Now, coming up to a 7-Eleven with a packed parking lot, my gaze lingers on the pay phone. Out ofnowhere, like a blindsiding swipe, it hits me: I miss her. I really, really miss her.
And even though there’s no way, even though me trailing over here to the pay phone is just settingmyself up to be disappointed again …
Wait a second. No. Freaking. Way.
I stop in my tracks, staring at what can’t possibly be there. At what my sleep-deprived, still-spinningmind has to be imagining. Did Gavril drug me or something? Am I hallucinating?
There’s something on the top of the pay phone.
A little silvery stack of quarters.
It’s impossible. So unlikely, so storybook perfect that it cannot possibly be happening to me, theunluckiest girl who ever lived. A pay phone, ri
