It's Not Like It's a Secret

by Misa Sugiura

  “Sorry I freaked out at you,” I say to Caleb.

  “Whatever. It’s okay.”

  “Thanks for doing this for me. There’s not a lot of people I trust like this.”

  “Anything for you, doll.”

  “What?” I look at him and he’s laughing. “Whatever, weirdo.”

  Then he says with studied casualness, “Hey, we’re doing an anti-homecoming thing next weekend. Just having pizza and watching movies and shit. If you’re not going out with your Asian girl squad, you can come over if you want.”

  Wow. Out of nowhere. “Oh. Um, actually I am going out with my Asian girl squad, so, yeah,” I tell him. “Sorry.” And I really am. He’s turned out to be a lot of fun to hang out with.

  “’S’okay. Just thought I’d ask.”

  Dad exits the freeway and Caleb and I follow him onto Winchester, then Alta Loma, and I wonder why Dad would agree to meet this woman so close to where we live. Caleb must be thinking the same thing, because he says, “Pretty ballsy. He must really think he’s not going to get caught.” But the farther we go, the clearer it becomes that Dad is going . . . home. He pulls into the driveway, and Caleb continues past the house about halfway down the block before doing a U-turn. I don’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. “Well?” Caleb looks at me.

  “I don’t know. I’m confused. I swear the text said Thursday for dinner.”

  “Maybe she canceled on him.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe he’s not having an affair.”

  “Maybe.” Suddenly I’m bone-tired. I don’t want to talk to anyone, don’t want to think about anything. I just want to get inside and go to bed. I guess I’ll get up early in the morning to finish my homework.

  “Hey, it’s okay. I mean, I had fun, anyway.” I take a good look at Caleb. He’s actually really cute. Strong jaw, nice cheekbones, kind eyes. And he’s a good person. I wonder why he doesn’t have a girlfriend. If I weren’t so crazy about Jamie, I could see being into him. I’m not a huggy person (blame my no-physical-contact parents) but I’m suddenly overcome with gratitude for this guy who, for no reason, just wasted an evening driving me on a wild-goose chase, and is nice enough to say he had fun. So I reach over and give him a hug.

  “Thanks. Really.”

  His look of surprise melts into a big smile.

  “Anytime, doll. See you in trig.”

  I roll my eyes, shut the door, and head inside to face my (probably maybe) cheating dad and (impossible but it seems that way) unsuspecting mom.

  18

  ON FRIDAY, JAMIE COMES OVER. HOMEWORK ON a Friday afternoon is too much, so we’re just in my room, me sprawled on my bed, Jamie pushing herself around the room on my rolling desk chair. “So, what do you think?” I ask her. I’ve told her on the way home from school about last night’s escapade, chasing Dad from work right back home.

  “I think Caleb has a crush on you.” She spins herself (it’s a spinny chair, too).

  “Why does everyone keep saying that? I meant what do you think about my dad? Do you think he canceled dinner?”

  “Everyone keeps saying that because it’s true. I mean, it’s obvious. And you said your dad had a date and then he didn’t go, so yeah—I think he canceled dinner. That’s obvious, too.”

  Oh. She stops spinning, chews her lip for a second, and asks, “You sure you’re not into him?”

  Caleb? How much clearer can I make this? “Yes. I’m sure.” I look right at her so she knows I’m telling the truth. “Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Is she jealous? As exciting as this possibility is, I still can’t let go of my worries about Dad. “But why do you think he canceled?”

  “I dunno. He’s trying to be a good husband? He’s bored? He wasn’t feeling it last night? Could be anything. It’s no use guessing.”

  “Yeah . . .” I roll over on my boring blue-and-white duvet cover and look at the ceiling. “I just don’t want him to be the guy who cheats on his wife. I don’t want to believe that about him. I don’t want him to leave us. I just want him to quit.”

  “Yeah, I get it.” Jamie pushes the chair over to the bed, next to me. “You know, though.” She hesitates a moment and then says slowly, “My dad—he never stopped cheating, no matter what happened, no matter what he told my mom.” She looks at me, chewing her lip again.

  “She knew about it?”

  “Yeah, and when she found out, she threatened to leave, but then she believed him when he said he’d stop. And he was good for a while, but then he went back to his old ways. She never had the courage to walk out, and finally one day he did. He just said he was going to LA with the woman he was seeing, and we never heard from him again.”

  “God. That sucks.”

  “Yeah . . . I dunno. I just don’t know why she trusted him. Or why she never left him—I’m pretty sure she stopped trusting him after a while.”

  Jamie shakes her head and looks at her hands. “The thing is, I admire her, kind of. For her loyalty. Is that messed up, or what?”

  I don’t know how to answer that, so I just say, “It must have been awful.”

  “Yeah, well. It was shitty but it worked out for the best. He was an asshole, anyway. I mean, life was hard when he left, but it was hard when he was with us, too, you know? I mean, he didn’t hit us or anything, but . . . so, yeah . . .”

  “God. I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s fine. I mean, it wasn’t fine for a long time. I never would have made it through if it wasn’t for Christina and JJ and Arturo. I ate at their houses all the time when my mom didn’t have enough money to buy food, and we even lived with Christina for a few months when I was ten and my mom lost her job and couldn’t make the rent. They still help us out a little every now and then.” Oh. Jamie continues, “Christina’s been kind of protective of me ever since. She says I’m just like my mom.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She thinks that when I fall for someone, I let them walk all over me. I mean, it only happened the one time—the one time I dated someone—so . . .”

  “Oh. Did you have a—a boyfriend or something that broke up with you?”

  “Kinda . . .” Jamie looks up at the ceiling for a second, like she’s remembering . . . what? “Anyway, so I was a fool, but sometimes love makes you foolish, right? But it doesn’t have to make you poor. So that’s where Christina’s wrong. I’m not like my mom, because maybe I can’t stop someone leaving me, but I’m sure as hell not gonna let ’em leave me broke. I don’t ever want to go through what she went through.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And your mom shouldn’t have to go through it, either. Or you. I mean, not like your dad’s gonna leave you broke. He’s probably a better man than that.”

  “Yeah.” A little shakier this time. Because he might be a better man than that, but he’s not better enough to be faithful. I close my eyes against the ugly possibilities. I reach inside for something solid to anchor myself. Gaman. Jamie puts a steadying hand on my shoulder, and that almost pushes me right over the edge into tears, but I concentrate on the warmth of her palm, and I manage to pull myself together. I sit up, open my eyes, and smile.

  “You okay?”

  I nod. Then she pats my knee briskly and says, “Hey—you wanna do something this weekend? I have church and then I have to babysit Ariella on Sunday, but I’m free tomorrow.”

  Yes! Oh. No. “My dad and I are supposed to hang out tomorrow because I told him I wanted to do family time on the weekend. I can’t really back out.”

  “Oh. Yeah, you probably shouldn’t . . . You’re going to homecoming, though, right?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Perfect. We’ll see each other there. Promise to look for me?”

  “Promise.”

  “Good.”

  “Hey.” I reach across to hug her. “Thanks.”

  She hugs me back, and as we break apart, she pats my knee again, gently this time, and then her hand lingers fo
r a moment. And then another moment. For a couple of seconds we sit still like that, looking at each other. My body is urging me to kiss her, kiss her, kiss her, but my terrified little brain won’t cooperate and move the requisite parts. What if I kiss her and it turns out she doesn’t want me to?

  Yes?

  No.

  Yes?

  No.

  Yes?

  Jamie clears her throat, pulls her hand away, and says, “Um. I should um. Probably get going.”

  No. Damn.

  Fifteen minutes later, Jamie’s climbing onto the bus, waving good-bye. I go back to my room, flop onto my bed, and imagine what would have happened if I’d stopped thinking so much and just kissed her. Of course, in my imagination, she wants to kiss me back, and we end up entangled in a passionate embrace. And the more I think about it, the more I’m sure she really does want to kiss me back. She has to. Okay. The next chance I get, I’m not going to overthink it. I’m going to act. I’m going to take charge. I’m going to kiss her.

  Dad comes home from work early—right after I get home from the bus stop, in fact. “Sana-chan, I’m really sorry, but I have to go into the office tomorrow to get some extra work done. Can we watch a movie tonight?”

  “Dad, I just canceled plans with a friend because of tomorrow!”

  “I’m sorry. Things didn’t go as I planned today. I have to finish this presentation before I leave for the East Coast on Sunday. Can you still play with your friend?”

  First of all, I don’t “play” with my friends anymore. Second of all, why do you get to cancel, just like that? But third, yay! I have to call Jamie ASAP. I open my mouth to say okay, I’ll call my friend, when it hits me. He’s probably planning a day with Emoji Woman, since he canceled on Thursday.

  Over my dead body. “No, it’s okay. But can I please come into the office with you?”

  He pulls his chin back and a crease appears between his eyebrows. “Why?”

  “I haven’t seen it since I first got here—you can show me around so much better now! And I have tons of homework to do, so I’ll just sit at a desk and work the whole time, like you.” Hah. Take that.

  “You’ll be bored. I may be there all day.”

  “If I get bored, I’ll drive home. And then I can come pick you up later when you’re done.”

  Dad laughs. “Like school! I will be the student and you can be the parent who picks me up!” He tousles my hair and says, “Okay. And can you buy me some ice cream after school, too?” I didn’t expect it to be this easy. But ice cream with Dad sounds good, even if it means a boring day at the office. Especially if it means I know where Dad is all day.

  “Okay.”

  Saturday is boorrrring. Dad either canceled plans with Emoji Woman or he was telling the truth about having hours of work to do. But I don’t want to leave him, really, so after I finish my homework, I spend my time surfing the web and texting everyone I know. Maybe Jamie was wrong. Maybe Dad really is reforming. Maybe Emoji Woman is out of the picture.

  But then again, on Sunday, Dad is leaving on a twelve-day trip to Boston, New York, and Washington, DC.

  Or so he says.

  19

  HOMECOMING WEEK IS LIKE BEING AT SUMMER camp. I mean apart from having classes, of course. Every day, there’s a spirit competition in the quad. Monday, all four classes gather in the quad and shout at each other; Tuesday, it’s sack races; Wednesday is tug-of-war; Thursday is races to fill buckets of water with tiny Dixie cups; Friday is the pep rally. Then on Friday night, the game, the dance, the party.

  When we’re not yelling our brains out for the junior class, Reggie, Elaine, Hanh, and I spend most of our lunches planning the logistics of going to the karaoke club and then to Reggie’s cousin’s house after the dance. As usual, Hanh’s parents won’t let her go to the football game (because boys) or have Reggie pick her up at home after the game (they might go somewhere besides straight to Sharon’s house).

  So Hanh proposes a plan. Reggie will go and wait at Sharon’s apartment after the game, pretending to get ready for a night in with Sharon. Hanh’s parents will drop her off there, and then Reggie and Hanh will join us at the dance.

  “Don’t even say it, Reg,” says Hanh when Reggie looks doubtful. “I’m sick of you telling me I should feel guilty about going behind their backs. It’s not like I’ve ever done anything worse than they did when they were teenagers. If they can’t handle it, that’s their problem.”

  So the schedule for the evening looks like this:

  5:00–6:30 Football game (except for Hanh)

  6:30 Reggie goes back to Sharon’s house

  7:00 Hanh gets dropped off at Sharon’s house

  7:30–9:30 Dance

  9:30–?? Party at PopStar Karaoke Club!!!

  Jimmy and his friends are planning to go to karaoke, too, so Elaine is completely out of her head with excitement. Hanh and Reggie are excited about the college guys that Janet’s sister has promised to bring in addition to the alcohol. I’m just glad to be going out with friends, and enjoying all of this secret planning we’re having to do. This is going to be so much fun.

  Homecoming madness extends into the evenings. Mom lets me participate because I tell her it’s for school, and because teachers will be chaperoning everything. On Monday night, I help decorate the Junior Hall—or what would be the hall if it had a ceiling—and on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, I go to Janet’s house to help work on the class float. Apparently her mom was homecoming queen at Anderson like thirty years ago, and she’s still totally into it. It’s another week where I can’t hang out with Jamie, but at least I can look forward to seeing her at the dance.

  I’ve decided that short of flying to the East Coast, the best I can do to prevent Dad from cheating is to text and call him constantly, to remind him of his family. He’ll probably be suspicious, since we’ve never been very communicative. But I try to do it in moderation—a couple of texts in the afternoon to ask about a trig problem, and in the evening a photo of the sunset, maybe, or what Mom has made for dinner.

  Thursday evening I text him and Mom a selfie of me at Janet’s house in front of the junior class homecoming float. “Hecka smart!” exclaims Elaine. “Build their trust—let them see that you are where you say you are.” Which is kind of ironic, considering the only reason I’m sending it is because I don’t trust Dad to be where he says he is. Elaine and Reggie take photos of each other and send them to their parents. Hanh doesn’t need to—she’s at home because her parents won’t let her go out on weeknights, even for school stuff. Then Elaine has a brainstorm. “We should do a picture inside the house and send it on Saturday night from karaoke at like, ten o’clock, and say we’re at Sharon’s house. Our parents will never know the difference—they’ll just think we took it at Sharon’s!”

  “Yeah, except I won’t be wearing this butt-ugly thing to homecoming,” I say, gesturing to the grubby paint-stained T-shirt I threw on so I could help paint a giant pirate on the side of our class float.

  “Borrow one of Janet’s tops. Then bring it home with you and wear it when you go to the game on Friday. That way your parents will see you looking like the picture you send them. And you can just change into your cute little halter top in the bathroom at the dance. Oooh, I am a genius sometimes!” says Elaine, holding her hand up for a high five. It does sound like a good plan. So we find Janet and she takes us to her room and pulls out a few things.

  Janet has a thing for body-conscious, tight-fitting tops, and Reggie suddenly balks at taking the photo because she’s all worried that she’s too fat. “Look at these rolls!” she wails.

  “You look fine. Besides, you’re not actually going to wear it to the party,” Janet reminds her.

  Eventually we coax her into posing with us for a few photos in the hallway. Then we stuff our borrowed shirts into our bags and head out to put the finishing touches on the float.

  The homecoming parade on Saturday afternoon is mildly disappointing. Andy Chin is hom
ecoming king, and Jimmy and Janet are part of the court. They get all dressed up in gowns and rented tuxes and ride down Alta Loma Street on a special float for the homecoming court. Plenty of neighbors turn out to see the parade, but in the end it feels like hours of work on a float that no one saw.

  The game is a close one, and even though I know nothing about football and could care even less, it’s hard not to get caught up in the excitement. The score is tied with two minutes to go, and I spend those minutes alternately clutching Elaine and Reggie until Isaia Fualema runs twenty-seven yards for a touchdown and I scream and jump up and down and pump my fist, like everyone around me. I have a brief flashback of the Beach Boys debacle at the country club with Maddie Larssen and Trish. I wish they could see me now. See? What’s more American than screaming for your team at a homecoming football game? And—I take a quick look around—probably two-thirds of the people in the stands have parents or grandparents from Asia, Central America, and the Pacific Islands. Take that, Glen Lake.

  After the game, Elaine and I go to my house to eat a little dinner and shower and change before we head back for the dance. Reggie goes to her cousin Sharon’s house so that she can be there when Hanh’s parents drop her off.

  “You have Sharon’s phone number, right?” I ask Mom as Elaine and I eat dinner.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll text you tonight, maybe around ten o’clock, from Sharon’s house,” I say.

  “Good idea,” Mom says, and nods. Then she smiles at me, her eyes tender. “I am proud of you, Sana. You’re very responsible.” Elaine and I exchange glances. A little worm of guilt bores through the back of my neck and starts creeping around, prickling and tickling. Mom hardly ever praises me, and now that she’s doing it, I don’t even deserve it. I put a piece of ginger pork in my mouth and shrug.

  “Um-hmm,” I say around the pork. If I look uncomfortable, maybe she’ll just figure it’s because my mouth is full.

  “Don’t take such big bites,” she says, and I feel a teeny bit better. “See what a good manner Elaine has?”