Sydney’s text reads: Where are you? Two years, remember. More than two. Good god, it’s already May. I write back: At park with Robby and Justin. Sydney: Who else would it be? What are you doing there? I shut my eyes, start to tip over, open them again quickly. I shove my phone back into my pocket. I don’t feel like dealing with Syd right now. “What’s up?” Justin asks me. His eyelids are drooping, his mouth hanging slightly ajar. “She just wants to know where I am,” I say. “You should really get those back someday,” Robby says. “Get what back?” “Your balls.” “But they match her purse!” Justin says, and cackles. “Dude—” I start saying to Robby, but my phone rings. Not vibrates; it’s a call. Snorting, I pull my phone back out and check the ID. Yep. “Yeah?” I say after tapping the call button. “What’re you doing at a park?” Syd asks. “Hanging out.” “You mean just sitting there?” I stand up and walk away from the table with my friends watching me.
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