“Screw this,” I whisper, suddenly feeling sorry for myself. I pull out my phone, call a cab, walk out to Wes’ bike, and grab my helmet off the seat. It takes three minutes for the cab to show up, and the moment I slip into the back seat, my phone starts to ring. I click the end button, and do it again when it rings two more times. When we reach my house, I give the cabdriver a ten and tell him to keep the change.