Brooklyn Girls Read Online Free PDF Page B

covered in puke.
    I wish I could press fast-forward.
    Sighing heavily, I begin my walk all the way back to Brooklyn. I can’t afford a cab and it’s too hot for the subway. My feet start blistering right after Canal Street, so I buy a pair of three-dollar sandals and hook my heels over the handle of my bag. I now have five dollars left. What can I get with five dollars? A couple of Jell-O shots? This is it. It’s over. Then my stomach growls, so I spend my last five dollars in the world on a Fage yogurt and a Luna bar. No point in buying a cookie. A sugar crash would not improve my day.
    When I’m walking over the Brooklyn Bridge, with Manhattan on one side of me and Brooklyn on the other, I make a decision. I have no money. I have no future.
    I will just call my parents and tell them I’ll move now.
    Why does that feel so wrong? I feel like, I don’t know, like maybe I am supposed to be here. Like maybe I belong .
    As I’m walking past a long stretch of grass outside some old memorial, I see a homeless woman. Old, gray-haired, stooped, and, despite the heat, she’s layered in grubby winter coats, and cardboard boxes are tied to her feet. Maybe I should offer her my sandals. I’m nearly home already, why not just walk the rest of the way in bare feet?
    We make eye contact, and I smile at her. And for a second, I think she’s going to smile back.
    Then she opens her mouth.
    “You!” she screams. “Go home! You’re not welcome here!”
    I immediately look away and keep walking. When I peek back, I see that she’s started to walk toward me. I quicken my pace, and hear her cackling with laughter.
    “I’m comin’! I’m comin’! Run!”
    So I run.
    As fast as I can.
    But I don’t know where I’m running to. Shit, where am I? I take the first left. Oh please let me find people. I don’t even know where I’m going, another corner and— Yes! People! I always feel safe in a crowd. I try to run down Court Street, then some woman shoves me, jabbing me hard in my boob with her elbow. I gasp in pain, start sobbing uncontrollably and stop running. Big, fat tears are coursing down my face and I’m breathless and hiccupy, half from running and half because I’m scared and desperate and I just bombed yet another job interview and I don’t know what’s next.
    I feel like I’m at the edge of an abyss. Do I turn around and go back, or do I jump and see what happens?
    Then a cab pulls up next to me.
    A guy in a suit gets out. He’s so good-looking that I’m jolted out of my misery. Tanned skin, dark hair, the deepest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, and good eyebrows, eyebrows that almost make me wonder if he does something to make them so nice.… I can’t help it. I stare.
    Here’s the weird thing. As if sensing my stare, the guy pauses, too, turns his head, and our eyes meet. My heart thumps so strongly, I put my hand up in front of it, almost automatically. Shit, maybe I’m having a heart attack.
    The guy gives me a slow, easy smile and I smile back, thinking, You’re perfect . I feel the strangest sense of déjà vu, like I’ve met him before, a genuine click of recognition.
    And yes, that’s a totally stupid thing to think.
    “Hi,” he says, his voice breaking halfway through. It sounds so strange that we both laugh. Then, one of my heels falls from my bag onto the sidewalk.
    The guy immediately crouches down, picks it up, and, still on one knee, hands it to me. Like Prince freaking Charming. If I had a voice, I’d make a Cinderella joke. So instead, I lean over and take my shoe, my mouth still hanging open in stupid wonder.
    Prince Charming frowns and is just opening his mouth to speak, when—
    “Can you help me out, for God’s sake, you ridiculous man?” shouts a female voice with a British accent, and boom, the spell is broken. He immediately turns to help the woman out of the cab: a brunette as gorgeous as he is, in tight jeans, heels, and a silk top, trailing scarves and bags in that effortlessly