Rashad sits next to me on the subway car. Ricky pretends not to care and sits chatting with his roommates. Melody and Sienna catch up on gossip about people I don’t know yet.
“So is Ricky cool with us sitting hugged up like this?” Rashad whispers.
“We are not hugged up, boy. Stop playing.”
Rashad leans back in his seat. “The best friends with secret crushes on one another spend their first summer alone in the big city.”
“Ha-ha. You trying to write a story?”
Rashad grins. “I am here for the creative-writing program, Princess. That’s what I do.”
“Well, your story is fiction.”
“I don’t know, Gia, Ricky seemed to be throwing a lot of shade in my direction earlier.”
“He’s not throwing any now,” I protest.
“That’s a male-ego thing. He can’t let me know he’s pressed. But he is very threatened because he thinks I’m interested in you.”
Dang! Why can’t I wipe this stupid grin off my face? And why doesn’t he stop flirting?
“Well, are you?” I ask.
“Am I what?”
“Interested?”
Rashad laughs out loud. “Why don’t we just let the summer write the story. This is our stop.”
Are you kidding me? Let the summer write the story? Wow on top of wow. This dude really is a writer because nobody talks like this in real life. I mean, for real.
We get off the train, and immediately, I see a difference. The subway station at this stop is darker, and some of the people milling around are beyond special. I feel myself step just a little closer to Rashad. Oooh, wait a minute. How is it that I didn’t notice his muscular arms before? Nice!
Rashad says, “Listen, when we get to street level, everybody stay together. We don’t want Ricky or Gia to get separated or lost on their first time out.”
Okay, sidebar. Isn’t it great how Rashad is totally taking control of the situation? I wish you could see how irritated Ricky looks. Not that I want him to be irritated, but he needs to step his game up: Rashad’s swagger is eclipsing Ricky’s.
Melody loops an arm through mine. “I won’t lose her,” she says. “Come on.”
Oh, my goodness! They told me Times Square was awesome, but they so did not tell me it was like this!
Everything is lit up, there are a ton of people walking around like it’s the middle of the day, and it’s loud like we’re at the flyest house party ever.
“This is too for real, Ricky!” I squeal.
Ricky shouts, “I know, right! Times Square, baby!”
I untangle myself from Melody and grab Ricky’s jacket. How awesome is it that I’m sharing this experience with my best friend?
“Kevin would so love this, Ricky. Take some pictures.”
“Tourist alert,” Xavier says with a giggle.
Ricky and I totally ignore Xavier teasing us about looking like tourists. Whatever! We are tourists.
I point up the street at a brightly decorated storefront. “There’s a souvenir shop! Let’s stop—I want to get a T-shirt.”
“First rule of shopping on the streets of NYC,” Rashad says. “Never buy from the first store you see. I guarantee you’ll see the same shirts up the street for cheaper.”
“Whatever! This is cheap. Two for ten dollars! Let’s get one each, Ricky.”
Melody interjects. “Even though I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing anything on that table, I’m gonna have to agree with Rashad.”
I look to Ricky for his input. He shrugs. “The night is young, right? Let’s keep going.”
I can’t keep my eyes from bouncing back and forth. Everything is so bright! I mean, seriously, there’s a Jay-Z video playing on a huge video screen mounted on the side of a building. Are you kidding me?
“I’m hungry,” Xavier says as we walk past a pizza parlor.
“Didn’t you eat at the barbeque?” Sienna asks.
“I’m a growing boy, and my stomach is saying yes to a slice of pepperoni pizza!”
We all crack up laughing because Xavier rubs his stomach with longing in his eyes. He looks hilarious!
“You haven’t had pizza until you’ve had it in New York,” Rashad says.
Sienna rolls her eyes. “Whatever! Chicago is the spot for pizza, Rashad. You haven’t had a pizza pie until you’ve had a five-meat, deep-dish pie from Chi-Town.”
Ricky laughs. “Man, now I’m hungry!”
“We might as well stop then,” Melody says.
We pile into the tiny restaurant. There are pockets of teenagers and artist types. And in the corner a couple sits sharing a slice of pizza.
Rashad scores a table for us near the window. This whole evening so far has been cool to infinity. I feel so free, like I’m almost an adult or something. No Gwen calling to tell me to get my butt home or interrogate me about my new friends.
This is hot!
We order a large pepperoni pizza because most of us are not really hungry, and one slice should be enough for everybody except Xavier.
“So you two are from Cleveland, right?” Melody asks.
“What do you all do for fun?”
“We roller-skate or go hang out at the rec,” Ricky says.
“Gia is on the step squad at school, so she hangs with that clique.”
Sienna high-fives me across the table. “Step squad! I know that’s right.”
“Uh, chill with the step sisterhood. Cheerleaders rule at my school,” Melody says.
“Are you a cheerleader?” Ricky asks.
“I’m not just a cheerleader, I’m the captain.”
The boys burst out laughing. Ricky says through his giggles, “Cheerleading is not a real sport, Melody. You don’t have to be so militant about it!”
“Hi, haters,” Melody says with a neck roll.
This just makes the boys laugh harder.
The waitress brings the pizza to the table, and on first glance I don’t see anything special. The crust looks super thin, definitely not like the thick pan pizzas I’m used to eating at home.
“It looks kind of flimsy to be the best pizza ever,” Ricky says, mirroring my thoughts.
“Taste first, talk second,” Xavier replies as he snatches a slice and bites it in one swift motion.
I take a slice for myself. The taste totally surprises me. The sauce is tangy but really good. The crust, though thin, manages to be crispy on the edges but chewy in the middle. It’s delicious.
“You like?” Rashad asks.
All I can do is nod as I swallow the tasty morsels. After everyone eats a slice, we all wish we’d ordered more than one pizza.
Melody says, “Come on, y’all. We don’t want to be late for curfew on our first night out.”
On our way back to the Times Square subway station, we see a street vendor selling the same T-shirts I wanted to score earlier. Guess how much they’re charging? Four shirts for ten dollars!
Rashad nods over at the