Chapter 10 Heaven
Heaven
We finish our cake, and after I toss the containers, Saylor and I climb back in my car and I blast the AC.
I never regret a cake run. If you’re queer, you deserve cake.
I feel like that should be a rule, but none of that do-gooding on my part explains why in the world I asked Saylor if she had a crush on anyone, or why I was so relieved when she said no.
Saylor and I have our plans for the summer, even if I’m still not sure it’s a good idea.
We do the bingo. I save her from her mom, and she…
she saves me from the bizarre, crippling low self-esteem that only seems to come for me when I think people are watching.
That’s it. And maybe some more cake, but we don’t need to talk about crushes and liking people. Nope, we sure don’t.
I turn the volume down a little on this old song coming through the speakers.
I should probably take Saylor home. Even if she helps me create and manage my accounts, I still need to go through all my pieces and start on the flash assignments that Miss Kelly gave me.
I should definitely take Saylor home, but I just sit there, not putting the car in reverse.
Saylor turns to me, in this bouncy kind of way she has, and smiles at me.
She’s always like this, with everyone, but still it’s a lot of energy to handle when it’s just the two of us in the tight space of my car.
“How’s your arm doing?” I ask.
“Oh. It’s okay. It aches sometimes, but nothing like the pain the first day. It just makes everything so much harder. Like not being able to drive sucks, but my mom’s had to wash my hair and stuff since I can’t get it soaked. It took me like ten minutes just to get my shorts on this morning.”
I make the mistake of glancing over at the shorts she just mentioned. They are very short shorts, showing off what feels like miles of tanned brown skin. I don’t need this right now. I don’t need to start puberty phase four where I become a complete perv over Saylor Ford’s thighs.
“Aren’t you hot?” she asks as she flicks the reinforced seam on my pants.
“I mean, I guess. It’s Southern California. It’s always hot.”
“I know, but I mean these pants look thick.”
“Try wiping out in thin pants or shorts,” I say. “My knees would look much worse than your face.”
“Wow. Thanks!” She laughs. I squeeze my eyes shut.
“That’s not what I meant. There’s nothing wrong with your face. Scars are cool and you’re still pretty or whatever. You could become like an ointment model or something.”
She flips the visor down and looks at herself in the car mirror. “I guess it’s not so bad. It doesn’t hurt much either. Some lady in my mom’s comments said she couldn’t believe I would let this happen to my face. That I ruined my natural beauty.”
“The people in your mom’s comments sound like they suck.”
“They do, but she eats it up. Nice comments keep her young and fresh, she says. The negative ones spawn some sort of vengeance that gives her room to prove herself or something. She deletes the real crazy ones. Blocks people who are like extra racist, but she will argue about her parenting skills or how perfect my sisters and I are any day of the week.”
I feel myself frowning. “Perfect?” My parents love me a lot, but I don’t think they would describe me or themselves as perfect.
“She’s—how do I say this without—” Saylor laughs. “You’re so right ’cause calling my sisters and I perfect does sound a certain kind of unhinged. My grandma is, like, super hung up on looks. She used to tell my mom she wasn’t pretty enough all the time and it kinda messed with her head for a while.
“When we were little, Mom made it her gentle parenting crusade to let me know that I was beautiful, but then she started getting so much feedback and attention on our early hair videos, like omg you’re white and you’re doing such a good job with her mixed hair, stuff like that.
It definitely went to her head. And then she had twins?
Forget it. She has three almost identical daughters with perfect dark blond curls and perfect hazel eyes.
People get real creepy in the comments, but she eats it up. ”
“Yeah, I can see that kind of attention going wrong.”
“Millions and millions of followers and lots of paid content later it’s hard for her not to get wrapped up in it all.
And how ‘perfect’ we are is kind of the driving force behind it all.
Still, I don’t need comments from random strangers thinking that I ran into a fence for attention.
Especially when they all thought my face was so perfect before. ”
“The before and after of your face are perfectly acceptable,” I tell her.
“Thanks.” Saylor snorts. I sit back and let out a sigh, a little louder than I mean to. “See, you’re not even involved with my mom’s content and it’s stressing you out.”
“No, it’s a lot. I can definitely see why you want to get away from that.”
“So,” she says, jutting out her bottom lip in this ridiculous pout. “You have to help me.”
“Jesus. I should make you walk home. Never make that face again.”
Saylor just laughs and I hate that I like the sound of it. I hate that I feel bad for her. I knew Saylor and her sisters were a part the online content machine, but I never really thought of it being that bad for them. I swallow and think about how people are going to react to my art.
I look over at Saylor’s sun-kissed knees and back at my own thick khakis. “I wear dresses sometimes.”
“I liked the dress you wore to homecoming,” Saylor says. I almost flinch. She was all over Rhys that night. I’m shocked she even noticed I was there.
“Thanks. My grandma used to pinch my thighs and tell me to cover up. Gave me a little complex about wearing anything too short.”
“Well, that sucks. And now you’re hot.”
“I guess.” I laugh. “I should probably take you home. There’s no way your mom thinks you’ve been out walking around this whole time.”
“That’s true. Let’s go.”
We pull out of the parking lot. I remember the way to her house, which I don’t take as any sort of sign. A few minutes later I stop in front. I’ve never been inside, and if her mom’s home, I don’t think I should go inside today.
“Well, this has been fun,” I say. “Get out.”
“I’m going.” She laughs. “And now to tell my parents we’re doing the bingo together.”
“Yeah, ’cause you bullied me. Just tell your mom I felt bad because of your arm and invited you to do the bingo with me. My mom is always telling me to be super nice,” I say. Saylor looks back at me, smiling and shaking her head.
“What?”
“I think you are nice. You’re just hiding it up in all that goth.”
“I’m not goth!” I only raise my voice a little, but Saylor knows she got me. She bites her lips, holding in her laugh.
“Well, you are nice, even if you don’t want anyone to know.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”
“So, when do we start?” She does that happy little bounce again.
“You’re enjoying this too much.”
“I like plans!”
“Well, I have something tomorrow—”
“Oh right, you have your skate Sundays.”
Of course she knows. She knows Jake and Axel, and she hangs with Jake when she’s with Bethany. But still, it’s kinda weird that she knows certain things about me.
“We can start on Monday, if that works for you. I’ll have to talk to my dad about changing the board a bit and stuff. I guess I have to pick you up.”
“I can have my mom drop me off,” Saylor says.
“Okay.”
“Okay. Well, I guess I’ll see you on Monday.”
“See you on Monday,” I say, positive I have no clue what I’ve really just agreed to.
“Oh, and I’ll start looking up tattoo profiles tonight.
My mom is deep in the family content world, so I need to see what actual cool people are doing, but I promise I’ll figure it out.
Help you come up with a good professional username and everything.
Mrs. Yeun will be like ‘oh my god, Heaven is so mature and professional.’ You’ll see. ”
“Thanks.” I swallow a fresh lump in my throat. I really hope Saylor can help me, but I’m not so sure.
“Hey, it’s the least I can do for the gay cake,” she says, and before I know what’s happening she leans over and kisses me on the cheek. It’s over super quickly, but my cheek is still burning where she lightly pressed her lips. “Sorry.” She laughed. “My friends and I are very—”
“It’s fine. I know. You and your friends tongue kiss goodbye and grab each other’s butts to say hello. I’ve seen it,” I say. I know my whole face and neck are deep red. “But I don’t think bingo is gonna work if you’re all over me all summer.”
“It’s called affection. But I’ll keep my platonic love languages to myself.”
“Appreciate it.”
“I’ll message you later.” Saylor hops out of the car, waving back at me as she closes the door and walks up the front walkway.
I wait until she’s inside and then head back to my house.
My cheek is still warm, and in this weird way it’s like Saylor is still in the car as I drive back.
She’s a lot to handle, but I realize I don’t mind it.