Free Ripped at the Seams by Nancy Krulik Page B

feel at all afraid. She knew he’d take care of her.
    Just as he’d promised, Vin was full of surprises. He knew all kinds of interesting information about the composers of the music they were hearing, especially Leonard Bernstein. Bernstein was a sort of cultural hero in New York. Besides being a conductor of the Philharmonic Orchestra, he’d written several shows, including
West Side Story
.
    When the concert ended, Vin and Sami joined the throngs of other New Yorkersheading out of the park and spilling onto the streets of the Upper West Side.
    â€œDo you have to rush home?” Vin asked her.
    Sami shook her head. “Not especially. Why?”
    â€œI wanted to take you to my favorite coffee place,” he replied. “I know you’ll love it. And it isn’t far from here at all.”
    â€œSounds good,” Sami agreed as she followed him down Central Park West and into a small restaurant on one of the side streets.
    A chubby older woman with gray hair and just a slight mustache greeted them at the door. “Vincent!” she shouted, giving Vin a hug. “I haven’t seen you in months.”
    â€œMrs. Biondi,” Vin replied, pecking the woman on the cheek. He stepped to the side and pulled Sami toward her. “I want you to meet my friend Sami. She just moved in across the hall.”
    â€œHello, Sami,” Mrs. Biondi greeted her. She turned back to Vin. “It’s so nice to see you. You don’t come here so often since your uncle Peter moved to Florida.”
    â€œI promise to come more often now. And I’ll bring Sami.”
    â€œThat’s what I want to hear,” Mrs. Biondi told him. “You two kids want a nice quiet table in the garden?”
    â€œSounds perfect,” Vin replied.
    Mrs. Biondi led Vin and Sami through the restaurant and out the back door. Sami was shocked as they entered the yard. It had been transformed from a small lot behind a restaurant into a secret garden, complete with grass, two trees, shimmering white garden furniture, and a beautiful stone fountain. “I’ll bring you your favorite,” Mrs. Biondi told Vin. She turned to Sami. “And what would you like?”
    â€œWhat’s your favorite?” Sami asked Vin.
    â€œIced cappuccino with chocolate sorbet in it.”
    â€œMmm … I’ll have one too,” Sami said. “But better make mine a decaf. I’ll be up all night otherwise.”
    As they waited for Mrs. Biondi to return with their drinks, Sami looked around at the other people in the garden. It was a funny thing about New York. People dressed differently depending on the neighborhood. Like in SoHo, everyone wore black. On theUpper East Side, it was designer sportswear. And here, on the Upper West Side, the women all seemed to wear jeans and light T-shirts with varying styles of mules for shoes—sort of a casual chic look that cost way more than one would expect.
    â€œSo how do you like New York?” Vin interrupted her thoughts.
    â€œI love it,” Sami replied honestly.
    â€œBut it must be different from Elk Lake.”
    Sami giggled. “That’s for sure. I can’t even imagine what my friends at home would think of the people in our building. In Elk Lake, blue hair is for old ladies—not for Mohawks. Some of Rain’s friends … I mean, they’re really nice. But all those tattoos and earrings that people have …”
    â€œNo one has earrings in Elk Lake?” Vin asked her.
    â€œWell, the
girls
do—in their ears. And usually just one per ear. But guys with earrings? Or pierced tongues and noses? I saw someone with a pierced
eyebrow
the other day, and—”
    â€œYou’d be surprised what people pierce in our neighborhood,” Vin teased.
    Sami grimaced. “I guess I don’t get it.”
    Just then Mrs. Biondi came by with two tall frappé glasses, each filled with cold cappuccino. A huge scoop of