The whole third floor has been reserved for
the skate club—Ryan holds onto his suitcase and cranes his neck to
see over the duffle bags that wobble precariously in his lap as
Dante heads for the elevators. A few other skaters already wait for
the lift, their arms filled with their own bags, and Ryan has this
terrifying image of everyone rushing through the doors when they
open and leaving him out in the lobby. But Dante angles him into a
good position and before the bell even dings to announce the lift,
he’s pushing Ryan towards the door. “Coming through,” he says, not
caring who he shoves aside. “Watch out, guys. We’re first.”
“My mom’s a bad influence on you,”
Ryan murmurs.
“I like her,” Dante tells him. He
turns the wheelchair around and stops in the center of the
elevator
