by Misa Sugiura
“Um-hmm.”
“You look like cow, chewing so much.”
I swallow the pork and the guilt goes right down with it.
After dinner, I change into my-slash-Janet’s black T-shirt with fluttery cap sleeves and hide the red halter in my bag. Elaine and I parade in front of Mom to show off our outfits and to make sure she’ll recognize them when I text the fake photo later. Then I pull an Anderson XC fleece on top.
It’s ridiculous how cool it gets at night here. Sunny and seventy-five degrees all day and suddenly fifty-five at night. Totally unreasonable. There’s no point in wearing anything nice if you don’t want to freeze to death, I think, and then I laugh. Since when is fifty-five degrees on an October night freezing? I’ve turned into a real California girl.
At seven twenty, Elaine and I head out the door and I say, “Itte-kimasu!” It’s essentially a promise to come back: “I go and I will return.”
“Itte-rasshai,” replies Mom. “Go and then return.” Same thing. It’s a send-off, but also an expectation: “You’ll go, then come back, and I’ll be waiting to welcome you home.”
I think about Mom sitting at home alone, waiting to welcome a man who lies to her and a daughter who (kind of) lies to her about what they’re doing when they leave the house. The guilt reappears and starts to turn circles in my chest this time, like it’s getting ready to lie down and settle in for the night.
“No,” I say aloud, startling myself and Elaine.
“Huh?”
“Oh, uh. Nothing.”
I set a brisk pace, to clear my head and hopefully leave the guilt behind. Elaine totters along beside me in cute but clearly uncomfortable high-heeled sandals, complaining about how fast we’re going and how much her feet already hurt. I wonder if Jamie’s there yet. I think about the sexy top stashed in my bag and shiver a little. I can’t wait for her to see me in it.
Right after the ID check, we have to stand in line before we’re allowed into the gym. “The D and A line,” explains Elaine. “For like, flasks and joints and stuff.” We scan the crowd while we wait, and Elaine asks me about sixteen thousand times if I see Jimmy anywhere. “Do you think he’ll like my outfit?” comes in a close second. I can’t tell her, but I know just how she feels. Finally we reach the front of the line. Mr. Van Horne, the vice principal who everyone calls Mr. Van Horny behind his back, greets us with a toothy grin.
“Well, good evening, ladies! Don’t we look lovely tonight?” he booms. “Time to check our purses!” And he holds out a pair of hands like grizzly bear paws. There’s a paper bag on the table behind him, full of what I assume is confiscated contraband. “I know I don’t have to worry about you Asian girls,” he chuckles, “but I have to check anyway. Rules are rules.” Elaine hands her bag over and he sticks an enormous paw in and stirs it around. “Oh, ho!” he cries. “What have we here?” And he starts to pull out Elaine’s new top.
“That’s in case I have to change,” Elaine says, flipping her hair. “You know, like if someone spills something on me?”
“Don’t change, you’re perfect just the way you are,” replies Van Horne with a smarmy wink and gun hands. Blech. “You’re always so well prepared. Well, all done. Let’s have ourselves a fun but safe evening, ladies!”
“Asshole,” Elaine mouths at me as Van Horny addresses the next kids in line. Once we’re out of earshot, she says, “It pays to be Asian, but still.” And also, just yuck.
Elaine and I hustle into the bathroom to change. Off comes Janet’s T-shirt, on goes my red halter top. Janet’s borrowed T-shirt fits into my bag, but there’s nowhere to put my cross-country fleece. Tying it around my waist looks dorky, wearing it defeats the purpose of the halter top, and leaving it somewhere is just asking to get it stolen. “Wait ’til Reggie gets here, then put it in her van,” suggests Elaine. “Hey, you can take my shirt, too. And our bags.” We survey the edges of the gym for a table where Reggie can find us. Which gives us a good excuse to crowd-scan for Jimmy. And Jamie.
It doesn’t take long. Jimmy is hanging out on the opposite side of the gym in a group that includes Janet and Andy. “C’mon!” Elaine grabs my hand and we take off on a very uneven journey across the gym floor. Elaine alternates between a wobbly saunter and a mincing trot in her strappy heels, with her desire to appear sexy, cool, and collected clearly battling her desire to sprint right over to be near Jimmy. As we saunter-wobble-mince our way across the floor, I catch a glimpse of Jamie, already dancing with a clutch of her friends. Darn. They probably don’t want me there. Why does she always have to be with them? Her hair is out of its usual ponytail and cascading down her back. She’s got on black skinny jeans, flats, and a peach-colored Y-back camisole top with a plunging neckline. She looks gorgeous.
I would stop and stare at her but a) I have to look where I’m going, b) I don’t want anyone to get suspicious, and c) Elaine is tugging on my hand and urging me toward Jimmy and the others. So I keep going and sneak peeks in Jamie’s direction whenever I can, pretending that I’m just looking around to see who else is here. We finally reach the group and after a round of hugs and “Omigod, look at you, sexy/hottie/cutie!” we settle in. Pretty soon, Reggie and Hanh arrive, spot us, and hurry over. “Holy shit, you would not believe how hard it was to get my mom out of Sharon’s apartment!” complains Hanh, and she and Reggie launch into The Saga of Getting Rid of Hanh’s Mom. I smile and nod along, but I’m only half paying attention because now that I have a little time, I’m watching Jamie more closely. Wow. She’s a great dancer. I mean, she can move. How am I going to get over there? Maybe I can lead everyone onto the floor and we can dance in a group near Jamie’s friends. At least I’d be closer to her then. I watch her as she shakes her hips in a way that makes me want to walk right over and—
“Sana! Yoo-hoo! Earth to Sana!” I come back to the conversation with a jolt. Reggie is waving her hands in front of my eyes and calling to me, and the whole table is laughing. “Who are you looking at?” asks Reggie, staring in Jamie’s direction.
“Oh. No one, really,” I reply, shrugging, but Reggie raises her eyebrow at me.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes! Who’s there to look at? It’s just Jamie and her, um—”
“Punk-ass gangster friends,” interrupts Hanh. “C’mon, you guys, let’s dance!”
“Jamie’s friends are gangsters?” That makes me a little nervous.
Reggie shoots Hanh a sharp glance and says, “No.”
“C’mon, I was just kidding,” says Hanh. “Besides, I’m allowed, cause I’m half-G.”
Reggie and Elaine roll their eyes and drop their stuff on a chair, motioning me to do the same.
Some of the guys hang back, talking to each other, and Hanh shouts at them, “Watch our stuff!” As I follow Hanh out onto the floor I wonder if her comment about Jamie’s friends being gangsters is worse than Christina’s about all Asians being smart. And half-G? What does that even mean?
It’s only a couple of songs before Elaine grabs my arm and drags me and Reggie protesting back to the table, where Jimmy is babysitting our bags and my fleece. “Reggie, can Sana borrow your key and put our stuff in your van?” she shouts over the music, and then, as if she’s just noticed him, she does a double take and her Bambi eyes get even bigger. “Jimmy! What are you doing sitting here? Come and dance with us!”
Jimmy gets up and follows Elaine back to the group, and Reggie hands her key over to me, rolling her eyes. “Omigod, I can’t even. It hurts to watch her throw herself at him like that. But she’s always been that way. It’s like she can’t help it.” We watch Elaine twisting and posing in front of Jimmy, who’s doing the boy-shuffle dance and looking amused and a little uncomfortable.
“She’s terrible.”
“Yeah.”
“At least she’s up front.”
“You can say that again. All up front.”
“How does she do it? I mean, where does that come from?”
“It’s probably easier if you’re litt
le and cute like her. She never has to worry about what she looks like, you know? Same with Hanh. Look at her—she’s so skinny and pretty.”
We watch Hanh, who looks like a fashion model, flipping her hair like mad and stealing glances at everyone to see if they’re looking at her.
“What was that thing she said about being half-G?”
“Hanh? It’s because her dad used to be a gangster.”
“Shut up.”
“No, I’m serious. Her dad was in one of those Vietnamese gangs, and her mom . . . I don’t know. Had bad judgment. Don’t tell her I told you, but her parents got pregnant with her by accident. It’s probably why they got married.”
“No.”
“Yeah. They eventually got their shit together, but her mom didn’t finish college. She came here when she was in middle school and couldn’t speak a word of English, and by high school she was in all AP classes and she was going to be an engineer, but she’s just a lab tech now. And Hanh’s dad went to junior college and ended up in IT support. I mean, it’s a good job, but it’s not a master’s degree and start-up stock options like his mom wanted. I think that’s why they’re extra strict, ’cause they don’t want her to screw up like they did, you know? And her grandmother blames her mom for getting pregnant—how messed up is that? No wonder Hanh hates her. I would.”
“Wow.” So would I.
“Right? I bet that’s why she acts the way she does, with the makeup and the clothes and everything—to piss off her grandma.”
“I guess you can’t blame her,” I say.
“Right? I’d probably do the same thing. They better watch out, though, because one day she’s gonna go too far, I know she will.” Reggie continues, “My parents met in college here, so I have it easy, relatively. As long as I get decent grades, they let me do a lot more than some other parents. . . . Anyway, enough family drama. Here, take my stuff, too, okay? Thanks.”
I walk out of the gym with my arms full of purses and my fleece. After being in the gym even for half an hour, the night feels refreshing rather than cold, and it feels good to breathe air that doesn’t smell like sweat and floor wax. I think about Hanh’s parents and their mistakes—this whole other life that happened before she even existed, and now Hanh has to pay for it. It’s so unfair. I wonder if Hanh really will go too far and get herself into some kind of trouble one day, and it occurs to me that maybe this is why Reggie seems to have appointed herself to be Hanh’s über-conscience.
A few kids are smoking weed in a dark corner of the parking lot, but otherwise the lot is empty. No reason to be nervous, but I’d rather not be out here all alone in the dark, so I hurry over to the van and climb in quickly. I figure the safest place to stash our stuff is in the back—if anyone breaks into the van, they’re not going to waste time fumbling around under the backseat.
Which is what I’m doing when someone knocks on the side of the van and says, “Hey!” I whirl in terror. But even as my momentum sends me stumbling backward, the initial jolt has dissipated enough for me to place the voice, and by the time I’ve fallen on my butt I know it’s Jamie.
“Jeez, Jamie! You scared me to death!”
“Sorry,” she says, peeking into the van. “I didn’t mean to. I saw you come out here and I just wanted to see what you were doing.”
“I’m putting some stuff away so we don’t have to deal with it in the gym.” I get up and finish shoving everything under the seats.
“Nice ass, by the way.”
“Shut up.” I twist back around to face her, embarrassed. But also, I have to admit, feeling a little like Yes!
“Hey, can I come in?”
“Sure.”
I take a seat in the way back and she climbs in and sits down next to me. I steal a glance at her and I’m overcome by how perfect she is—her brain, her poetic soul, her grit, her too-trusting heart . . . her hair . . . her eyes . . . her skin . . . that clingy . . . low-cut . . . camisole top . . . draped over the swell of her breasts. . . . And she likes my ass. And now here we are, alone.
Oh, God. Okay. Just be cool.
For a few seconds we just sit there, perfectly still, in the dark. But while the outside of me is sitting stiffly on the seat, my insides are going haywire. My mouth is dry. My stomach feels like all its little stomach molecules have come apart, and I think I can actually feel the individual atoms quivering against each other. My heart is pounding so hard, I’m worried that Jamie might see it beating through my shirt.
“So,” she says.
“So.”
“So . . .” Jamie takes a big breath, holds it, then lets it out. “Hey, remember when I was at your house last Friday?” I nod. Now my lungs have jumped on the bandwagon and I can barely breathe. “Right? Well. I feel like. Like we were . . . on the verge of something. You know?” She pushes a stray lock of hair away from my face and looks at me with those liquid brown eyes, and my heart picks up even more speed. I nod, yes, I know what she means. Do I ever. “So I was wondering if maybe we could . . . see what happens next.”
The world narrows down to just us, just her in front of me, just her face, the dimple on her chin, the tiny mole on her left cheek, her eyes, her lips. I’m already leaning toward her, my hand is already on her knee, my face is already so close to hers, our noses are almost touching, but I whisper, I whisper as if I don’t know the answer, “What happens next?”
“This.”
And then her lips are on mine and they’re soft and sweet and they taste like apricots, and then she stops and we look at each other and all I want is more, so I kiss her back and she kisses me back and it’s quiet and soft and electric and sparkling all at once, and Jamie opens her mouth a little, and I open mine, and our tongues are touching, our teeth are clicking against each other, and then her hand is on my waist, and then on my hips, and my thigh, and I can feel her breath on my ear, her lips on my neck, and I want to be closer, closer, closer to her, so I lean toward her and she pulls me down with her and then my whole body is pressed against her whole body and it feels like she’s fulfilling a wish I’ve had all my life and I want this to keep going forever and ever and ever and ever.
Finally, I lift my head for a moment to look at her, and she smiles at me, and I smile back. In fact, I can’t stop smiling.
“Wow,” she says.
“I know.”
“I’m so glad this is happening.”
“Me, too.”
And then we’re kissing again. And it’s amazing. We spend a little longer making out, hands in each other’s hair, stroking each other’s skin, hips, shoulders, arms, legs. I swear, it’s the best feeling I’ve ever had. Ever.
But I’ve only just come out here to stash my fleece and our purses, and the van door is still wide open for anyone to peek in and get a free show, so eventually we have to stop. I fix my hair and Jamie wipes the traces of her lipstick off my lips, cheeks, and neck, making sure to nip my earlobe while she’s at it. Then she reapplies her lipstick and lip gloss, shakes her hair out, and lifts my hair up and plants one final kiss at the nape of my neck, which makes me shiver up and down.
We lock the van and float back to the gym together. No one will suspect anything because we’re already friends from cross-country. But as we walk through the parking lot and past Mr. Van Horne and Mrs. Lowell (“What were you two up to out there?” “I just had to put my bag and stuff in the car.” “Oh, right. Well, you two are good girls. Go on back in.”), and as we head into the gym and onto the dance floor, I feel as if it must be obvious to anyone who sees us that we’re now much more than just friends. As if the energy between Jamie and me is lighting up the space around us, sparkling and shimmering. As if Jamie’s kisses are glowing under the black light like silver on my skin, every imprint of her lips as clear as if she had left the lipstick on. I must look different. I certainly feel different. Light. Ethereal. Sexy.
Then Jamie bumps up against me and puts her arm around my waist and an icy wave of self-consciousness splashes over me.
The sparkles and shimmers vanish and I’m suddenly aware that we’re back in the real world of high school. “Come dance with me,” she whispers, sneaking a kiss behind my ear. My stomach lurches. What if someone sees her?
“Uh . . .”
“Hey, Sana! Where have you been?” Reggie comes rushing up out of the dark. She sees Jamie at my side and a look of confusion crosses her face. “Oh. Uh, hi, Jamie.”
I take a little step away from Jamie and say, “Hey, what’s up? I stashed all our stuff.” La-la-la, easy-breezy, I wasn’t just making out with a girl in the backseat of your minivan.
“Sana, I was starting to get worried. Didn’t you get my text?”
Text? I start to go for my pocket but then realize that I’ve left my phone in my bag. Which might explain why I didn’t see the text. That and the fact that I was busy having an epic make-out session with Jamie, which no one must ever know. I take another step away from Jamie and pretend to check my pockets.
“Oh, shoot. Sorry. My phone’s still in my bag.”
Jamie breaks in abruptly. “Hey, I gotta go. I’ll uh, text you later, ’kay?” she says, and waves and plunges into the crowd. As I watch her walk away, I swing back and forth between wanting to leap back into her arms and kiss her again, and thinking, Whew, she’s gone.
Reggie watches her, too, then cocks her head and asks, “What took you so long out there, anyway?”
“Nothing!” I say, maybe a bit too emphatically, because Reggie’s eyebrow shoots up. “I—I put the stuff away and on my way back I ran into Jamie and we just hung out and talked for a while because it’s so freaking hot and smelly in here.”
“Talked,” she repeats, giving me some serious side-eye.
“Yes!”
“Hmm.”
“What?”
Reggie shrugs, still looking at me sideways. “Nothing, forget it. Well, come on—we need to find Elaine and do an intervention. I’ve tried to drop a few hints, but she won’t listen. She’s like a leech. Plus she thinks she’s Beyoncé, and she’s so, so not, and I just can’t watch it anymore.” Reggie gestures toward Elaine, who is now whipping her hair around in circles and thrusting her tiny hips back and forth like a maniac for Jimmy’s benefit.