JUNE THIRD
"You see the street? There are people and vehicles everywhere," I told Mom on the phone.
"New York is a beautiful place."
"Have you ever been there?" I asked her.
"Yes, but only for work. There was barely enough time, so I didn't get to walk the street. Maybe someday with you, I will," she said.
"I do not know. I do not think I will ever go back there," I whispered, my eyes welling up as the image of Grace falling lifeless before me surfaced.
She died because of me.
"I am sorry about your friend," she quietly said through the receiver, and her tears slipped down my cheeks. I nodded as though she could see me.
"Miss Sophia, someone is here for you," Frank called from the door of my bedroom.
"Who? I thought no one knows—" I started, but Mom stopped me. "Go check, and we
