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to walk casually over to—”
    â€œI get it!” he snaps. “What are you going to be doing while I’m bird- watching?”
    â€œI’m going to go off that way.” I point toward the street. “Beyond the wall. Then I’ll circle back and crouch down on the other side, close to you. You can tell me what you see, and I’ll take notes.”
    â€œOh, man,” Shahid moans. “Why can’t we just walk by her and get a closer look at the book?”
    â€œBecause,” I say. “That’s too…”
    â€œEasy?” he cuts in.
    â€œNo. It’s too obvious. What if we can’t get a good look at it? We can’t keep walking back and forth until we do.”
    â€œFine,” he says in a tone that tells me it’s not fine. He pulls the sunglasses out of his backpack. He opens them and stretches the elastic over his head. He sets the glasses in place, and there’s an audible snap when he releases the elastic. “Ow!”
    â€œDon’t forget to fluff your hair,” I tell him.
    â€œRight,” he mumbles. “Fluff my hair.” He’s still mumbling as he stomps away.
    â€œCasual, Shahid,” I call after him. “Wandering.”
    He surprises me by responding with a rude gesture. That’s totally not like him. It reminds me of something, but I can’t remember what. I decide it’s not important and set off on my own route to the wall.

Chapter Nine
    What appeared to be a low wall from the skater side is a high wall from the other side. It’s one of those concrete-block retaining walls that separates the ground into two levels. The lower level is the flat surface of a soccer field. It’s perfect. I can glimpse Shahid’s head above me as I take up my position.
    â€œShahid,” I hiss. “Can you hear me?”
    â€œYesss,” he hisses back.
    â€œCan you see Rachel in the mirror?”
    â€œYesss.”
    I’m so delighted, I could dance a jig. Not that I dance jigs, but if I did, I would.
    â€œExcellent. What is she doing?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œWhat does it look like she’s doing?” I ask.
    He whispers, “It looks like she’s staring at my back.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI said ,” he says, “she’s staring at me.”
    This is worrisome. “Has she been doing that the whole time?”
    â€œNo. Before this, she was unpacking art supplies. Paint and stuff.” There’s a pause before he adds, “And also looking at the sketchbook.”
    I’m delighted again. “Did you see what was in it? Were there drawings of faces?”
    â€œI couldn’t tell. There were drawings, but…” He stops. And then he says, “Gack.”
    â€œHuh?”
    And a girl’s voice says, “Excuse me. I was wondering—how long do you think you’ll be here?”
    â€œUh,” Shahid stammers. “I can’t say for sure. But going by statistics, I’ll be around for another seventy years.”
    There’s a gap in the conversation, and then the girl laughs. “Very funny. I meant, how long will you be standing in front of this wall?”
    â€œOh. I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it.” Even from a distance, I can hear Shahid swallow. “It’s not something I generally do.”
    Another space of silence follows. Then the girl asks, “You don’t generally stand in front of walls, or you don’t generally think?”
    â€œWalls,” Shahid blurts. “That’s what I meant. Thinking, I do all the time.”
    This seems like the right answer to me, but the girl sounds disappointed. “Oh. That’s too bad. I find thinking interferes with life.”
    â€œReally?” Shahid squeaks.
    â€œYeah. Thinking gets in the way of the pure experience, you know? The mind can be such a fake place.”
    â€œFake? But…but,” Shahid