Once Upon Stilettos

Page 48

“Mom, remember, I have a boyfriend. You know, Ethan? The guy who picked you up at the airport in his Mercedes?”
She laughed. “Oh, right. I’d forgotten that. Sorry about that, sweetheart. Old habits are hard to break. I’m so used to you being alone and single. But it wouldn’t hurt to keep that farmer in mind, in case things don’t work out. You never know.”
I finally got them onto a bus uptown, and then we walked across town to Macy’s, where my mother had a religious experience before practically fainting at the price tags. All she bought was a shopping bag with a logo on it to take home to her sister. Dad and I then successfully pushed her outside.
“It’s not that far uptown to Times Square,” I said, once we were back on the sidewalk, “but let’s take the subway. There’s something about emerging right in Times Square that adds to the experience.” That was what Gemma and Marcia had done to me the first time I came to New York.
Mom held her purse tightly against her chest and glared at anyone who came near her inside the subway station. Even my dad edged a little closer to me. I was sure I’d felt much the same way my first time on the subway, but it was such a daily part of my life that I didn’t even think about it anymore. My concern had more to do with deranged wizard geeks and magical creatures that might be following us. In spite of what Owen and Sam had promised me about extra security, I hadn’t caught sight of anyone or anything that looked like it might be guarding us.
A train came along and we boarded. “We don’t need to sit down,” I told my parents. “We’ll be getting off at the next stop.” The three of us stood around a pole, Mom glancing anxiously around the car and at all the people around us.
“You do this every day?” she asked.
“It’s not so bad. You get used to it.” My usual traveling companion didn’t hurt, but I didn’t share that with her.
When we reached the Forty-second Street station, we fought through the crowd to get off the train and head to an exit. “If everyone would wait their turn, that would be easier,” Mom huffed. “They don’t have to push and shove.”
“It’s a way of life, Mom,” I said with a grin. “Now, we’ll be coming up right into Times Square. It’s even more impressive at night, but it’s still something to see in the daytime.”
I might have been used to New York, but I still got a little thrill of excitement when I went into Times Square. This was the noisy, chaotic New York that outsiders usually pictured when they thought of the city. In my relatively quiet neighborhood it was easy to forget that this side of New York was there.
I kept a hold on each parent, making sure we didn’t get separated in the throng of tourists while my parents gaped at all the bright lights and flashing signs.
“I wonder what their light bill is,” Dad said with a frown. “Seems like a waste to me.”
“Would you just look at this?” Mom said, over and over. “Oh my.”
I pointed out the building where they broadcast Good Morning America, the famous military recruiting station, and some of the theaters. “A lot of the Broadway theaters are actually on side streets,” I added.
“So this is Broadway, then?” Mom asked, her eyes wide with awe.
“Yes, this is Broadway. Exciting, isn’t it?”
“And look at all these people. Hey, that man’s not wearing any clothes!”
I turned to see the guy who was famous for playing the guitar while wearing only his underwear and a pair of boots. “Oh, him. He’s a street performer.”
“Well, he’s going to catch his death of cold. It’s freezing here.” I held tightly to her arm so she couldn’t go tell him to put some clothes on so he wouldn’t come down with pneumonia.
My dad stared at another person on the street. “Well, would you look at that,” he said with a chuckle. “That boy must have fallen face-first into his tackle box.”
I turned to see a teenager playing drums, his face covered with piercings. “Don’t stare,” I hissed at Dad as I held on to his arm.
Before I’d learned about magic, when I’d seen even stranger things on the streets of New York that nobody else seemed to notice, this was what I’d been afraid I looked like—a green tourist straight from the sticks. “This is probably the weirdest part of New York,” I said. “The rest of the city isn’t like this.” Well, actually, there were weirder parts of the city, or so I’d heard, but tourists generally didn’t go there, and I didn’t plan to tell my parents about them.