by Maurene Goo
Rose laughed. “That was some good sabotage, Shin.” I resisted the urge to create further disruption, my prank itch temporarily scratched.
“Thanks, Carver.” I found a sliding door that led us out onto the balcony, which was miraculously empty. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, I asked, “Are we a buddy-cop movie now?”
Rose took a sip of her Diet Coke, which I had managed to find for her deep in the recesses of the refrigerator. “Carver and Shin. We need to have like, moments of culture clash.”
“I’ll teach you how to use chopsticks while you fumble and curse the entire time,” I said as I leaned against the railing.
The sliding door opened then. Felix.
“Hey. You guys hiding out here?”
I shrugged. “This party is full of the most unbearable dudes.”
Felix plopped down into a dirty plastic chair. “I know. Found out it’s some band’s apartment.”
“Figures.”
“But Patrick’s interested in some guy, so I think we’re stuck for a while.” He clinked his bottle on Rose’s can. Patrick and Felix had been surprised when I told them Rose was coming, especially because they had always been integral to Project Make Rose’s Life a Living Hell. But despite the initial awkwardness, everyone was being civil.
I leaned against the balcony railing and looked over at the CVS parking lot that was adjacent to us. “Isn’t Patrick’s new boyfriend going to have a problem with that?”
Felix laughed. “Define ‘boyfriend.’”
I took a sip of beer. “Speaking of significant others, where’s Cynthia?”
“She had to work tonight.”
My stomach rumbled. “Let’s go visit her!”
Felix rolled his eyes. “She can’t give us free food.”
“Where does she work?” Rose asked.
I interrupted Felix before he could answer. “Why not?!” Cynthia worked as a server at a burger place whose theme was literally “island stuff.” And getting us the occasional free meal was one of her finer qualities.
“Her new boss is a total dick.” He glanced at Rose. “She works at Island’s.”
“Well, I’m starving and this party sucks. You guys want to go find some food?”
Felix shrugged. “Sure.”
I looked over at Rose, who downed the rest of her drink. “Okay,” she said as she wiped off her mouth. I liked Game Rose.
A few minutes later, we left Patrick at the party with the dudes and headed out toward Sunset, where I could practically smell the tacos. My favorite truck, Cielo Tacos, was only a few blocks away. On the way over, Felix spent the entire time talking about Cynthia and the fight they’d just had. I tried my best to be attentive, but honestly it took every ounce of willpower not to just say, “Dump her already.” They had the same fight every week: Felix wasn’t spending enough time with her. When in reality, his life pretty much revolved around her every move. It was tedious. If this was what being in a serious relationship was like, count me the eff out. Rose was being nice and making the occasional sympathetic comment so that I didn’t have to.
A line had already formed at the truck. As I pulled out my wallet to see if I had enough cash, a guy approached me with a flyer in hand. “Food truck competition this summer!” he said cheerfully.
“No thanks, man,” Felix said with a wave.
But I grabbed it. “Thanks.”
The glossy card read AUGUST 11—ANNUAL LA FOOD TRUCK COMPETITION in hot-pink scrawl, the text laid over a photo of swaying palm trees. Under it:
The biggest competition in town! Winner takes home $100K. ALL trucks eligible, sign up on our website. Or just show up and enjoy some choice foods and local music.
Whoa. 100K?! Pai thought opening a restaurant was far off—like after I was married with children far off. Maybe it could be much sooner.
“What’s that?” Rose asked, poking her head over my shoulder to read the flyer.
I handed it to her. “There’s a food truck competition in August and—”
“ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS?” she screamed.
People were staring at us, so I stepped in closer to her and snatched the flyer out of her hand. “Dude, have some chill.”
“Your dad needs to enter this!” she said, her voice back to normal decibel levels.
I started to nod but was struck by an idea. “What if we entered the KoBra but didn’t tell him? It would be the best surprise if we won!”
Skepticism wrinkled her forehead. “Don’t tell him? At all?”
“Yeah!” I was getting excited at the idea of hitting my dad with this kind of killer surprise. “Can you even imagine getting a check for that kind of money?”
Rose nodded slowly. “I mean, that would be so cool. And honestly, we’re good at this now.”
“I have complete faith in us,” I said firmly.
That’s when I noticed Felix staring at me. Arms folded, eyebrows raised. “What?” I asked, my arms also crossed over my chest, the tanned limbs protecting me against his judgment.
“It’s just … wow. I’ve never seen you care about your dad’s truck before.”
Embarrassment flared through me. Felix always had this way of pointing out when people were trying too hard or being uncool. I had never been on the receiving end of it before.
“So?” I pushed by him to order my tacos.
“Nothing, jeez!” He held his hands up, all “Hey, now!” I hated when he did this. Made me feel like I was overreacting when he had clearly set me up for it. Typical boy gaslighting crap.
I folded the flyer in half and tucked it into my back pocket.
When I got home that night, I opened the laptop I shared with my dad. The apartment was dark except for the blue glow of the screen.
Folding my legs under me, I knelt down on the living room rug and stared at the application form I had filled out, the cursor hovering over the Submit button. A nervous flutter in my stomach made me pause. But then I imagined Pai’s reaction when we won. How I could do something for my dad, for once. Fast-forward his dreams.
I clicked the Submit button.
CHAPTER 15
On Monday morning when I got to the commissary, Rose was lying down on the hood of the truck, sunglasses on, limbs splayed. “Good morning,” I said, tapping her foot with an iced coffee I’d bought for her.
At glacial speed, she sat up with a groan. “Morning.”
“What’s wrong?” I handed her the drink.
She took the world’s longest sip before answering. “I just had a two-hour barre this morning.”
“Two hours? That means … you’ve been awake since, like, four a.m.?”
“Yup.” She swiveled her long neck slowly, touching her ear to her shoulder, then dropping her head back to stare up at the sky. “I want to die.”
“Why do you do this to yourself?”
Bringing her head back up, she took off her sunglasses and looked at me. “I love it, I guess.”
What was it like to love something so much you woke up at four a.m. on your summer break to do it?
We got into the truck and buckled ourselves in—me in the driver’s seat as usual. Rose glanced over at me. “Oh, I forgot to ask at the party. I heard you talking to Patrick about a trip to Tulum?”
I steered the truck toward the freeway. “Yeah, a vacation with my mom.”
“Adrian’s letting you go?”
As we waited for the light to turn green on the ramp, I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. The morning was already hot, and I couldn’t tell whether the dampness under my arms was from that or from the mere mention of Tulum. I stared at the little sign that said ONE CAR PER GREEN. It felt unnecessarily aggressive today.
When the light turned green, I stepped on the accelerator with force—making the truck lurch forward. A couple of metal bowls rolled around noisily in the cupboards. “Not exactly. It’s still more than a month away, though, and I have plenty of time to prove my worthiness. He’ll have to let me go.”
Rose didn’t react.
I took a breath. “I never get to see her. They don’t get along, and I know my dad uses any excuse to undermine our relationship. He doesn’t approve of her life choices.”
Rose raised her eyebrows. “What? I doubt he tries to undermine your relationship. I mean, he’s raising you; maybe he just feels protective?”
“I know, but … it’s complicated.”
A few loaded seconds passed. Rose was one of those people who could never feign indifference; her do-gooderly intentions emanated from her pores. She said, carefully, “When did your parents get divorced?”
Divorced. That was an interesting way to put it. “They were never married. My mom left my dad when I was four.” The words came out before I could stop them. “I mean, she didn’t just, like, leave with a suitcase overnight. It was a mutual decision for them to separate.”
“Oh! Wow. That’s a long time ago.”
Weaving through traffic, I glanced at my rearview mirror before replying. “She and my dad met in high school—that’s when she got pregnant, actually. They were both eighteen.”
“Yeah, your dad looks way young.”
“He is. They met in Brazil. Making my dad Korean Brazilian. American? Not sure. A lot of things. He was born there, his parents emigrated from Korea back in the day. My mom’s also Korean Brazilian.”
Rose nodded. “Hence the KoBra’s fusion menu.”
“Right. Hence. Anyway, after my mom got pregnant, my parents decided to move to LA. More economic opportunity, fresh starts and all. They thought they’d get married and raise me here. As an American citizen.”
“Their families were cool with that?”
“Not exactly. My mom’s parents pretty much disowned her. My dad’s didn’t love it, but they couldn’t do much since my parents were both eighteen by then.”
“Wow.”
We drove through downtown, passing a solid line of bumper-to-bumper traffic on the opposite side. “Yeah. Dramatic. So they moved here, I was born, and then…” I trailed off, gripping the steering wheel. “Then, my mom went back to São Paulo before they ever got married.”
I kept my eyes on the road, but I could feel Rose’s stare. “She … moved back to Brazil?”
“She couldn’t handle LA. I mean, it was a different country, and she was a teenage mom. Could you blame her for freaking out?”
Pity unfurled from Rose like ribbons. “I guess not,” she said quietly. Even though I knew that Rose Carver, even if she got pregnant this very second, would stick to whatever plan she made until the end. But eighteen-year-old Mãe was not Rose Carver.
“How often do you see her?” she asked.
Our exit was coming up, and I pulled the truck into the right-hand lane. “It depends. She has to come to LA now and then because of her job. So that works out—I’ve seen her more in the past few years than ever. But it’s been like six months, so I really want to go to Tulum.”
“Six months! Holy crap. I can’t imagine not seeing my mom for that long,” Rose said. Then she touched my arm. “Sorry. Not judging.”
I pulled the truck onto the off-ramp. “No worries, I didn’t take it that way. I know my family’s not normal.”
She laughed deeply. “No one’s family is normal.”
I drove into the office plaza. “Get out of here, your family is so blessedly normal.”
After I parked, Rose got up and stood next to me. “Thanks for sharing that.”
I took my seat belt off and fiddled with it for a second. “Um, you’re welcome. And, hey. That was fun at the party. I’m glad you came out.” We had worked together on Sunday after the party but hadn’t talked about it yet.
“You’re welcome,” she answered primly. We made eye contact and cracked up.
“I mean, really I should thank you,” she said. “As you can tell, I don’t go out that much. I just spend so much time with my family. I forget I can go and have like … friends?”
I shook my head. “Sad.”
“More fodder for our YouTube channel.”
“You really need to stop saying things like ‘fodder.’”
After counting out the change in the cashbox, Rose opened the order window. She glanced outside, then did a double take. “Whoa. Look at Hamlet today.”
I peered over her shoulder. He was doing his usual embarrassing acrobatics with the sign. But he was dressed up. Wearing slim-fitting navy pants, a light blue button-up, and a gray-and-white striped tie. A tie. In ninety-degree weather.
“Who died?” I wondered out loud.
Rose elbowed me. “Rude. Also, he’s wearing blue, not black.”
“Yeah, but … why would you wear that?”
Before she could answer, Hamlet dropped the sign onto the grass and jogged over to the coffee cart. He ducked down away from view and then popped back up, holding two drinks.
I found myself smoothing back my hair as he walked over. Something about him looking so snazzy made me feel like a bag lady.
“Hey, Hamlet,” Rose said cheerfully, taking her drink from him. I reached for mine, too, and my fingers brushed against his. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, his eyes meeting mine for a second. I blinked and took a huge gulp of my iced mocha.
Rose looked at us, eyes twinkling. Oh no. She took a sip of her drink. “So, you look nice today.”
Hamlet looked down at his outfit and put his hands on his hips. “Oh. Yeah? Thanks.”
“What’s the occasion?”
He looked up at me first, then looked back at Rose. “Well. Funny you should ask.”
My mouth went dry.
“One second!” he said, then ran off toward the coffee cart again. Rose and I looked at each other in confusion.
He came back with his hands held behind him. Rose and I stared. After an eternity, he cleared his throat. “Clara.”
Rose’s eyes widened when she looked at me. I choked on my mocha. “Yeah?” I finally managed to squeak out.
He whipped out a bouquet of flowers and held them up toward the order window. “Will you let me take you out on a date this weekend?”
For a second, all that existed was that bouquet of light pink roses. Fragrant, extravagantly wrapped in pink-tinted cellophane, tied together with a thin white grosgrain ribbon.
Then I felt a poke in my arm. I blinked and looked up to see both Rose and Hamlet staring at me.
There was no way. I mean, this was Hamlet. No matter how cute the dude, he was not someone I would date. Like ever. I opened my mouth, ready with some kind of nice but firm rejection, when Rose kicked my ankle, out of Hamlet’s view. Her eyes were threatening to murder me.
Jesus.
Hamlet was starting to sweat. He wiped his forehead with his crisp shirt sleeve. And that little gesture softened something in me.
“Sure.” The word slipped out so easily that I almost gasped. I accepted the bouquet of flowers.
Nervousness instantly gave way to pure sunshine and rainbows. Hamlet grinned, his sharp canines sparkling. “Okay! Awesome! Here’s my number!” He slid a scrap of paper over to me. It was creased and soft, as if it had been sitting in his pocket for a week. “Let me know what day works for you!”
Someone coughed loudly behind him, and Hamlet turned around to see a line of customers. “Oh! Okay, see you guys later!” Then he high-fived the guy behind him and ran off to his coffee cart.
I held the bouquet in my hands and glared at Rose. “Not a word.”
She laughed and started taking orders.
CHAPTER 16
By Saturday afternoon, I had bitten my nails down to nubs. Hamlet and I had agreed to have dinner, and for some reason I was nervous.
Nervous for a date with Hamlet Wong. Like, what was happening, universe? One, I’d been on many dates. No big deal. In my experience, guys hardly took the time to swipe on deodorant, so why in God’s name should we sweat it? I barely bothered shaving my legs.
Two, this was Hamlet. I wasn’
t even into the guy. Biggest dork I knew second to Rose, and he’s crushing on me, therefore this date would already begin with my having the upper hand.
And yet.
Because Rose and I had the day off, it was one of my dad’s solo shifts on the truck, and I was whiling the morning away in front of the TV with Flo grooming herself in my lap. Continuing my life’s goal of watching every episode of Supernatural, the show that would not die.
My phone vibrated with a text from Rose: What are you wearing tonight?
I looked down at my sweats cutoffs and black tank covered in Flo’s hair and Doritos crumbs.
Probably what I’m wearing now
I took a selfie with Flo and sent it to her.
Is that the same tank top you wear every single day?
How dare you this is my weekend tank
Isn’t Hamlet taking you somewhere nice? You need to wear something cute for once in your life.
Cat hair necklace doesn’t qualify as cute?
Sure, if you want to die alone.
That pretty much is my dream
I cackled and ate another handful of chips while she took a few seconds to text back.
Do you want help picking out your outfit?
Just say it—you’re bored and need something to do
Actually, I’m wrapping up this meeting for the Future Leaders of Los Angeles and could head over after grabbing some clothes from my house.
Shaking my head, I texted back: Come over then
* * *
Rose arrived on my doorstep holding an armful of clothes.
“What is all that?” I asked as she stepped inside.
“Clothes befitting a first date,” she said, her voice muffled by the pile in her face. She kicked off her strappy cobalt blue heels and dropped the clothes onto an armchair, making Flo jump.
At the sight of Flo, Rose let out an ungodly squeal and dropped to her knees. “Look at the kitty!” she said in a voice I had never heard come out of her mouth before.
Flo stared at her from under the coffee table, not blinking, her striped tail flicking to the side.
Rose beckoned her with clucking sounds, holding out her fingers. “Come here, kitty!” She glanced up at me, as I stood dumbfounded. “I wish we could have a cat, but my brother’s allergic.”