When Hallie sits down next to me at lunch, eyes puffy and red from crying, I know it’s about to be a long twenty minutes.
“Nav,” she sniffs, wiping her nose with a crumpled tissue. She’s got that hangdog look of a kicked puppy. “I need you to kill someone for me.”
“Anytime, babe.” I put my half-eaten PB&J away, because I can already feel this is gonna be a counseling session. Luckily, the cafeteria is so loud and choked with students that no one will hear us. “Peter?”
I scan the crowd of high schoolers at the haphazard collection of round tables, but I don’t see his limp, greasy hair anywhere. Not that Hallie’s arrogant ex would be caught dead in the cafeteria with the normies. He’s probably eating in the library to make himself look broody and smarter than he actually is. I was always thankful for that; at least I didn’t have to see his dumb face while I was eating lunch. I already have to guard our table like a rabid Chihuahua or else some of Hallie’s basketball friends will migrate over and talk to me about sports (a fate worse than death, I swear).
Hallie’s dark brown eyes fill with fresh tears, and a pang of hurt stabs my chest. I wish I really could kill that dickweed. She aggressively tears open a bag of honey-barbecue chips (her only lunch—yikes) and starts inhaling them before speaking. “I saw him just now, talking to Leslie. Like, already, Nav! It’s only been a week!”
Twelve days, which is almost two weeks, but she would strangle me if I said that right now. I take in Hallie’s appearance today before I respond. Usually, she’s wearing fashionable shirts and designer jeans, but it’s been sweatpants and pajama shirts since the breakup. Today is her rubber-duck-wearing-sunglasses shirt, which means she’s feeling extra shitty. Her light brown skin is flushed from crying too. I waffle between sympathy and tough love. She probably wants me to pat her hand and tell her it’ll be okay, but she’s been crying nonstop since they broke up. Maybe it’s time to retire Nice Nav.
“Listen, Hallie. You’re better than him, okay? He sucks. How he even formed the thought in his worm brain to cheat on you, I’ll never know.”
Hallie sniffles again, nodding into the now-empty chip bag. “I know, I know. But it hurts so bad. I mean, I thought he was the one.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. She always thinks her current partner is “the one.” I don’t get the appeal, honestly, because all relationships end up like this—in tears. I’d be more sympathetic if Peter was actually decent, but he wasn’t. He’s a loser who constantly mansplained everything to Hallie, even though she’s literally on track to be our grade’s valedictorian. Hallie just got distracted because he’s a drummer in a band and conveniently forgot everything else.
“The first time you met him, he puked after three beers,” I say.
“So what, he can’t hold his alcohol! He was so sweet. You remember when he gave me flowers for Valentine’s Day?”
“That’s the bare minimum.”
“Okay, well, what about when he took me out for my birthday on that boat ride? And when he asked me out for the first time? That was so romantic.”
“Just admit you were dickmatized so we can go.”
Hallie kicks my shin under the table, but she snorts out a laugh. At least she looks a little happier now. “You have to admit, he was cute, though.”
“No, I don’t have to admit that.” Hallie may be bisexual, but I definitely am not. I wouldn’t date a dude if someone paid me—especially a dude who can’t hold his liquor and smells like old cheese.
Hallie’s grin gets bigger, and she almost seems back to normal. “Fine! God, you could agree with me a little.”
“I never lie, especially about idiot boyfriends . . .” I trail off as someone approaches our table. It’s a girl; she’s tall (taller than me, anyway, which isn’t hard to do), with long, wavy black hair and cute thick-rimmed black glasses. She seems familiar, but even
after racking my brain, I can’t place her. That’s a surprise. Our high school isn’t huge, so it’s hard not to know everyone from seeing their faces day after tedious day. She stops a few steps from us, backlit by the big windows lining the cafeteria walls. I wait for her to say something, but she doesn’t. She stares at me and Hallie for a few seconds, brown eyes wide like she’s seen a ghost, then turns like a robot and practically runs away from us. I watch her flee the lunchroom, stunned.
“Huh.” Hallie blinks in surprise, still staring at the empty space where she stood. “That was weird. Do you know her?”
“No.” As soon as I say that, her face clicks in my brain. “Wait, yes I do. Her name is Gia Flores. She’s in art with me.”
“That name sounds familiar,” Hallie says, tapping the table thoughtfully. “What kind of art does she do?”
I think hard about seventh-period, but I really don’t know. She moved here this semester, and she’s really quiet. So quiet I can’t remember her ever saying anything in class for five months.
“Oh, wait, that Flores?” Hallie gasps. “Isn’t her mom this year’s sponsor for Carnegie?”
My mood instantly sours. Hallie winces a little.
“Sorry,” she hurries to say. “I didn’t—”
“No, it’s fine!” I force a grimace into a smile. Hallie and I applied for the annual Carnegie Camp for Young Scholars, a six-week summer camp that’s full of boring as hell study sessions and SAT prep. It’s two hours away, and at the end, the top performing kids get a scholarship to a college of their choice. We applied on a whim because I heard those nerds threw great parties, but Hallie got in . . . and I didn’t. I’m not bitter about it, I swear. Well, okay, I am a little bitter, but I know I’m not exactly a “scholar.” I just thought Hallie and I would get to spend the summer together. Like we do every summer. What am I gonna do by myself for six weeks? Work and stare at the ceiling? And I’ll have no escape from Dad’s watchful eyes either . . . I hold in a shudder.
But I don’t tell Hallie that. We got the news yesterday, so it still stings, but Hallie deserves to go. Even if it’s without me.
“Anyway,” I say, trying to ignore the thought of Hallie having fun with her new, not-me friends, “the camp’ll be a good distraction. You can hang out with cute nerds.”
Hallie seems uncertain but settles on a small smile. “It’s still a month away. I could really use a distraction right now.”
I suggest murdering Peter in our spare time, and Hallie laughs. We chat until the bell rings, and we stand, headed to class. Me to regular history and Hallie to honors precalculus. Not a bad twenty minutes after all.
We mill out of the cafeteria, and I’m about to wave goodbye when Hallie touches my arm to stop me.
“Nav,” Hallie says quietly.
I glance at her, and I’m dismayed to see more tears in her eyes. Still? If I find Peter in a Waffle House parking lot, we’re fighting.
“Hal, Peter is a—”
“Do you think
something’s wrong with me?”
I stare at her, slow horror leaking into my system. This breakup is worse than I thought. A lot worse. “What? Stop!” I take her face in my hands, ignoring the irritated kids having to move around us. “You are perfect. And gorgeous. A ten. An eleven! Hot girls don’t worry about what fuck boys think.”
“Thanks, Nav.” Hallie smiles at me, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. They’re the saddest I’ve seen in a long time. “See you after school?”
“You know it.” I squeeze her cheeks until she laughs and squirms out of my grip. I move back and we wave goodbye, but my stomach feels like I’ve swallowed rocks. She’s taking this one really hard. I wish I could fix this for her. I think of how, soon, I won’t be there with her if some other idiot breaks her heart at that stupid camp, and my mood dampens even more. I wish I could fix things for us both.
When I get home from Hallie’s, I start swearing under my breath. Dad’s car is in the driveway.
I stand outside my house, the sheer amount of dread in my gut rooting me to the pavement. What the hell is he doing home? It’s only nine p.m., and usually he works until midnight at the plant. I only came home because I thought he wouldn’t be here. Well, that and Hallie literally sobbed herself to sleep in my lap, and I thought it would be better to let her sleep off the breakup hangover.
I chew my bottom lip, studying my house like I’m about to start a heist. Back door? That’s risky if he’s in the kitchen, and there’s no way I can sneak upstairs without being seen. I could climb in through my window . . . No, I’d probably fall and break my neck. I better get this over with. I sigh and walk up the porch steps to open the front door, which is already unlocked. Yikes.
Dad’s standing in the middle of the living room. He looks up when I walk in, his sharp brown eyes narrowed. He’s not in his work jumpsuit, so he’s not just getting home. Why is he here so early?
“Hello, Naveah.” His voice is deep, neutral.
“Hey, Dad.” I shuffle my feet, aching to go upstairs. But maybe this is fine and not the beginning of a fight. Maybe he’s not still mad at me for this weekend. Okay, sure, I came home a little drunk and covered in hickeys, but in my defense, I didn’t think he’d catch me. Who knew he’d be awake at five a.m. on a Sunday? How am I supposed to plan for that?!
“You’re out late.” His voice is still irritatingly calm.
“Yeah, I was—”
“Don’t say work,” he cuts me off. “I know your schedule.”
“I wasn’t gonna say that.” I definitely was. I fold my arms, a little angry now too. When’d he get so good at catching me in a lie? “I was at Hallie’s house.”
Dad’s eyes narrow. “I told you, you’re grounded. You’re supposed to come straight home after school and work.”
Okay, yes, but he
doesn’t know about Hallie’s breakup. He doesn’t see how upset she is. And why am I grounded, anyway? I haven’t been grounded in literal years, even though I’ve been going to parties since I started high school. It’s not like he’s been here for me; he’s been checked out for a long time. I do everything for myself—cook, homework, actual work that pays me. I couldn’t even get him to look over my job application. I left my résumé on the kitchen table, hoping he’d notice. After it didn’t move for three days, I gave up and asked Hallie and Aunt Cathy for help. They nitpicked it to death, which was annoying, but at least they tried. And I ended up getting the job anyway, without him. That was the last time I ever asked him for anything, and he never even mentioned it or apologized. So why does he suddenly care what I do?
“It was a party, Dad. I got back in one piece. What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is that you’re disobeying me.”
Oh, wonderful, here we go. Anger lances through me like a wildfire. “I’m not a prisoner. I have other shit to do than stay at home and stare at the wall—”
“Enough.” Dad holds his hand up, and I want to yell at him some more, but he continues. “We’ll talk about this later. I have something else to discuss with you.”
“What?” I know I shouldn’t snap at him, but I can’t help it. We can’t ever have a normal conversation.
Dad gives me a reproachful look but answers anyway. “I got a promotion.”
Some of the anger dissipates and is replaced with shock. “Really? Like for real?”
The edge of his mouth quirks upward. He’s barely smiled in three years, so I’m a little stunned. “Yes, like for real.”
“Oh wow.” I suddenly don’t know what to do with my hands. I kinda want to hug him? But he’s still mad at me, I’m still mad at him, I think, so I don’t. “Congrats, Dad!”
“Thank you.” He actually does seem a bit happier. Dad has a permanent serious expression, so it’s nice to see a hint of joy on his face. “And with that promotion, I got a new schedule.”
I’m half listening, thinking about what extra money can do for us. No more cheap toilet paper! “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” Dad’s tiny smile grows a little bigger. “I’ll be home no later than six p.m. every night. No more coming home at midnight.”
I nod happily at first, but as what he said sinks in, I freeze. His schedule is changing. Which means . . . he’ll be here more often. And it’ll be a lot harder to sneak out. “Oh.”
Dad raises one eyebrow. His ghost of a smile is gone. “You don’t seem excited.”
“No, I am! It’s cool! I just—”
“If you’re thinking you won’t be out at five o’clock in the morning anymore, you’re correct.”
Ah, shit. I knew it would circle back to that stupid party. “Dad, you’re overreacting. And I’m always with Hallie when we go out, so it’s not a big deal.”
Dad’s posture
straightens, and he crosses his arms. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. You spend too much time with Hallie.”
“What?” I can’t help but stare at him, open-mouthed. He told me to spend time at her place. At least at first, when he picked up second shift, I always stayed with Hallie after school. By the time he got home, I was getting ready for bed. “You want me to just sit at home by myself, then?”
Discomfort passes over Dad’s face, but it quickly disappears. “I’ll be home now, so I would like you to be here more, yes.”
I shake my head in disbelief. I almost want to laugh, but I know that’d piss him off more. “This is so ridiculous. Why am I suddenly in prison over one party? Like, Dad, come on—”
“Enough,” he barks. “No more chances, Naveah. You’re to come straight home after school, so I can watch you. You’re out of control.”
Out of control?! I go to school, I do my dumbass homework even though I couldn’t care less, I go to work—why can’t I have one night a month where I get to have fun? “This isn’t fair, and you know it.”
“I know you need to go to your room,” Dad says. His voice is low and stern—no room for arguments.
I’m burning. He ignores me for three years and now suddenly I have to do whatever he says? I grit my teeth so I don’t say anything I’ll regret, turn on my heel, and march upstairs in frosty silence. When I get to my room and close the door, tears fill my eyes.
It wasn’t always like this. We used to have fun. When I was little, we were inseparable. He’d take me to the park, birthday parties, the skating rink. We’d share Coke floats, and he’d help me with my homework when I was stuck. I used to look up to him, and every conversation wasn’t full of tension. And now . . . I don’t know what happened. I don’t know why he doesn’t trust me. Okay, well, I know he hates me going out, but I’m always with Hallie, and we watch each other’s backs. I don’t get it. It’s like I don’t even know him now. I haven’t known him for a long time, I guess. I collapse on my bed and blink tears out of my eyes. This sucks. This sucks so much.
My phone buzzes, and I blink until I can read the screen. It’s from Hallie.
I sniff and smile miserably at her text. At least I have Hallie. For now. Until she goes to Carnegie Camp and leaves me alone with Dad for six weeks. God, this day is horrible.
You needed your beauty sleep
I thought you said I was an eleven?!
I laugh and send her a few kissing emojis. She doesn’t reply right away, so I close my eyes. How am I gonna make it without her? I already dread coming home. It’s too much. This is too much.
My phone buzzes again.
I’m going
I hover my thumb over the keypad. I should tell her about Dad, but I can’t. She’s having a hard enough time already. And she’s already hesitating about the camp, which she earned and deserves, so I shouldn’t give her a reason to turn it down.
I turn my phone over and close my eyes. It hasn’t even started yet, but I feel like this might be the worst summer I’ve ever had.
As I watch Hallie dribble a basketball, I try to figure out how to fix my life.
Every Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday, Hallie has basketball practice until five o’clock. I am not athletic or even remotely interested in sports, but I wait on the bleachers in the echoey gym because I don’t have anything better to do. Okay, I’m supposed to be at home per Dad’s new authoritarian regime, but he can’t complain if I say I’m studying for finals. I’m not, but he doesn’t have to know that.
Hallie shoots a free throw and misses it by a mile. Coach Underwood barks at her, and Hallie nods, her shoulders slumped. I frown, a little anxious. I’m worried about her. She’s never taken a breakup so hard, and she’s had six of them. Hallie is my best friend, but she has the absolute worst taste in partners. Douchebag guys and emotionally manipulative girls are the name of the game for her. It’s infuriating because she gets so attached; I’ve told her a million times to just do something casual. That’s what I do! I’ve never had an official girlfriend, but I’ve damn sure had my fun. But Hallie always gets super invested and then, inevitably, her heart broken. This time is different, though. She’s never let it affect basketball, which she loves and is damn good at. She’s never been in the “cry off and on” stage for so long. She’s never asked me if something is wrong with her.
The bleachers squeak as someone climbs them close by, but I ignore the sound to glance back at my phone. A text from Dad.
Where are you? I’m at home.
Ugh. My torture has started. My thumb hovers over the text, unsure. I should tell him I’m at practice with Hallie, but he’ll probably chew me out about that too. I’ve been thinking about what he said, that Hallie and I spend too much time together. What a load of horseshit. Hallie’s been my best friend since we were in diapers, but now suddenly she’s a bad influence? I swear it’s like one day I’m minding my own business, doing my thing while he works and ignores me, and the next he’s suddenly interested in being a parent again. But I’m not thirteen anymore; I don’t need to be micromanaged. No one told him that, I guess.
The bleachers squeak again, and I look up. I blink in surprise—
Gia Flores is standing next to me.
We stare at each other for a second, both speechless. Twice in two days? I’ve never even talked to her before. I study her face a little closer this time. Tan skin a few shades lighter than Hallie’s, dark, long wavy hair, those really cute glasses. She’s wearing a white summer dress with a strawberry pattern, which is impressive since I can’t ever be bothered to wear anything except jeans and a T-shirt. And her face is bright red, like she’s about to pass out.
“Uh.” I watch her warily. Maybe she wants to sell me something. I hope it’s food because I could use some sadness snacks right now. Dad is stressing me out. “What’s up?”
Gia opens her mouth, then closes it again. This happens several times, and she looks more and more distressed each time.
“Umm . . . are you okay?” Oh shit, is she in trouble? “Do you need help? Should I call someone—”
“No!” Gia finally speaks up, her voice high and squeaky. She takes a shuddery breath. “Y-You’re Nav.”
This is getting weird. But I’m also a little concerned she really might faint. “Yeah, I am.”
“In art, seventh period.”
I nod, confused. Does she want to talk about art? Sadly for her, I barely pay attention in there. We’re on pastels right now, and I’m way better
at painting with acrylics, so I’ve been doodling on my unfinished math homework the whole time.
Gia takes a few more breaths. She’s standing so straight, knees locked, rigid. “I . . . can I ask you something?”
I frown up at her. “Yeah, but sit down first. You’re scaring me.”
She blinks, like she’s just heard me talking. “Oh yeah, okay.” Gia sits down next to me, several seats away. She already looks a bit better. “Sorry. Sorry, I’m . . . sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I have no idea what’s happening, but this is kinda fascinating. Way better than glaring at my phone. “What’s up?”
Gia takes a shaky breath. “Sorry, we’ve never talked before. And I’m going to ask for a huge favor, but I don’t know what else to do.” She fidgets, picking at the bottom of her dress with manicured nails. I wait for more, but she keeps staring down at her lap, fear frozen on her face.
Okay. Clearly whatever she’s about to ask is a big deal. She can’t ask me to help her cheat on exams, because I’m coasting through everything. Maybe she wants a hookup at the ice cream shop? I could do that, but it won’t be free, I know that much. Either way, I need to wait. She looks like if I push her, she’ll crumble to pieces.
“Take your time.” I try to sound encouraging, even though I’m dying of curiosity.
Gia shoots me a quick, grateful look. She has really pretty brown eyes framed with long, dark lashes. “Sorry. I can do this.” She closes her eyes for what has to be thirty seconds, but when she opens them, they have a determined glint. “You’re friends with Hallie.”
I glance at Hallie in surprise, who is running punishment laps for missing her free throw. She looks so pissed off it’s kinda funny.
“Uh, yeah. I am.”
“She helped me earlier this year.” Gia’s face is still tomato red and deeply serious. “And she’s really good at basketball.”
“Yeah,” I say slowly. What on earth is this about?
“And she’s really smart, and kind, and . . . pretty.”
A light bulb goes off in my head. Oh, what do we have here? A secret crush on Hallie? My Thursday just got so much more interesting.
“You’re into my friend, huh?” I can’t keep a huge grin off my face, even as all of Gia’s determination turns into raw panic. “Relax! Tell me more.”
Gia really does look like she’s gonna pass out. She’s so nervous, it’s adorable! “I—I think she’s really cool. And, umm, I’ve been trying to ask her on a date for a while, ...
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