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with dishes that came 100 from the plant world—no meat, no cheese, no eggs, nothing that came from animals.
    We ordered and Billy started to tell me about a project he was working on with some of the camp kids. They’d drawn up a petition to ask the city for permission to paint a mural on a pedestrian walkway that was covered in graffiti.
    â€œThey’ve done studies,” Billy said. “Murals are a good way to combat graffiti. Graffiti artists respect other artists. Murals also beautify a neighborhood,
and
if they’re well done, they can even educate people. We want to do ours on—”
    Suddenly his eyes skipped from my face to somewhere over my shoulder. He shrank a little in his seat. I turned around to see what the problem was.
    Terrific.
    I looked back at Billy.
    â€œOf all the people who had to walk in here, it had to be him,” I said. “Don’t look. Maybe he won’t notice us.”
    No such luck.
    Behind me Evan Wilson called, “Hey, Billy. There you are.”
    There you are?
It sounded almost as if Evan had come in looking for Billy.
    â€œTell me this is a coincidence,” I said under my breath. “Tell me you didn’t plan this.”
    â€œI didn’t. Honest,” Billy said. He looked miserable.
    â€œHe isn’t coming over here, is he, Billy?” I said.
“Please
tell me he isn’t coming over here.”
    Billy sank lower in his seat.
    A hand fell on my shoulder.
    â€œRobyn,” Evan said, giving me a little squeeze. “Good to see you again.”
    I glowered at Billy, who shook his head and mouthed the word, “Honest.”
    â€œHey, Robyn, what you did at that protest was awesome,” Evan said. He dropped into the empty chair beside me.
    â€œThat was an accident,” I said. The sooner he found out that I was not the earnest, dedicated activist that he thought I was, the sooner he’d (maybe) leave me alone.
    â€œYeah, well, it was still awesome. Because of what you did, we got news coverage—print
and
TV.”
    Things just kept getting better.
    â€œBut they didn’t show your picture, Robyn,” Billy said quickly. “They didn’t even mention your name. They just said there was a scuffle.”
    â€œSo, Robyn,” Evan said, grinning and leaning toward me. “Now that you’re so into protesting, I was wondering—”
    I stood up.
    â€œI just remembered I’m low on cash,” I said.
    â€œBut this is supposed to be my tr—”
    I silenced Billy with a sharp look.
    â€œI have to run out to the ATM,” I said. “I won’t be long.” As I circled the table, I bent and whispered into Billy’s ear: “Make him go away.” I headed for the door. Before I pushed it open and stepped outside, I glanced back at the table. Billy was looking forlornly at me. I ignored him. My plan: I would give Billy five minutes to get rid of Evan. If he hadn’t done the job by the time I returned, well, then I would just have to do my very best Morgan impression and get rid of him myself.
    There was a cash machine two blocks from the restaurant, near the bus stop. I’d spotted it when I arrived and had been planning to hit it before we went to the movies—I really was low on cash. I headed for it and took out some money. I was waiting to cross the street on my way back to the restaurant when a bus pulled up. Its doors opened, and a young woman struggled down the rear steps with a brand-new stroller heaped high with colorful bags and boxes. A bouquet of balloons was tied with ribbon to the handle of the stroller. Baby shower, I guessed.
    One of the stroller wheels got wedged in the bus door, and the young woman looked flustered as she tried to work it free. I hurried over to give her a hand. She was wearing a waitress uniform from a chain restaurant and a name tag that said
Angie.
    â€œThank you,” she said when we had finally freed the