I wasn’t even rebelling the day we went hiking. Mom told me to stay put on the trail, yes, but I was only thinking I’d catch up to Dad. Once I realized I was lost, I sat down to wait. I wasn’t afraid. I knew my parents would find me.
But they didn’t find me.
I waited as it got darker. As noises whispered from the brush. As a scared voice in my head wondered if maybe they weren’t looking. If maybe they weren’t coming back. I had run off. I had disobeyed. I was too much trouble. There were other girls. Other babies. Good babies. I thought of all the things I’d done that I shouldn’t have.
Climbing the neighbor’s tree to see the baby birds.
Refusing to eat green beans.
Spilling my finger paint water on the carpet.
In my seven-year-old brain, little things grew into big things. Monstrous things spreading in the dark. Fear gained such a hold on me that it’s never once let go of its grip.
After that day on the trail, I’ve never veered off the path again.
Until Anthony.
Ethan pauses in front of a three-way display showing brains in development. More worms. I check my phone. Anthony’s last text was two hours ago. Nothing new. That’s good. Maybe I can put him off for a day. Or two.
“You expecting a message?”
“What?” I look at Ethan.
“You keep checking your phone.”
“I’m not.” I slide it back in my pocket.
Ethan steps closer, frowning. “You okay, Mai? You seem different.”
“I do?”
“Distracted, I guess. You thinking about college?”
I smile inwardly. Ethan is usually really good at reading me. He was my friend before he was legally my brother. There are hundreds of pictures of us growing up. We look nothing alike, but I was too young to know that meant anything. He was my person. He showed me how to be a Senn.
A Senn, I discovered, could be anything. Everything.
Except a disappointment.
I sigh, realizing I’m going to have to tell him something. Maybe this is the time. My pulse kicks up as I say, “Some of it is that high school is over. I miss it more than I thought I would.”
“You miss Cholla?”
“Not Cholla, exactly. The people I got to be friends with.”
“You’re going to make new friends at college.”
“That doesn’t mean I won’t miss people I know now.”
“At first,” he agrees. “But give it a few months. When you go to a public high school like we did, your friends are your friends because you all live in the same school zone. But in college, you choose where you go. You’re with kids more like you. Kids you want to be with. Trust me. There’s no one at Cholla worth your time.”
His words grate on me, especially after what Josie told me. “You’re such an elitist.”
“I am.” He smiles. “But that doesn’t make it untrue.”
“Not every worthy person is an Ivy Leaguer.”
“Of course not,” he says. His eyes soften as he smiles at me. “But every person worthy of you is.”
“Well said,” Dad chimes in as he walks up, Mom beside him.
“I like knowing people who are different from me,” I say.
“As you should.” Dad nods approvingly.
Now! Do it now!
“About that—” I start, but Mom cuts me off.
“Shall we go?” she says. “Dinner should only take a few minutes to get ready.”
Dinner. That’s better. I’ll do it during dinner. As we head out, I make a promise to myself. No more putting it off.
But when we pull into our street, there’s a car in front of our house.
His car.
I shoot up in my seat so quickly, the belt catches and throws me back.
Anthony is standing at our door.
He turns when the garage door opens.
Ethan leans forward. “Dad?” he asks. “Did we hire a new yard guy?”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Anthony
She said today.
Today is nearly tonight.
I can tell by the faces of her family that Mai didn’t tell them a thing. I shouldn’t be surprised. First, the text putting me off. Then silence after my last one. But I said things last night. Asked her to be my girlfriend. She said yes. We can’t go back. I won’t go back. I’m done being her secret.
So here I am. I’m trying to hide how nervous I am, but I’m not going to hide. We have a plan. I meet the parents. We break the ice. It’s all good.
She’s the first one out of the car, walking toward me calmly, but her eyes are frantic. “I didn’t tell them yet!” she mouths.
Her parents and brother are just behind. Her dad looks like I’d expect. Graying hair at the temples. Glasses. Looks like he belongs behind a lectern with a pointer in his hand. Her mom is pretty. Smooth brown hair, summer dress, shoes with gold buckles. Ethan is thin, sandy-brown hair. Collared shirt and pressed khakis. Frown around his mouth that looks permanent from overuse.
They stop beside Mai, and she does the introductions. “This is Anthony Adams. He’s a friend from Cholla.”
“Really?” Mai’s mom steps forward and holds out her hand. I shake it and then her dad’s.
“You know Mai from class?” he asks.
“Not exactly.”
“One of her honor societies?”
“I played baseball.”
“We’re not much of a sports family.” He smiles, but his eyes are puzzled.
“Mai never missed a game,” I say. “Did you?”
Ethan shoots her a look. “Mai?”
“Josie was on the broadcast team,” she says.
I wait for her eyes to meet mine. They hover around my chin. Chicken.
“I’m also part of the Community Cares crew,” I say.
“Really?” That from her dad, who doesn’t look happy anymore. “Mai hasn’t mentioned you.”
Now all eyes are on Mai. Maybe I shouldn’t put her on the spot, but I’ve always been one of those “rip off the Band-Aid” guys.
“I was going to text you,” she says, but I hear the real question. Why are you here?
“I made you something. Thought I’d drop it by.”
“You—?” Finally, her eyes meet mine.
I pull the necklace from my pocket, let it unravel and hang. A twist of my hand and sunlight sparks off the silver chain.
Her mouth opens just before a surprised smile transforms her face.
It goes straight to my gut, lighting me up like a bottle rocket. I came up with the idea last night, spent nearly the whole day working on it. Feels so worth it right now.
“What is that?” Ethan asks.
“Bottle caps.”
“The ones from the desert?” Mai asks. She takes it carefully—not sure if she thinks it’s going to break or thinks it’s going to cut her. I spent hours sanding it smooth and soft as her skin. She turns to her family. “I’ll just be a second. You go in.”
“Nonsense,” her mom says. “We’ll all go inside. It’s a million degrees out here. Besides, I’d like to take a closer look, if Anthony doesn’t mind.”
“Of course not.” I think maybe I like her mom. I’m not sure about her dad. Now that I see her brother, I remember him from Cholla. He worked in the math tutoring lab my freshman year. He was the one you avoided because he made you feel second-rate. It’s okay, though. Her parents are the ones I have to impress.
Mrs. Senn opens the door, and I follow everyone into the cool hall. There’s a formal living room and dining room, carpet too light to risk walking on, a smell of lemon in the air. Keys and purses are dropped on a console table that’s nicer than anything in my house. Hand-carved wood and some metal inset work that I’d love to get a closer look at
.
“So you made this yourself?” Mrs. Senn asks, taking the necklace from Mai.
Mr. Senn stands beside her, and they study the design. “A snake?”
“In honor of Mai overcoming her fear.”
“You’re not afraid of snakes anymore?” Mr. Senn is clearly shocked.
“Yes, I’m still afraid. I’m just not terrified.”
“Well, that’s progress.” Mrs. Senn smiles.
Everyone is smiling, except for Ethan. I don’t know what his problem is, but I’m not going to let him rile me. I’m here to make a good impression, smooth the way for whatever happens next.
“How did you make it?” Mr. Senn asks.
“I picked up the bottle caps in the desert. There’s a shitlo—a ton of trash out there.” I shrug. “I took three bottle caps, flattened them, laid them side-by-side. I took an image of a snake, broke it into three parts and affixed each one to a cap. I welded the three onto a chain, and there it is.”
“You weld?” Mrs. Senn asks. “Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Not if you know what you’re doing. My mom made sure I took all the safety classes.”
“He’s very talented,” Mai says. “He has some other pieces he’s working on.”
“Really?” Mrs. Senn says. “This might make for an interesting Community Cares project.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” Mr. Senn is still turning the necklace over in his hands.
“You’re going to cut yourself,” Ethan says.
“No,” I say. “He isn’t.”
Mr. Senn looks up, studying me. “It really is a clever idea. I’d like to hear more about it.”
Mai looks at me, a smile in her eyes.
“We were just going to have dinner, Anthony,” Mrs. Senn says. “Would you like to stay?”
I flash a dimple at Mai. “I’d love to. I got busy with the necklace and forgot to eat lunch.”
“Well, that settles it,” Mrs. Senn says. “We can’t have you starving for your art.”
I follow them into the kitchen. My idea is clever. They want to hear more. They want me to stay for dinner. This is going even better than I hoped.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Mai
This is going even better than I hoped.
I set the table, adding an extra plate for Anthony. Anthony is here. He’s staying for dinner. It’s all so normal. It’s all so okay. Would anyone notice if I ran up to my room? Would they hear if I stood in my closet and screamed, Yes! A sock. I could stuff a sock in my mouth first.
Anthony is leaning against a set of drawers, watching. He asked Mom if he could help. Nicely done. But I want to tell him not to slouch. Mom hates slouching. Is she noticing? I’m being ridiculous; I know that. People slouch. I just want them to think he’s perfect.
Did we hire a new yard guy?
Ethan’s words run through my head again. That wasn’t fair—or nice—but it makes me wish Anthony was in a shirt with a collar and something other than faded jeans and flip-flops. It’s not as if Ethan is in a suit. He does have a collared shirt and boat shoes, but that’s what he always wears. Besides, this is Sunday dinner. It isn’t a job interview.
Except it sort of is. The job of boyfriend.
Boyfriend. I have a boyfriend. I’ve already given him the position. I just need the CEOs to agree. I don’t know how Anthony and I will work as a couple, but I want to see if we can.
I cross to where he’s standing. “I need to get in there.” I point to the silverware drawer he’s leaning against. It’s just the two of us for a minute. Dad got a phone call, Ethan was instructed to take out the three garbages (regular, recycled plastics, recycled paper), and Mom is in the pantry searching for ingredients for the salad.
He shifts and gives me a sweet smile. In a low voice, he says, “Sorry I just showed up.”
“It’s okay. I was going to tell them at dinner.” I grab a handful of silverware. “But this is better. I mean.” I meet his eyes. “It might be better, right?”
“It might be excellent. Your parents already like me, and I haven’t even broken out the good stuff.”
“Good stuff?”
Before he can answer, Ethan comes back, followed by Mom holding a package of almonds. “Any allergies, Anthony? I’m throwing together a chicken salad. It’s too hot to cook.”
“No allergies. Sounds great.”
Dad returns with a quick, “I’m sorry about that.” He takes a seat at the bar. He’s got Anthony’s necklace and pulls on his readers to take a closer look. “Very interesting.”
“Thank you,” Anthony says. “You have other questions?”
I try not to think about all the questions my dad would have if he knew the whole truth.
Ethan comes up beside me, setting glasses of water on the table. “An athlete?” he mutters.
Ethan’s never been a fan. He thought athletes got a pass at Cholla. Money that could have gone to debate club went to new uniforms for football or a new scoreboard for the stadium. He finally quit tutoring because he said athletes turned up and they were all brainless bullies.
I feel guilty now for accepting that. I didn’t know athletes then, but I do now, and the baseball guys I know aren’t like that.
“He’s a good guy,” I say.
Before Ethan can answer, Mom sets the salad bowl on the table along with a basket of multi-grain rolls. “Dinner’s ready. Anthony, you sit here.” She pulls out the chair next to me.
“Thanks, Mrs. Senn.”
Ethan sits across from us, Mom and Dad at the head. I take deep breaths while everyone fills plates with salad, rolls, and butter.
“So have you made other things?” Dad asks.
“I’ve been making stuff out of scrap for a while. This is the first thing I made out of trash.”
“One of our Community Care groups in California has been experimenting with creative ways to use water bottles fished out of the ocean.”
Anthony spears a piece of chicken. “I can see why. A bottle a day ends up in our oceans.”
Mom gives him an approving nod. “That’s right. You’re interested in environmental issues?”
“I like to be outdoors. Clean air. Clean water. Those things matter. I don’t like the way global warming is changing the desert. There’s more drought that kills off the trees, and the grasses that take their place are a fire hazard. It’s going to change the landscape.”
Mom and Dad exchange looks.
I do the same with Anthony, holding back a smile when he gives me a tiny wink. This is what he meant. He prepped for this. For my parents. To impress them. My heart expands, pushing aside my nervousness. This really can work. I can have Anthony and my parent’s approval.
“So why bottle caps?” Mom asks.
He smiles at me. “We were picking up trash for the trail project. I liked the look of the caps.”
“You liked the look of them?” Ethan asks.
“Anthony recycles all sorts of things for his art,” I explain. “He lives in the house with the metal sculptures—”
“You live in the junk house?” Ethan interrupts.
“Ethan.” Dad gives him a look.
He shrugs. “That’s what we call it.”
Anthony puts down the roll he’s buttering. “I guess it might look that way. It all started out as junk.”
I give Ethan a pointed look. Be nice! “He made all of that a long time ago.”
“So what are you making now?” Ethan asks.
The chair creaks as Anthony stiffens. “Just messing around.”
“He’s working on projects,” I say. “I’ve seen some of it. He’s very talented.”
“Really?” Ethan gives me a look. “Where have you seen it?”
I flush as I realize what I’ve just admitted. “He showed me som
e things. At his house.”
“You’ve been to his house?”
Dad puts down his fork.
“To see his art.” I look from Mom to Dad. “He’s really good. I told him about the grant program for Community Cares. He’d be perfect for it.”
“You’re interested in a grant?” Dad asks him.
Anthony clears his throat. “I’m not really sure.”
“It’s a wonderful program,” Mom adds. “You can use the money for college tuition.”
“Are you enrolling in an art school?” Dad asks.
“He’s thinking about it,” I answer. “Weighing his options.” I’m pretty sure I’m not going to like the expression on Anthony’s face. So I don’t look.
“Where have you applied?” Ethan asks.
There’s an awkward moment of silence. Anthony rips his roll in half. “Nowhere. Yet.”
“School starts in August. You haven’t applied?”
Anthony’s eyes fix on Ethan as his fingers tear the roll into tiny pieces. “Nope.”
Mom taps Ethan’s arm. “I think we’ve asked enough questions.”
Dad nods. “If you are interested in a CC grant, let Mai know and she can get you all the information. You have to submit an application and letters of recommendation, but if you want to pursue art, it might start you down the right path. In fact, I’d be happy to mention you to the person who oversees our grants. She’ll be at our fundraiser on Friday.”
Anthony rips another piece of roll. “Yeah. I heard about that.”
“It’s our biggest event of the year. We get to cheer about our people and their accomplishments.” Dad’s eyes widen as if he’s just remembered something. “I forgot for a moment you’re a volunteer. You’ll know one of our team we’re recognizing—Amber, your project leader.”
His fingers finally stop ripping. He brushes crumbs off his hands. That’s about all that’s left. “Amber is great.”
“I’m sorry our volunteer spots are all taken or you’d be welcome.”
“That’s too bad. I’d love to be there.” He shifts in his chair. “I guess I thought the Senns could get anyone in.”
How to Quit Your Crush Page 17