Free A Long Way From You by Gwendolyn Heasley

even though it’s only been two days.
    “I watched the Guggenheim being built way back when. They finished it the same year I got married—1959. People thought the architect, Frank Lloyd Wright, had missed the mark big-time. Nowadays, it’s hard to imagine Museum Mile without it.”
    He pulls the cab over to the sidewalk.
    In real life, the building looks as if a white, spiraling spaceship landed on the edge of Central Park. The museum itself looks like a piece of art. I can’t wait to see what’s inside if the outside is this incredible.
    I hand my driver a twenty and he smiles at me in the rearview mirror. “Make sure to take the elevator to the top, then work your way down. You want gravity to go with you.”
    Entering the museum, I feel like I’ve found a secret castle filled with something better than treasure. All of the art hang on walls inside the spirals. Heeding the driver’s advice, I pay for my admission and take an elevator straight up to the top.
    When I get to the top, I look down and think about how Kiki would love to drop a penny just to see what would happen. As for me, I love looking down the spiral and seeing the art from the changing distance. With each step I descend, I see the artwork from a different angle. It’s like seeing the same painting in ten different ways.
    In one of the galleries, I stop and listen to a docent talking to a group of tourists. She’s wearing a bohemian skirt and long, dangly beaded earrings. She moves her hands quickly as she describes a dark painting of a lively bar. I completely want the docent’s life.
    “This is the first work Picasso painted in Paris, a new city for him. He painted this at only nineteen . You can feel looking at this painting, he’s near but not in, or part of, this party. Many people say that sometimes it takes an outsider to depict something as it is, not how people want it to be.”
    I think about my night at The Pierre. Although I never thought I’d be able to compare myself with Picasso, I can relate to being an outsider in a strange new city. I never thought that being an outsider might work to my advantage in art, but maybe it will let me see New York in ways that others can’t.
    A little while later, the vibration of my phone interrupts my thoughts.
Corrinne: We’re on borrowed time. I ordered us Chinese. I sent Ivan to pick you up out front in ten minutes.
     
    Slowly, I make my way down the ramp. I figure Corrinne (and Chinese) can wait a few more moments. For Corrinne, New York’s museums might be old news. But for me, this might be the beginning of the rest of my life.
    After chowing down on lo mein and attempting to keep up with the Kardashians, Corrinne and I go to sleep.
    I don’t hear Corrinne’s alarm. Waking me from a deep sleep, she shakes me to say good-bye. We hug tightly, and we promise to make big plans for when she sees me next in exactly twenty-six days, for my last weekend in New York.
    “Remember, all my friends promised to take care of you,” Corrinne says. “You’re my Texan sister. Ask my mom about directions to school. It’s only a few stops away on the subway.”
    Subway? Ohmigosh, I need to take the subway! How am I going to manage New York alone? I can’t believe I put parties and an E! marathon before my education. My best friend is about to leave, I have class in three hours, and I don’t even know where my school is. That’s not like me, especially since opportunities like art school don’t happen to me every day—or ever—until now.
    I kiss Corrinne on the cheek. I don’t say anything because I don’t want her to worry. After all, she’s letting me stay with her parents for the summer. She even told me to wear her clothes and hang out with her friends. She’s done enough for me.
    As soon as Corrinne leaves, I immediately hop in the shower and begin to get ready for my first day of school. Even though I’m apprehensive, I still feel that back-to-school rush. I’ve always been the