Free Summer in the Invisible City by Juliana Romano Page B

embarrassing,” Danielle says. “But Katie wants to go.”
    â€œWhose party is it?” I jump in.
    â€œThis guy Justin Chang,” Danielle says.
    My heart leaps into my chest.
    â€œJustin?” I repeat. “I know who that is. He’s friends with Phaedra and Izzy and everyone.”
    What I don’t say is
that means Noah might be there, too.
    Willa looks at me, not smiling. I try to act normal, slumpdown onto the couch, and look at the TV like I don’t care.
    â€œ I don ’t want to go out,” Willa says.
    â€œOkay. Well if you change your mind I’m not leaving for a while,” Danielle says, turning so quickly that her shiny brown hair fans over her shoulders like a girl in a shampoo commercial.
    â€”
    After Danielle goes to her room, I can’t concentrate on the TV show anymore. There’s a party and everyone will be there. Why does Willa have to be so above it all the time? Why can’t she be normal and get excited about a party for once?
    It must be a full twenty minutes because we’re into the second act of the next episode when Willa pauses the TV, and her eyes bore into me in the silence.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” I ask.
    She glares at me.
    â€œWhat did I do?” I repeat.
    â€œJust go with Danielle if you want to go so bad,” she says, as if she’d been inside my head this whole time.

Chapter 16
    â€œDo you think Willa is happy?” Danielle asks in the taxi. She brought a SmartWater bottle full of vodka and orange juice and she takes a sip. And then she says, without waiting for me to answer, “It’s rad you are old enough to party with. I wish Willa would party with me. What’s with her?”
    â€œShe’ s just Willa, ” I say.
    â€œYou’re so right,” Danielle says. “That’s such a little sister thing. To just, like, do what you want all the time and not care if other people are making everything easier for you.”
    I tug on the hem of the tight black dress Danielle let me borrow. It’s too small for me, but Danielle said it’s too small in a good way. It feels like just yesterday that she was screaming and literally throwing shampoo bottles at us when she found us trying on her clothes in eighth grade. Now, I’m wearing her dress with her permission, going to a party with her on a Friday night.
    â€œHere. Have some,” Danielle says, shoving the bottle at me.
    Danielle is watching and I don’t want her to regret bringing me so I take a sip. It tastes terrible.
    â€œAnyway, Willa is still awesome. I can’t wait for her tocome to Yale,” she says. “I’ll be a junior when she’s a freshman. That will be amazing. She’s going to love college. You’re going to love college, too. It’s so much better than high school. Where do you want to go?”
    â€œI think I want to go to IACA,” I say. “In California.”
    But Danielle isn ’t listening. She taps on the plastic that divides the backseat from the driver. “Excuse me? Sir?”
    The driver doesn’t turn around, but says, “Yes, ma’am?” with a thick accent.
    â€œCan I smoke in here?”
    â€œNo! No smoking! You cannot smoke!” he replies. I can see him trying to catch Danielle’s gaze in the rearview mirror. She sinks back into the pleather seat and rolls her eyes.
    As the taxi curves onto Central Park West, the velvety black trees zip by to our right, blending into the night sky. To our left, the looming apartment buildings stare down at us, their stone faces hard as armor.
    â€”
    Justin lives on the corner of Eighty-Third Street and Riverside Drive. It’s one of those huge, almost block-size brick buildings that look like a thousand others in the city, including the one we lived in when I was really little. There’s something so strange about walking into an unfamiliar building that is almost identical to a familiar