“That’s awful,” Lily said.

“I guess it is. At the time, it just seemed normal. They got divorced soon after.”

Boris started to bark.

“Not a fan of divorce, I see,” I observed.

“His treats are also in my bag,” Lily said with a sigh.

For a minute or two, she closed her eyes. Just sat there and let everything else drift away, become beside the point. I didn’t mind that I, too, was disappearing. She looked like she needed a break, and I was willing to give it to her.

“Here, Boris,” I said, attempting to be friendly with the beast. He looked at me warily, then started licking the floor.

“I guess I’m nervous to be meeting you,” Lily said at long last, eyes still closed.

“Likewise,” I assured her. “I find I very rarely live up to my words. And since you know me primarily through my words, there are oh so many ways I can disappoint.”

She opened her eyes. “It’s not just that. It’s just the last time you saw me—”

“—you weren’t yourself. Don’t you think I know that?”

“Sure. But isn’t it possible that I was myself then? Maybe that’s who I’m supposed to be, only I don’t let her out a lot.”

“I think I like the dog-walking, baby-catching, truth-telling Lily better,” I said. “For what it’s worth.”

And that was the question, wasn’t it? What was it worth?

“That Lily landed us in jail,” Lily pointed out.

“Well, you wanted danger, right? And, really, it was Boris who landed us in jail. Or the red notebook that landed us in jail. The red notebook was a great idea, by the way.”

“It was my brother’s,” Lily admitted. “Sorry.”

“Well, you’re the one who stuck with it, aren’t you?”

Lily nodded. “For what it’s worth.”

I pulled my chair over so we were next to each other at the interrogation table.

“It’s definitely worth something,” I said. “A lot. We still don’t know each other, right? And I’ll admit—I thought it might be best if we kept it all to the page, passed that notebook back and forth until we were ninety. But clearly that wasn’t meant to be. And who am I to blow against the wind?”

Lily blushed. “ ‘And what did you do on your first date, Lily?’ ‘Well, we went down to the precinct house and grabbed two Styrofoam cups of water.’ ‘That seems very romantic.’ ‘Oh, it was.’ ”

“ ‘So what did you do for a second date?’ ” I continued. “ ‘Well, we figured we’d have to rob a bank. Only it ended up being a sperm bank, and we were accosted by angry mommies-to-be in the waiting room. So it was back to the jailhouse for us.’ ‘That sounds exciting.’ ‘Oh, it was. And it went on. Now when I have to remember a date, all I have to do is consult my rap sheet.’ ”

“ ‘And what drew you to her?’ ” she asked.

“ ‘Well,’ ” I answered the phantom interviewer, “ ‘I’d have to say it was the way she catches babies. Exquisite, really. And you? What made you think, Wow, this gent’s a keeper?’ ”

“ ‘I love a man who doesn’t let go of the leash, even when it leads him to ruin.’ ”

“Well done,” I said. “Well done.”

I thought Lily would be happy with this compliment. But instead she sighed and slumped down in her chair.

“What?” I asked.

“What about Sofia?” she said.

“Sofia?”

“Yes. Boomer mentioned Sofia.”

“Ah, Boomer.”

“Do you love her?”

I shook my head. “I can’t love her. She lives in Spain.”

Lily laughed. “I guess you get points for truthfulness.”

“No, really,” I said. “I think she’s great. And I honestly like her about twenty times more now than I did when we were dating. But love needs to have a future. And Sofia and I don’t have a future. We’ve just had a good time sharing the present, that’s all.”

“You really think love needs to have a future?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good,” Lily said. “So do I.”

“Good,” I echoed, leaning in. “So do you.”

“Don’t repeat what I say,” she told me, swatting at my arm.

“Don’t repeat what I say,” I murmured, smiling.

“You’re being silly,” she said, but the silliness was falling out of her voice.

“You’re being silly,” I assured her.

“Lily is the greatest girl who ever was.”

I drew closer. “Lily is the greatest girl who ever was.”

For a moment, I think we’d forgotten where we were.

And then the officers returned, and we were reminded once again.

“Well,” said Officer White, who was black, “you’ll be happy to know that the videos of your exploits this afternoon have already garnered two hundred thousand hits on YouTube. And you were captured at pretty much every angle possible—it’s impressive that the statue of George Washington didn’t whip out an iPhone and email the photos to his friends.”

“We’ve looked at all the footage closely,” said Officer Black, who was white, “and have come to the conclusion that there’s only one guilty party in this room.”

“I know, sir,” I stepped in. “It was all my fault. Really, she had nothing to do with it.”

“No, no, no,” Lily disagreed. “I was the one who hung that poster. It was a joke. But that made the mommies go a little crazy.”

“Seriously,” I said, turning to Lily, “you did nothing but help. It’s me they wanted.”

“No, I’m the one they thought was stealing the baby. And believe me, I don’t even want a baby.”

“Neither of you is to blame,” Officer White interrupted.

Officer Black pointed her finger at Boris. “If there’s anyone at fault, it’s the one on all fours.”

Boris shuffled back guiltily.

Officer White looked at me. “As for Johnny One-Eye, we can’t find anything actually wrong with him. So even if you happened to hit him with a snowball in the middle of a snowball fight—and I’m not saying you did or didn’t—no harm, no foul.”

“Does that mean we’re free to go?” Lily asked.

Officer Black nodded. “You’ve got quite a posse waiting for you outside.”

Officer Black wasn’t kidding. Boomer was there with not only Yohnny and Dov but Sofia and Priya as well. And it looked like Lily’s whole family was waiting in the wings, presided over by Mrs. Basil E.

“Take a look!” Boomer said, holding up two printouts, one from the Post website, one from the Daily News.

Both had a dazzling photo of the baby falling into Lily’s arms.

OUR HERO! shouted the Daily News.

BABY STEALER! cried the Post.

“There are reporters outside,” Mrs. Basil E. informed us. “Most of them quite indecent.”

Officer Black turned to us.

“Well, then—do you want to be celebrities or not?”

Lily and I looked at each other.

The answer was pretty clear.

“Not,” I said.

“Definitely not,” Lily added.

“The back door it is, then!” Officer Black said. “Follow me.”

With the crowds that had come to fetch us, Lily and I lost each other in the shuffle. Sofia was asking if I was okay, Boomer was enthusing that Lily and I had finally met, and the rest were just taking it all in.

We didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye. The doors opened and the police told us to move quickly, because the reporters would catch on quick.

She went her way with her people, and I went my way with mine.

I felt a weight in my pocket.

Sly girl, she’d slipped me the notebook.

eighteen

(Lily)

December 30th

The news of the world travels fast and far. Even to Fiji.

They didn’t know it, but I was intermittently muting my computer speakers while my parents ranted from their side of our video chat. Occasionally I’d click the speakers back on to hear snippets of their tirade:

“How are we supposed to trust you on your own, Lily, if—”

Mute.

Their hands flailed madly about from across the world while my hands concentrated on my new knitting project.

“Who is this Dash? Does Grandpa know about—”

Mute.

I watched as Mom and Dad furiously tried to pack luggage while yelling at their computer.

“We’re late for our flight! We’ll be lucky to make it. Do you know how many calls we’ve—”

Mute.

Dad appeared to be yelling at his cell phone for ringing again. Mom peered into the computer screen.

“Where has Langston been all this time—”

Mute.

I continued working on my newest creation: a pin-striped, jail-uniform-themed doggy sweater for Boris. I looked up to see Mom’s index finger wagging at me.

Un-mute.

“And one more thing, Lily!” Mom’s face peered as close as she possibly could to her computer screen. I’d never noticed before, but she had truly excellent pores, which could only bode well for my own aging process.

“Yes, Mommy?” I asked as Dad sat on their hotel bed behind her, flailing his arms around again, explaining the situation again to someone calling his phone again.

“That was a marvelous catch, darling.”

Grandpa was driving through Delaware (the toll capital of the highway world, he says) when Mr. Borscht called his cell to tell him about the headline, followed by calls from scandalized Messrs. Curry and Cannoli. First Grandpa almost had a heart attack while driving. Then he went to McDonald’s for a Big Mac to calm himself down. Then he called Langston and yelled at him for allowing me to become a jailbird and an international celebrity in the few hours since Langston was supposed to be in charge after Grandpa left back for Florida. Grandpa then turned around and returned to Manhattan, arriving home just in time for Langston and Mrs. Basil E. to bring me home from the police station.

“You’re grounded until your parents get home to take care of this mess!” Grandpa screeched at me. He pointed at poor little Boris. “And keep that terror dog away from my cat upstairs!” Boris barked loudly and appeared poised to topple Grandpa, too.

“Sit, Boris,” I told the beast.

Boris plopped down onto the floor and placed his head across my feet. He hissed a low growl in Grandpa’s direction.

“I don’t think Boris and I agree about being grounded,” I told Grandpa.

“This is nonsense, Arthur,” Mrs. Basil E. chimed in. “Lily didn’t do anything wrong. It was all a big misunderstanding. She saved a baby! It’s not like she stole a car and went out joyriding.”

“It’s common knowledge that no good comes to a young lady appearing on the cover of the New York Post!” Grandpa bellowed. He pointed at me. “Grounded!”

“Go to your room, Lily bear,” Mrs. Basil E. whispered in my ear. “I’ll take care of this from here. Take that pony with you.”

“Please don’t tell Grandpa about Dash,” I whispered back.

“Can’t keep a lid on that one,” she said aloud.

The upshot of all the parental and grandparental hysteria was that I did not technically get grounded. Instead, I was told, most affirmatively, to lay low until Mom and Dad got home from Fiji on New Year’s Day. It was recommended that I stay home and chill for the time being.

Not that I wanted to anyway, but I’ve been instructed I’m not allowed to talk to the press, all my trash must go through a shredder, I’m not to plan how I’d look on the cover of People magazine (an exclusive, which could potentially pay for my whole college education in one fell swoop), and if Oprah calls, she talks to my mom first, and not to me. Quite frankly, the family are all hoping some celebrity dies or is exposed in a tawdry scandal ASAP so the tabloids can move on from Lily Dogwalker.




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