Summer in the Invisible City Read Free Page B

jealous of in that one small image. Not just what she looked like, but her flawless style, and her perfect family, and the way all of it came so easy because she was born into it. And I don’t think I was the only person who felt that way. I bet everyone who saw that picture, even old people and little kids, felt jealous of her right that second, too.
    I’ve never been to the Rockaways and as we get farther from Manhattan, the buildings get smaller and the spaces between them larger, until the city has transformed into an unrecognizable landscape. The sky seems to drop as we drive, as if the buildings in Manhattan actually keep it propped up high, like a tent.
    â€œWho else is coming today?” I ask. All I really want to know is if Noah is coming, but I’m afraid to ask. If I told them what happened between me and him, I’m not sure what they’d think. It could make me seem older and experienced, and that would be good. But on the other hand, they might see through my story to the truth.
    â€œRandom people,” Izzy says. “Justin Chang and some of his friends, I think.”
    â€œWho is Justin?” I ask.
    â€œHe’s our friend from Xavier,” Izzy says. “Who Phaedra is hooking up with.”
    â€œWe’re just friends,” Phaedra insists.
    â€œShut up. You are
not
,” Izzy teases.
    â€œWe are, too! Just like you and Roberto.” Phaedra laughs. She says Roberto with a rolling
r
so it sounds super Italian.
    I’m about to ask Izzy who Roberto is but then she jumps up in her seat, turns up the volume on the radio, and screams, “Yes!”
    It’s a Taylor Swift song that was really popular when we were in seventh grade. Everyone, even people who don’t care about pop music, know all the words. If Willa were here, she’d cover her ears and moan about how it brings back too many bad memories of awkward middle school dances.
    There’s no traffic this far out and Izzy’s car speeds along. I catch my reflection in the rear window. My hair is going wild, and I’m struck for a moment when I realize I look like I belong.
    Izzy cranes her neck back toward me and says, “Did you know Phaedra met Taylor Swift? They hung out all night at some party.”
    â€œThat’s not true.” Phaedra laughs. “We talked for a few minutes. She was really nice.”
    â€œWow,” I say. “What was that like?”
    But Phaedra doesn ’t answer. She sinks into her seat and pulls her sunglasses down over her eyes. And just like that, she disappears back into the illusion of her, silent and beautiful and mysterious. Maybe she’s just a mirage, just some imaginary thing that everyone wants to believe in.
    â€”
    Izzy looks for parking on a residential street near the beach. I can’t see the ocean yet, but I can taste the briny salt in the air, and I can almost hear the water rushing on the shore.
    We park in front of a sleepy-looking house with the lights off and an air conditioner sagging from the front window. We lug a cooler and a bag of towels and walk slowly, our bodies pressing against the wall of hot air. We’re near the airport, and overhead planes circle the sky, flying so low that you can see the logos painted onto the bellies of their rusted metal shells.
    The bright, crowded beach comes as a surprise after the quiet neighborhood. There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of people stretching out in every direction with their beachumbrellas and multicolored towels scattered around them like confetti.
    â€œOur meeting spot is this way,” Izzy says as we trudge through the sand past all the different camps of beach-goers.
    â€œI see Justin,” Phaedra announces. “They’re over there.”
    I look where Phaedra is pointing and my heart sinks. There are eight or nine people sitting around a beach umbrella, but Noah isn’t one of them. There’s one girl I’ve seen around school, but