by Maurene Goo
Yep, going to let Rose handle this question. Ever the politician, she smiled and chirped, “Oh, no, he thought we were ready to try this on our own. You know, trial by fire and all!”
He threw his head back and laughed. Heartily. Like someone had told a joke, except no one had told a freaking joke.
Rose hopped out of the truck to walk up to him. As they talked, I rolled my eyes and put on my KoBra shirt and hat.
Then I heard an exclamation from Rose. “Wait a second, are you on Arcadia Prep’s debate team?” She was pointing at his T-shirt, which said, in a big nerd proclamation: ARCADIA PREP DEBATE. She grasped his upper arm in excitement.
I stuck my head out the window.
He dropped the sign and grasped both her arms. “Yeah! Wait, you’re that captain from—”
“Elysian High!”
And for some reason that elicited a huge bear hug from Hamlet. I felt a stirring of jealousy that startled me. Pardon, why was I jealous about this?
But watching the two of them lose their collective mind over recognizing each other from dorky-ass debate club definitely made me feel funny inside.
“You were so awesome at the semifinals this spring!” Hamlet said with both his hands held up in front of him in this bizarre way. I kept staring at him. Who or what was he reminding me of …
Rose giggled, and he looked at her with this toothy grin, his canines glinting again.
Canines.
Yeah, still reminded me of a Lab. His hands were held up in front of him, torso-height. Waiting for his treat.
Why did I find him attractive?
Watching the two of them wax poetic about debate club made me realize that I was being a total loser getting jealous purely because Rose was flirting with him. That was it.
I opened the order window and whistled sharply. “Rose! When you two debate dorks are done, maybe we could actually get to work?”
Rose glared at me, but Hamlet, of course, was unfazed. In fact, he trotted over to the truck. All that was missing was a Frisbee in his mouth. “Hey, Clara.” He fixed his big eyes on me, dark lashes contrasting sharply against his skin. “So you guys go to the same high school, right?”
I slammed the cashbox onto the counter. “Yup.”
“Not on debate team, though?”
“Literally would rather die.”
He guffawed. If dogs could laugh, their laugh of choice would be the guffaw. “So, what are you into, then?”
I looked at him, cocking my head a bit. “Why?” I could see Rose stalking toward us, clearly annoyed that Hamlet was talking to me.
“Why not?” And there was something so matter-of-fact and weirdly intimate about that, almost a challenge. Daring me to be earnest in my answer. It didn’t help that he was looking straight into my eyes with unnerving openness.
“I’m into walks on the beach, cupcakes, and kittens.”
He laughed again, that guffaw. His incredibly straight, white teeth gleaming. “You’re so funny.”
I pressed my lips together, holding back laughter and a cutting remark. Because, to be honest, I had no idea how to react. Who says that?
“No, but really. You don’t do anything?” he asked.
It was a rude question, but the way he asked it was so genuine. Or confused. Or something. And I felt like there was this giant spotlight on me that I wasn’t ready for. Nobody ever asked me what I did at school. I was the class clown. Good for a laugh, and the leader of my merrymen, Patrick and Felix. But in the truck, all of that felt little. Not important.
“We have a customer coming,” Rose said, shoving me away from the window.
I wiggled my fingers at Hamlet. “Bye.”
He blinked. “Bye!” Then he bounded over to his spot on the corner.
Rose glanced at me. “Looks like someone has a crush.”
I almost dropped the pitcher of water I was holding. “I don’t have a crush!”
She shook her head. “Who says I’m talking about you?”
CHAPTER 11
Somehow Rose and I managed to get through our entire first day without a single fight. There was an incident where I hit her head by accident and she hit me back, but that was fine. I could tell it was just instinct.
Also, we were both exhausted. Running that truck with just the two of us was no joke.
At the end of the day, we both lurched out of the truck, one of the commissary lights flickering on and off in the dark lot. Rose lifted her arms and stretched them above her head like a little ballerina cake topper.
I rubbed one of my Docs onto my bare leg, scratching a mosquito bite I’d somehow acquired while inside the truck for eight hours. “Maybe since we didn’t kill each other today, my dad will come back tomorrow.”
Rose pulled out her phone, not even looking at me, the light of the screen making her face glow eerily. “Yeah.”
All right, then. I gritted my teeth and was about to start my walk home but stopped when I saw a couple of guys walk by—shrouded in shadow, walking slowly, appraising us as they did so. I stared at them. I see you. And they kept walking. When one of them looked back at me, I kept my gaze steady. Creeps.
I sighed and turned around. “Do you have a ride home?”
She tried to look nonchalant, but I saw her glance down at her phone again, agitated. “Um, yeah, I mean my mom was supposed to be here.”
“So you’re gonna wait here alone?”
“Aren’t you going to walk home alone?” she immediately countered. Her bravado would have been more convincing if she hadn’t checked her phone again.
I pulled my sweatshirt tighter around myself. “Yeah, but this is my neighborhood, I know how to deal.” I paused. “Plus, my dad makes me carry pepper spray.”
Rose pulled something out of her shorts pocket and held it up. Mace.
I laughed. “LA kids.”
“We know all varieties of pervs,” she said with a wry smile. I smiled back, and then we looked away from each other.
I could hear her take rapid shallow breaths again. And this time I wasn’t so sure if she was breathing like that to get control—it didn’t seem in her control at all.
“I’ll wait with you, then.” Before she could respond, I crouched low to the ground, my feet flat, my butt just an inch or so off the cement, pulling out my phone to avoid looking at her.
“How are you sitting like that?” Rose asked, bending over to look at my feet. “You’re using your ankles as a seat!” She tried to copy me, but when she reached a certain depth, she fell over, landing on her butt.
I tsked. “See, even though you can touch your head with your toes, only Koreans can do this squat. It’s called the kimchi squat for that reason.” Obviously, any human could do this squat, but I liked goading Rose.
She scoffed. “Give me a break. You’re making that up.”
“Try it again.”
Rose squatted down, but had to balance on the balls of her feet, so her butt was still a good foot off the ground rather than the near-hovering mine was doing. I could sense her concentration, her thighs strained in the awkward position.
“Ha! I’ve found the one thing Rose Carver can’t do.”
She stayed balanced. “We’ll see about that.” Looking down at her feet she said, “Also, it’s true, I really didn’t think you’d get suspended.”
I almost fell over. “Are you apologizing?”
She laughed, an unexpected response that further startled me. “No, actually I’m not. Hasn’t anyone told you that it’s annoying when girls apologize all the time?”
“Good one.”
“Also, don’t think I’m stupid. I know that’s why you’ve hated me and made my life as awful as possible since then,” she said.
I shrugged, still crouched. “You deserved it.”
“I admire your endurance.”
“Thanks.”
There were a few seconds of silence, a gusty wind kicking in. Rose steadied herself, and I looked at her. “That was only the first time
I smoked, you know?”
That little wrinkle between her eyes showed up again, and she shook her head.
“This is lame, but I only did it because I decided I wanted to rebel.” I didn’t know why I was even saying this. It was like something needed to fill in the gap between being annoyed at someone for narcing and my relentless poking over the years. “A few weeks before that, my parents had this huge fight about me. As you’ve noticed, my parents aren’t together anymore. My mom travels a lot for her job, so my dad’s got sole custody.”
Rose nodded.
“Anyway, my mom wanted me to take a break from school to travel with her, and my dad flipped. I was really pissed. I wanted to be with my mom, but, I don’t know. I also knew it wasn’t right, really? Anyway. The smoking. It was something I could control.”
The wind made the trees around us creak. “I’m sorry, that sounds stressful,” Rose said after a few seconds, giving me a tiny smile. “I know I apologize a lot. But maybe it’s not a bad thing. Maybe it’s considered a bad thing because it’s something girls do a lot. Maybe it’s actually something nice that keeps the world humane. It’s a gesture.”
Huh. I nodded. “Yeah. It’s not always bad. And … thanks, I guess.”
Headlights flooded the lot.
“Rosie! Sorry hon, Jessie’s snake went missing!” Rose’s mom yelled out the driver’s side window of the sleek luxury SUV.
Rose sprang up, graceful as ever even on the verge of falling over. “Oh my God, Pizza went missing?” she yelped. “Did you find him?”
Her mom’s hand fluttered out the window. “Kind of.”
Disturbing. I got up, too. “See ya.”
“Where are you going?” Rose asked.
I looked around. “Home?”
“We can give you a ride home,” she said stiffly, the headlights shining behind her, her figure a silhouette.
“I live six blocks away; it’s fine.”
She shrugged. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Uh, ominous much? I knew this walk, nothing would happen to me. As I skirted by the car, Mrs. Carver honked and I nearly flew out of my skin. Rose’s mom stuck her head out the window again. “Get your butt in this car, Clara!”
I scrambled over and hopped into the back seat.
* * *
My dad’s feet greeted me when I walked into the apartment—bare and propped up on the sofa arm. The rest of him was hidden under a fleece LA Galaxy blanket, his hands and phone sticking out. There was a lump near him that was, unmistakably, a comatose Flo.
I slammed the door shut, making Flo yowl and causing our clock from the dollar store to rattle. It was orange and plastic and uggo beyond belief, but my dad had a fondness for it. I knew he liked it precisely because it was ugly. My dad had a sick need to adopt and foster rejected and unwanted things. We’d been at the register when he spotted it in the sale bin. In case it wasn’t obvious, the sale bin at the dollar store was seriously like the crème de la crème of sadness.
What a pair we made.
“How’s my darling daughter?” he called out from his reclined position, not even lifting his lazy head.
“Wonderful.” I grabbed a carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream from the freezer. But there was only a small scraping left—with a fine layer of frostbite on top. “Pai! Can’t you be on top of ice cream duty for once?” I said as I emptied it into the sink.
“You only talk to me to yell at me?”
Our stupid faucet had the water pressure of a gentle breeze, and it took forever for me to rinse out the carton before tossing it into our recycling bin. “Yeah, that’s what you deserve.”
Pai sat up on the sofa and looked at me, his arms draped over his bent knees. “So, it went just as terrible as I suspected?”
I leaned against the sink and looked at him. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m not totally incompetent.”
“Good to know. So you guys did okay? You didn’t text anything but barnacle photos.”
Heh-heh. “You’re welcome. And yeah, it was fine. I don’t know what you thought was going to happen.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe a fire.” Flo wriggled out from the blanket and stretched before making her way over to me.
I bent down to scoop her up, kissing her white-dipped front paws. “Well, there was just that small grease fire.”
“What!”
I laughed, making Flo squirm out of my arms. “You’re off your game.”
My dad harrumphed, settling back into the sofa. “Don’t forget to tally how much you made in the Google doc.” The KoBra had a Google doc shared between Pai, Rose, and me. Whoever was in charge of cash was supposed to fill in the day’s total profits.
“Rose handled the money, so she’s going to do it.”
“Well, good job, Shorty. I’m proud of you for not killing each other and not burning the truck down.”
“Such high expectations.” I picked some cat hair off my shirt. “I feel like Rose has some issues that might explain why she’s so annoying.”
Pai adjusted his reading glasses and looked a little concerned. “Like what?”
“I dunno. Something. She’s a little too stressed out all the time. And holding herself to some impossible standard.” I yawned. “Anyway, I’m gonna take a shower. I smell like a walking barbecue.”
As I headed upstairs with Flo close at my heels, my dad shouted out, “How was Hamlet?”
I stalled on the stairs. What was with everyone and Hamlet? “He’s fine, why?”
“Just curious.” The silence that followed was so heavy with insinuation that you could cut it with a pastry knife.
CHAPTER 12
Hamlet greeted us with iced lattes a few days later when we were back in Pasadena.
It was already ninety degrees out, and I grasped the cold drink gratefully. “Thanks.”
Rose looked at the cup he was holding out with mild trepidation. “Um, thank you. But did you use whole milk?”
Hamlet glanced down at the drink, assessing it. “Yeah. Uh-oh, are you lactose intolerant?”
“She’s delicious intolerant,” I said before taking a nice, long swig from mine.
Rose shot me a dirty look. “I’m a dancer. I have to watch what I put into my body.” She looked back at Hamlet apologetically. “But it’s okay! I can just drink it.” When she brought the straw to her lips, it was almost in slow-mo, her reluctance clear in every micromillimeter of movement.
I grabbed it out of her hands. “For Pete’s sake! I’ll drink it. Hamlet, please make her something else.” Sometimes Rose was such a contradiction—a bulldozing boss one minute, and someone fretting over hurt feelings the next.
But then, look at who was the object of her worry.
Hamlet’s strong shoulders shrugged in his form-fitting mint green T-shirt. “Not a problem. Why don’t you tell me what you want?” As the two walked over to his coffee cart, I watched them with irritation.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Felix: Pool today?
FOMO seared through me. Last summer, I had spent almost every day poolside with Felix and Patrick, reading crappy magazines at a community pool no one else seemed to know about. It cost two dollars for the day and always had hot lifeguards. Summer was usually sweaty make-outs, sunscreen, and sneaking into air-conditioned theaters.
Now it was about Rose Carver and grilled meats.
I had leveled down hard-core.
Working
Felix texted back: Ditch it
Normally, I would. But when I glanced up at Rose and Hamlet, two earnest little citizens, I didn’t feel like it. There were actual consequences with my dad if I ditched this time. And I needed to do a good-enough job to make it to Tulum.
Can’t. Don’t get sunburned on your scalp again.
I slipped my phone into my back pocket and tightened my apron. Time to get this party started.
When Rose got back to the truck, she was holding an iced black coffee.
“You live a joyless existence,” I said as I stirred the rice in the pot, making it nice and fluffy. There was nothing worse than matted-down rice. She ignored me and sipped her drink in one long, loud drag.
The office park run went astonishingly well. I slipped easily into the cooking zone. Soon I knew how to get the lombo to the perfect crispness level and how many pickles to scoop out so that the juices didn’t run into the rice. I was surprised by how little I hated this. Rose chatted easily with the regulars and grew adept at both taking orders and getting the food out at the pickup window.
When we were getting ready to wrap up the stop, Hamlet moseyed over to the truck again.
“Slow day?” I asked as I wiped down the counters.
He smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he propped his arms on the low counter where people could place their plates to eat, cradling his chin in one hand. “Yeah.”
He was just looking at me at this point. I stopped and stared at him levelly. “So, are you a gymnast or something?”
“A gymnast?” An adorable puzzled expression appeared on his face for a second.
“Yeah. You do all those flips and stuff.”
A grin stretched across his face, quick and easy. “Oh! No, I used to do a lot of martial arts and stuff as a kid. But now I mostly box.”
Totally out of my own control, my face flushed. I found this inexplicably hot. “Who boxes anymore?” I sputtered. “I mean, like men from the 1970s wearing sweatpants maybe.” What are you saying, Clara.
But this made Hamlet crack up. Head thrown back and everything.
Rose popped up next to me, outta nowhere. “Where do you train?”
“At this gym in Chinatown.”
“Cool! Do you compete?”
A little modest shrug. “Yeah.”
To my surprise, Rose scrambled out of the truck and hopped over next to him on the pavement. “Show me some moves!” She held up her fists comically, a huge grin on her face.
It was cute, and I wanted to barf.
Hamlet laughed and stepped toward her, hands reaching out. “Is it okay if I touch your arms?”
WAS IT OKAY TO TOUCH HER ARMS.
She nodded, keeping it cool.
“Are you right- or left-handed?”