"I suppose you wouldn't really use a card," he says, happy not to have to swipe the one in his back pocket. He never has to really explain I was restless to his mother, when it comes to reviews of his fledgling finances, but her knowing judgment is its own cross to bear.

He waits for Ty to feed the reader at the turnstile and presses in at his back as he pushes through, both of them wedged into the metal arms and passing on a single ticket.

As it cranks them out toward the steps, he shoves Ty ahead, separating them. "There, now we're covered on the return trip."