“Do you feel like going shopping?” Dad asked, rubbing his chin. “At the very least we should get you a bed and some linens.”
I nodded. “That sounds good.”
* * *
The rest of the weekend was a whirlwind of shopping with Dad. Mom was working, and it had been nice to have Dad around after all. Or maybe Mom chose to work so she wouldn’t have to miss me. We didn’t discuss it, which meant I’d probably never know.
Keiko met me at home on Sunday evening. “So,” she said as we settled in my room. “Are you happy your dad is back?”
“It’s complicated.” It felt good to talk about my dad. The one person I could always count on was Keiko, and I didn’t want to keep my feelings in anymore. I told her about my conversation with my dad, and that I’d cried. About how frustrated I was with both my parents for keeping things from me. I even told her about how my digging into the cafeteria renovation hadn’t led to anything and that the donation might not be an evil plot after all.
The whole time, Keiko just listened, letting me talk and talk until I was talked out.
In the silence that followed, I wondered if I’d said too much.
Keiko picked up my teddy bear and sat him on her lap. “I’m glad you got everything off your chest with your dad,” Keiko said finally.
“That’s it?” I asked. “No other questions?”
“I’m sorry I’ve been so pushy. I know you hate it when people pry into your life. It’s only because I care about you.”
I reached over and took my teddy bear and hugged him to me. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I don’t know why I was so grouchy with you.”
Keiko laughed. “I do.”
I gave her the side-eye.
“You don’t like talking about your feelings,” she said. “I get it.”
“But maybe keeping them locked up isn’t good for me.”
“Agreed.” Keiko poked my leg. “Have you talked with your mom?”
“No. I feel like she’s avoiding me on purpose.”
“Why are moms so hard to talk to?” Keiko asked. She’d gotten into a huge fight with her mom a few months ago.
“But things are better between both of you now, right?”
She smiled. “Much.”
Then there was hope.
“How’s your scholarship application going?” Keiko asked. “I can’t wait till you’re done and we can hang out again.”
I groaned.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“Maybe I’m not cut out to be a reporter,” I said.
“Why would you say that?”
“My article isn’t working.”
“What do you mean?”
“I need hard-hitting facts. Something noteworthy.”
“Jenna,” Keiko said in that tone of hers. “Didn’t you just say that everything you learned showed that the donation was aboveboard? The foundation helps feed hungry kids. That’s a good thing!”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t make for an interesting article. I’m supposed to be exposing truths.”
“The donation is legit. Isn’t that the truth?”
“It’s a truth. But I have a gut feeling there’s more to the story.” Although I realized it was more a wish than a gut feeling. It was hard to let go of hope.
“Okay, fine. If you want to know the real deal, why can’t you ask Rin?”
“Trust me, I can’t.” I told her about our no-personal-conversation arrangement.
Keiko shook her head. “I can’t believe it. You found the guy version of you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Rin is just like you. He doesn’t like to talk about things.”
“I talk about things!” I took a breath. Actually, no, I didn’t. Until now. The last couple of days had made me feel lighter. Even though talking about my feelings didn’t change what happened, it made me feel unburdened. Like Dad and Keiko were helping to carry the load a little.
“I mean, I know I have a hard time with it, but I’m starting to realize that keeping everything locked up is tiring. I don’t want that anymore.”
Keiko nodded. “So, what do you want?”
I squeezed my plush bear. “It’s too much. I want too much.” I wanted my parents to get back together or at least never fight. I wanted to write the winning scholarship entry for PV Middle. I wanted … dreams that felt so big I couldn’t even name them.
“Well, one thing’s for sure, you won’t have to go away to Texas this summer.” Keiko grinned.
I smiled back at her. I’d been so lost in my head about how much I hated surprise changes and not being told what was going on that I forgot to focus on the good stuff.
“You’re one of the strongest and smartest people I know,” Keiko said. “Whatever you want, go for it.”
She was right. I could figure it all out. Maybe I could make some of my dreams come true.
Even the big ones.
On Monday, Elliot was waiting for me at my locker after school. He wore his favorite jacket, the one with lots of pockets so he could keep a notebook and pen on him at all times.
“Hey,” he said.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Can we talk?”
I waved my hand between us. “We’re talking.”
“I meant, alone, somewhere.”
“We are alone. And we have newspaper club in five minutes.”
“I have some information for you, for that article you’re writing about the cafeteria renovation.”
I crossed my arms. “How do you know what I’m working on?”
He smiled and shrugged. It wasn’t nearly as cute as when Rin did it. Like everything else about him, Elliot’s shrug seemed patronizing.
“Seriously, Elliot!”
“What? I’m an excellent investigative reporter.”
“You’re a sneak,” I said.
“Whatever. Do you want the information or not?”
I wanted to tell him to get lost, but I was curious. Reporters didn’t walk away from sources.
“Okay. Spill it,” I said as I opened my locker.
“The money came from a foundation,” he said.
“Yeah, I know.”
He went on. “I also found out not all the donation was used for the cafeteria renovation.”
“Oh, Elliot.” He didn’t know as much as I did; that was clear. I grabbed my math book and turned to walk away.
“Wait, Jenna! I have more,” he said.
I took a deep breath and turned back around.
“I got a hold of the construction records, and it came in under a million. We need to find out where the other part of the donation went!”
“We?”
“I mean, you.”
I already knew where that money went. It had funded the new kitchen staff and supplemented the free lunch program. But there was no way I was telling Elliot that. “Look, I don’t need your help.”
“The foundation is in trouble.”
“What do you mean?”
Elliot flashed a triumphant grin. “The couple who founded Feed Schools is having marriage trouble.”
Rin’s parents? “That’s just gossip. And it has nothing to do with the renovation.”
“No? It turns out that the donation wasn’t approved by the foundation. The wife did it all on her own, even though she was supposed to get approval from the foundation itself.”
I rolled my eyes. Traci Watanabe was the foundation. She didn’t need to get approval from herself. And how sexist of Elliot to assume that she needed permission! Elliot had nothing.
Still, he kept talking. “Her husband didn’t know what she’d done until after the money had been donated. He tried to get it back, and there was a huge stink.”
I paused. Had Rin’s dad tried to control the foundation’s spending? According to their website, he didn’t have anything to do with it. Interference like this could be what I needed to get my article on track. But instead of the rush of excitement I expec
ted, I felt something more like regret. The thought that maybe Rin might be feeling like I had when my parents got divorced filled me with sadness.
“Come on, you know as well as I that something shady is probably going on,” said Elliot. “Don’t you want to investigate it?”
“Why are you doing this?” I asked. “Why are you trying to help me?”
“I said it before, Jenna. We make a great team.”
I said nothing.
“Well, we used to be a great team,” Elliot amended.
“No. We weren’t.”
“Don’t be like that, Jenna.”
“I’m not being like anything. You always try to make me feel bad for wanting credit for my ideas.”
“Oh my God, Jenna! Are you going to start that again?”
I blinked at him. “You seriously don’t see it. You don’t think you’ve ever stolen my work at all?”
“We were writing those articles together!”
Arguing with him wasn’t worth it. In fact, this reminded me of my parents. They’d get in the same fights over and over, never coming to any agreement or compromise. It had been miserable to listen to, and it wasn’t fun being in the thick of it, either. I couldn’t change Elliot. I had zero control over what he did or thought or said. I only had control over my own actions.
“Where did you find out about the Watanabes?” I asked.
“I’ll tell you if you let me work on the story with you.”
“Forget it! This is my entry for the scholarship!”
“We can probably submit it together. Split the prize!”
“What happened to the great article you were working on?”
Elliot played with the zipper on his jacket. “It didn’t pan out.”
He wasn’t perfect after all. And now he was trying to glom onto my work. Again. “No way,” I said. “I’m the one who came up with the idea. I’m the one whose been researching all along.”
“But you didn’t know anything about the Watanabes’ marriage until I told you.”
“Where did you find that out anyway?”
“Agree to work with me first.”
I studied Elliot. For once, he didn’t look so smug. He looked worried. Which meant I had a real chance to win that scholarship.
But how badly did I want it? Right now my article was nowhere, and if Elliot knew something that could make it the kind of impressive exposé I’d originally wanted to write, I was sure to be chosen to represent PV Middle in the competition. But anything he knew about Rin’s parents’ marriage could only be speculation. And what kind of story would that make? It wasn’t news, just gossip. And it would hurt Rin. No. Even if it made my article more exciting, I didn’t want to win anything that way.
“Admit you need me,” Elliot said. “You can’t write that article without me.”
“Watch me.” I turned to leave, but Elliot grabbed on to my messenger bag.
“Jenna, wait! I take it back! Breaking up, I mean. I want to get back together.”
My brain went blank.
“We’re the same,” Elliot said, still holding on to the strap of my bag. “We made each other better.” He actually seemed sincere. But it didn’t matter. I wasn’t interested. Not anymore.
I glared at him, and he dropped his hand. “You don’t want to get back together,” I said. “You want to work on the winning article.” My hands started to ache, I was clenching them so tightly.
Why couldn’t he just leave me alone? I’d stopped talking to him, avoided him as much as possible, and been totally unfriendly so he would keep away. I’d even gotten rid of everything that reminded me of Elliot so I could pretend he’d never existed.
I paused, and my ears got hot as I made a connection. My mom tried to erase all evidence of Dad just like I was trying to do with Elliot. I thought Mom hated Dad and had never cared about him at all. But that probably wasn’t it. Mom was hurting.
Burying memories didn’t make the pain go away at all.
“Jenna?” Elliot broke into my thoughts.
“No, Elliot. I don’t want to get back together. We may have the same goals, but we’re not the same when it comes to things that really matter.”
Elliot and I had always said it was important to be objective, no matter what we were talking about. And I always thought I was pretty good at it. But really, I’d just been closed off. To my feelings, and to other people. I judged everyone without knowing the truth or the facts. All that anger I felt about the donation was about how money made me feel, and all that anger I had about money was really about my parents. I hadn’t been objective at all.
Elliot wasn’t as objective as he thought, either. He didn’t think he’d taken credit for my work. And maybe he really believed that. But he wasn’t my problem anymore.
Elliot’s eye grew wide. “You seriously don’t want to know what I found out about the Watanabes?”
“Nope.” I’d been wrong about so many things, but I was sure about this. “And don’t even think about trying to write about the donation with your spin. Ms. Fontes has seen a draft of my story already. We’ve discussed it. And if you try to turn in something similar, she’ll know you stole it!” I dug around in my bag, grabbing Elliot’s pen. “Here,” I said, handing it to him. “It’s your favorite, right?”
“I gave that to you. You can keep it.”
I shook my head. “I have my own.” The one Dad gave me was the only one I’d be using for my newspaper articles.
“Fine.” Elliot shoved the pen into one of his pockets. “What about the article?”
“You’re not writing it,” I said to Elliot. “I am.”
“Oh, come on, Jenna! Be a team player for once!”
I walked away. I would be a team player, but I was going to choose who was on my team.
After newspaper club—where Elliot and I totally ignored each other—I went straight to the diner. When I saw the booth was empty, my heart fell.
Where was Rin? I’d been super rude to him when Dad had picked me up. But not ruder than any other time. Keiko said I pushed people away. Had I pushed Rin too hard this time? We’d always bickered but in a good-natured way. But maybe Rin didn’t think so. Maybe he was fed up with me.
I looked at the menu wondering if I should try something new. But really all I wanted was my Waitress strawberry milkshake and to share cheesy Fetch Fries with Rin. When had I stopped coming here to be alone and started coming to share the booth with Rin?
“Why so glum? No good specials?” Rin asked as he sat down across from me.
I couldn’t stop the smile spreading across my face. “Hi! Where were you?”
Rin raised his eyebrows at me. “Um. Hi? And helping Tom again.”
Leigh strode up to our booth and placed matching shakes in front of us. “I’m trying something new and combining your favorites. I’m calling it We Go Together like Strawberry and Chocolate. From Grease.”
My ears warmed. For once, Leigh didn’t sing and slipped away as quickly as she’d arrived. I took a long sip and felt my shoulders loosen. This new shake was really good. The combination of our favorite flavors was rich and sweet, with a sharp tartness at the end that I found irresistible. I glanced at Rin. As he sipped his shake, his glasses slipped down his nose. I waited, and moments later, he pushed them back up, the gesture as familiar as the guarded look on his face. I took another gulp of my shake, and when I looked back at Rin, our eyes met and my heart sped up.
“I’m sorry,” I said, pushing the words out in a rush. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you when I found out that your parents made the donation. I shouldn’t have judged at all. And I’m sorry for being so rude. And for looking at your sketchbook.”
Rin turned his milkshake glass in his hands, spinning it in slow circles. “You already apologized for all that.”
“I know. I meant it before, but I really mean it now.”
I’d thought about it the whole walk over to the diner. Yes, I wanted to enter the scholarship competition. Ye
s, I wanted to be an editor on the paper next year. Yes, I wanted to be a great reporter. But telling the truth was more important than an award, or money, or even beating Elliot. And so was Rin.
I pushed on. “I want you to know I’m not writing that article anymore. There won’t be an exposé because there’s nothing to expose.”
“Just so you know,” Rin said, “I didn’t realize my mom had funded the cafeteria renovation. It’s not like she runs things by me.”
I shook my head. “You don’t need to explain anything to me. It’s none of my business.”
“I thought you wanted to be a big-time investigative reporter.”
“I do. The good kind.”
“What’s the good kind?”
“Objective. Looks for facts without judgment. And follows through on assignments.”
Rin shrugged. Of course. He dug into his backpack to get his sketchbook and something to draw with.
“Pencil?” I asked. “No black felt-tip pen today?”
He raised his eyebrows. “That’s a personal question.”
I played with the straw in my glass, swirling it around the thick shake. The thing was, I wanted to get to know Rin better. And I wanted him to get to know me, too.
“If you’re drawing with pencil,” I said slowly, “that means you’re either working on a realistic drawing or sketching a new manga character.”
Rin stared at me for a long beat. I couldn’t tell if I’d upset or annoyed him. But then he smiled. Not one of his arrogant full-on grins but a small smile. A private one.
He returned to drawing, and I watched his pencil move in long smooth strokes. In moments, a face formed. It amazed me that a pencil could render something so real looking. Soon the face became more detailed with high cheekbones, slightly narrowed eyes, and thick eyebrows pulled toward the middle in something like a scowl. A button nose. A mouth with full lips set in a straight line.
“Hey!” I exclaimed.
Rin’s pencil stilled, and he looked up at me, that cocky grin back on his face. “Is there a problem?”
I scowled and then quickly rearranged my features to look less angry. “Is that how I look?”
Rin glanced down at his drawing. “Most of the time. Yeah.”
Just Be Cool, Jenna Sakai Page 14