
of
Magnolia,
one
of
her
favorite
bakeries.
and
did
a
quick
glance
around
to
look
for
Kaitlin.
She
walked
to
the
back,
sat
down
on
a
cheery
red
and
white
striped
stool,
and
took
out
her
phone.
There
was
a
text
from
Jeremy
asking
her
if
she
was
going
up
to
Mom's
for
the
weekend.
One
positive
from
her
father's
premature
death
was
how
close
she'd
grown
with
Jeremy.
They
were
making
a
great
attempt
to
keep
in
touch
to
visit
their
mother
often.
Take
that,
Alex,
I'm
doing
things.
She
threw
her
BlackBerry
into
her
bag
with
a
snap.
I
am
so
over
that
jerk,
I
cannot
believe
I
ever
thought
some
hick
from
the
South
was
in
my
league.
She
spotted
Kaitlin
as
she
made
her
way
into
the
shop
and
smiled;
glad
to
be
rescued
from
her
own
mental
rant.

Allison
jumped
down
from
her
perch
and
held
out
her
hand
to
take
Kaitlin's
numerous
shopping
bags
while
she
struggled
with
her
coat.
As
she
pulled
off
her
white,
wooly
ski-cap,
strands
of
her
hair
stood
up.
Allison
reached
up
to
laughingly
smooth
down
the
static
hairs
and
realized
it
was
a
gesture
that
mirrored
her
mother's.

"Thanks
for
rescuing
me!
I
swear,
my
friends
are
so
obsessive
about
shopping,
about
boys,
about
The
Hills,
American
Idol,
you
name
it,"
said
Kaitlin.

Allison
smiled,
"It's
hard
being
a
tween
these
days
with
all
the
distractions;
I
guess
school
takes
a
low
rung
on
the
ladder.
I
texted
you
on
a
whim
and
was
surprised
when
you
said
you
had
the
day
off."

"It's
a
teacher-in-service
day—whatever
that
means."

"How
did
you
get
here?
The
limo?"
Allison
asked.

"I
was
at
Saks,
so
I
walked
up
the
block."

"And
you're
sure
your
father's
okay
with
you
walking
around
on
your
own?"

"Well,
I'm
not
telling
him,"
she
smiled
prettily.
"Besides,
if
I
lived
in
Brooklyn
I'd
be
allowed
to
travel
around
by
train
and
walk
anywhere
by
myself.
It's
we
upper-eastsiders
who
are
so
spoiled.
Anyway,
which
cupcake
should
I
get?
I
always
get
the
peanut
butter
crumb;
I'm
in
the
mood
for
a
change."

"Well,
I'm
a
big
chocolate
fan,
so
I
usually
go
with
the
red
velvet,"
Allison
offered.

They
made
their
selections,
with
Kaitlin
ordering
hot
chocolate
and
Allison
taking
a
double
espresso.
Allison
asked
her
young
companion
if
she'd
chosen
a
favorite
to
vote
for
on
American
Idol.