I Believe in a Thing Called Love

by Maurene Goo

  I hopped onto the hood next to him and he scooted over to make room. “I dunno. I feel like these neighbors see and hear everything. These houses, they have eyes.” I looked around at all the houses with their lights off, the street eerily empty, silent, and blanketed by a foggy marine layer off the ocean lit up by the occasional street lamp.

  He tugged on the corner of my blanket and pulled one end over his shoulders, drawing me closer to him. “Well, the neighbors will really have something to talk about when I don’t get the scholarship and light myself on fire in the middle of this cul-de-sac.”

  “Ha-ha. Don’t even joke about that. You’re going to jinx it.”

  “You and your superstitions!”

  I looked around me. “And there’s no wood to knock on!” I reached under myself and pinched my butt. I caught Luca’s expression. “What? You’re supposed to pinch your butt when there’s no wood around.”

  “Did some pervy guy teach you that?” he asked with a huge grin, his eyes crinkling in that way they did whenever he was tickled by some new, bizarre facet of my character.

  I sniffed. “No, it was my friend Amy Monroe in sixth grade, thank you very much.”

  “I think Amy Monroe was messing with you.”

  “Well, I have yet to have disasters happen after I pinch my butt, so…”

  “Must work. Science.” He shook his head sagely. I laughed and nudged his knee with my own.

  Then we were both silent for a while, just letting our breath come out in puffs into the chilled night air. Both of us fully aware of the minutes passing by.

  And then. A tiny chime on his phone, and then on mine. He looked over at me. I shrugged. “I set an alarm, too.”

  He smiled for a second, then looked nervously down at his phone. “Hm.”

  I also looked down at his phone, then up at him. “Well? Luca! Check your e-mail!”

  He blinked, hand still, cradling his phone. “Wow, so. It all hinges. On this. Like, this upcoming moment will determine the next four years of my life. Isn’t that just insane if you think about it?”

  What was insane was that he wasn’t checking his freaking e-mail at this very second. I willed myself to be patient. “Yeah, but, I mean, that’s what all of us are waiting for! That envelope, that acceptance. Every high school kid goes through this, Luca. It’ll be okay whatever the outcome.”

  Luca nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, right. I mean, obviously I knew it would all boil down to this. But now that I’m actually faced with the moment, it feels really strange. Surreal.”

  I resisted snatching the phone out of his hands. “Okay, worst-case scenario: You don’t get the scholarship. You can still apply for some other scholarships at the eleventh hour or you can try talking to your dad about it?”

  “Ugh.” He made a face. “You know what, though. After the show tonight, I think he might have changed his mind about art school.”

  “Whoa, really?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, but I still want this scholarship. To prove it to myself. It’ll mean so much.”

  I nodded. “I get it, dude.” Then I stared at his phone. “Okay, please check your e-mail before I pee my pants.”

  He scooted away from me and I swatted his arm. He took a deep breath and looked at me, all big eyes and uncertainty. I squeezed his arm and smiled, trying to exude confidence. And reaching into the depths of my brain, I tried to will the result I wanted. Concentrate on what I want.

  With a quick swipe his phone unlocked, and I watched as he tapped the in-box icon at the bottom of the screen. It popped up and there at the very top was an e-mail from the California Fine Art Scholarship Committee. He glanced up at me and we held our gaze for a second before he tapped it.

  At the very last second, I averted my eyes. Despite me being here, this was a private moment for Luca. And also, I really did think I was going to pee my pants. I stared out into my street, spotting a peach-and-white cat darting between some bushes. That was Señor, always prowling at night and getting into scrapes with the raccoons in the neighborhood. And let me tell you, raccoons here are vicious. Señor must be like a ninja cat to—

  “Des.”

  My cat-based reverie dissipated into vapor above my head. “Yeah?”

  His head was bent down and I couldn’t see his face, just the top of that gray beanie.

  “I got it.”

  “Wait. What?” I couldn’t register without seeing his expression.

  He looked over at me with a huge smile, the biggest smile I had ever seen on that perfect face of his. “I got it.”

  I covered my mouth with my hands and scream-squealed into them, kicking my legs up into the air. He started laughing and I threw my arms around him, the blanket falling off our shoulders onto the hood of the car.

  “Ahhh!” I jumped off the car and started bouncing up and down. “I knew it, I knew it!”

  He was still laughing when I grabbed his hands and pulled him off the car to join me in my bounce celebrations. And he did—both of us clutching each other’s hands, jumping up and down in the middle of my driveway at midnight.

  Then suddenly we weren’t jumping anymore—just a whole lot of kissing. He lifted me onto the hood of the car and had his hands in my hair while I wrapped my legs around his waist. When I thought we were seriously going to light the BMW on fire, he pulled away and rested his forehead on mine.

  “Whoa,” he breathed.

  “Mm-hm,” I said while blinking, eyes adjusting to the street lamp behind Luca’s head. I took deep breaths. “So … RISD. Rhode Island. East Coast.”

  He nodded. “Y-e-e-a-h. Stanford. West Coast.”

  “We could be, like, rival rappers.”

  “Yeah, berets against beakers,” he replied with a honky laugh at his own joke.

  We were silent for a second, giving our heartbeats time to return to their normally scheduled programs. And then he pulled me toward him again and leaned his forehead against mine. “Good thing we always have naked FaceTime.”

  “Ha-ha, in your dreams,” I said, bumping his forehead lightly. “Well, we can just plan on visiting each other every other month or so? I mean, it’ll be expensive, but I plan on working and maybe your dad will fly you out here. And also we can make sure to check in every night, but we should make it clear that we’re not obligated—”

  Luca’s hand clamped over my mouth. “Desi. Let’s not think about this yet.”

  I pushed his hand off. “Yet?! It’s not that early, it’s almost the end of the school year!”

  “Des, it’s still February; we have months to think about it.”

  There was so much I wanted to say, to plan. But this was a happy moment for Luca, and I didn’t want to ruin it. So I tugged on his beanie instead. “Are you finally ready to wear this beanie out of necessity? It’s gonna get cold over there.” My fingers brushed over his thick hair, marveling at the weird sense of possessiveness I had over this head of hair. Like, world, that hair was mine.

  He shrugged. “You know, for all my intensity about getting this scholarship, I haven’t really had time to think about what it all means. As in, moving across the country to where there’s … snow and stuff.”

  “Sounds like everything you’ve been waiting for, right?” I asked, my voice more optimistic and perky than I actually felt.

  He picked up the blanket and placed it over our shoulders again. “Yeah. I mean, yes. But now…” His gaze shifted from the street over to me, a small smile hovering over his lips.

  My smile was sad, brimming with so many uncertainties—something I wasn’t used to. “I know what you mean.”

  We sat there for a long time, our butts growing cold on the hood of the car, watching the fog lift slowly from the street. And inevitably into the sky.

  STEP 19:

  You Must Make the Ultimate Sacrifice to Prove Your Love CHAPTER 19

  Still feeling the high of Luca’s scholarship a week later, I approached my Stanford interview with Full Intensity Desi Lee. This meant that in the day
s leading up to the interview on Saturday I:

  • Cut my hair.

  • Memorized the “Common Interview Questions” listed on www.ivyleagueorbust.com (even though Stanford isn’t technically Ivy League).

  • Practiced the pronunciation of all Stanford-related proper nouns.

  • Whitened my teeth.

  • Amped up my workout so that I was doing planks every night. A sound body is a sound mind, I always say (okay, not really, but it fit the occasion).

  • Reread every single word in the Stanford brochures and on the website.

  • Used Korean sheet masks on my face every night while watching dramas with my dad, which always freaked him out.

  • Had every dress I owned dry-cleaned.

  • Downloaded meditation tracks on my phone because I hear you’re supposed to relax for this sorta thing. Hadn’t listened yet, though.

  So when it was the big day, Fiona and Wes came over to view my outfit choices and to offer last-minute support. My dad was at work but would come home early to drop me off at the interview.

  I pulled out three different outfits in their own garment bags. Unzipping them, I said, “Okay so I am thinking three different looks. One is a no-nonsense pantsuit-type thing.” Fiona made a gagging noise at the dark trousers and blazer. I tossed them on the bed.

  “Okay. Second is a demure, girlie look.” I held up the Peter Pan–collar shirt and cardigan with skirt. Fiona made an X with her arms while Wes nodded his head and gave me a thumbs-up sign. I hung it up as an option, then held up the last outfit. “Third is breezy and cool, like, I am being respectful but am not bending over backward to impress you,” I said while holding up a slouchy black sweater and cropped houndstooth-patterned skinny trousers.

  Fiona whistled. “That’s the one, Desi.”

  Wes shook his head. “No, that one’s too … flippant. She’s going to be a doctor.”

  “What, and doctors dress like 1950s kindergarten teachers?” Fiona scoffed.

  “Just because you dress like an extra from Mad Max doesn’t mean that every woman wants to,” Wes said, looking pointedly at Fiona’s holey white tee and distressed army pants full of neon patches. “Also, Des, remind me again why you aren’t telling Luca about your interview?”

  I riffled through some socks in my dresser. “I told you—I don’t want to steal his scholarship thunder.”

  I held up a pair of mint-green socks and Fiona shook her head. “No to the socks. And no to stealing your man’s thunder. Luca’s cool, he won’t feel that way. Just tell him; it’s weird that you’re being secretive about it.”

  “I’m not being secretive! I’m just super-nervous and I’d rather get the interview over with and tell him after, when I’m not such a stress case anymore.” The interview was nearby at an alum’s house at five p.m. and I was supposed to meet the woman’s family and have dinner with them. When she had suggested it, I high-fived myself because I knew that I killed at dinners.

  Wes and Fiona were still looking dubious, so I changed the subject. “So Fi, are you nervous about hearing back from Berkeley?” I asked as I finally decided on the black-sweater outfit. I made Wes turn around and started changing into it. UC acceptances were going to be mailed out at the beginning of March, and Fiona’s first choice was Berkeley—as an undeclared major, of course. I had no doubt she would get in.

  Fiona shrugged. “I’m not nervous really, although I’m banking on the scholarship. I hope my essay cinches it.”

  I winked. “Gotta play up your coming-out story for all it’s worth.” Fiona’s essay was based on when she had come out to her family two years ago. Her grandmother had fainted and when her dad rushed over to grab her, he fell over a chair and broke his leg. I happened to be there for moral support but ended up having to take care of the injured parties while we waited for an ambulance. Luckily, everyone was fine, relatively. Her family eventually recovered, although they still weren’t thrilled with her active love life. I’m pretty sure that would have applied to boyfriends, too, however.

  “What are you guys gonna do without me?” Wes asked the wall since he was still turned around. His first choice was Princeton—he had also applied as “undeclared” since he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be the next Mark Zuckerberg or the next Stephen Hawking. Typical Wes. Fiona tackled him into a hug and Wes protested as she pushed him onto the bed and mussed his hair.

  “We’ll make you visit Nor Cal as much as possible,” I said, already a little sad at the prospect. “I can’t believe we’re going to be Nor Cal people, ew.”

  “Yeah you better not start saying hella or I’m gonna have to hella kick your asses,” Wes said, still lying on the bed but with his head hanging off the edge, near my nightstand. He craned his neck to look at something buried under some books. “Girl, is that the K drama notebook?” He rolled over and pulled it out.

  I glanced at it. “Oh, yeah—been meaning to toss it, but I’m kind of attached to it. It’s also fun to reread, like some anthropological study.”

  Wes flipped through it. “You put some serious detail into the notes section.” He flipped through it some more. “I would burn it,” he said, looking up at me. Just then, his phone buzzed.

  He looked down at it. “Crap, that’s Violet—Fi, we’re late.”

  “Where are you guys going?” I asked, putting the rejected outfits away in my closet.

  “New Spider-Man movie,” said Fiona. “I’m there to chaperone.” She waggled her eyebrows.

  It begins. Violet and Wes had been hanging out a lot since the bonfire and love was blossoming before our eyes. Or, at the very least, a lot of make-outs.

  Wes drew me into a firm hug that almost suffocated me. “Good luck, Des. Kill it.”

  Fiona also came over for a hug and then pinched my cheeks when she pulled out of it. “You got this, Desi!”

  I watched them drive off in Penny, who honked twice in farewell. My interview wasn’t for another few hours so I flipped my laptop open and pulled up my text doc with all my prep questions.

  My phone buzzed from its spot on my bed. I grabbed it to see a text from Luca: Where are you??

  I texted back: Home!

  He immediately called me and his voice was shaky when I answered. “Des, I’m freaking—my mom’s in some hospital in LA. Can you come with me?”

  My brow furrowed in confusion. “Oh no! Is she okay? What happened?”

  “I’m not sure, all I know is that she was visiting LA with some friends before this happened. The person who called me from the hospital wouldn’t tell me—just that it’s an emergency and my mom told them to call me. I have to go and find out what happened. Can you please come with me?”

  Oh, God. There was no way I could miss this interview.

  “What about your dad?”

  “He and Lillian are out somewhere. Besides, my mom wouldn’t want to see him. Please, Des. I’m scared. I need you.” His voice was tiny, almost a whisper.

  I was barely thinking when I responded, “Of course, I’m ready whenever.” He said he would pick me up right away.

  I glanced at the time on my phone. Okay, I had two and a half hours. LA was a forty-five-minute drive away if you drove fast. I could pop in and make sure everything was okay before grabbing a cab back immediately after. I could do this. My hands shook as I shut my laptop. I glanced down at my interview outfit. Luckily, I wouldn’t be dressy enough for Luca to find it odd.

  When Luca pulled up, I slipped inside the car and he instantly drew me into a hug. I rubbed his back. “Are you okay?”

  “No … I’m not. I wish I knew what was going on!” His voice was raw and his eyes red with worry.

  “I’m sure she’s fine,” I said calmly, not knowing anything of the sort. “Do you want me to drive?” His hands were shaking more than mine. His dark eyes were almost black as they darted around the car, unable to focus.

  He hesitated for about a second, then nodded imperceptibly. We swapped seats and Luca turned on his phone navigatio
n as we headed for the freeway. Reaching over, he tucked a piece of flyaway hair behind my ear. “Thanks for coming, Des. I thought I was gonna lose it earlier…” There was a hint of shame in his voice.

  I reached over for his hand, as he had done so many times to me while he was driving. “Of course.”

  And while I absorbed Luca’s anxiety, I was also watching the minutes tick by on the dashboard clock. Okay, worst-case scenario, I was a little late. But I was sure they would understand if I had an emergency. And seeing Luca this upset was really unsettling.

  We didn’t say much during the ride. Luca stayed curled up near the window, staring out silently. Even music felt inappropriate, so I turned it off. About half an hour into the drive my phone buzzed in my jacket pocket. I had to ignore it while driving, but then it buzzed five more times.

  Luca glanced over at me. “Is that your phone?”

  “Um, yeah, but it’s okay.”

  “Do you want me to check for you?” He was reaching over into my pocket.

  “No! Totally fine, probably just Fiona talking about Spider-Man and how hot Mary Jane is.”

  That got a smile out of Luca. “Nice.” I laughed and squeezed his hand a little harder than I’d planned. When he pulled it away with a wince, I took the opportunity to slip my phone out and glance down quickly while Luca continued to stare out the window.

  My dad. Shit.

  “I have to use the bathroom, can we pull off here?” I asked, already getting off the freeway onto an exit with a gas station.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  I parked, then ran toward the restroom, calling, “Be right back!” When I got into the restroom, I pulled out my phone to see a bunch of texts from my dad asking where I was. I texted him back: Luca had an emergency. His mom’s in the hospital, I have to take him. I’ll be back in time, don’t worry!

  My dad immediately called me. Crap.

  “Hi, Appa.”

  “Is Luca okay? What happened?”

  “I don’t know, this hospital in LA called him but they won’t tell him what’s wrong.”