Shed?
Phoebe
Shed
Jay
I tuck my phone into my bag, lock up, and drive home wondering if anyone has ever been this dissatisfied with a thumbs-up.
I keep saying I’m ridiculous. That’s not right. I’m pathetic, and pathetic requires an intervention—a serious one—and I plot it all the way home.
Chapter Fifteen
Jay
I stareat the text from Phoebe.
Phoebe
I’m stuck. Need help. You busy?
It’s after 7:00 PM. Why is she still working?
Then again, who cares? She’s reaching out to me. This is good. You ask friends for help.
After her practically doing a Broadway number called “I Won’t Date You” on Monday in the library, winning her concession of friendship felt like Ethan Allen must have felt when his Vermont militia took Fort Ticonderoga. It was one of the early battles that gave the rebels their first surge of momentum.
The fact that this is the second text she’s initiated today? I’m feeling a dopamine boost.
Instead of texting, I walk outside to meet her at the big house, but within a minute, I can see that her car is gone and all the interior lights of the house are off. I call her instead. Have to keep the momentum going.
“Jay?” Phoebe says when she picks up.
“Yes, ma’am. What are you stuck on?”
Phoebe is silent except for the sound of metal rattling, like she’s shaking a fence or something.
“I’m stuck in, not on, actually. The basement. I’m stuck in my basement.”
“Oh, so that was an all-caps NEED HELP?”
“No. Not all caps. I’m not in danger. I’m just … stuck.”
“Give me the address.”
She hesitates. “Are you sure?”
“Only if you want to get out,” I tell her. “Otherwise, no.”
She snorts and gives me the address.
“Do I need a code to get in?”
“You need a key, which is stuck in the basement with me. But you can follow someone else into the building, or maybe knock on a window on the first floor and explain the situation?”
“I’ll figure it out. On my way. Hang in there.”
“Basement access through the elevator or stairs in the back of the building.” She gives a weird laugh and the call cuts off. Okay …
