It's Not Like It's a Secret

by Misa Sugiura

  “Nothin’s gonna happen. No one’s gonna get arrested. Stop being such a whiny little—”

  “Don’t you say it,” Christina warns him.

  We end up getting into Arturo’s car and heading over to the 7-Eleven, but only after JJ promises not to try his new ID. The spots closest to the store are all taken, so we park in a corner of the lot, go in, and load up with chips and soda. On our way out, JJ holds his hand out to Arturo.

  “Gimme my Funyuns,” he says.

  “What Funyuns?”

  “What the fuck, bruh? I told you to get me some Funyuns ’cause I didn’t have enough cash and you owe me twenty bucks!”

  “The fuck you talking about? You never said that.”

  “I did, too, you—” JJ stops and shakes his head. “Fine. Whatever. But you owe me, so just give me the money and I’ll go get ’em myself.”

  Arturo grimaces and pulls a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket. “Sometimes I don’t know why we keep you,” he mutters as he hands it to JJ, who takes it, raises his middle finger at Arturo, and trots happily back into the store for his Funyuns. “Idiot.”

  We go back to the car and break into the chips while we wait for JJ. Jamie and I sit on the hood of the car, sharing a can of Pringles. She scoots over so that our legs are touching, and rests her hand on my knee. I have a girlfriend. She’s got her hand on my knee. In public. No big deal.

  But it is kind of a big deal. I’m split between feeling giddy with excitement and jittery with self-consciousness. I might as well post a photo on Instagram: “@entireworld, here’s me making out with my girlfriend! #lookatme #getaroom.” I glance at Christina and Arturo to gauge their reaction, but they’re starring in their very own Instagram couples’ moment—he’s leaning against the car and she’s leaning back against him, her head resting in the little hollow between his shoulder and his neck. It would be kind of romantic, except for the ginormous bag of Cheetos that Arturo is snarfing down in between whatever cheesy nothings he’s whispering in her ear.

  So, okay. I’ll try to relax and enjoy being with Jamie. That’s what couples do, right? But as Jamie’s fingers start tracing a series of loops from my knee up to my thigh, I’m afraid it will become as distracting to the others as it is to me. I put my hand over hers as a gentle hint to stop, but she misinterprets and pulls my hand around her back as she turns to me and plants a salty kiss next to my mouth.

  I can’t help it this time. I stiffen and sit straight up. “What?” says Jamie.

  “Oh. Nothing, really, it’s just—”

  “Are you embarrassed? About us?” I can’t read her expression. She’s kind of smiling, kind of not. Hurt? Confused? Amused?

  “No, I—well, kind of. Sort of. But not about us because of . . . you know. It’s more like . . .” I can’t explain it without sounding like a total prude. I almost want to say that I don’t want people knowing what we do in private, but that’s not it, either. It’s not like it’s a secret what couples do behind closed doors.

  “You don’t have to be embarrassed. Look at them.” Jamie nods in the direction of Christina and Arturo, who are now staring deep into each other’s eyes and licking Cheeto dust off each other’s fingers.

  How can I explain? “I’m just, I’m not that comfortable with—stuff like that. In public,” I say. “It just seems—” I clamp my mouth shut before the word “immodest” escapes, and I realize that Mom has taken over my brain. I cast about for a better word, but all I can come up with is “inappropriate,” “indiscreet,” and “unseemly.” “I’m sorry, it’s just. It’s an Asian thing, I guess. It’s my mom and dad. I’ve never even seen them hug each other, and forget about kissing. It just feels too private to show other people.” Wow, does that sound weak. Jamie considers this for a moment, and then nods and lets go of my hand. “Sorry. Maybe I’ll get more comfortable later. You know, like with time.”

  “No, it’s okay.” She makes puppy-dog eyes at me. “But can you just give me one little kiss? To tide me over?”

  “Oh, all right.” I kiss the corner of her jaw, where it meets her neck—chaste and seductive at the same time, I figure, and then we spend a few seconds smiling besottedly at each other. That, I can handle. Soon, with Arturo and Christina safely enveloped in a haze of lust and Cheeto dust, Jamie and I drift into a warm, hand-holding, dreamy discussion of possibilities for romantic dates in the future.

  JJ bursts out of the store and storms over to us, holding a six-pack of Dr Pepper. No beer. He dumps the soda on the roof of the car (“Watch it!” yelps Arturo) and starts griping. “He swore this ID would work here. Robert’s such a liar.”

  “Omigod, JJ, you better not—” Christina says, but JJ is already making his way toward an older couple, holding out what remains of his cash and saying, “Hey, could you do me a huge favor?”

  Christina looks like she’s going to go after him, but Arturo pulls her back. “Don’t trip. He’ll give up in a few minutes, and then we can go.” She settles back irritably into his arms.

  Five minutes and three failed attempts later, JJ throws up his hands and turns back to the car yelling, “I quit!”

  “It’s about fuckin’ time!” Arturo calls back. We’re all laughing as JJ swaggers toward us shouting abuse and trading insults with Arturo when a cop car pulls into the lot.

  “Aw, shit,” breathes Arturo. JJ morphs visibly. He hunches his shoulders, sticks his hands in his pockets, and drops the swagger in favor of a sort of shamble.

  Even here at the car, there’s a change. Jamie moves the tiniest bit away from me, and although Arturo and Christina don’t change their posture, their attention has clearly shifted away from each other. “I bet that store guy called them,” says Christina. “I knew this was gonna happen.”

  “No one gets in trouble for trying to buy beer,” I say.

  Everyone looks at me like I’ve just asked where I can find the switch to turn off the moon. Jamie says, “If the cop’s in a bad mood you can get arrested.” I think back to all the drinking stories I used to hear in Wisconsin, but of all the failed attempts to buy alcohol that I can remember, I’ve never heard of anyone being arrested or getting in trouble. People got turned down and that was that. It never seemed like a big deal.

  JJ has almost reached us when the squad car door opens and a police officer gets out and saunters over to our corner of the lot. “Shit,” says Arturo again. “Be chill.” Then he shoves Christina off him, wipes his orange fingers on his jeans, and walks out past JJ with his hand extended to greet the cop. “Good evening, officer. Can we help you?” he says brightly.

  The cop, a tall man with a paunch, too-tight trousers, and a name tag that reads D. BARLOWE, ignores Arturo and surveys the scene: me and Jamie on the hood of the car, Christina leaning against the rear door, clutching the Cheetos bag and licking her fingers, and JJ slouching by the rearview mirror. “Looks like a party,” he says.

  “We’re just hanging out with friends, you know, just snacking on junk food and soda,” offers Arturo. He points at the Dr Pepper on the roof of the car.

  “Good. Wouldn’t want to have to take you in for anything shady.” Officer Barlowe looks pointedly at JJ.

  “Oh, no, sir.”

  “Seriously,” Jamie breaks in, “we were just sitting here. Eating.” She holds up the Pringles can.

  “I’ll decide whether you’re breaking the law. Let’s see your ID, amigo.”

  Arturo pulls his driver’s license out. “See? I just turned seventeen. Had my license for thirteen months now. No tickets, no nothing.”

  I turn to Jamie, confused. She whispers, “You’re not allowed to drive other teenagers until you’ve had your license for a full year. He just wants a reason to nail us.”

  After scrutinizing Arturo’s license, Officer Barlowe returns it with a glare. Then he sniffs the air, to check if we’ve been smoking, I guess. Not getting anything, he looks around at us again, and this time his gaze lights on me. “Well, look at this—one of these things is not like
the others. What’s your name, young lady?”

  “Sana,” I croak.

  “Nice name. What is that, Korean?”

  “Japanese.”

  “Huh.” He nods. “My brother was stationed in Yokohama for a coupla years. Right near Tokyo, right? What a great city.” I’ve never been to Yokohama or Tokyo, but I nod. “No crime, real clean, people are real polite and friendly . . . Not like here.” He chuckles. I give him what I hope is a polite and friendly smile. “Japanese food, too. Love that stuff. Even sushi. Ma-goo-roh. That’s tuna, right?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You ever been to Gombei in Japantown?”

  Behind Officer Barlowe’s back, JJ is mouthing the words, “What the fuck?” which are my sentiments exactly, but I just shake my head.

  “What? A Japanese girl and you’ve never been to Gombei? Now, that’s a crime. It’s very authentic. One of the original restaurants in Japantown. They even have tatami mats for you to sit on—gotta take off your shoes and everything.”

  “Oh.”

  “So, Sana.” The cop looks closely at my face. “You look like a good kid. You get good grades?”

  Wait—what? I nod.

  “Straight As, I bet?”

  “Um, mostly. I’m getting a B in trig.” B minus, actually, but I figure it’s best to round up.

  “So what are you doing here with this bunch? You don’t look like you belong with them. They your friends?” My mouth opens and closes. And opens and closes again.

  “She’s my girlfriend,” Jamie announces, and puts her arm around my shoulder. Oh, no.

  Now Officer Barlowe laughs. “Ohhhh, I see how it is.” He addresses me again. “Do your parents know what kind of, ah, girl you’re dating?” I nod. It’s not exactly a lie. Mom knows Jamie, right?

  “Do they know where you are?”

  “They know I’m with her right now.” Which is also not a lie, so please, please, please don’t let him call Mom and Dad.

  Now he nods slowly, as if making up his mind. “I’m gonna let you and your friends go because you look like a good kid and I don’t want you to get in trouble. But you need to find yourself a new . . .” He grins and winks at me. “. . . girlfriend, young lady. You keep hanging out with these kids, they’ll drag you down, and I won’t let you off so easy next time. But there’s not gonna be a next time, right?”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “You gonna get yourself a new girlfriend? And a better crowd to hang out with?”

  What am I going to say—No? And openly defy a police officer? But I can’t exactly say yes in front of Jamie and everyone, can I? I look at my feet as the gears spin wildly in my head.

  Finally, Officer Barlowe rescues me. “Ah, you don’t need to answer, I’m just givin’ you a hard time. Making sure you’re more careful in the future. Making sure all of you are more careful in the future.” He looks hard at JJ, Arturo, Christina, and Jamie.

  Christina stares back blankly (she’s good at that), and JJ shrugs and looks away, but Arturo nods and says, “Yes, sir, officer. Thank you.” He sticks out his hand to shake once more.

  Officer Barlowe narrows his eyes and shakes Arturo’s hand. “Adios, primo.”

  As he walks away, Arturo mutters, “I’m not your primo.”

  Christina lets out a nervous giggle and says, “Ave Maria Madre Purissima, I thought we were dead!” Then she turns to JJ and says, “I told you not to try that fake ID. I told you we’d get in trouble.”

  JJ laughs and says, “Jeezus, calm down! No one got in trouble. Let it go! Why you gotta be such an old lady all the time?”

  Christina clicks her tongue—tsk—and fixes JJ with that icy stare that I’ve come to know so well. “You’ve got nothing on the line, but I’ve got a job, Arturo’s got a job, Jamie’s got her whole future. You could’ve flushed her whole fucking future down the toilet, JJ, and you don’t even care. So shut up and think about someone besides yourself for once.”

  JJ scowls at her but doesn’t say anything—just gets in the back seat of the car and slams the door shut.

  Arturo whistles, long and low. “Well, okay then,” he says, and gets in the driver’s seat, leaving Jamie, me, and Christina standing outside the car.

  In the silence Jamie says, “Christina, I don’t need you to protect me.”

  “Yeah, well. Someone has to,” she replies, and for the briefest of moments, her eyes meet mine and I get the feeling I’ve failed some kind of test.

  Jamie must feel it, too, because she glances at me before saying, “No, they don’t. And there’s no guarantee I’m gonna get in, anyway, so just—”

  “Other people might not understand what it means to you, but I do.” Another significant look at me. Then she ducks into the passenger seat and slams the door, hard.

  Jamie looks at me apologetically. I don’t know what to do—Christina’s such tricky territory—so I say, “It’s okay,” even though it’s not really.

  After a couple minutes of awkward silence in the car, JJ says to no one in particular, “Just because we’re Mexican, bruh. That’s it. Just because I’m wearing a hoodie and I got brown skin. That’s fucked up.”

  “You don’t think the clerk called the cop because of your ID?” I venture.

  “Nah. As far as he knows, we left right afterward.” JJ has a point. And that cop didn’t even pull into the lot until after JJ had given up asking other people. “Anyways,” he continues, “remember the time that security guard questioned me, and all I was doing was buying diapers for Mateo? And I was wearing my nice button-down shirt ’cause it was after church, so you can’t blame it on a hoodie, either. It’s who I am, not what I’m wearing or what I’m doing.”

  “We all know why he came over,” says Arturo. “Just be glad it ended okay.”

  “Yeah, good thing Sana came along,” Christina says. “It could’ve been worse if you weren’t with us, with your sushi and your Tokyo and all that. Did you see how nice he was to you?”

  “She’s our Asian good-luck charm,” Arturo quips. “You gotta come out with us more often.” I smile weakly. No, thanks. No way I’m risking getting stopped by cops again.

  “She’s not that lucky, bruh. I didn’t get my beer,” says JJ.

  “Shut up, JJ. No one bought you beer because you look like a thirteen-year-old with that sad little mustache,” Christina snickers.

  They go back and forth like this until we turn off Bowers Avenue and into the neighborhood, and Jamie asks Arturo to drop us off at home.

  Arturo says with a grin, “Yeah, I see how it is. You two need some”—he puts up air quotes—“alone time.”

  “Shut up,” says Jamie, but she’s smiling.

  I, of course, say nothing.

  When we get back into the apartment, Jamie wraps her arms around me and presses her forehead against mine. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I was kinda hoping it would be a little different with them tonight. I mean, we don’t usually get harassed by asshole cops.”

  “It was . . . an adventure,” I say.

  Jamie lifts her shoulders and shakes her head. Then she says, “It was going okay until then, though, right? Did you like hanging out with everyone? Aren’t JJ and Christina a trip?”

  If anything, tonight’s experience has left me feeling even more uncomfortable than before, and not just because of the cop. But Jamie looks so hopeful, and I know how much she wants me and Christina to like each other, so I say, “Yeah. I did.”

  Apparently I’m not very convincing, because she looks carefully at my face. “You sure?”

  “Hey, let’s not talk about this anymore.” I kiss her. “Everything’s fine.” I kiss her again. “I promise.” And again.

  Success. We don’t talk about it again for the rest of the time I’m at her house.

  25

  BEFORE SCHOOL, I TELL HANH, REGGIE, AND Elaine about my night out with Jamie and her friends. “But that can’t be true, right?” I ask, about Officer Barlowe with a brother who was stationed
in Yokohama. “He didn’t let us off just because I’m Asian, did he?”

  “Holy blinders, Batman. Yes, he did,” says Reggie.

  “Totally,” agrees Elaine. “Why do you think he asked you about your grades?” Ugh. I’d been hoping I was wrong about that.

  “He couldn’t have arrested us anyway. We weren’t doing anything illegal.”

  “JJ was,” Elaine points out.

  “But the cop didn’t know that. Anyways, cops don’t arrest kids for trying to buy alcohol. They have better things to do,” says Hanh.

  “See? That’s exactly my point. There was no need to worry.”

  “On the other hand, you think he woulda come over if it was us in the parking lot?” she asks.

  “Anyway, Sana, are you sure it’s a good idea to keep hanging out with Jamie’s friends?” asks Reggie. “I’ve been meaning to say something, but I wanted to give them a chance. Because like, I don’t know. Stuff like Friday night. You could get in trouble. Plus, I hear that JJ smokes a lot of weed.”

  “He can’t possibly smoke more than Andy Chin,” says Hanh.

  “It’s not the same thing,” says Reggie.

  “It’s exactly the same thing,” retorts Hanh, but I get what Reggie means. Except I’m not sure why it’s not the same thing.

  “What I mean is . . .” Reggie starts to explain, but she just trails off. She can’t seem to explain it, either. Could we be wrong?

  “I’ve been thinking we should try smoking, actually,” says Hanh, off on a new tack.

  “Oh, right,” says Reggie. “You wouldn’t even know where to get it.”

  “Elaine!” I can’t believe it.

  “What? Everybody smokes.”

  “You mean Jimmy smokes,” says Reggie.

  “Sometimes. So? There’s nothing wrong with it.”

  Reggie rolls her eyes, and Elaine crosses her arms and scowls. “Stop being so judgy.”

  “I’m not being judgy. You two just sound like a health class movie.” Reggie turns to me. “But seriously, Sana, what do you have in common with those guys? Like what do you even talk about?”