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go sit in smoky clubs and drink martinis and hear Nina or listen to Beat poets. Man, that must have been so—I don’t know—authentic, you know what I mean? Now it’s just so lame.”
    I didn’t really get half of her references, but it seemed to me that New York was just about the opposite of lame, especially compared to Deep Cove. Lisa rummaged around for another tape. “Okay, check this one out!” She pressed Play and the room was filled with shimmery hypnotic notes that were gradually joined by thumping drums and bass. She started to dance around the room, slithering over to where I was standing and grabbing me by the hands, pulling me toward her.
    â€œCome on, dance!”
    I was a terrible dancer, the worst. And on the rare occasions that I’d danced in the past, it had at least been to music I knew. This music was bizarre, endlessly repeating itself while somehow creating something new. I resisted, but she grabbed my arm and pulled me around the room, and eventually I found myself moving with her, with the music, letting it slide my limbs into the right places, letting the sounds do the thinking for me.
    When the music died away, we stood there exhausted and laughing.
    â€œEmbarrassing,” I said.
    â€œWhy? Dancing is everything!” She flopped into a cross-legged yoga pose on the floor next to her bag and looked up at me. “Don’t you dance?”
    â€œNo. At least not like that. I don’t think I’ve ever heard music like that.”
    She laughed. “That’s Underworld. Rave music.”
    â€œRave?”
    She looked at me with disbelief.
    â€œYou’re kidding me,” she said. “ You , my friend, have a lot to learn.”
    Our party was interrupted by the sound of Denise’s truck pulling up to the building. Doors slammed, and Denise came into the dining room.
    â€œLisa! You made it!”
    Lisa jumped up and ran over to give Denise a big hug.
    â€œI hope you haven’t been corrupting little Danny with your evil big-city ways,” Denise said.
    â€œMister Dan has been a perfect gentleman.”
    Denise took a look around the room. “The trim looks good, Dan. Can you go out and help JP unload the tables from the truck?”
    On my way out the door, I heard Denise, her voice low and serious, ask, “So how’s your mom doing?”
    That night, I had a hard time getting to sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about Lisa. She wasn’t like any girl I’d ever met. I imagined the two of us traveling around the world together, lounging on oceanside patios in elegant clothes, toasting each other with well-iced cocktails. Was this what having a girlfriend could be like?
    Maybe Lisa had appeared out of nowhere for a reason. I was kind of like a frog in a fairytale who needed a kiss from a princess so he could turn into a prince. Only, instead of a frog, I was a might-be-gay kid who needed straightening out, and instead of a princess, she was a cigarette-smoking tattooed city girl with a bagful of mix tapes. I figured that was close enough.

SEVEN
    Over the next few days, the four of us worked like crazy to get the restaurant ready for opening day. We finished painting the whole place, and we installed new light fixtures in the dining room. Flowers were planted around the outside of the building, the floors scrubbed until the original color of the tiles came through. Just as my mom had predicted, I loved my job.
    Best of all, Lisa and I were really connecting. She told me stories about New York and the amazing things she’d seen and done there. She’d been on family trips to San Francisco and Paris and even Tokyo. She’d done so many things that I’d only dreamed about. We were the same age, but it seemed to me she had a big head start in life.
    I couldn’t tell if she thought of me as boyfriend material though, or if she just wanted to be friends. She was always throwing her arms around me