They ran until the park receded behind them and the sirens were swallowed up by the howling wind. She felt like they were emerging from a dark forest into another world. Fifth Avenue stretched out before them again, the tall buildings looming over them, silently watching.
Nathaniel wasn’t being himself tonight. He was acting like . . . well. That moment where he’d pushed her out of the way of the tree. It was just like a different moment three years ago.
An off-duty cab swished past down the deserted street.
Tiny shivered. She walked to the curb. In the window of a parked car, her reflection was hard to see.
Another off-duty cab swished past.
“Crap,” said Will. “The traffic ban. I bet they’re all off duty and heading back to wherever cabs go when they’re off duty.”
Tiny had to keep reminding herself it was Will. He still looked like Owen, and it was getting confusing.
“You know,” Will said, “sometimes I’m jealous of kids in the suburbs who can just get in their cars and drive wherever they want. Put on the radio. Hit the open road. Think of the freedom.”
“Not me,” said Lu. “I don’t want to worry about taking care of it.” She began to tick items off on her fingers. “I don’t want to pay for gas, I don’t want to feel like I have to give rides to people just cause they asked, and I don’t want to have to worry about driving drunk.” She paused to breathe. “Give me the subway any day.”
“Agh, guys!” Nathaniel grabbed at his curly hair. “You are literally driving me crazy! Do you not understand what a big deal this is? If we don’t get help soon, we could die!”
“Die?” Lu’s hands fell to her sides.
“Yes, die! It can’t be good to have all this electricity pumping through us. It’s like a state of perpetual electrocution!”
Tiny wondered what would be worse. Dying from perpetual electrocution—or fading away into invisibility, forever.
She could feel them all falling back into those same familiar roles. Nathaniel was the smart one. Will was the funny one. Lu was the dramatic one. And what was Tiny? The shy one? The one they all took for granted?
Lu and Will turned to Nathaniel and crossed their arms.
“What?”
“We’re waiting for you to suggest something.” Lu raised one eyebrow, which was a disconcerting thing Lu knew how to do. And did a lot.
“I don’t have all the answers.”
“Yes, you do, buddy,” Will said, slapping Nathaniel on the back. “You can’t fool us after that stunt back there in the park. You’re our superleader. Guide us.”
Nathaniel ran his hands through his hair.
“Well. Okay.”
In the distance, Tiny saw the far-off light of an empty taxi.
“There!” she cried, and her heart swelled with hope. “Look!”
“Yes!” Will pumped his fist. “Victory!”
Tiny ran out into the middle of the street. She waved her arms up and down.
But the cab didn’t stop. It didn’t show any sign of slowing down. It didn’t even see her.
“Stop!” Tiny yelled. It was getting closer.
“Get out of the way!” Lu called. But no. She wouldn’t. She would make it see her. She jumped up and down and waved her arms frantically. She closed her eyes and screamed, “Stop!”
Something heavy collided with her. But it wasn’t metal and rubber and glass. It was flesh and bone and smelled like boy. The taxi screeched to a stop as Nathaniel pushed her out of the way.
The wind had been knocked out of her. She struggled to stand.
“It didn’t see you,” Nathaniel said. Like it was just dawning on him. “The people in the park didn’t see you. I’m having a hard time seeing you. Tiny, are you—did the lightning—is that why—?”
“Guys!” Will shouted out the window of the cab. “Move it! The meter’s running!”
“Come on,” Tiny said, grabbing his hand. “There’s no time.” They piled into the back with Will and Lu.
Nathaniel and Will and Lu—did they not notice what was happening to her? Did they not even know she was disappearing? Tiny balled her hands into fists at her sides.
“Whoa,” said the driver. He was an elderly little guy, with a balding head and a graying beard. “Where are you going? I was just about to go off duty for the night.”
“Chambers Street,” said Nathaniel. “Chambers and West Broadway.”
The cab driver shook his head.
“No. No way. Too far. I’m heading back to Queens; it’s the opposite direction for me.”
Tiny leaned forward. “Please,” she said. The driver squinted at her.
“Are you okay?” he said. “Your skin . . . I know it’s dark back there, but . . .” He shook his head. “I must need glasses.”
“We really need to go to Chambers Street,” she said, avoiding the question. “It’s life-and-death.”
“You teenagers and your drama,” he said. But when he saw the look on Tiny’s face, his eyes softened. “Fine. But you better give me a big tip.”
They all nodded vigorously. “Yes! Thank you. Seriously, thank you.”
But the front passenger-side door was slamming shut too, and a girl turned around to face them.
“I’m not letting you steal my cab,” she said, breathing hard. “I was waiting forever out there.”
“No way,” said Lu. “We need this.”
“So do I!”
“Not as much as we do!”
“It’s mine,” they both said at the same time. “No, it isn’t. Yes, it is.”
The cab driver turned around. “As long as I’m taking you, I can take you both,” he said. “There’re no cabs out there. There’s nothing. Because of the storm.”
“It’s not even raining yet.” The girl pouted, looking at Lu like that was her fault.
The driver pulled away from the curb and took off.
“I’m only going to Sixty-First and Park,” she said.
“What!” said Will, wheeling on her. “You were going to steal our cab to go ten blocks?”
The girl scoffed. “I can’t walk in these!” She nodded at her heels, which Tiny had to admit were unreasonably high.
“I know you,” said Will. “You’re the girl from my party. The excuse me girl.”
“Your party? That’s a bit narcissistic, don’t you think?”
Of course she wouldn’t recognize him. He still looked like a completely different person.
Will grunted but said nothing.
Tiny leaned back and looked out the window, watching the buildings tick by along Fifth Avenue. The streets were deserted, and there were hardly any cars on the road with them. She felt a little better now that they were heading toward school. Tobias might have been a lot of things to her, to all of them, but without question, he was really smart. Tiny knew the answer would be in his paper. She had no doubt that even though he wasn’t right there in that cab with them, wedged between Tiny and Nathaniel, her arm touching his, he would be able to save them all.
The girl in the front seat turned around again. “Don’t you guys think it’s weird that Will Kingfield threw a party and then, like, disappeared?”
With great effort, Will turned from the window to look at her. “What are you talking about?”
“Everyone was talking about it. No one knew where he was. It’s like he left his own party. Super weird, right?”
Will bristled. “Maybe he was sick of his house being full of people he doesn’t know. Maybe he didn’t even want to throw a stupid party in the first place.”
“Right.” The girl snorted. “You’re an expert.”
Will smiled at this. “How do you know I’m not?”
“Because,” she said. “No one’s an expert on Will Kingfield. He’s the hottest guy in the senior class, but he’s such a mystery.”
“Oh god,” Lu groaned.
“He is?” Will blinked.
“Yeah,” she said, her voice growing dreamy. “Who is Will Kingfield?”
“Yeah,” said Lu. “Who is Will Kingfield? Enlighten us.”
Will stared at her. “I . . . I guess I don’t even know.”
The girl turned to him, excited. Clearly, this was a topic on which she was prepared to expound.
“Okay,” she said, “here’s what we know. He’s co-captain of the soccer team. He is mega-smart.” She was ticking items off on her fingers. “He has the sickest abs—”
“How do you know that?” Will interrupted.
“Amelia felt them.” Her eyes glittered. “At the homecoming dance. They danced next to each other for half of a song, and she totally touched his abs. She said it was like touching a brick wall.”
“Who’s Amelia?” Will said, mostly to himself.
“Uh, Amelia?” she said. “You know, Amelia? Anyway, he had this whole meteoric rise to popularity and stuff, right? But nobody’s that perfect. Where did he come from? What does he think about before he falls asleep at night? Who is he?”
“Whoa,” said Nathaniel, who had been quiet until now. “You’ve thought about this a lot.”
The girl leaned back in the front seat and sighed. “I would give anything to make out with him for, like, five minutes.”
Will considered this. “What if you guys have nothing in common?”
“Uh, who cares?” She looked at him like this was the stupidest question. “I’m not really interested in doing much talking, if you know what I mean.”
“I thought you were so interested in knowing the real him?”
“To a point,” she said. “Mostly I just want to lick his face.”
“Ew,” said Will.
“Ew,” said Lu.
“Hey!” The girl turned around and gave them a look.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Look, you seem nice, kind of, but I don’t really think you’re his type.”
“How could you possibly know that?” asked the girl.
“I think I can make a pretty educated guess on this one.”
“Well,” she said, “you never know, right?”
“Well,” said Will. “Okay. What are your thoughts on Ibsen? Have you ever read Hedda Gabler?”
Tiny noticed Lu suddenly got quiet.
The girl scrunched up her nose. “No,” she said. “Who’s Ibsen?”
“Just one of the most radical feminist playwrights of his time. He talks a lot about people being boxed in by society and labels and striving for beauty and greatness and a life bigger than ourselves.”
“Oh,” the girl said, raising her eyebrows as the cab pulled to a stop outside a big apartment building. “We’re here.” She handed the driver a couple of dollars and jumped out of the car.
“Too bad you’ll never make out with Will Kingfield!” Will called out the window.
The girl threw up her middle finger before disappearing into the lobby.
The driver glanced in the rearview mirror, and turned up the radio.
“What people have begun calling Stormpocalypse has now been classified as a superstorm. The Northeast has yet to see any rain, but with areas of the south already flooded, this promises to be the worst storm to hit the eastern seaboard in decades. . . . Rain is predicted to begin anytime between now and seven a.m. this morning. . . . Emergency procedures are already being put into place. . . . We advise you to stay off the roads. . . . If you can, stay home . . . for the safety of yourself and others. . . .”
“Still want me to take you to Chambers Street?” the driver asked.
“Yeah,” they all said at the same time. They looked at one another.
“I guess we still have to try,” Tiny said. If anything, it made her want to try harder.
The cab skirted through the park and down Columbus Avenue.
The driver eyed them in the rearview mirror. “Supposed to be one hell of a storm,” he said. “Where are you kids headed in this crazy weather?”
Tiny looked at Nathanial. He shrugged. “School,” he said.
“School!” The driver laughed. “You’re serious? So studious and focused on your futures. You’re not afraid of getting struck by lightning?”
“We were,” said Tiny. “Now we’re afraid of something else.”
“See,” said the cab driver, whose name, Tiny noticed on his cab driver’s license, was Gus. “To me, there’re two kinds of fear. You got good fear, and you got bad fear.” Gus adjusted the rearview mirror so he could see them. Columbus Avenue became Ninth Avenue. “Good fear protects you from getting hurt. Don’t put your hand on a hot stove. Avoid dark alleys. Stay away from high, open places and trees during a lightning storm!” He chuckled to himself. “Bad fear, though. It makes you think twice about taking the kind of risk that might turn out to be good for you. Applying for a job. Telling someone you love them. Writing the great American novel. Bad fear protects you from life. Keeps you from really living!” He threw a fist up in the air, and the car swerved a little. “You listen to the bad fear, you may as well just disappear.” He turned around and met Tiny’s gaze over his shoulder. The car swerved again. “You see what I mean?”
Tiny felt goose bumps on her arms.
They slowed down as they neared Thirty-Fourth Street. There was some kind of commotion up ahead.
“What’s going on?” Lu stuck her head out the window. “What fresh hell is this?” The cab came to a full-on stop. A stream of people marched past the window. “Are they holding signs?” Before anyone could stop her, the door had opened and closed and Lu had gotten out.
“Not again,” said Tiny, getting out after her. Nathaniel and Will followed.
The cabbie stuck his head out the window. “Hey, kids! I took you all this way! You gonna pay me?” Lu was disappearing into the crowd. She couldn’t let Lu disappear on them again. If she did, if they couldn’t find her, she could die.
“Tiny!” Will called, running ahead. “Come on! We’re going to lose her!”
Tiny was worried that if she didn’t stay close to them, she’d lose them too. She’d disappear in the crowd—literally, disappear—and that would be the last time anyone saw her. She had to follow them.
“I’m sorry!” Tiny shouted. “Listen, what’s your phone number? I promise, when this is all over, I’ll make sure you get your money.”
Gus frowned. “And a big tip.”
“And a big tip. Promise.”
He cursed, and then his eyes softened again. “I like you, kid. I don’t know why, but I do.” He tilted his head. “I feel like I’ve met you before. But.” He threw up his hands. “In a city of eight million people, everyone looks a little familiar.” Tiny was half paying attention, already running backward. Gus shouted his phone number after them. Tiny keyed it into her phone and pressed save. “I promise!” she called. “Thank you!”
“Good luck out there!” Gus called, and drove off in the opposite direction.