Imaginary Lines (New York Leopards 3)

And that concluded the tour. “Great. Thanks. Anything else I should know?”

She shrugged. “There’s some guys on the third floor who smokes a ton so the stairwell always smell like po

t, but it’s not that big a deal. I mean, obviously, there’s all the normal stuff—like take the trash out, and we sort of have a twenty-four-hours dirty dishes rule. Um...there might occasionally be strange guys in the morning from Luce, but she’s pretty good about texting us if she’s bringing anyone home. And like only on weekends, because we all work or study. Oh, and technically we’re not allowed on the roof, but you can get up there via fire escape.”

I nodded, trying to take that all in. Drugs, dishes, dudes. Got it. “Okay, great.”

She leaned casually against my door frame. “So what do you do?”

I smiled. “I just got a job at Sports Today.”

She tilted her head. “That’s a Today Media blog?”

“It’s also a magazine. It’s, uh, both.”

“Cool. You play anything?”

I shrugged. “Not really. Mostly I just report.”

She nodded and left me, and I collapsed in my new room, staring around. I’d bought the furniture from the last roommate, who had been subletting her furnished room for the last six months. She’d sold me a queen-sized bed, an IKEA dresser and nightstand and a desk with a wheelie-chair. The space itself was pretty decent.

Crazy monkeys. I was in New York.

I let out a mostly silent squeal and flailed my arms and legs about in an impromptu jig. So what if it was cold and wet and I only knew one person in the city? I had a job! I was a continent away from my parents! I was in a thriving, exciting city, where no one knew me and I didn’t have to be good, quiet Tamar Rosenfeld. I could be crazy party girl if I wanted to be!

And, okay, I didn’t particularly want to be, but that wasn’t the point. The point was I could be anything here.

And, sure, I probably had to make friends first.

I stared out the sizeable window at the busy street below. I could feel it in my bones, like the solid trunks of trees and the mist rolling off the hills and the tingle in my feet. Magic. I could find magic here.

Almost absently, I scrolled the word on a piece of paper from my purse in light and sketchy lines.

1) Find magic.

What else had I wanted? What else did I want in life?

2) Do something crazy.

3) Be independent.

4) Be brave.

5) Stop being scared about things I can’t control.

I stared up at the ceiling. My lines were becoming more defined, the letters smaller and darker and more certain.

6) Write something I’m proud of.

7) Fall in love.

8) Be happy.

That was what I was going to do here in New York, in this new city of metal and gray and magic. I was going to do everything.

Everything was going to be perfect.

Chapter Three