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back. She was already standing at the sink, rinsing the dishes.
    “Of course.” She sounded more subdued now. “Have a wonderful time—the fresh air will do you good.”
    I almost skipped back to my room to get dressed. I couldn’t possibly have arranged it better—Oliver was the perfect excuse. The glowing, pink-cheeked girl in the mirror stared back at me as I slipped silver drops into my earlobes. Even my leg wasn’t hurting for the first time in nearly two weeks. I pulled my hair forward so it brushed my cheeks. You could hardly see the missing patch. And the scabs at the corners of my eyes were just faint red spots now. I was healing.
    I picked up my crutch to head out, but then something stopped me. I put the crutch on my bed and carefully, slowly, tried walking the length of the room. My hip twinged a little, but that was all.
    I opened the door and looked back at the crutch lying on the striped bedspread. I had Davis to lean on now. I went out into the hall, closing the door behind me.
    “I’m going now. Oliver’s waiting for me,” I told my mother, who was standing at the sink, her arms soapy to the elbows as she washed the dishes.
    “Bye, dear.” She wiped a plate and smiled fondly at me, her glasses pushed to the top of her head.
    “I might be kind of late. Is that okay?” I wanted to give myself as much time as possible with Davis.
    “I don’t think—” Then she stopped herself. “Well, if you’re with Oliver, I’m sure it will be fine. Your father does know his parents.”
    I felt faintly guilty as I waited for the elevator—after all, I’d just told a bald-faced lie. But when I thought of how they’d kept Davis and me from each other, the hurt stirred deep in my gut. I could lie every day for the rest of my life, and it wouldn’t make up for what they’d done to us.
    I held my breath as I stepped out of the lobby doors. The sky was cerulean blue with just a few puffy white clouds sailing high overhead, and the air was soft.
    Davis was lounging against the side of the building, his lean frame making a kind of triangle with the brick wall. He turned when he heard me, brushing his blond hair from his eyes.
    “Morning, princess,” he said. “Where’s your crutch?”
    I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him hard. “Didn’t need it. You’re good medicine, I guess.” I leaned back, with his arms still around me, and looked into his face. His eyes matched the sky behind his head. “And good news about the penthouse. You’re safe. My dad said no one’s working up there right now.”
    “Awesome.” He took my hand and pulled me to the sidewalk, then looked around at the busy street—students with headphones snaking from their ears, bikers with messenger bags strapped across their chests, black cabs waiting at the lights. “I need some food, fast. Did you eat?”
    “Sort of. My mom tried to serve baked beans.” We strolled north, hand in hand. I felt like I was gliding a few inches off the ground. “Let’s get coffee.”
    We crossed at a light, waiting beside a tall man in a rumpled suit who was talking loudly on his phone, then ambled down the next block, peering into shop windows. We turned and started heading steeply downhill. The Thames sparkled in front of us. All along the waterfront, people were strolling with baby carriages and dogs. A pair of drummers beat on djembes on the corner, and food carts with cheerful striped awnings stood out in the sunshine.
    “How about this one?” Davis stopped at a green cart with a tempting array of pastries and what I figured were English pies—the kind with meat in them instead of fruit.
    “Great.” I studied the selection. “Two coffees, white, and an almond croissant,” I told the grizzled vendor.
    The man smiled, revealing a missing side tooth. “A coffee addict, yes?”
    “Not really.” I smiled, a little confused.
    The vendor handed over our drinks and the croissant in wax paper. “Thanks,” I called as we