by Farrah Penn
“No, that’s not it,” I say. “I was hoping to visit her.”
Alex’s thick brows furrow in confusion.
“In the library. For tutoring,” I clarify.
“Oh, for sure. I’ll let her know you plan on stopping by.”
Relief eases inside my chest. “I feel like I’m drowning in that class.”
“She can help. Like I said, she’s the only reason I’m able to understand my homework.”
I appreciate that he’s not making fun of me. “I sort of let my grades slide when I was in Portland. I can’t afford to do that this year. Not if I want to go to a decent college.”
This captures Alex’s attention. “Where are you thinking of going?”
I toss another empty can in my bag. The truth is… I’m not sure. Ever since I’ve been back, all I can think about is attempting to fix this odd situation. I know I can apply wherever I want, but there’s a tiny, insecure part of my brain that wonders if I should go away to college. What’s my dad going to do? And what if he relapses and I’m not there to help this time?
“I don’t know. Things at home are… kind of weird.”
Whoa. Where did that come from? I’ve already admitted this to Lin, but she’s one of my best friends. Maybe it’s because of the way he’s looking at me. His eyes aren’t full of the sorry sympathy I was used to receiving from people. I can tell I have his full attention and it feels, I don’t know… nice?
When I don’t say anything else, he goes, “This probably doesn’t help, but my home life has been weird, too. It was just Marlina, Ana, and me last year, but then Marlina left for college and my two little cousins from Mexico moved in.” He tosses an empty cigarette carton in his bag. “One is eight and the other is five. They just started at Cedarville Elementary, but they’re really struggling with English.”
I thought moving to Portland was a huge change. I can’t even imagine moving to an entirely new country where I don’t even speak the language.
“That must be hard.”
“Tell me about it.” Alex scoops up another crushed beer can. “I’m used to being the youngest, so having two little kids in the house is kind of nuts. There isn’t much room for them. Emilio—that’s my five-year-old cousin—has to share a room with me. And he wakes up a lot crying for his mama. My mom feels bad because sometimes it’ll happen a few times a night, and then there are some mornings where I help her out with the restaurant…” He glances over at me. “Sorry. I’m talking a lot.”
“No.” I don’t want to discourage him, but it does explain why he’s looked run-down in class most days. “Why are your cousins here? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Their dad needed surgery, and my aunt couldn’t properly take care of both him and the kids. So my mom said they could spend a school year here.”
“That’s nice of her.”
“It is, especially since she already takes care of us. It’s why I don’t mind waking up early to help her out with the restaurant.” Alex wipes his forehead on the sleeve of his shirt. “They’re in ESL classes, but I’ve also been giving them extra English lessons every night. Emilio is picking it up faster than Jose, but they’re both making good progress.”
I catch myself smiling. This is the Alex I’ve always known, the guy who’d do anything for family even when he didn’t have to. It’s nice that he hasn’t changed.
I glance back down to the mess before us, then I take a deep breath. “It’s been weird being home, to be honest. My dad is like… this completely different person. But I don’t know. I know he’s really trying. For me. And for himself. But things are just—they’re not the same.”
Shame finds its way to the pit of my stomach. I haven’t even told Lin that much about my dad, so why is it so easy to confide in Alex?
I look up to find him staring at me. “For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry.” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “You didn’t deserve that.”
I used to hate it when people would tell me that they were sorry about what happened. It wasn’t their fault my dad spiraled. But it was something people said because they didn’t know what else to say. Somehow it feels different coming from Alex. It’s sincere, not like he’s throwing words into the wind.
It almost makes me want to tell him about my overcrowded house. About Peach and Saylor and Nonnie and all the changes that I’ve had to experience in the last few weeks. I so badly want someone to agree that it’s a messed-up situation. For a second, I almost tell him.
But I don’t.
Because, well, what about my twelve steps? I’ve been doing so well, especially with things that aren’t on the list. I’ve been invited to an actual social event this weekend—even if it is a party thrown by Breck. Things are slowly beginning to come together like they were before. That’s all I really want. To be close again with all my friends and not worry about coming home to my dad binging.
If I tell Alex the truth about the recoverees, there’s always a risk of it somehow getting back to Margaret. It happened at the intersection incident when I told Lin, who told Jay, who told Jay’s mom, who then told Margaret. And while I know that was a dire situation, I still can’t risk her thinking that my dad letting the recoverees live with us is unusual behavior. I know it’s not. He hasn’t even been near alcohol, but still… if she somehow found out, I don’t think she would hesitate shipping me back to Portland with Aunt June until my home life became more stable.
I trust Alex. I do. But I can’t take that chance.
Alex grabs something from the ground. “Did you lose something?”
He’s holding up a sock. It’s filthy, but it’s also patterned in tiny pineapples.
I feel my mouth curl into a grin. “You remember.”
“Oh, c’mon,” Alex says. “You wore that pineapple scrunchie every day of fourth grade—”
“Not every day!”
He shoots me an incredulous look. “And on your birthday, you’d bring in pineapple cupcakes with cream cheese frosting that your Grams made.”
I can’t believe he remembers that. When I turned fifteen, Jay had his mom make me a German chocolate cake, even though it was his favorite dessert. I pretended to like it anyway, but the texture was dry and tasted crumbly in my mouth.
I watch him toss the dirty sock in his trash bag. “Well,” I finally say. “Whoever lost it has good taste.”
We both work in silence for a few more minutes before I proclaim that I need a water break. We walk over to the cooler together. I pull down one of those paper cones and fill up.
When I turn around, I see Alex yanking off his T-shirt. His brown skin is smooth, uninhabited by freckles or birthmarks or scars. But that’s not what captures my attention. No—it’s the toned curves of his back muscles. The taut slopes of his shoulders.
I suddenly can’t move. I’ve gone completely catatonic.
It’s clear Alex got taller, but this. This is not the wiry fifteen-year-old I remember.
Water accidentally dribbles down my chin. My hand flies to my face, and I brush it away before he can see.
Alex wipes the sweat off his forehead with his T-shirt. I step aside so he can get to the water jug, but I’m suddenly self-conscious. I’ve practically sweated all my makeup off, and I can feel pools of it on my hairline. I must look like a complete greaseball. And—oh, no. Did I put on deodorant? I must have, right? Will he notice if I do a sniff test? He will. Don’t do it, Kira. I take a tiny step away from him just in case.
Alex moves the water cup away from his lips. And now I’m looking at his lips. I’ve noticed his lips before, but not the shape. How the bottom sticks out slightly farther than the top. I imagine they’re soft lips. Kissable lips.
Wait, what?
WHAT is happening?
I must be having some sort of heatstroke. Can the heat make your hormones flare up? That’s why they call it flare up, right? That must be it. The sun is the sole cause of my suffering. But I can’t leave, because then Li
n would kill me. I have to find a way to make it stop.
Without thinking, I toss the rest of my water in his face.
Before he can react, I pick up my trash bag and run back toward the west side of the lake. What is wrong with me? He’s going to think I’m unhinged. But a second later, I hear footsteps coming in fast. It’s Alex. Trying to catch up. When I glance backward, I’m relieved to see he’s smiling. Oh, good. So maybe he doesn’t think I’ve completely lost it.
Then I notice that he’s still carrying his water cup.
When I stop under the grove of trees, he slows his pace. I’m thankful to see he’s pulled his shirt back on. I can’t handle any more distractions right now, and I cannot, cannot be attracted to Alex Ramos.
Because, well, aren’t I holding out for Jay?
I watch him lift the cup over his head, coming closer to me.
I hold my hands in the air. “Truce?”
He just smiles. “Why don’t we make it even?”
Before I have a chance to run, Alex tips his cup. Ice-cold water soaks the top of my head and runs down my neck. Well, good. Maybe this is just what I need to nip my temporary loss of control right in the bud.
He laughs. I laugh, too. “You suck.”
Alex only shrugs, but he looks proud of himself.
We spend the rest of the time picking up trash and talking about trivial things. He argues that the second season of Crime Boss is the best, but I think the fourth is the clear winner. We take turns trying to imitate Mrs. Donaldson’s nasally voice and wonder if Cedarville’s new football team will be good enough to go to state this year, which leads us to discussing our favorite concession foods. (Alex prefers hot dogs. I prefer nachos.)
We don’t talk about his text.
I know I can easily bring it up, but I can’t seem to let the words form on my tongue. He deserves to know I got the message. Yet every time I consider opening my mouth, I remember how it felt when he told me he was going to Sadie’s with Lacey. The unexpectedness, like losing your footing in front of a large crowd, was mortifying. Bringing up his text from so long ago only for him to stumble out with “Oh! That. Yeah, I don’t feel that way now” is something I don’t think I’m ready to hear.
Maybe, maybe I’m afraid of being denied by Alex Ramos again.
When our time is up, we walk back to the picnic table. Our steps fall in sync together. It’s nice. Peaceful. I take a moment and stare up at the sky.
“I used to wish my eyes were blue,” I say. “I’d tell my dad I wanted them to be the color of the sky. Brown is boring.”
“Nah, I like brown.” Alex’s gentle gaze falls on mine, making my heart race unexpectedly. A beat passes. Then another. “It suits you perfectly.”
SIXTEEN
I HAVE UNINTERRUPTED TIME IN the bathroom as I get ready for Breck’s party Saturday evening. We won the game against East Meadow yesterday, which put us all in a great mood. Raegan didn’t even complain about Breck’s party once.
I pull on my new cream-colored top, wrap my hair into a messy bun, and because I’m feeling festive, I slip into a pair of strappy wedges and slather on a bold, red lipstick. For the first time in weeks, I feel good. Confident.
When Alex gave me a ride back after the cleanup yesterday, I was tempted to ask if he was coming to Breck’s party. In the end, I didn’t. I knew it wasn’t exactly his type of thing. At least that’s what I tell myself. The honest part of me knows it’s because Jay will be there, and perhaps I don’t want to admit my feelings toward Alex are slightly complex.
I still don’t know what came over me yesterday. I blame the heat.
I grab my purse and keys from my nightstand. I’m a few feet away from the stairs when Nonnie whirls around the corner, Wallis at her heels. When he spots me, he begins to pounce toward me.
“Stay!” I shout.
Wallis turns his wet nose to me, then back at Nonnie. He flumps his butt on the ground.
I let out a breath.
Nonnie takes in my attire. “Oh my, where are you going?”
I didn’t expect to run into anyone as I was leaving. Earlier I told my dad that a few of us were going to hang at Breck’s house and that, yes, parents would be home. Other than having to check in twice, either by text or by call, he was okay with it. The less he knew, the better.
“A friend’s.” I don’t elaborate.
Nonnie grins. “There’ll be boys at this party?”
I fold my arms. “I said I was going to a friend’s.”
“Oh good lord, child. I was born at night, but not last night. Just be careful of those young fellows. At your age, they don’t exactly think with their brain, if you know what I mean.”
Wallis gives a resounding woof! as if he’s a part of this conversation.
I slide by her, antsy to leave already. “I will.”
I blast my music loud as I make the short drive to Breck’s house. It’s a beautiful, cloudless Texas night with the slightest stirring of a breeze. The stars are bold freckles on the sky, brighter than I remember them being in Portland. Once I park, I grab my purse and head inside.
Surprisingly, the party is pretty low-key. There can’t be more than three dozen people here, including a majority of the boys’ basketball team. I say hi to a few girls I know from the Wavettes as I step through the doorway, moving past a small group chugging from red Solo cups.
I spot Colton first. He’s wearing a black skull T-shirt with his headphones around his neck, and he waves when he sees me.
“Glad you showed,” he says, and I notice he’s traded his green braces bands for black ones. “Whitney and Lin are outside.”
I almost say a quick thanks and leave, but I remember my list and the fact that he’s number 9. Colton and I were never close, but we were friends. I don’t want to dismiss him so quickly.
“How’s band practice going? Don’t you have a show coming up?”
He looks surprised that I remembered. “Actually, yeah. Two Fridays from now at the Pit. You should come.”
“For sure,” I say. Even though Colton’s music isn’t my particular taste, I still want to support him. “Let me know?”
He grins. “Rad.”
I turn toward the sliding doors and head into the backyard. This is Breck’s mother’s pride and joy. A few summers ago, she built a wooden porch with an overhanging terrace. Fairy lights are strung above it, giving the patio a soft, magical vibe. The rest of the yard consists of perfectly manicured grass and an abundance of strategically placed planters, pots, and patio furniture.
Lin grabs my attention first. “Kira!”
I wave, then head over to the farthest corner of the porch where they’re standing. Whitney’s armed with a plastic cup and a lazy smile. She’s wearing a navy dress that enhances her cleavage in what has to be a purely intentional way. Lin stands next to her wearing a Peter Pan–collared blouse that’s patterned with cherries, paired perfectly with a black skirt. She has on her signature purple cat-eye glasses, and a bright-pink color is slathered on her lips.
Even though Whitney is adamantly disinterested in rekindling our friendship, I’m still determined to make things right between us.
“Are we being antisocial?” I say, gesturing to the exclusiveness of the corner.
Whitney brushes a piece of stray hair away from her face. “We’re avoiding Jay. He’s being a dick.”
My eyes widen in surprise. Not only because she directly answered my question, but at her blatant insult toward her boyfriend. I look to Lin for clarification.
She sighs. “He had Jennifer buy them beer.”
“He knows I don’t like her!”
“Wait,” I say. “Who’s Jennifer?”
Whitney takes a long chug of her drink.
Lin sighs. “Jennifer White? She hangs out with that other girl, you know, Jessica?”
Oh. Right. The college girls who are “obsessed” with Jay.
“Then she hung around for like, thirty minutes,” Whitney says. “You
should have seen her. She was all over him, and he was eating it up.”
I’m surprised at how much she’s confiding in me. I think back to my list. Maybe we’re actually making progress. But then she swigs what’s left of her drink and I realize that must be the source of her sudden chattiness.
I’m not a prude when it comes to alcohol. Back when we were freshmen, Whitney would insist on going to house parties she heard about from sophomores. I always preferred more cranberry than vodka in my drinks, but I never got wasted. And when my dad’s addiction became increasingly worse, I lost interest in drinking. With everything I’d been through with him, it didn’t seem worth it.
She shakes her empty cup. “I need a refill,” she declares, then walks back inside.
I want to get more details from Lin, but before I can she turns to me. “Want to go in?”
I shrug, so we do. Breck has his Spotify playlist blasting in the kitchen, so almost everyone is sitting in the living room so they can talk without shouting. From across the room, I see Whitney has propped herself up on a beige love seat next to Breck, who polishes off the rest of his beer. I don’t see Jay, which is weird. He was never one to disappear at these kinds of things. He likes the attention too much.
“How are decathlon practices going?” I ask Lin.
Her eyes find Breck on the love seat. “You know, not terrible. Breck is pretty smart—but don’t tell him I said that. His ego is big enough already.”
“Massive.”
“Right! At first, I thought he was only in it for the scholarship money if we win—which, I mean, I think we all are in some way. But I genuinely think he enjoys it?” Her voice heightens at the end. A question. “Anyway, the rest of the team is happy with him, too. We may have a solid chance at winning state this year.”
“That’s great,” I say, and I mean it.
“It is,” she agrees. “Hey, I miss this. One-on-one time, I mean.”
Relief eases through me. It feels good to have one of my best friends back.
“I do, too.”
“You should spend the night soon. Like old times.”