(Like the time Catty’s boyfriend, Derrick, gave Alice a ride on the back of his motorbike and when he tipped to make a turn, she could have reached down and skimmed her fingers on the asphalt—the world was suddenly so close—and then the bike righted and the world balanced and Alice’s heart kept pounding, but it wasn’t fear, at least not fear alone. It was the thrill. And afterward, every time she was in her dad’s car, with its walls and its roof, she rolled the window down and held her arm out and felt the wind whip against her skin, and relived that tip, that turn.) And here she is, no car,
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