It was an hour and two subway lines from Uptown Manhattan to Bushwick, and Rosario spent the entirety of it fixating and fretting. She was aware of Lyra talking, but she couldn't hold the thread of the conversation in her mind. That look on her mom's face was all she could think about. The image of it was burned into the back of her eyelids.
The subway rattled along, the doors opened and closed and opened again, and Rosario was so busy combing over every word of that brief, stomach-twisting conversation that she would've missed their stop if not for Lyra pulling her to her feet.
Everything's okay.
Nothing bad happened.
There's no bad guy.
She couldn't believe that. It didn't line up with the evidence.
A high school girl and a rich boy used to getting what he wants and a booze-fuelled college party, and that hadn't been surprise on her mom's face when she'd seen Archer, it'd been something closer to horror.
And now she was blowing off her shift. That wasn't Ma.
Mami worked hard, she always had. She told her girls she didn't mind what they did with their lives as long as they applied themselves.
(Mami was chill about most stuff, but she'd always had a thing about parties. She'd laid off Rosario once it became clear Rosario would rather have teeth pulled than be trapped in a house full of deafening music and drunk people, but she still fussed over Cam sometimes. Make sure you stick together. Have you eaten? I'll make you a sandwich, it's not good to drink on an empty stomach. Remember you can say no, and if you need condoms— That was usually the point where Rosario and Camino both started howling their disgust.)
There was a picture resolving – Lyra could see it too, Rosario was positive, even though she hadn't said it straight up – and it very much had a bad guy.
It was a long elevator ride up to her floor.
At the door, Rosario caught Lyra's hand again and clung onto her for the moment. "Meet on the roof after?" she asked, with a hint of pleading.