Alex laces his fingers through mine, and I jog with him to the side of the building. When we get to the most visually obscured area, Alex throws his arms around me and spins me around a second time. Both my hat and sunglasses fly off thanks to centrifugal force, but I don’t care. This time when I float back down to the earth, I leave my arms wrapped around his neck.
“Good luck.” I glance around before I give Alex a G-rated kiss.
“How can I go wrong? I’ve got my lucky charm tonight.” Alex pulls me in tighter and kisses me deeper. At least until we hear whooping behind us. Alex smiles, but I can practically hear the clanging of my barriers coming up. Three guys in Scorpions baseball uniforms jog by us, harassing Alex as they go.
“Ignore them. I do.” Alex leans down and scoops up my hat and sunglasses. “At least now they have solid proof that you exist.”
“I should go.” I scramble to get my hat and sunglasses back on. “Make your Mom proud tonight.”
“Pretty sure I could just stand on first base, and Mom would burst into tears.” Alex squeezes my hands. “Now my abuela, she knows her baseball. She even played on her high school’s softball team back in the day. Make no mistake, when we go visit her, she will have my favorite tres leches cake along with notes on my performance tonight.”
“Good luck.” I lean in and kiss Alex one last time.
“Good luck to you. You’re the one who has to be Switzerland. I’ll meet you out front after the coach releases us tonight. Then, ice cream.” Alex puts up two fingers. “Two scoops because we are living on the edge tonight.”
I feel like such a baby. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. We could go pick up garbage on the side of the road for our date, and I’d still look forward to it.”
“SANTOS!” the coach yells when he comes around the corner. He puts a hand on Alex’s back and pushes him toward the field. “Save it for later. We have a job to do.”
At first, I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to find Alex’s family in the stands. Yep, not a problem. Just look for the thundercloud. I shuffle down the heavily bedazzled and decorated side of our row until I get to the other half of the row, who look like they just left their corner offices.
“Hi, you must be Alex’s abuela.” I stick out my hand to the black-haired woman wearing a pantsuit and strand of pearls. “I’m Dakota.”
“I know. We’ve been watching your TV show.” Abuela Santos firmly shakes my hand. Her son, who is talking to somebody on the phone, reaches over and does the same.
Mr. Santos leans down the row when he gets off his business call. “Where is Enrique, Sherri?”
“He opted to stay home,” Mrs. Santos says.
“You let him stay home alone?” Abuela Santos says with alarm.
“He’s twelve. He’s fine,” Mrs. Santos snaps.
“He should be here to support his brother.”
“Well, it’s too late now.”
The still-light crowd goes wild as both teams take turns on the field warming up. It’s an unseasonably warm late afternoon in Phoenix, but our bleacher row threatens to freeze over. I pretend like I don’t notice Alex’s parents repeatedly checking out what the other is doing.
I have a lot of gifts, but singing is not one of them. When we stand for the national anthem I slide my cap off and mumble-sing the words. Abuela Santos is a better singer than the soloist who cracks the money note.
“You have a beautiful voice,” I say when we sit back down again.
“Thank you. Alex does too. I wish he would come back to church and sing with us again like he did when he was little. Back when he still lived at home.”
“¡Mamá, no empieces!” Mr. Santos says, like they’ve had this discussion a million times.
The game starts, and everyone’s attention turns to the field where Alex plays first base. Thanks to my dad and a gym class unit, I know the basics of baseball. Unfortunately, I would rather lay tiny pieces of tile in my dad’s intricately designed pattern for three hours than watch it. At least, in the end, I would have something to show for it. I fake my way through the game, clapping when Abuela Santos does and adding a “Go, Santos!” to whatever she yells. I’m not sad when the older cousin, Sabrina, who is as bored as I am, climbs into my lap with her mom’s iPad. We play a couple of rounds of Candy Crush before she’s tired of that too. I have never babysat anybody in my life, so I’m at a loss.
“Ummmm. Want to take silly pictures?” I pull out my phone and open the app.
“Yes, Alex and I like the doggy face.” Sabrina snatches the phone out of my hand and swipes to the dog-face filter like a pro.
While we wait for Alex’s turn to bat, Sabrina and I do the dog face, a bubbly mermaid, swap faces, and even do the femme fatale one before Abuela Santos taps my leg with her perfectly manicured hand.
“It’s Alex’s turn,” she says.
Sabrina isn’t happy when I take my phone from her. I flip the camera around to take a few pictures of Alex and some video.
“Oh oh oh!” Abuela Santos levitates off the bench as the ball Alex smacked sails back toward the outfield.
“Awww!” Our whole row says in unison when the other team catches the ball, and Alex is out.
Somewhere around the halfway mark of the game, they stop for Senior Night. Alex’s parents—going in opposite directions down the bleachers—head down to the field. You could drive a Mack truck through the gap between them as they wait on the side with all the other senior parents, along with a few grandparents and siblings. When the guys come off the field, Mr. Santos steps up to his son first, giving him a short, tight handshake pulled into a hug. You can read Mrs. Santos’s annoyance all the way over here. When it is her turn, Mrs. Santos gives Alex an overly demonstrative hug and kiss on his cheek. The seniors take the field, and the announcer gives a quick bio about each of them. I clap politely.
“Get ready to cheer for Alex,” I say to Sabrina, who is playing Candy Crush on the iPad again.
“Number Seven, Alejandro Santos, Jr.” Alex hooks his elbows with his parents and walks down the middle of the field. Someone hands Mrs. Santos a flower. “Alex is the son of Alejandro Santos, Sr. and Sherri Gordon-Santos. First baseman for the Scorpions for the last two years, Santos boasts a batting average of .352. Next fall, he will attend Duke University in North Carolina and major in business.”
Abuela Santos’s “Qué?!” blends with my “What?!”
In tandem, Mr. and Mrs. Santos snap their heads to look at Alex. Unfortunately, it’s probably that WHAT?! picture that the professional photographer gets before the announcer moves on to the next player. I have to give them credit, Alex’s parents keep it together until the ceremony is officially over and they are back in the stands, again coming from opposite directions.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this, Sherri?” Mr. Santos leans forward and hisses down the row.
Mrs. Santos wipes at her eye makeup and hisses back, “Because I didn’t know about it, Alejandro.”
“I thought he was moving back home with us and commuting to ASU,” Abuela Santos says to her son.
“No, he was going up to NAU. They offered him a bigger scholarship,” Mrs. Santos says. “I never thought he was serious about Duke.”
“Did you know?” Abuela Santos looks at me, deep wrinkles forming on her forehead.
Mr. and Mrs. Santos stare at me too. The fight or flight response that once saved my cavewoman ancestors from sabertooth tigers kicks into overdrive. My heart races, and my chest tightens. I tuck my shaking hands under my thighs.
“No.” My voice squeaks. I take a deep breath to steady my voice. “No. I knew he applied to Duke and was wait-listed, but I didn’t know that he’d gotten in.”
I’m not sure if I wish Alex would have shared this truth grenade with me before the game or not. And then there is the whole “Now what?” with our relationship since he has one foot out the door.
“Oh, we are going to have a family meeting about this after th
e game,” Mr. Santos says, punctuating his sentence with a swear.
Derek, who has wisely been seen but not heard the entire game, leans in. “Hey, watch your language. This is a family event.”
“You don’t get to lecture me, Derek. That is your name, isn’t it? I can’t keep up with all of Sherri’s boyfriends.”
Derek stands up. Mr. Santos stands up. I fumble to get my phone out of my pocket. I am so out of here. Before my shaking fingers can pull up Dad’s contact, Abuela Santos says something sharp in Spanish and jerks her son by the hand until he sits down again. It takes both Mrs. Santos, who is red-faced and teary, and her sister to get Derek to sit back down.
Sabrina looks from one man to the other and says in a gleeful voice, “Oooooh, somebody’s gonna get a timeout.”
I’m not the only one who laughs.
“Hey, man.” One of the other baseball dads sitting behind us puts his hand on Mr. Santos’s shoulder, and leans into him.
Whatever he says calms Mr. Santos down. Mr. Santos sits quietly with his hands in his lap for the rest of the game without further commentary. Derek lasts for about another ten minutes before he informs Mrs. Santos loudly that he will wait for her in the car. My shaking finger hovers over Dad’s contact icon. Abuela Santos must notice because she puts her hand on my back and leans into me.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and I nod.
I’m not going to say it’s okay, because it’s not. It’s raw and heated and emotional. I don’t like any of the above. I’ll give it five more minutes. If I can’t get the sound of blood surging in my ears to stop, I’m out. My phone buzzes.
LEO
OMB! They’re having a Kitsune Mask panel at Hebi Con this August. Wanna go?
ME
Can you get off work again after being gone for 3 weeks?
LEO
If Ava Takahashi is coming … I will find a way. I wonder if she signs body parts. Then I can get a tattoo of it.
ME
No. Just no. I’m talking from experience here.
LEO
Life-size poster?
ME
Yes.
LEO
Question: Do I siphon money off my Japan trip fund now or wait to buy a ticket the weekend of the con?
ME
Neither. You let your BFF buy the tickets now as an early birthday present.
LEO
ME
C’mon! It won’t be the same if we don’t go together. This way, I have a wingman, and you get The. Best. Birthday. Present. Ever.
LEO
*twisting my arm* Okay. Alex won’t mind?
My heart clenches. Will Alex even be here in August, or will he already be thousands of miles away, starting his new-and-improved, drama-free life in North Carolina? And where does that leave us?
ME
It’s fine.
I do a quick search online to find the complete boxed set of Kitsune Mask so that I can have Ava Takahashi sign it at the con. I’ll save it until New Year’s when I can give it to Leo as the perfect present. I slide deep into my bubble, thinking about the con and Leo’s face when he goes full fanboy over Ava Takahashi. My heartbeat slows, and my hands steady. I’m finally feeling peaceful again when Sabrina suddenly launches herself at me.
“BYEEEEEE!” Sabrina yells into my face before giving me a big hug.
“Oh, hey, yeah, sorry. Bye.” The game ended without me noticing.
Mrs. Santos has a passed-out Lily draped over her shoulder. She reaches her hand back for Sabrina. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you home.”
Sabrina attaches herself to my arm instead. “No. I want to stay with Dakota.”
“Ummmmm.” I know how to break off stuck tile. I do not know how to break off small children. “I’m going out for ice cream with Alex after the game.”
Womp womp. Wrong answer. Just as Sabrina turns to her aunt to whine about how she wants to have ice cream with Alex too, Abuela Santos turns to her son and says, “You said Alejandro was coming home after the game. I made a tres leches cake and everything.”
“He is,” Mr. Santos says definitively.
“He’s not,” Mrs. Santos says, her voice rising. “Alex is going on a date with Dakota as he planned.”
I pull my baseball cap down lower and curl in on myself. The whooshing in my ears starts again. I close my eyes and attempt to pull up an image of Leo meeting Ava Takahashi.
“Hey! Stop it!” I look up to see a scarlet-faced Alex standing on the other side of the fence. His hands clench into fists at his sides.
Tears well up in Sabrina’s big brown eyes. “Don’t be mad, Alex.”
“He’s not mad at you, Sabrina.” I stand up and take her by the hand. “Or me. Let’s go wait for Alex out front.”
My heart continues to pound as Sabrina and I make our way down the bleachers, but I also feel a surge of power. I’m not retreating from the situation. I’m choosing to walk away. There’s a difference.
To their credit, Alex’s parents—still standing a Mack-truck width away from each other—don’t say a word when Alex finally jogs over to us a while later with his bag slung over his shoulder. He plops down on the curb between Sabrina and me even though he’s still wearing his white baseball pants.
Sabrina stops digging in the pothole at her feet and looks Alex squarely in the eyes. “Are you still mad, Alex?”
“Yes, but not at you.” Alex’s voice is gentle as he reaches over to fix the lopsided bow in Sabrina’s hair. “Thanks for coming to my game tonight. Did you like meeting my … girlfriend, Dakota?”
“We took doggie pictures together.” Sabrina snatches the phone out of my hand.
When I unlock my phone for her, a text from Leo fills my screen.
LEO
I love you!!!!!
Shoot me now.
“That is not what it looks like,” I say as Sabrina goes into my camera roll to find one of the silly pictures I saved of the two of us. “Leo is thanking me for getting us tickets to an anime con this fall.”
“Uh-huh,” Alex says as Sabrina goes past our last silly picture, landing on the one that Leo and I took on Wednesday of us making Kitsune Mask–inspired “fox fingers” next to our faces, which are way too close to each other for platonic friends. Like, Leo’s still slightly chubby cheek is pressed into mine because he’s smiling so big.
I snatch the phone back from Sabrina. “I’ll send our mermaid one to Alex so you can see it anytime you want.”
Alex’s aunt pulls up to the curb and lowers the passenger side window. Lily continues to snooze in her booster seat in the back.
“Great game tonight, Alex,” Auntie yells out the window. “We are so proud of you, baby. I know you have plans tonight, but let’s have a family celebration soon. Come on, Sabrina, we need to head home.”
Of course, Sabrina is not on board. “I want to spend the night at Aunt Sherri’s.”
“Not tonight, baby. We can get you a Happy Meal on the way home for a late dinner, though.”
“C’mon, BriBri.” Alex stands up. When Sabrina doesn’t follow, he scoops her off the ground, swings her around, and throws the giggling little girl over his shoulder.
Alex’s aunt rolls down the back window after Alex gets Sabrina hooked into her booster seat. Sabrina blows us kisses out the window as they pull away. When Alex turns back around, the smile slides off his face.
“You are not going to North Carolina,” Mr. Santos says.
“It’s too far away, baby,” Mrs. Santos says and then balks at agreeing with her ex-husband.
Abuela adds something that also doesn’t sound supportive, only in Spanish. Alex looks at me. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know if I’ve even been a part of the picture long enough to have earned an opinion.
“I would miss you,” I figure is a safe bet.
But instead of comforting Alex, his eyebrows furrow even more. “Would you?”
The texts from Leo.
“Let’s go get some ice cre
am and talk about it.” I don’t want to air my dirty laundry in the middle of a high school parking lot.
“I’m sorry, but your date is going to have to be rescheduled.” Mr. Santos pulls out his phone. “I’m happy to pay for a Lyft to take you home, Dakota.”
“You don’t get to dictate Alex’s life, Alejandro,” Mrs. Santos says. “He chose to live with me for a reason.”
The sound of blood rushing in my ears returns as the argument heats up. I jump to my feet and pull out my phone. Nobody notices when I walk toward the front of the school while texting Dad.
ME
Change of plans. Can you pick me up?
DAD
Everything okay?
ME
Sorta. I’m fine. Family drama happening.
DAD
Be there in five.
“Dakota!” Alex runs up next to me. “Hey, I swore I would call your dad if people were acting inappropriately. I didn’t realize it was going to be my own family. Let me drive you home. We’ll even hit Culver’s drive-through for a double scoop in an attempt to save this date from being a total dumpster fire. And I want a rain check.”
“So, you believe me about Leo now?” I have to ask because I don’t want to get my hopes up for a rain check if it is never going to happen.
“Do I have a choice?”
“Yes. I told you about Leo pretty much on day one. We’re best friends, but that’s it. You met his girlfriend. You saw how they are together. It’s a wonder we didn’t get kicked out of Golf Land for the amount of PDA that was going on between them.”
“I know. It’s just hard because he gets so much more of your time than I do. There you go—the truth. I’m jealous of your best friend and wish he wasn’t a guy. Especially a straight guy.”
“While we are being honest with each other, when were you planning on telling me about North Carolina?”
“Once I finally decided on whether I was going or not. As of right now, I’m about ninety-nine percent ready to hit the commit button. Tonight.” Alex waves his hand back toward his family, still arguing on the sidewalk. “For obvious reasons.”
“What about us?”
Alex slides off his baseball cap and runs his hand through his hair. Air puffs out his cheeks as he thinks. “You could come to North Carolina to visit me.”
Faking Reality Page 22