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1
August
“Wait, wait, wait!” I chant as I storm toward the subway car. My high school PE teacher would be damn proud if he saw me right now. My strides have never been so long and energetic before. My form isn’t anything to write home about, though. Dear God, my pulse is through the roof.
I ignore it. I can recuperate on the train, provided I make it. I have to make it. The next one will leave in ten minutes, but the next one won’t have—
“Hey!”
The startled voice comes out of nowhere. I’ve been staring only at the train, willing it not to move, so I almost barrel into a man who’s lugging a large suitcase behind himself while holding a map in his other hand, looking both overwhelmed and lost.
I do my level best not to mow him down, but I still hit his suitcase, so the man loses his grip on it and it topples down in front of his feet.
“Watch it!” I pant, breathless from my sprint.
Please, please, please don’t let the doors close.
“But… you ran into me,” the man calls after me.
“Welcome to New York,” I shout over my shoulder in place of an apology. This is the exact situation God will look at once I’m dead, and he’ll have to make a call on if I’ll move in upstairs or downstairs, but I really, really don’t have time to worry about the afterlife right now.
I’m not going to make it.
Some people can run to the station at the last possible moment and still catch the exact train they want. Not me. Not even a little bit, even though my dad loves to say that there are three things certain in life: death, taxes, and delays in the New York subway system. The day I’m even a second late is also the day the train isn’t.
Today’s my lucky day, though. Instead of having to watch the doors slide shut right in front of my face, I manage to jump onto the car at the last possible moment. I lean forward, palms on my knees as I try to catch my breath.
Yes! I made it!
“What happened to you?” Ryan’s voice is filled with amusement.
Ryan and I used to work together, braving the morning rush in a café near NYU campus when I was a freshman. We’ve been friends ever since.
“My phone died sometime during the night, so my alarm didn’t go off.” I drop down into the seat next to him and lean back, trying to catch my breath after my crazy sprint to the station.
“There are other trains.” Ryan sends me a knowing grin.
“I’m fond of this one. Seven thirty is my lucky time of day. And the orange complements my eyes.” I pat the plastic seat next to me affectionately.
I have a soft spot for these old cars. Yes, they’re sort of ugly and not as shiny and sleek as the new ones, but the faux-wood paneling and bucket seats are my childhood. My pops used to take me to Manhattan with him on Sundays and he’d buy me ice cream, then we’d go to Central Park and walk and talk. Those are some of my best memories.
“Whatever you say.” That damn perceptive smile is still on Ryan’s face, but he shakes his head after a little while, pulls out his phone, and starts scrolling through his messages. I try to blindly arrange my hair and brush my hands over my jacket before I take a glance to my right as surreptitiously as possible.
Specifically, I’m after the view of the third seat across the aisle. Only, it seems I’ve used up all my karma points when hurrying onto the train, because the seat I’ve been stalking for weeks now is occupied by an older lady instead of—
“Ten o’clock,” Ryan murmurs next to me.
I frown. “What?”
Ryan rolls his eyes.
“Ten o’clock,” he repeats.
I stare at him for a few seconds before I lean forward and tap the upper part of his phone screen.
“It’s seven thirty-five.”
Ryan closes his eyes and lets out a long-suffering sigh.
