27. Valentine
August and I sit at the picnic table in his backyard, surrounded by a giant spread of breakfast food courtesy of my mom, who has been weirdly hovering since we had that spat the other day.
I sip my fresh-squeezed orange juice, and it makes my mouth tingle from the sour-sweet. “Have you noticed anything strange about my parents lately?”
August looks up from his breakfast sandwich. “Strange how?”
“I don’t know, like too lovey?” I say, hoping he’ll just know what I mean.
“You’re worried your parents are too much in love?”
I roll my eyes and place my elbows on the picnic table. “They’re just... off. And the other day they were fighting. But they didn’t want me to know.”
“I’m not following,” he says in his stupidly practical voice. “Are they too happy or not enough?”
“Both?” I say, knowing it sounds silly, but it’s true.
“I haven’t noticed anything.”
“Yeah, maybe it’s nothing,” I agree, redirecting my attention to my notebook. “Anyway ... Justin, eh? A rare douche if I ever saw one. And Sharky is like his main cheerleader. She practically farts Justin glitter.”
He chuckles at my joke, wiping egg yolk off the corner of his mouth from an overly big bite. Mom claims she loves to feed August because he eats so enthusiastically. She chalks it up to him being an eighteen-year-old boy, but I know that it was Des who mostly did the cooking when his mother forgot or was too immersed in a painting.
“As long as you don’t get us kicked out of this group because Justin thinks I’m flirting with his girlfriend,” August says, clearly holding a mini grudge over yesterday.
“Cross my heart,” I reply, cringing internally as I copy the motion Bentley made last night. “I’d never compromise us like that. Besides, Ella’s father would have us beheaded.”
He nods, like he’s glad we’re in agreement.
“Which is why”—I push him my notebook, open to a list entitled Tiny’s Brilliant Breakup Plan—“we’re going to do this.”
He puts his half-finished breakfast sandwich down and dusts the crumbs off his hands into the grass, reading my numbered and subnumbered steps. “When did you write this?”
I grin, super satisfied by his surprised tone. “Late last night. Came to me in a flash of inspiration after seeing Justin in action yesterday.” I kiss my fingers and hold my hand in the air like a chef.
August stares at the list. “It’s... effective.”
“Damn right,” I say and bite my bagel piled with cream cheese.
His finger lingers on the page next to STEP THREE: Call Justin the eff out on pressuring Ella.
“But it’s also risky.” He sounds unsure, not looking nearly as jazzed as I expected.
“August, we have barely more than two weeks to complete this. We need bold; we need different. This”—I point to my plan—“is different.”
“Very.”
“No ‘Tiny, I worship you’ or ‘Wow, that’s the best idea you’ve ever had’?” I take my notebook back. “Your enthusiasm is overwhelming.”
“It’s a good idea,” he says like he’s making a concession. “A great one even. It’s just... if this goes wrong, you know they’re gonna hate us, right?”
I laugh. “Then let’s get it right.”
He breaks eye contact with me, pressing his lips together.
And suddenly, it clicks. “Oh. My. God.” I elongate each word.
“What?”
I place my hand over my heart like I’m emotional. “This is epic.”
He gives me side-eye.
“I saw you getting all squirrely last night.” I point at his face. “That look in your eye, the way you were getting so frustrated with Justin. I just never thought...”
He shifts his weight on the bench across from me. “I have no idea what you’re trying to say.”
I grin at him, hard. “You, my friend, have a crush.”
August chokes on his coffee. “Not even close—”
“You totally do. You like Ella. You’re not worried that people will hate us—you’ve never cared before—you’re worried that Ella will hate you.”
He reverts to his poker face. “You’re obviously hallucinating due to sugar overload.”
But I only stare at him, amazed. “Is it possible? Are pigs flying? Is hell a fancy new ski resort?”
“Tiny,” he objects with a glare, returning to eating his sandwich as though it were suddenly the most important thing ever.
I let out a big, dreamy sigh, resting my cheek on my hand. “Crushes aside, what do you think, Holden McLover—can you get Ella to hang out with you today so we can get this ball rolling?”
He looks like someone pinched him. “There’s no planet on which I’d respond to that name.”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I say, still staring at him like I’ve never seen him before. I honestly never thought I’d see the day he had a crush. Even the word crush is too ridiculous a notion for him.
As if on cue his phone buzzes. Ella’s name flashes across his screen, and we both reach for it at the same time. He gets to it first and gives me a warning look.
This may never get old.
He unlocks his screen.
Ella
What else you got?
I look at him for explanation.
“She means for her blog,” he says. “Like a cool metaphor or a meaningful anecdote. I told her I’d help.”
I pause, giving it a think. “Oooh, what about a fun fact? You could tell her that the entire human population would fit inside Los Angeles, shoulder to shoulder, or so National Geographic says.”
August looks at me quizzically.
“Astrology advice is all about perspective, right?” I put on my public speaking voice. “Compacting the human race shows us how small we actually are, how limited our view is.”
“I like it,” he says and types it out to her.
Ella
Totally stealing this.
Me for the win.
Ella
And just in case... got anything on the unknown?
August
The unknown?
Ella
Yeah, like the way we fear the things we don’t know or outcomes we can’t control type of thing?
This time August doesn’t look at me. He just starts typing.
August
There’s a quote you might like. Give me a sec.
He does a fast Google search and returns to the thread.
August
Where can one find enough leather
With which to cover the entire earth?
Yet leather enough to cover the soles of the shoes
Is equivalent to covering the entire earth with leather.
Likewise is the case with external objects
That I cannot find ways to fully restrain;
Restraining this mind of mine is restraining all others
What else is required to be restrained?—Shantideva
The idea is that all worries and anxiety come from the combination of two things—external circumstances and internal thoughts. We obviously can’t control the external world, but if we can control our own minds, we don’t need to.
Ella
Seriously?
August
You don’t like it?
Ella
No. I love the shit out of it. I just want to know how you knew that.
August
I read a lot.
The message bubble pops up, indicating she’s typing. But then it disappears and reappears a few seconds later.
Ella
Wish I knew you after my gma... I could have used a reading buddy.
He hesitates.
August
Same.
I look up at August, my eyes wide, caught somewhere between shock and disbelief. I know it’s one simple word, but that’s the most open thing I’ve heard him say about Des’s passing in years, and he said it by text to a girl he barely knows. Part of me is relieved, thinking maybe he’s finally ready, that the magic amount of time has passed to break down The Wall. But the other part of me is bummed that it wasn’t me he decided to talk to, even though I know it doesn’t matter in the big picture.
August must read something in my expression because he says, “What?”
I cover with humor. “Nice dissertation, Professor.”
He shrugs. “It’s from my Berkeley essay, remember?”
“Oh. Right,” I say too fast, then compensate for the weird feeling it evokes by adding, “It’s a good one,” which only makes my reaction more awkward, not less.
He gives me a knowing look. “You’re lying.”
“Not even a little,” I say. “I just didn’t expect you to bring it up.”
“You didn’t expect me to bring up my essay?” he says like he can’t even begin to understand what I’m babbling about.
“No, I mean, I just forgot about those essays.”
His eyes search mine. “Tiny, you read them more than a hundred times. You didn’t forget about them.”
Mother effer. “Who are you, the memory police?”
He doesn’t laugh. “Something I should know?”
But I can’t tell him because what would I even say? That I’m having doubts about the school we’ve worked tirelessly to get in to for years and then celebrated for a month when we did, because it suddenly feels too far away? The school I chose and championed?
“Tiny?”
“Nope. Nothing to know. I’ve just been stressing a little more than I should over getting ready to move.”
For a moment he looks like he wants to argue, but then he decides against it and looks down at his phone, where he has a text waiting from Ella.
Ella
I owe you. That was super helpful
August
No owing necessary.
Ella
No really. I’ve been spinning my wheels over here. #bourbonbitesback
“Or maybe get rid of your boyfriend who pressures you to drink when you’re not in the mood?” I comment, happy to change the topic.
Ella
Swinging by my fav crêpe place when I finish up here. Buy you one as thanks?
August’s head whips up and we share a look. I raise my fist in the air. She’s asking him to hang out alone—major step forward, and one we desperately need in order to keep this case moving.
August
You’re on.
As I watch August, my phone buzzes with a text from Bentley. I glance at it below the table and out of his line of sight.
Bentley
Whatcha thinkin?
Me
Beach later? Not sure what time, but I’ll keep you posted.
Bentley
Yeeeees!
When I look up, August is watching me. “Something interesting?”
For a split second, it annoys me. He shares his personal business with Ella; why shouldn’t I share something with Bentley that doesn’t involve him?
“Not really.”
“’Cause you’ve been low-key obsessed with your phone lately,” he says and sips his coffee. “You looked at it every five minutes while we were at the carnival.”
A nervous tingle forms in my chest, and I attempt to shrug it away. “I guess we both have our secrets.” The instant the words leave my mouth, I regret them. Bentley isn’t a secret. Des isn’t a secret. The Wall is supposed to come down, not be reinforced. But he only raises an eyebrow, not asking me to elaborate.