Take Me with You

by Tara Altebrando

  She checked her phone.

  Nothing new.

  Clicked on Julian’s profile pic. God, he was cute.

  Downstairs, her mother said, “Alexa, let’s play Jeopardy!” and the theme music floated up, followed by the smell of garlic.

  Eden was hungry. Probably over smoothies she would have told Anjali about the theater thing with Julian. She would have told her how she bumped into him at the movie theater last week, on that random day off, and how they’d been the only two people in the theater, and how he sat next to her in the dark, then slid his hand around hers and used his thumb to stroke her palm, and then, later, her leg. About how they’d kissed for a few minutes, during the closing credits. They’d had an awkward conversation and goodbye while exiting the theater—he had somewhere he had to be; she gave him her phone number—and she hadn’t seen him since.

  She hadn’t told Anjali because she was hoping she’d never have to. When something else, something less embarrassing, happened she could tell Anjali that instead.

  Except nothing else had happened.

  It was all taking so long that now she was impatient to just tell Anjali so she’d have someone to commiserate—maybe even strategize—with. Maybe Anjali would think, at first, that it was weird to kiss a guy under those circumstances. But in the theater, in the dark, unplanned—that had seemed like maybe the only way it would ever happen for Eden and also it had been … exciting.

  Eli texted: I’m early. I’m outside.

  So much relief.

  She wrote back: I’ll be right out.

  Since her mother was cooking downstairs, Eden went out the less-used upstairs door to the house (which had once been a two-family, thus the renovation). Eli was standing by the tree out front, a tree the mayor’s office had planted a bunch of years ago, along with one million others, supposedly to help beautify the city, but on Eden’s block it had been too little too late. The houses and apartment buildings—most of them connected to each other, with a few alleys and driveways here and there—had all been built in so many styles that they’d just never look nice together.

  “Hey,” Eli said.

  “Hey.” Eden went down the front stoop stairs. A white plastic bag had gotten stuck in their tree, way up on a high branch.

  “How’d it go?” he said, and she handed him the device. “What’d you find out?”

  “I didn’t find anything out.”

  “You didn’t talk to it?”

  “No, I didn’t talk to it.”

  “Okay, no need to get worked up.”

  She huffed. “It didn’t say or do anything else after the changing hands rule.”

  “Okay, cool.” He slipped the device into his backpack.

  “I was wondering, though,” Eden said. “Do you think ‘unattended’ means, you know, sleeping?”

  “I hope not.” He peered into his bag. “Hey, device, can I sleep while I’m taking care of you?”

  Eden peeked in, too.

  The device did nothing.

  Eli shrugged. “Guess it doesn’t feel like chatting.”

  “I googled it but couldn’t really find anything,” she said.

  “Yeah, me, too. I’ll keep trying.”

  They both waited without a word while a man walked past, even though the man had headphones on and had zero interest in them whatsoever. Then Eli said, “So back to you in fourteen hours?”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “Not really,” he said.

  “I think we should return it,” she said. “Tomorrow.”

  “Can I just see what I find out?” he said. “Before we decide?”

  “Eden?” Her mother was at the upstairs door, holding the storm door open. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah!” Brightening her tone. “Mom, this is Eli. Eli, my mom.”

  “Nice to meet you, Eli,” her mother said, and Eli said the same. Then Eden said, “I’ll be right in.”

  The sky had turned a sort of gray pink behind the apartment building across the street. The silhouette of two birds on a satellite dish on a rooftop looked almost romantic, like they were having a moment.

  “This is a nice block,” Eli said. “I walk my dog here sometimes. I didn’t know you lived here.”

  “I wouldn’t call it nice, but it’s definitely popular with dog owners, because it’s quiet, I guess. But there’s always poop. It’s gross. Hey, do you think that’s what this thing is, maybe?” Eden asked. “Like a kind of computer pet?”

  “It’s not very cute or cuddly,” he said. “I don’t know.” He swept his bangs away from his eyes. “I’m pretty into tech stuff and games and whatever, and it’s like nothing I’ve seen or heard of.”

  Eden said, “Remember not to get it wet.” She nodded in the direction of the house. “I should go.”

  He nodded, too. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll draw up a schedule, maybe. With the other two. What’s that girl’s name?”

  “Ilanka Sokolova.”

  “You have her number?” Eli asked.

  “Nope.”

  “What about Marwan Gamal?”

  “Nope,” she said. “We should just return it.”

  “We can decide tomorrow. But I guess I need to hand it off to you right when we get there. I’ll meet you at your locker.”

  “Okay, sure,” Eden said, because she had no better ideas, and he shrugged and walked off. She went inside, closed and locked the upper door, and leaned against it, breathing in deeply.

  Back in her room, she checked her phone.

  Caught up on stories and posts.

  People were stuck in an elevator in a building on Twenty-First Street.

  She searched for Marwan. Found him. His most recent post was a picture of a flyer posted on a streetlamp that had a photo of dog poop and said: FOUND! If this belongs to you or your dog, please contact us ASAP.

  His caption said: The person who made this flyer deserves a medal.

  Another post was a screenshot of a true crime podcast home page with the caption: Can’t. Stop. Listening.

  She clicked away and went downstairs, then plugged her phone in at the charger in the dining room, where it was supposed to stay for the night because those were the house rules. Eden’s mother had made her take some online survey a while back, and the results supposedly proved that Eden was addicted to her phone, so now there were, technically, no phones allowed at the dinner table or in the bathroom (oops) or upstairs or while walking to school or after nine p.m. Her mother didn’t know that Eden snuck down every night and then up again so she could sleep with her phone under her pillow. And by the way, if her mother was honest with herself, she was addicted, too. She had refused to take the same survey on the basis of being an adult and not having to.

  A text alert on her mom’s home screen was from someone identified as NH and said, How about just lunch then? You owe me that.

  “You have a weird text,” Eden said, and her mother rushed over and read it and then put her phone facedown. “It’s nothing. And why are you reading my phone?”

  “It was an accident. Jeez. Who do you owe lunch?”

  “It’s a work thing.”

  Returning to the kitchen, Eden’s mom put two bowls of pasta and Bolognese sauce at their usual spots at the table. “So,” she said brightly. “Who’s Eli?”

  Eden almost laughed.

  Establishing_connection

  MARWAN

  At breakfast, Selma and Tosnim were arguing over large hair bows and whether they were or weren’t “in.” They were only ten and twelve but wanted to be teenagers and tried to act cool even though their idea of “cool” had no basis in reality and mostly involved talking about fashion. More than anything, Marwan wanted his sisters to not grow up. He wanted them to stay in their all-girls middle school forever and never have to deal with guys like Christos.

  “I have some homework to finish,” Marwan said to his mother as he cleared his breakfast plate. “I think I’ll head to school early and do it in the l
ibrary.”

  His mother said, “Go,” and returned to the table to coax his sisters into eating more, like she did every morning. “Enough about the bows,” she said, and smiled at Marwan.

  They’d talked only briefly last night, since getting his sisters to bed took up most of his mother’s night and he’d been doing homework, then listening to the beauty queen podcast and thinking about messaging Eden for so long that it was eventually too late to do it. His mom was relieved about the California gunman, too. And she’d mentioned that supposedly a few of his friends had stopped by the restaurant. “None of my friends would do that,” he’d said, and she’d shrugged.

  By his bike out front, he found Eden on Instagram—turned out he already followed her but didn’t remember doing it—and sent her a direct message: Morning! It’s Marwan. How’s it going? Did you put it back?

  The “Active now” under her name went away and was replaced with “Active 1m ago.”

  She was probably mad at him.

  Or maybe it was this simple: she hadn’t wanted anything to do with him before all this and nothing had changed.

  The “Active now” was back. He stared at it, trying to glean meaning. He imagined her being surprised to see a message from him but not in a bad way, then remembered a question on a survey he’d taken about phone usage a while back. Do you frequently sit with your phone in your hand waiting for something to happen?

  So what if he did? Why wasn’t she writing back?

  He wasn’t really into social media, but it was fun sometimes to post photos of funny things he saw in the neighborhood. Like a sign that read, Restrooms for Costumers Only, or a fish company truck with the tagline As Fresh As It Is on the back of it. (His caption: Like, Is It Fresh? Or Not?)

  Her message appeared: I didn’t. It says it has to change hands at a maximum of every fourteen hours so Eli has it now because we couldn’t exactly hand it off at 5 am or whatever. I’m taking it back this morning then we’ll figure out what to do.

  Ugh. Why were they playing along with this thing? It was just a little … computer? And the whole thing surely a game.

  We should put it back where we found it. Don’t you think?

  We?

  He deserved that. But it was a dumb thing to even be involved with.

  You? he wrote.

  I guess. Not sure. Eli won’t want to. Seems into it. But it’s weirding me out.

  So they were pals now, she and Eli? Had Eli gone to her house?

  For a second Marwan wished he’d engaged because it would have meant more access to Eden. He had always regretted not saying anything to her after the accident. But now wasn’t the time.

  Gotta go, she wrote.

  Wait!

  What?

  He hated that this thing was freaking her out when she already had enough to deal with.

  I can take a turn, he wrote. Only fair. I’ll find you at your locker. Just tell me where it is.

  He added his phone number then pocketed his phone and got on his bike and rode off down the sidewalk without sitting. He was maybe a little pleased with himself. After all, he needed to take it if he was going to be the one to get rid of it.

  EDEN

  There was no sign of Eli by her locker.

  Marwan was nearby talking to some of his friends, occasionally making urgent eye contact with her. She’d never noticed how intense his eyes were before, like they somehow allowed you to see further into him than most people’s eyes did. A deep end where others were shallow.

  They were a nice-enough-seeming bunch of guys he was with—she’d always liked Kartik—and she wasn’t sure why she didn’t know any of them that well after so many years of being in the same neighborhood and school except that she didn’t know any guys especially well. They made her nervous. The one exception was Mark, an old family friend. And maybe now Marwan?

  She checked her phone, decided to follow Marwan on Instagram.

  But there was still no sign of Eli, and if they didn’t do the handoff now, it would complicate things. At nine—the fourteen-hour mark—they were all in different classes.

  Where are you? she texted Eli. Running out of time.

  The warning bell for first period rang, and the hallways started to empty; locks clicked shut, conversations wound down or got paused or drifted away.

  Marwan broke away from his friends and walked toward her.

  She checked her phone.

  He checked his. Did something.

  She checked hers; he’d followed her back.

  “Where is he?” Marwan asked.

  “I don’t know,” Eden said. “He’s not answering my texts. What’s your second-period class?”

  “Chem lab,” he said.

  “Okay, so at, like, ten minutes to nine, go to the third floor bathroom by the lab.”

  She checked her phone.

  He checked his.

  “I’ll tell Eli to do the same. He’s in my first class. He’s probably just late.”

  “What if he doesn’t show?” He was still looking at his phone, and it was irritating.

  “I don’t know,” she said, looking at her phone.

  Julian had just posted a photo of himself in the music room even though you weren’t supposed to have phones in classrooms.

  She put hers in her locker reluctantly, then picked it up and peeked at it one more time, put it on airplane, then put it back down on the tiny white “bearskin phone rug” that her father had given her for Christmas last year. She almost hadn’t brought it to school this year, but that seemed sadder, somehow, than looking at it every day.

  She could make up an excuse to just drop by Mr. M’s room? But what if he asked her about the message from yesterday? And what would she even say to Julian?

  The second bell rang.

  No time.

  “Don’t worry, okay?” Marwan said. “We’ll just put it back when he gets here. I’ll do it.”

  “But there are probably classes in Mr. McKay’s room all morning,” Eden said. “So it’s not that simple.”

  Anjali appeared and grabbed Eden by the arm. “Come on. We’re late.”

  Eden shrugged at Marwan and let Anjali pull her along.

  Anjali said, “What were you two talking about? I didn’t even know you knew each other.”

  “Nothing, really,” Eden said as they arrived at their classroom. “But we do.”

  “Nice of you to join us,” Mrs. Whitney said as they slid into the room. She was just closing the door.

  “Sorry,” Eden said.

  “So sorry,” Anjali said.

  Eden took her seat and turned to check the back row for Eli.

  He wasn’t there.

  Out the windows a train went past painfully slowly—probably track work. A commuter woman in a pink top and black sunglasses seemed to be looking right at Eden, though probably she couldn’t see all the way into the room.

  What would Eden—they?—do if Eli didn’t turn up or text?

  Go to the principal? And say what?

  Go to Eli’s house after school?

  She didn’t even know where he lived.

  She pictured her phone, alone in her dark locker. She’d check it between first and second periods, even though you weren’t supposed to. In all likelihood, it would light up with apologetic texts of explanation from Eli. Sorry! Overslept! or something dumb.

  Another train crawled past in the opposite direction. Looked like the same woman, but no, it couldn’t be.

  MARWAN

  When the clock on the wall hit 8:45, he asked to be excused. Ms. Lynch rolled her eyes, but Marwan shrugged as if to say, when you gotta go, you gotta go. At least here he didn’t have to compete with his sisters for the bathroom. Not that he even really had to go. But once he walked in, it was like some Pavlovian response. So he took care of that, then washed his hands and waited.

  Without his phone, he couldn’t know exactly what time it was. It felt like Eli should be here by now, though.

  Chri
stos came in, surveyed the scene, and said, “What are you doing just standing there?”

  “I’m washing my hands,” Marwan said, and started washing his hands again.

  Christos waited and watched.

  “Is there a problem?” Marwan said to him in the mirror.

  “Just gonna wait until you leave is all.” Christos folded his arms.

  “Suit yourself,” Marwan said, then dried his hands with painstaking care.

  One paper towel.

  Pat-pat-pat.

  Then another.

  More patting.

  When he pulled a third paper towel from the dispenser on the wall, Christos said, “Why are you so annoying?”

  “Me?” Marwan laughed. “I’m the annoying one?” He headed for the door, with no other ways to stall.

  Eli wasn’t coming.

  “You working tonight?” Christos said brightly.

  Marwan turned, holding the heavy door open. “What’s it to you?”

  “Just making small talk.” Christos unzipped his fly at a urinal. “Friendly chitchat with a fellow student.”

  Eden appeared in the hall. Her hair was hanging down over one shoulder and seemed to pull her head into a tilt. The shine of it made the hall around them seem even more dull and gray.

  Marwan let the door to the bathroom float closed and stepped into the hallway. “Well?”

  “I ran to my locker just now and checked my phone real quick, and he texted me.” Relief was apparent on her face. “He says it gave him until four o’clock for the handoff and that we all need to meet him at Astoria Park, by the Hell Gate Bridge, after school.”

  “Why Astoria Park?”

  “We need to find Ilanka,” she said, not registering or maybe just not answering his question. “Do you have any classes with her?”

  He shook his head no.

  “I’ll try to get to her at lunch.” She seemed frantic.

  Christos came out of the bathroom and gave them the side-eye before wandering off down the hall.

  “We better get back to class,” Eden said.

  “Why doesn’t he just come here?” Marwan was only realizing how annoyed he was. “I have to work after school. I don’t have a ton of time to be running down to Astoria Park just because Eli said to.”