Read Online Summer in the Invisible City by Juliana Romano - Free Book Online

supervisor came in to dump the developer and lock the doors at six. In the winter, when you go outside at six o’clock it’s already dark. Icy air freezes all the traces of chemicals in your hair.
    The first time Izzy and I really spoke outside the darkroom was on the first day of class earlier this summer, when Benji paired the two of us up for an icebreaker assignment. We had to photograph each other and do interviews.
    The picture Izzy took of me ended up being not very good. She thought it would be interesting to photograph me alone in a classroom. It was a good idea in theory, but in reality, the room looked washed out and I looked like I was posing, but I’m not supposed to be posing, so it’s awkward.
    My picture of Izzy turned out really well. I had her lean against this metal door in the hallway by the girls’ bathroom in the back of our school. I chose that spot because the light back there is amazing. It’s one of those spots where, if you go there in the middle of the day, everything—even the thick swarms of dust in the air—is illuminated. Light bounces off the adjacent white wall and makes the whole space glow. In the photo, the light seems to emanate from Izzy herself.
    The funny thing is, nobody ever uses that bathroom because it smells and the sink is permanently stained. But in the photo, lots of things got erased. Photography is powerful thatway. If you want it to be, it can be the best liar in the world.
    When I interviewed Izzy, I learned that she dyed her hair for the first time in fourth grade, and that she let her cousin pierce her ears. I learned that her mother is a fashion designer from Algeria and her father is an architect. Her favorite food is dumplings and her favorite movie is
Heathers
. Also, I learned that, like me, Izzy wants to go to art school next year.
    Izzy learned that I’m an only child and that my mother once danced ballet at Lincoln Center. Also, that’s when she learned that my father is an artist.
    Now, walking down the street with her, I’m aware this is the first time we’ve been alone together outside of photo.
    â€œSo, you and Phaedra are best friends?” I ask.
    â€œBasically,” Izzy says. “I mean, I have a lot of best friends. Most of my best friends graduated already.”
    â€œOh really?” I ask. “Like who?”
    â€œI was really close with a lot of people two years ahead of us,” she says. “Like Madison Mills and that whole group. Reeny and Wyatt and Noah and all them. I wish that our grade was like that. There’s no one exciting in our grade.”
    Noah. Would I go up in Izzy’s esteem if I told her what happened with us? Or down?
    â€œAnyway, to answer your question, yes, Phaedra is probably my best friend in the city,” Izzy continues before I get the chance. “I’m really close with her whole family, too. I went with them to Italy during winter break last year. It was amazing.”
    â€œThat sounds amazing,” I say. “Phaedra is so mysterious.”
    â€œPssshhh.” Izzy scoffs. “Everyone treats her like she’s madeof porcelain or something. But she’s totally not. She’s actually really regular.”
    â€œShe is?” I ask.
    â€œI know it can be hard to tell because she’s kind of reserved or whatever,” Izzy explains. “People always think she’s a snob or something, but she’s actually just shy.”
    What I want to say is
Why in the world would Phaedra Bishop have any reason to be shy?
But instead, I say, “That makes sense.”
    â€œBut I also made some really good friends at RISD last summer,” she says. “I did their precollege program and I became friends with all these amazing kids who live in Boston and all over. I think those people are kind of my real best friends.”
    â€œTheir summer program looked fun,” I say, faking a casual, indifferent tone. The truth is,