“Do you have any candy, Ms. S?” Ash asks, swinging her legs as she sits next to Jasmine on the exam bed.
“Of course, Ashley,” Ms. Sugihara says with a smile, pulling a bowl out from under her desk. “You’re both welcome to stay here through lunch. Jasmine, if you need a note for fifth and sixth period, let me know.”
“I think I’ll be fine,” Jasmine says. “Thank you!”
“Okay. I’m going to check on another student, okay? If you need me, I’ll be over there.” Ms. Sugihara nods at them before heading over to the bed at the other end of the room, taking a groaning boy’s temperature.
Ash is looking at her feet, almost shy. “I uh, I did an independent study last year and helped out in the main office.”
“That sounds nice,” Jasmine says. “I’ve never had a free period.”
Ash shrugs. “It’s not so bad. I did my homework, helped file some stuff. Got to know some of the teachers. Ate a lot of Ms. S’s candy.”
“What else are you taking?”
Ash rattles off her classes; they’re similar to Jasmine’s, aside that Ash is in AP English. “And theatre,” she adds. “Been in the program since freshman year.”
“That’s cool!” Jasmine says wistfully. “I’ve always wanted to go see the shows.” She’d always ended up with the sports beat for yearbook, so never really had the time.
“I’m gonna be Lucy in the Charlie Brown musical,” Ash says quietly and looks up at Jasmine with a soft smile. “It opens right before the winter break.”
“Okay, I’m definitely gonna go now,” Jasmine says. “Do you sing?”
“You bet.”
Ash beams at her, and Jasmine could swear her hand is healed already.
There’s a long moment that’s only broken by the sound of someone coughing in the other room, and Jasmine ducks her head, trying not to blush.
Ash sits down next to her, the paper on the bed crinkling as she sits down. “Can I see?”
Jasmine offers her hand.
Ash’s fingers are gentle, holding her bandaged hand carefully. She rearranges the ice pack, folding it around Jasmine’s hand, and then slowly winds her plaid shirt around the ice pack, tying a knot. “There. Now you don’t have to hold it,” she says brightly.
Jasmine wants to say something, like ask Ash if she would hold her hand instead, but Ash is already standing up.
“I’ll go get you lunch and bring it back for you before I go to class,” she says, giving Jasmine a luminous smile.
Jasmine shakes; no wonder she missed, she never stood a chance.
* * *
For having smashed her hand with a hammer—well, not completely smashed, but it still hurt—Jasmine’s having a great day. She and Ash share a bus ride back to their neighborhood and then instead of walking home, they idle down Persimmon Grove, chatting and laughing.
“For real, I can’t believe we’ve never had any classes together!”
Ash gives her a wry grin and shrugs. “Sometimes that’s just the way the cookie crumbles.” She flips her skateboard over, holding it so the wheels are facing outwards, spinning one idly with her hand. She catches Jasmine watching her and holds out the board with a smile. “Wanna try?”
“Oh, I don’t know, I’ve got terrible balance,” Jasmine says, giving the board a wary eye.
“I’ll be right here!” Ash winks at her.
“All right.”
Jasmine lets Ash walk her through how to stand, trying not to tremble when she puts her hand on the small of her back, and then she’s standing on the board, balancing and everything. “Look! I’m doing it!”
“You are certainly standing on it,” Ash teases. “Okay, now push off with your—which is your dominant foot?”
“Uh, right, I think—like this?”
Jasmine takes a tentative step, pressing off the sidewalk with her foot, and then the skateboard rolls forward a few feet. Ash runs behind her, steadying her by the shoulders and laughing. Jasmine laughs too; she can’t remember the last time she’s felt this happy just fooling around. She feels light and free, with the sun shining down on her and Ash by her side.
“That’s probably enough for today,” Ash says.
Jasmine follows her gaze to where Persimmon is starting to climb upwards. “Oh yeah, good idea. Let’s save hills for another day. Boba?”
“Yeah!”
BOBA READY FOR IT is crowded already, as Jasmine expects at this hour. She’s about to push open the door when she spots a familiar asymmetrical bob through the window.
Jasmine freezes, her heart beginning to pound out a panicked rhythm.
Janet looks perfect as always, not a hair out of place, casually sipping from her drink and giggling with—Jasmine doesn’t know who she is, but she’s pretty, with long, flowing curls.
Jasmine really, really doesn’t want to be here. She hasn’t talked to Janet since the breakup, not that Janet hasn’t tried, sending her cutesy little text messages and invitations to her parties and whatever. Jasmine doesn’t know what she means by it, why she’s trying to be overly friendly. She’s spotted Janet out of the corner of her eye a few times at school, and Janet’s always smiled and waved, but it felt hollow, strange, and Jasmine would just turn and find another route to go to class.
“Hey, can we go get ice cream instead?” Jasmine asks, stepping away from the window like she’s been burned.
“Oh—okay, sure.” Ash gives her a worried look, but follows Jasmine right past the shop, but not before looking curiously in the window.
Jasmine walks as fast as she can, anxiety giving her speed as she hurries to the end of the block.
Ash keeps pace, falling in step next to her. “Are you okay?”
“I—” Jasmine catches her breath, staring at the sidewalk, at the splotches of old gum on the pavement, on the hamburger wrapper trying to fly into the gutter. She doesn’t really want to talk about it, especially not with the girl that—oh god, here she is admitting it to herself—that she does have a crush on.
Maybe she doesn’t deserve this, maybe she should be just alone forever. After all, Janet was perfect, and if she couldn’t be happy with Janet, then she couldn’t be happy with anyone.
“I get it. I have so many exes that like, I can’t go to half the eating establishments in Garden Heights,” Ash says brightly, with the tone Jasmine’s come to recognize as her unique brand of entertaining bullshit. “I may have to move out of this town as soon as possible. It’s not big enough, you know?” Her tone is playful but the hand she places on Jasmine’s shoulder is kind, like a question. Asking her if she needs help.
“I’m just kidding,” Ash says, leaning against the shop with her. This end of the block is quieter, away from the popular restaurants and stores. “I’ve only dated like, two people, and we’re all still friends. We’d never run each other out of town.” She glances at Jasmine, pausing for a second. “I’m totally ace, by the way.”
Jasmine turns to Ash and finds her looking back with a sincere, open expression. “Cool,” Jasmine says with a smile.
“Bet you’re surprised! Because I’m so extroverted and charming and witty and funny!” Ash says, pointing two finger guns at Jasmine.
She laughs in spite of herself. “I don’t think any of those things are mutually exclusive with being asexual.”
Ash’s grin only widens. “Oh, do you know many asexual people then? Am I not the most charming of them all?”
Jasmine laughs, relaxing into the easy camaraderie with Ash. “I mean, I guess I know a lot of people, but it’s not something I would know, right? I mean, our school is huge. It’s likely I know a bunch of ace people.”
“And I’m the coolest.”
“You are the coolest person I know, period.”
Ash’s eyes are warm and brown and she’s standing close enough for Jasmine to see little flecks of gold, and
she’s so happy, right here in this moment, just the two of them smiling at each other, a moment stretching out into infinity.
“You know,” Ash says conspiratorially, leaning closer. “I would totally date someone, if I really liked them. And I’m into kissing, too.”
“Oh?” Jasmine says, hope fluttering in her heart.
“Hey! You kids can’t lean against the store window like that. You’ll leave smudges on the glass,” a cross voice says, the door to their left opening.
Jasmine and Ash step away from the door and the angry shopkeeper, laughing as the mystery of the fake wig shop beckons onward.
* * *
“You have a crush on her, don’t you?” Bonnie asks, turning to her in and giving her a sly look.
“Shh!” Jasmine shushes her frantically. She glances about the yearbook room, but no one else is listening, laughing and gossiping over their lunch or busy on a computer. Well, only Harry is—wait, no, Harry’s checking sports scores.
“I think it’s cute,” Bonnie says. “So woodshop’s going well, huh?”
“Yeah,” Jasmine says, thinking about Ash helping her hold a piece of her birdhouse steady as she screwed it in place.
“You gonna ask her out?”
Jasmine sighs. “I don’t know. We’ve hung out a few times, but...”
“Not officially?” Bonnie tilts her head.
“I mean, we went to the movies. And another time she recorded this documentary about cryptids and we watched it at her house. But, uh, I don’t know if I can actually just be like, do you want to date me? Be my girlfriend?” Jasmine frowns. Even just saying it sounds impossible. And the more time they spend together, Jasmine likes her more and more.
“Ah, the old is-this-a-date-or-not-a-date question,” Bonnie says.
“Right? How do you know?”
Bonnie squares her jaw and gives Jasmine a definite look. “I feel like, unless both parties know it’s a date, then it’s not a date. It’s a matter of like, having a clear declaration of intent.”
“I don’t know if I can do that,” Jasmine says. She’s never done anything like that before. “Plus, we haven’t really had a lot of time lately either.”
It seemed like the year just got started and then it got way too busy; it’s already Homecoming week, and yearbook is frantically trying to keep up with deadlines. Jasmine’s been busy every day after school either photographing or editing, and she knows Ash’s schedule is just as packed, practicing for the upcoming musical. “I want to,” Jasmine admits, “but...time.”
“Time,” Bonnie agrees. “I think my boyfriend is a myth at this point. But you can ask her to Homecoming, right?”
Jasmine gives Bonnie a wry grin. “You’re not putting me on feature duty?”
“Nah. Harry’s got it, considering how often you had to cover for him. Go ask your girl.”
* * *
Jasmine is so lost in thoughts about Homecoming, giddy with nerves, which is why she doesn’t see it coming. In hindsight, she should have recognized that power-walk anywhere. She’s heading to woodshop thinking of a way to smoothly ask Ash to go to Homecoming when Janet intercepts her, right in the narrow hallway.
“Hey, Jazz,” Janet says smoothly, like they’re still best friends, like they’re still together, like nothing ever happened. “Heading to the P building?”
“Yes,” Jasmine says warily. She looks around; she’s in one of the narrow hallways, and to head back down that way means she’d have to go around the whole building to get to English. “Hi. Good to see you.”
In some way, it is good to see her; Jasmine can’t turn off that part of her that still cares for Janet, that grew up with her and wants the best for her.
“It’s always great to see you,” Janet says, with that smile that Jasmine knows so well. She knows all of Janet’s looks, from the I’m-going-to-destroy-you glare she uses on opposing teams at basketball and anyone foolish enough to run against her in student government, the how-sweet-of-you-I’m-secretly-planning-a-way-around-this smile she often employed around their parents, and Jasmine’s least favorite, the I-want-something-from-you lip curl.
“How are you?” Janet asks sweetly. It almost feels sincere. Maybe it is, who knows?
“Busy. Yearbook and all. How’s presidenting?”
There’s an easy conversation switch, with Janet’s favorite subject: herself. “Oh, good! We’re right on schedule with fund-raising, this is going to be the best Homecoming yet! I think the theme I came up with works out so well—Priscilla thought we’d never get the student council to agree, but you know me!” Janet giggles a little.
Jasmine hasn’t heard the humblebrag in so long that she’s almost charmed by it. She chuckles. “Beyond the Stars, right? I’ve seen the posters. Looks great.”
“Thanks,” Janet preens. “By the way, toffee is still your favorite, right? I saved you one.”
She hands Jasmine a chocolate bar, one of the kinds from the student council fund-raiser.
Jasmine takes it, because she does love chocolate with toffee bits.
“Look, I know that you usually do the interviews for the student council and such after the winter break, but we’re all going to be dressed up for Homecoming and I think it would be wonderful to get a few shots of us and this marvelous event we organized for the yearbook spread.” Janet smiles at her and leans in close. “Did you know I’m on the Homecoming court this year?”
Jasmine’s seen the posters. JANET WU FOR HOMECOMING QUEEN on every hallway, every building, decorated in glitter.
“Congratulations,” she offers.
“Thank you!” Janet squeals. In another life, her excitement might have been infectious, and Jasmine would have bounced along with her, jumped up and down, but she’s remembering it all now, the way Janet ignored her, the way Janet never made time for her the way she made time for any of her other activities, the way Janet would brush aside her ideas, her opinions, her thoughts, like it was nothing. Like she was nothing.
Jasmine is bristling now, marinating in all the memories, and waiting. Because Janet isn’t going to ask, she’s going to lay it all out, whatever she wants, and at the end of the conversation Jasmine would find herself volunteering to do whatever it is she wanted.
But no. Not today. Janet can say all she wants about how she “thinks it would be wonderful” or whatever but if she wants Jasmine’s help, she’s gotta ask for it.
“I’ve missed you, Jazz,” Janet says, her eyes going soft and stepping closer, and oh if Jasmine doesn’t know this Janet too. “Do you remember last Spring Fling? We slow-danced in the aquarium, and the light was so pretty, shining through the water and making everything sparkle. We looked so lovely together.”
It had been one of those rare mostly-nice nights. “Yeah. I still can’t believe you got them to rent to our rinky-dink school.”
“It was Under the Sea, I had to,” Janet says, with a smirk.
Jasmine scoffs, and Janet rolls her eyes, and for a second it is like the old times.
“I think it would be wonderful to dance with you again. Like at Homecoming, maybe? Of course, with the theme Beyond the Stars you wouldn’t go wrong with a blue dress.” Janet taps her chin thoughtfully. “Then again that dress of yours was more cerulean, which would be acceptable, but I’m sure you could find something in a navy, with some sparkles, that would be lovely, although not black, since my dress is black and we wouldn’t want to be matching exactly, but complementary—”
“Did you just—are you even hearing yourself right now?” Jasmine blurts out.
“Why yes, I was saying you’d look wonderful in a navy dress,” Janet says breezily.
“And there’s the part where you just assumed I’d go to Homecoming with you!” Jasmine says, her voice cracking, but she holds steady. “You can’t just—Janet, this is why I said it wouldn’t work, you never listen
ed to me at all! I never said yes, you can’t—I don’t want to go with you. We’re not together anymore!”
“Every couple goes through their rough patches,” Janet says, eyes glinting. “And I’m sorry that you felt that way—”
“That’s not an apology, and you know it,” Jasmine says, gripping her backpack tighter.
“I promise I’ll listen more,” Janet says. “I know I wasn’t the most attentive—”
She keeps going, spinning promises and promises, reaching out and taking Jasmine’s hand, stroking it just like she used to, and for a second Jasmine thinks about it, thinks about Janet promising to change and it’d be like the good times, when they’d laugh and joke and watch movies and skip rocks at the lake.
Jasmine isn’t even listening to Janet anymore, just watching her smile and promise, like she’s done before, and she knows Janet’s not going to change.
Jasmine’s changed.
She doesn’t have to take this anymore, she doesn’t have to just be Janet’s girlfriend, the wallflower, the one uncomfortable at parties and large gatherings where Janet thrived, the one convenient ear to listen to, a shoulder to lean on, but never there when Jasmine needed her.
Maybe Jasmine hung on to that relationship so long because she was afraid—afraid of being single, afraid of being left out, at having to define who she was without Janet. But Jasmine knows her worth now; she doesn’t have to put herself last.
“No,” Jasmine says.
“What?”
“No.” Jasmine pulls herself up to her tallest height, standing strong. She lets go of her backpack and makes a no-way motion with her hands. “Look, I appreciate being asked, but I’m not interested in going to Homecoming with you, or getting back together, or any combination of those.” She hands the chocolate bar back as well. “You can keep this too, or put it back in the fund-raising box you took it out of. Sell it for funds to make Homecoming look great, whatever.”
Janet tilts her head, a confused look on her face; she’s really not used to people saying no at all. She coughs. “All right, then. I—would you be able to photograph the student council at the dance, then?”
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