We all hugged each other. Stacey and I picked up our bags and waited for the train to pull in. Then we climbed aboard. We were finally on our way.

The train picked up speed and started to clack along the tracks. I watched out the window as we passed by the Stoneybrook landmarks, but within minutes the landscape was

unfamiliar and actually kind of boring. I started to think about the things I'd be doing that weekend: dinner with Quint's family, the ballet on Saturday night, and lots of walking around and seeing the sights and eating delicious food and shopping. I suddenly remembered a really cool store that Stacey had taken us to last time we were in New York, but I couldn't remember the name. I wanted to go there again, though, so I turned to Stacey, who had been sitting quietly, probably thinking about her own weekend plans. "Hey Stace," I said. "When we get to New York — "

"Hey, Jessi," she said, at exactly the same time. "When we get to New York — "

We both stopped short and cracked up. I touched her arm quickly and said, "Owe me a Coke." That's what we do now when two people say something at the same time: the first one to touch the other and say that wins the Coke. (In Stacey's case, a diet Coke.)

"What were you going to say?" I asked.

"Just that when we get there, I want you to stick close by me and watch what I do. You're not used to the city, and it can be pretty overwhelming."

I could tell that Stacey was feeling responsible for me. Not because I was younger, but just because I wasn't familiar with the city. It was sweet of her to worry. "I will," I said.

"What were you going to say?" she asked.

"I was trying to remember the name of that awesome store we went to last time," I said. "You know, the one where Claudia bought that mirror that screams when you look into it?"