Twenty-One
CAPTION:
WHO ARE YOU GOING HOME WITH AT THE END OF THE NIGHT?
VIDEO DESCRIPTION:
A clip of Angela in a blue dress and red lip with her hair down that transitions smoothly into a clip of her with hair slicked back and no makeup, wearing an oversized button-down open at the collar.
COMMENTS:
@Alisha: Both, please!
@LetiIsTrying: How do you look so damn good as both WOW
@Christine :
@HavanaGirl1015: Good lord, Angela. I’ve never been more jealous of a comment section in my LIFE
Even though it was my idea, I’m always amazed when every single kid comes dressed up as a book character. I’m circling the table, taking pictures for the library’s social media, when a hand falls on my shoulder and Marcela comes into view.
“This is the last time I post my outfit before book club.” I’m confused by this seemingly random announcement until Andy steps up beside her. A laugh bubbles up from the back of my throat. The two are dressed exactly like Rosalinda from Sinner’s Isle . Andy’s even more of a mini-Marcela in their matching outfits, down to the rose tucked above their left ears.
“Don’t act like this isn’t the type of shenanigans you love, Miss Ortiz.” Andy smirks at her, where she stands with her arms crossed over her chest. She has a point. This is exactly the type of shenanigans we’ve come to expect from Marcela’s favorite teen patron.
“How come no one ever wants to copy my outfit?” I huff, staring down at Andy with accusation. “I know she’s your favorite, but can’t you at least pretend to love us equally?”
“I thought you just used book club as an excuse to work in your pajamas.”
“ Ouch. ” I rub at my chest with a hand like the kid delivered a physical blow there. She might as well have from the way she called me out. It was a lucky coincidence when I found a pair of yellow lounge pants with cat heads printed on them at Marshalls. I paired it with an oversized Wellesley College shirt tied in a knot and simple tennis shoes. Now I’m rethinking the entire costume.
“Do I really look like I just rolled out of bed?”
Marcela looks me up and down, a judgmental purse to her lips and a gleam in her eyes.
“I’m so done with both of you. I bet you don’t even know who I’m supposed to be.”
“Jo from Dear Wendy .” For a moment, I forgot who I was talking to. Bored of me, Andy turns back to Marcela. “Is your boyfriend coming again?”
As if Andy’s conjured him, Theo turns a corner into the YA section. Ever since Marcela gifted him a Captain America outfit, he’s spent the last three months cycling through Marvel heroes. Today, the bow and arrow set gives him away as Hawkeye.
The group settles soon after, and Marcela leads the discussion on this month’s pick. I snap a few more photos when motion from the corner of my eye makes me look up. I’m not the only one who notices. When the teens break into small groups, Marcela nudges me with an elbow.
“Did you know she was coming?” Her smile falters slightly as Krystal edges away from the group, ducking behind a bookshelf. As if I could so easily miss her presence in my workplace, no matter what kind of chaos she’s walked in on. “Do you want me to ask her to leave?”
“What? No!” My mouth pops open, aghast that she would ask me that. Whatever I said earlier, it was obviously the wrong thing if Marcela believes I need protecting from Krystal. After book club, I’ll have to correct her opinion. “I invited her. She’s probably here for the free snacks I was bragging about.”
“Just let me know if you need backup.” Marcela crosses her arms over her chest. “Theo and I got you.”
“Much appreciated, but not at all necessary.”
I rise from my seat and make my way to Krystal. She’s staring determinedly at a row of nonfiction, glancing up only when she senses my arrival. Her hair is styled in two braids that fall over her shoulders, and she’s wearing a black dress with a white collar, along with white knee-high socks and chunky black loafers. Her makeup is darker than usual, no trace of the colorful bold lips she usually wears.
She dressed up.
I’m giddy for no goddamn reason, except that she’s here and in costume.
“Hey, friend .” The white powder on her face does nothing to hide her pink cheeks. It feels good to be the one flustering her for a change. I’d never thought of Krystal as shy before, but there’s no other reason for why she’s hiding from a bunch of teenagers behind a bookshelf. “Or should I call you Wednesday?”
“Is my costume okay?” she asks, smoothing her dress down like she’s flustered. She looks up and her eyes go wide when she sees the overflowing snack table behind me. “Oh no, I should’ve brought something! Dammit, I knew I was forgetting something.”
“Are you kidding me? That rickety table’s one bag of chips away from the apocalypse. You’re all good.”
“Is it cool for me to be here even though I’m not a teen?” Her gaze dips past my shoulder, then down the length of my outfit. My skin heats under her perusal, and for the second time tonight I’m kicking myself for not choosing something more dressy.
The trouble is I hate everything in my closet these days. Dressing as my old self for the transition video felt like taking a huge step backward, despite how visually satisfying it was to see the final result come together. A perfect before and after, side by side. I’ve had the video sitting in my draft folder for almost a week before finally hitting post an hour ago. I even ended up changing the caption to “Old Me vs. New Me.” Now the New Me just needs a new batch of semi-formalwear to complete the picture.
“If Marcela can bring Theo, I can bring you.” I grab her hand. “Come on. I’ll introduce you.”
The group activities vary each month. This time, we set out paints and watercolors for the teens to create an alternate book cover. As the kids are hard at work, I introduce Krystal to Erika and bring her around to greet Theo and Marcela before directing her to the snack table. Just like dressing up, bringing in food is optional but from the spread of sweets, I don’t think a single person came in empty-handed.
“The main character’s a baker, if that wasn’t apparent.” I pick up a knife to slice us both a piece of tres leches cake. She nods idly, taking in the decorations.
“How long does book club usually go for?”
“We close at nine, but people usually start heading out by eight thirty,” I tell her. “Why?”
“Fiesta starts today. I thought maybe it’d give you some inspiration to continue the scavenger hunt. That’s why I texted you earlier. I thought we could go today or tomorrow. I have a rare weekend off.”
“Fiesta.” I hadn’t even considered that. It’s a brilliant idea, if my heart is still set on salvaging the scavenger hunt. I’ll at least have one willing participant, a girl I’ve never met in person who shares my identity. There’s potential with Leti. More than there is with Krystal, anyway. I haven’t made up my mind yet, but maybe that’s why I should give Krystal’s idea a shot. “Tomorrow sounds perfect. I’m in.”
“Cool.” She glances around again, eyes lighting in excitement. “You know, for all the times you and Marcela have seen me at work, I’ve never seen you two in your element. It’s a nice change of pace.”
“You pour drinks, we dress up as fictional characters and eat.” I laugh. “She’s—”
Right in front of me.
“Marcela!” Krystal jumps in surprise as she turns around.
“I hope you’re taking care of my best friend here.” Marcela walks around her to stand next to me, all the while never taking her eyes off the other woman. “You’re not getting her into any trouble, are you?”
“More like the other way around.” Krystal laughs, sharing a knowing look with me. “I’m looking out for her, though. No worries there.”
“I hope so,” Marcela warns. “You two have been spending a lot of time together. I’d hate for anything bad to happen to her… intended or not. Do you get what I’m saying?”
Oh, good lord.
The last thing Krystal needs to hear right now is Marcela’s equivalent of the “you hurt my best friend, I hurt you ” speech.
“Marcela—”
“It’s okay,” Krystal cuts me off, not even flinching away from Marcela’s stare-down. “I get exactly what you’re saying. And I have no intention of hurting her. I’d never do that.”
“Well, like I said,” Marcela says. “Intended or not, there’ll be hell to pay.”
And with that ominous note, she leaves us.
“Don’t mind her,” I start to explain. “She’s just—”
“Cautious,” Krystal finishes for me. “As any best friend would be. I get it.”
“I didn’t tell her what you told me,” I say, needing to get this much off my chest. “About Isaac and your feelings on love and relationships. But she senses I’m not telling her something, and now she’s on her guard. I’ll tell her she has no reason to be.”
She’s quiet for a moment. Takes a bite of cake with a plastic fork. Over my shoulder, the teens are still painting on their easels. Marcela flashes me the timer on her phone. They have eight minutes until we call time and move on to the last activity of the night.
“You can,” Krystal finally says. “If you want to, you can tell her. Don’t keep any secrets from Marcela on my account.”
“It’s not my story to tell.” I shake my head.
“She’s your best friend. No secret is safe from a best friend.” She smiles, but it’s a sad smile. “Thanks for inviting me. I should let you get back to it. See you tomorrow?”
“Sure.” I nod. “Yeah.”
We say our goodbyes, and I watch her back as she walks out of the building.