by Anne Dayton
Even though I don’t hate her anymore, I still have to be number-one in the class, so I need to study all night long to beat her. It’s not personal.
I jump as the lights in the kitchen turn on.
“Anita, your eyes.” Maria wags a finger at me. She walks over and kisses my head. “You study with it so dark in here. You’re going to go blind.” Maria came home from the hospital yesterday and she’s still pale, and thinner than she was a week ago. She swears she feels fine, but she moves slowly, and I’m not sure I believe her.
“Oh yeah.” The truth is, I like to study with just one light on and the rest of the house dark. That way, I’m not as easily distracted, and people are much less likely to interrupt me.
“And it’s so late. I wish you wouldn’t do this.” Maria shakes her head at me. “You’re so hardworking. Just like your father.” I smile at the idea that I might take after Papá. “Want some carnitas?” She pulls a Tupperware container out of the fridge and begins to pry the lid off.
Actually, I want to keep working so I get this, but I am kind of hungry, I guess. My mouth begins to water just thinking about the super-slow-roasted pork. “That sounds good.”
Maria heats up the carnitas in the microwave and digs in the pantry until she finds some tortillas. She stops the microwave before it dings so she won’t disturb my parents and dishes some pork and a little pico de gallo onto a tortilla on a paper plate for me. She slides it over to me, and I shut my book. I sink my teeth into the tender meat and feel better instantly.
“So why are you up?”
She waves a hand in the air. “My new steroids make it hard to sleep at night.”
I pat her hand. I researched all of her medication on the Internet. For some reason, I’m very fascinated by medical stuff . . . unlike logarithms. “It’s a very common side effect. But do you feel better on the steroids?” I take another bite and watch her as I chew. Steroids are supposed to help her stay healthy and reduce her inflammation problems. Treating lupus is a long process, and finding the right drug combination can take years and years, while the patient suffers and continues to get sick.
Maria nods. “Yeah, I feel a little better. These pills are better than the last ones.” She begins to make herself a plate of carnitas, too. “I thought I should have a snack to make me sleepy again.”
I nod and look back down at my paper. “I wish you were a math whiz. I’m really struggling over here.”
I hear a voice behind me. “You need a math whiz?”
“Papá,” I say, trying to keep my voice down.
He rubs his stubbly face. “I smelled carnitas.” He shrugs and smiles. Papá has a serious weakness for carnitas.
Maria smiles proudly. “I’ll fix you some right now.”
I down my last bite and take a big gulp of soda. Mom is always saying that one of these days my metabolism will slow down and I’ll have to watch what I eat. I seriously hope she’s wrong.
Papá peers over my shoulder at my math problem. “Where are you stuck?”
I sheepishly uncrumple my paper and show him how I did it last time. “I’m not stuck, exactly. I thought I did it right, but I have the wrong answer.”
He sits down next to me. “Can I have your pencil and paper?” I slide everything over to him, and he begins to scratch some stuff down.
“Here you go.” Maria slides a paper plate of steaming hot carnitas toward him.
He inhales deeply. “You’re a genius, Maria.”
She smiles and then goes back to the fridge to put the Tupperware away. I drag my chair over to Papá’s side and watch for a while as he works on the problem.
“Aha!” he says finally. I look up and notice that Maria has silently slipped away and left us alone. “Here’s where you went wrong. If you had simplified the left side of the equation, I think you would have gotten it.”
I peer over his shoulder and suddenly see my mistake as clear as day. “Thanks, Papá. I had no idea that you still knew how to do this stuff. I plan on forgetting it as soon as I don’t need it anymore.”
He laughs. “If you want to be a doctor, you’re going to have to take a lot more math than just Algebra 2.”
I groan. “I suppose I’d better start learning to love it.”
Papá nods. “You will. I always struggled with math, too, but you can get it if you work hard enough. Hard work can fix almost any problem.”
I nod. There he goes again. And, really, he’s mostly right. The only thing that hard work can’t fix is Maria’s health. There are some things that are in God’s hands, no matter what.
“And you can always become a lawyer like your old dad, if you get really sick of math.” He winks at me. “After my sophomore year in college, I changed my major from pre-med to pre-law.”
“Really?” I sit there stunned, trying to picture Papá with a stethoscope and a beeper. “I had no idea.”
He shrugs. “I’m glad. Being a lawyer has given me a lot of flexibility that being a doctor wouldn’t have afforded me.”
I think about all his sleepless nights lately, the wining and dining of local big wigs to build up his practice, the financial stress, and suddenly being a doctor seems like a much better choice.
Papá must see the worry on my face. “Ana, things have been hard, but they’re going to get better. I’m not sorry we moved here. Are you?”
I look down at my books and think of Christine and Zoe. I think about youth group, where I actually feel kind of comfortable these days. I mean, at least I don’t feel like an outcast anymore. And, for just a split second, I think about Riley. “No, I’m not.”
“I left my old firm in San Jose because they wanted me to work longer and longer hours.” He puts a hand on my head and studies my face for a moment. “You’re growing up so fast.” His voice falters a little and his eyes get glassy. I gulp. Is Papá going to cry on me? “I didn’t want to miss any more of your life than I already had. That’s why I wanted to move to a smaller town, where you would be safe, where I could start my own practice and be around more.”
I smile and stare at my lap, a little embarrassed. It’s kind of odd for Papá to share his feelings like this, but my heart is soaring. He has always seemed so formal and distant. “Thanks,” I say quietly. I like my new life in Half Moon Bay, but most days it feels like this house was built on a sandy foundation and it will all wash away if a big storm comes.
“Papá,” I clear my throat. “Is . . . everything going to be okay with your practice?” My mind whirs with worst-case scenarios of Papá declaring bankruptcy or going to jail, and of Mom having to sell her beloved new home, and of me dressed in tatters, and of Maria being let go.
Papá takes a deep breath and rubs his stubble with his palm. “Things have been difficult financially. But I am working hard. And we both are praying to God to watch over and protect our family.”
I stare at him. Why did I ask? I wanted him to reassure me, but this isn’t really very reassuring.
“You pray for us, don’t you, Ana?” He stares at me.
“Of course!” I nod vigorously. I do pray for us, but now I’ll pray even more, all the time.
“Then we must have faith that the Lord will protect us.”
I start praying right that moment just for good measure. God, please remember my family in our time of trial. Please help Papá to find more clients. Please protect and keep us.
Papá stands, stretches, and folds his empty paper plate in half. “It will be okay. God will never forget us. I learned that when you were born and he saved you because we prayed that he would.” We’re silent for a moment; then he clears his throat and looks back down at my paper. “Now what’s next?” He moves on to the next math problem.
36
If someone came up behind me right now and said Boo, I’d jump a mile high. Actually, if they said anything I’d probably jump a mile high. I grip my mechanical pencil with all my might, watching Mackey pass out the logarithm test. Is he the slowest walker in the world, or
what? He waddles down the first row, passing out the papers, huffing and puffing. It’s really not fair. They’re going to have at least an extra minute with the test.
I rub my huge spare eraser for security.All of the sudden there is a sound at the door, and I look up. It’s Riley.
“Sorry,” she mouths at Mackey.
Mackey glowers at her under his bushy eyebrows. She shrugs it off and walks casually over to her desk.
I beam at her as she passes me, but she doesn’t notice me. She sits down and digs in her purse. I watch her over my shoulder, hoping she’ll look up so I can give her a wave or something. Maybe she was late because of something with Michael.
“Do you have a spare pencil?” I hear Riley ask.
I quickly pull my backpack around and start unzipping the front pouch where I keep all of my pencils. I grab the best one out and hold it in her direction. But at just that moment, Jordan Fletcher, who sits behind me, holds out a pencil, too.
“Thanks,” she whispers to him, grabbing the pencil and completely ignoring my outstretched hand.
I stare at her for a moment longer. She refuses to turn my way. She’s staring at the floor instead.
Oh. I see. So nothing has changed. I force myself to face forward just as Mackey finally enters my row and places a copy of the test on my desk. My cheeks burn. How could I be taken in by Riley again? I shut my eyes for a moment to refocus. As angry as she makes me, I shouldn’t be surprised. Why did I think we would suddenly be friends?
I open my eyes and focus on the test, scanning the problems. Papá and I stayed up until the wee hours of the night studying. He even pointed out a type of problem that there were only two examples of in my homework, and we practiced those a little more. I told him how sneaky Mackey was with his test questions.
Quickly, I realize the first five are a snap. I almost laugh when I see them. They’re the easiest kind! The next five are a little harder, but I definitely understand what they’re asking. The final two might be a problem. They seem to make sense, but one of them, sure enough, is the type of problem that Papá pointed out. I stifle a laugh. This test should be no problem for me. I’m so happy, I almost forget Riley’s silent-treatment routine.
I relax a little and begin solving. If I budget my time right, I might have enough time to solve all of the problems and then double-check them.
Thirty minutes in, I’ve finished the test and my heart is soaring. I did it. I knew every single one of them. I should get an A! Just wait until Mom and Papá hear. But something Papá said rings in my ears: watch out for careless errors. It’s so easy to get a problem wrong because of one silly mistake. I begin to re-solve each equation to look for errors.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m really done. I double-checked each problem and even found one careless error that would have surely cost me a few points. My head feels dizzy, and my heart is light. I can do math. I really get this stuff! Papá had a way of explaining it that really made sense, and staying up late to study with him was a lot better than doing it by myself. I glance over my shoulder at Riley, who has her head down on her desk. I look closer. She is fast asleep. Her test is turned over on her desk.
I’m checking through the problems again when the bell rings. “My little mathletes, time is up!” Mackey smiles a huge grin as people groan. He loves to see us suffer. I imagine his house has framed pictures of tests with big red Fs on them in every room.
“Please stand up right now and turn in your tests on the way out. If your pencil is still moving, I’ll begin to dock points.”
I hear a few pencils drop, and people begin to pack up. I don’t want to get my hopes up, but I really might have gotten a perfect score on this test. As I put my book in my book bag, I watch Riley out of the corner of my eye. Should I give her one more chance? Maybe she was sleepy when she came in and didn’t notice me. It was kind of ambiguous earlier, because Jordan’s pencil was a little easier for her to reach. I decide to give it one more shot and time my exit to coincide with hers.
“Hey,” I say as she walks in front of me, nearly right over me.
“Huh?” She turns and looks at me. “Oh, yeah.” She nods for a second.
I don’t know how to read her reaction. It’s neither warm nor cold nor—
Riley scampers away, as if she doesn’t want to be seen with me, practically throwing her test at Mackey as she runs out the door.
I slap my head. What was I thinking? Am I a glutton for punishment? Why on earth am I torturing this girl? I follow her around and beg for attention like a puppy dog. It’s sickening. Never again, I vow. I walk over to Mackey and hand him my test.
“How was it, Ms. Dominguez? Challenging?”
I look him square in the eyes and then smile a slow grin. “Hardly.”
He raises a huge eyebrow at me, and I breeze past him out the door. Who cares about Riley? I know who I am and where I’m going.
***
“Big news.” I plop down at our broken picnic table. Christine and Zoe are already there. I could hug them. It seems like forever since we’ve hung out. It’s only been four days, technically, since we last had lunch together, but so much happened on the ski trip, and since I’m grounded, I’m only allowed to use the phone for approved purposes. And there are exactly two approved purposes: finding out homework assignments and calling my grandmother in Mexico.
“How was the trip?!” Zoe takes a big gulp of her Dr. Pepper.
“Are you some kind of ski bunny now? Because if so, we might need to renegotiate the terms of our friendship.” Christine smiles at me.
I pull out my bagel smeared with peanut butter. “I think I’m in love—”
“What?!” Zoe screams.
“You got your first kiss?” Christine breaks her cool demeanor for a moment and her eyes are wide.
“No, no.” I take a bite of my bagel. All that problem-solving made me hungry. “Let me finish. What I was trying to say is—” I take a sip of my water. “I think I’m in love with the wrong person.”
“What? Who?” Christine asks.
Zoe swallows her last Nutter Butter. “Is it Dave? So you’re finally admitting it?”
I cock my head at her. What is she, all-knowing?
“Is that what you mean?” Zoe is acting like her brain is about to explode.
I glance around the courtyard nervously. I know Dave doesn’t go to this school, but still I don’t want it out. “Yeah, I guess I’m finally admitting it.” I take another bite and think back to the ski trip. He’s really very cute. I don’t know how I didn’t notice it before. “But it doesn’t matter. I think he’s dating this girl from his school named Jamie.”
Zoe shakes her head. “No way. Dave loves you.”
Christine dips a spoon into her yogurt. “Yeah, Zoe’s always saying he’s Brad Pitt to your Angelina Jolie.”
Zoe blushes for a moment. So they talk about me when I’m not here?
I look down at the picnic table. “Used to. Dave used to love me. Now he loves Jamie. You should have seen them at the ski lodge. They were giggling so much, it made me want to puke.”
Christine slaps her head. “Why do girls do that? It drives me crazy. The minute a boy likes them, their IQ halves.”
I take another bite of bagel and feel a shadow fall on me from behind. Uh, oh. Zoe’s face registers an expression of pure joy. Christine, on the other hand, is scowling like someone has just compared one of her masterpieces to a velvet Elvis.
“Hey, guys.” I freeze. I know that voice. It’s—
“Riley!” Zoe claps her hands. “Here, sit down next to Ana. There’s plenty of room.”
I squint into the sun to see Riley. She gives me a half-smile and hesitates.
“Go on. Have you already eaten? I was thinking of going back to the cafeteria.” Zoe digs in her bag. “I could get you something.”
“Oh, thanks.” Riley plops down next to me. I don’t move. What is she doing? “I already ate, though. I was just coming over to say hi.”
Riley laughs her deep, scratchy laugh and pretends Christine is kidding, then turns to me. “How do you think you did on that math test?” A week ago if Riley McGee had said that to me I would have sworn she was trying to rub in how well she did on the test. Today, I’m not sure. If didn’t know better, I would swear that she’s just making conversation.
“Yeah. I thought it was, whatever.” My mouth won’t work. What is she doing? I don’t know how to feel.
“I was so out of it when I got there,” she says, laughing uncomfortably. “I didn’t sleep well last night at all.” She smiles a little, and I think I understand what she’s really saying. “I like your hair red, by the way.” Riley smiles at Christine. “I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
“You do?!” Christine seems a bit horrified and touches her hair self-consciously. “I was thinking of changing it again. In fact, I was thinking of shaving it all off.” She gives Riley a defiant look. I almost laugh. Christine is really vain about her hair. Even though she dyes it all the time, it’s still long and silky. She would never, ever shave it all off. But this is her routine. She dares people not to love her.
Riley nods. “That might be really cool too. You’re so pretty that you could get away with it.”