City Secrets

by Jessica Burkhart

  “Do you ever walk here?” I asked.

  Heather looked out the window, then back at me. “Sometimes. When I need to get out or whatever.”

  Paul pulled up to the curb. “Enjoy your lunch, ladies,” he said, smiling.

  “We’ll be done in an hour,” Heather said. “Thanks.”

  We got out of the car and I was almost overwhelmed by the mass of people, the smells of food, and the honks of horns.

  “So we’re on Twenty-third Street,” Heather explained. “And sometimes I walk up and take a right to hang out at Benvenuto Café. They have the best coffee around here.”

  “That sounds so cool,” I said.

  “Plus,” Heather said, “if you get the right window seat, you can see”—Heather turned and looked up, pointing—“that.”

  “Omigod, is that . . .” I paused, just staring.

  “The Empire State Building.”

  “Wow,” I breathed.

  I stared at the building for a minute, not even caring that I was probably going to be run over by a stroller with three kids or knocked down by a jogger too involved in music to notice me. Heather didn’t mock or sigh or yank me off the sidewalk. She let me gape at the gorgeous building until I had a mental picture I’d never forget. I hadn’t been to the Flatiron District on my last trip and it was a completely new section of the city.

  “Ready?” Heather asked. “They have a fun menu, but the line can be ridiculous sometimes.”

  I followed her into the park. Trees lined the sidewalks and plants and flowers were protected by black wire fences. It seemed odd to see so much grass and lots of trees in the middle of the city.

  Heather and I got in line, about twenty people long, and waited.

  “In the winter,” Heather said, “if you want to eat here, the Shake Shack people turn on heaters and everyone stands under them to eat.”

  “Heaters?” I asked. “Whoa. That’s hard-core to eat outside, when it’s probably below zero in the winter on some days.”

  Heather nodded. “But the food here is worth it. It’s not a gross street cart at the end of an alley, that no one’s heard of. It’s also not a pretentious, stuck-up French restaurant that my parents would much rather go to.”

  “So do they know you come here?” I asked.

  “No. They think I come here to go to the café, which I do, but they don’t know I eat burgers and hot dogs here. My mom would probably have a coronary.”

  “She probably would,” I agreed. “But this place is so cool.”

  I peered around the people in front of us and looked at the “shack.”

  It was so awesome—I wished Canterwood would put one on campus. The giant block letters said things like concretes, burgers, hot dogs. The roof slanted up, and flowers bloomed on it. I loved how the rectangular building was mostly windows, and smells of food wafted outside. There were dozens of tables and chairs, most of them filled, and people were devouring food that looked so delicious it made my stomach growl.

  After only a few minutes, Heather and I were one person away from the counter.

  “During the summer and typical touristy times,” Heather said, “the line wraps almost around the block. We’re lucky we didn’t come at exactly lunchtime and that it’s not a holiday.”

  “It’s such a cool place,” I said. “I get why people would want to try it if they were visiting the city.”

  “It’s especially cool since the Flatiron Building is right over there,” Heather said.

  I glanced where she was looking and saw the triangular building that jutted into the sky. I’d never seen anything like it.

  Heather and I moved up to the counter and I scanned the menu. Everything looked so good—I wanted to try it all!

  “I’ll take a ShackBurger with everything except onions, fries, and a Shack Attack,” Heather said.

  Ooh, the Shack Attack sounded perfect—it was all chocolate, including custard, sprinkles, chocolate chunks, and hot fudge.

  “And could I have a New York Dog, fries, and a Shack Attack, too, please,” I said.

  The guy behind the counter nodded and rang up our total. We handed him money from our wallets and he gave us back our change.

  “That’s a cool wallet,” Heather said, nodding at mine. It was black with a fake diamond clasp and glitter flecks. “Macy’s?”

  I grinned. “Nope. H & M.”

  Heather stared at me for a second, then recovered. “H & M,” she said slowly. “Hmm. Maybe if we have any free time, which we probably won’t, we might be able to go there. Like, they might have cool accessories. Your wallet doesn’t make me want to vomit, so maybe that’s a good sign.”

  I stuffed my wallet into my purse. “Thanks. I’m glad my wallet doesn’t make you want to puke.”

  Heather put her own Chanel wallet into her purse and we waited for our food. It didn’t take long—the Shake Shack workers had it down. Within minutes we were handed our food, and we scanned the seating area.

  “There’s a table,” I said. We walked toward it and put down our food, hanging our purses off the backs of our chairs. I took a bite of my hot dog and looked up at Heather.

  “There’s no way a hot dog can be this good,” I said. “Seriously.”

  Heather took a giant bite of her burger and nodded. “It’s weird, right? We eat burgers and hot dogs all the time at school, but there’s something about the food here. I have no idea what it is.”

  I tried a fry, and it was just as delish as the hot dog. A sip of my chocolate milkshake cemented my idea.

  “Before we go back to Canterwood,” I said, “we have to load up Paul’s trunk with food from Shake Shack.”

  Heather laughed. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate that. But we could try. We’ll have to get a cooler for the milkshakes.”

  We talked and giggled through lunch. For once, things with Heather felt easy. There wasn’t any of the weirdness I’d imagined we’d have with it being just us. I’d worried about that because it hadn’t really been Heather and me alone before—Julia or Alison had always been there. But without them Heather acted less like a clique leader and more like a, well, normal person.

  While we ate I people-watched. There were men in suits, people in jogging clothes, women pushing strollers, a girl with a pink faux-hawk, and a guy with piercings from his earlobe to the top of his ear.

  “I think a lot of people really have the wrong idea about New Yorkers,” I said.

  “What do you mean?” Heather asked.

  “I’ve heard people say that New Yorkers are rude and that the city’s this big, scary place. But I haven’t gotten hit by a taxi or had my purse snatched.”

  “Yet,” Heather said, smirking. “No, you’re right. We get a bad rap, but I bet you could ask just about anyone on the sidewalk for directions and they’d take time to help.”

  “I believe it.”

  My phone chimed in my purse. I reached around and pulled it out.

  S—can we talk soon? Pls? ~P

  I snapped my phone shut and tossed it into my purse. I jammed a handful of fries into my mouth. Swallowing, I looked up at Heather. Something just made me want to talk to her. And I really didn’t have anyone else.

  “That was Paige,” I said. “She wants to talk, but I don’t have anything to say to her right now. I’m just . . .”

  Heather waited, sipping her milkshake, while I tried to figure out what I was trying to say.

  “I’m just stunned, I guess,” I continued. “I thought we were so much closer than we were.”

  “Are you going to tell me what you fought about, or do we have to play that dumb guessing game that I always win?” Heather gave me The Look.

  “She brought up the Jacob mess at Homecoming dance. I have no idea why she did that, since I’d already told her the truth. Then she said it was more than that. I asked her what she was talking about and it just blew up. Paige said I was jealous that she had a boyfriend and I didn’t.”

  Heather sat back in her chair. “Are
you kidding?”

  “Um, no!” I shook pepper onto my fries. “I have no clue where that came from and I told her that. I reminded her that I was the one who pushed her to get together with him.”

  “You’d never be jealous of Paige, especially over a boy,” Heather said, her voice quiet. “I can’t believe she said that.”

  “Me either. And that’s when I told her that I wasn’t staying with her over break.”

  “That would have been beyond uncomfortable. It was definitely the right decision to put space between you guys for a little while at least. She needs to apologize.”

  I took a gulp of milkshake. Ow—brain freeze!

  “Yeah,” I said, rubbing my temples. “We’ve had fights before, but never anything like that. I know she’s sorry, but I’m not sure if she’s sorry she blurted it out and meant to keep it to herself, or sorry she said that when she really didn’t believe it at all.”

  Heather swirled a fry in ketchup. “I don’t know. That’s a serious thing to say to your best friend, especially after you did tell her the truth about your party. She has to know you’d never be jealous that she has a boyfriend or be worried that you’d try to steal Ryan from her. That’s ridiculous.”

  “I know. Deep down I think Paige knows that too. But I keep seeing her face and hearing her say those words.”

  “Is Ryan her first boyfriend?” Heather asked.

  “Yeah. She crushed on a guy back home, but she came to Canterwood before they ever had a chance at anything. Ryan is her first boyfriend, so I could get over it if she was worried about other girls, but not me. You know?”

  “Totally,” Heather said. “You guys have been disgustingly close since you came to Canterwood, and just because she gets a boyfriend, she can’t suddenly be paranoid that her BFF is going to steal him or that if you’re acting upset or weird it’s because you’re miserable without a guy in your life.”

  Even though Paige and I were fighting, I still didn’t want Heather dissing Paige. But I didn’t want to let Heather know that what she’d said had bothered me.

  “And that’s the thing—I’m not even looking! I have . . . feelings for Jacob, but I want to be single. I really do. Every time I’ve been with a guy, things got all messed up. I’m going back to putting riding and school as my top priorities.”

  Heather raised her milkshake in a toast. “I second you putting riding first. My team isn’t going to have any loser riders on it.” She said it with a smile, though, and I laughed. I tapped my shake to hers and we finished our lunch in the warm New York air.

  A half hour later Heather and I met Paul by the curb. We got into the car and he smiled at us from the rearview mirror.

  “How was lunch?” he asked.

  “Amazing,” I said. “I wish we had a Shake Shack in Connecticut!”

  Paul nodded. “Their burgers and hot dogs can’t be beat. Where to, girls?”

  Heather paused. “I guess we should go home.” Her face had lost its earlier perkiness and she didn’t sound at all excited about the idea of going to the penthouse.

  “We can watch movies or something,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Heather said. She looked a little happier at that suggestion.

  Paul nodded and pulled away from the curb.

  “Anyway, by the time we get back, we won’t have many hours to kill,” Heather said. “We’ll be out all day tomorrow, so that’ll be something to look forward to.”

  “What’re we doing tomorrow?” I asked.

  “Going riding since we really do need to practice, and then . . .” Heather leaned closer to me. “We’ll get Paul to take us on a secret mani/pedi trip. We’ll just let my dad think we’ve been riding that whole time.”

  I leaned back in my seat, nodding. “That sounds awesome.” I’d had a manicure only once, for a girl’s birthday party back when I went to Union Middle School. It really did sound awesome—I just didn’t want to get caught by Mr. Fox.

  8

  LIMITLESS

  ON MONDAY MORNING MY ALARM WENT OFF at six. I grabbed my clothes, toothbrush, shampoo, body wash, and moisturizer and headed for the bathroom. I locked the door behind me and took a second to figure out how to turn on the shower faucet. The shower head was one of those superfancy ones with different massage settings. After I showered, brushed my teeth, and dried my hair, I got dressed in my best pair of fawn-colored breeches and a waffle-knit burnt orange shirt.

  I put my stuff back in my room and saw the light on my phone blinking. It was a voice mail. I punched number one and waited for the message to play.

  “Sasha, it’s Paige. I texted you yesterday and you didn’t reply. I, um, really want to talk and apologize. I know you’re in the city, and maybe we could meet up and get coffee or something? Please call me.”

  I pushed the Delete key and tossed my phone on the bed. I walked over to one of the windows and stood there taking in the view. Sun glinted off buildings so high they looked as if they’d sway if even a slight breeze blew through the city. Below the building, cars moved slowly through the traffic and pulled in and out of the building’s driveway. It made me think about home and how different my life was from Heather’s.

  I lived on a quiet street in the ’burbs, and my room was half the size of Heather’s. But it wasn’t just about the space. My house felt like, well, home. A place where people wouldn’t be afraid to touch anything or break a Tiffany lamp. Heather’s penthouse was gorgeous, sleek, and sophisticated, but it was cold. I wondered if it seemed that way to her, too. Or if it felt like home to her since she’d grown up here.

  I turned away from the window. Suddenly I wanted to call my mom and say hi. I just needed to hear a friendly voice.

  I dialed, knowing she and Dad were definitely up. They were probably planning the day from their room at the bed-and-breakfast they were staying at for vacation.

  “Hi, hon!” Mom said. “How are things going?”

  Just the sound of her voice made me relax. I sat at the end of the guest bed and pressed the phone to my ear.

  “Really well,” I said. “I’m having lots of fun. Today, Heather and I are going riding and then getting our nails done later.”

  I could feel Mom’s smile through the phone. “That sounds wonderful, sweetie. I’m sure you’ll miss riding Charm, but I bet you’ll get a lot out of riding another horse.”

  “Mr. Conner would definitely agree with that,” I said. “He always encouraged us to ride as many different horses as we can.”

  “How are things with Heather?” Mom asked. “Have you heard from Paige?”

  I paused. I didn’t want to lie about Paige, but I also didn’t want to talk about it. “Heather’s being very cool,” I said. “We’re getting along, and I haven’t talked to Paige yet.”

  There. That was true. I hadn’t said Paige had texted and called me, but it was close enough.

  “Well, I’m sure you two will talk soon and you’ll work out your disagreement,” Mom said.

  “Me too.”

  But I wasn’t sure. When I’d called Mom the night of the dance, I’d told her Paige and I had gotten in a fight and I’d wanted to go to Heather’s for break. Mom and Dad had both agreed, but they’d been sorry Paige and I hadn’t been able to spend the break together that we’d planned.

  “How’s the B and B?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.

  “It’s completely charming,” Mom said. “Exactly what your dad and I hoped for. It’s not one of those that makes you do scheduled activities, so you’re free to do what you want during your stay. Today, your dad and I are going to visit a local art museum.”

  “That sounds fun,” I said. “I better get to breakfast, but tell Dad I said hi.”

  “I will, hon. Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  We hung up and I took a giant breath before walking out of my room. I walked down the hallway to Heather’s room and found her on her laptop with her back to me. She was on her e-mail.

  “Hey,” I said.

/>   She jumped and closed the window. “God, Silver. Don’t you know to say something when you walk into a room?”

  “I did,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Heather said, shutting the lid of her Mac. “After you were breathing down my neck.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’ll be sure to text you next time I’m going to walk into your room.”

  Heather glared at me. “Ha ha.”

  She’d showered and dressed too. Her chocolate brown breeches contrasted with her stark white v-neck shirt.

  “Let’s eat and go ride,” Heather said. She got out of her desk chair and I followed her out of her room.

  We ate another great breakfast—I had Greek yogurt with granola, and Heather had slices of turkey bacon with scrambled eggs. We grabbed our purses, helmets, and boots and met in the foyer.

  Heather’s phone rang and she looked down at it, her face almost matching the color of her shirt.

  “Hi, Dad,” she said.

  She listened for a long time, and even though I couldn’t make out the words, I could hear Mr. Fox’s sharp tone.

  “We’re going right now,” Heather said. “Yes. I know. We will. Okay.”

  She rolled her eyes at me.

  “I’ll call your secretary after, promise. Bye.”

  Heather clicked the phone off and shoved it into her purse. I didn’t ask her about the call and she didn’t offer up any information. I wasn’t going to make her uncomfortable if she didn’t want to talk about it. We pulled on our riding boots and I looked around the rug, checking to make sure I didn’t leave mud or dirt anywhere.

  Heather pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway. I followed her, glancing back behind us.

  “Don’t we have to tell someone we’re leaving?” I asked.

  Heather shook her head. “Please. Dad told Mom first thing this morning that we were going riding. She’ll have someone call if she wants to know what we’re doing.”

  “Okay.”

  The building was busy this morning as people hurried to work. Cars waited around the half-circle drive to pick up passengers. Heather and I stood by the curb.

  “I texted Paul when I got my stuff,” Heather said. “He’ll be here in a sec.”