Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
Sara
A week later, Vicky and I grab boba after school.
I haven’t hung out with her since my birthday, which feels like a million years ago.
It’s rare she doesn’t have to work today, so I cherish this time with her.
There’s so much I need to tell her—stuff I haven’t even had time to write about on my blog—so I start by filling her in on my fight with Patrick.
Yes, we’re still not talking. But it’s not like I haven’t tried. Patrick’s so stubborn, it’s childish. Did he really expect me to do his homework? I barely do my own homework most days. That’s why he should’ve had a plan B. Or a plan C or D, for that matter.
Vicky stays neutral whenever Patrick and I get into disagreements, and it’s no different this time. She tells me to apologize for real, because it’s clear our friendship is bigger than a homework assignment. And she’s right, of course. Because she’s always right about these things.
It’s times like these I wish Vicky and I went to the same school, but she goes to Brookside High, a public school closer to her neighborhood.
When I asked Dad if I could go there for high school, he said no.
Brookside is in a different school district from us, an entire twenty-minute subway ride away.
I can walk to Eagle Gate in ten minutes. Seven, if I walk fast.
I like the Brookside uniforms more, though. They’re deep maroon and gold instead of navy and silver, and when I told Dad those colors were more flattering on me, he laughed like I’d told a joke before saying, Oh, you’re serious? Sara, uniform color isn’t a good reason to pick a school.
But imagine if Vicky went to Eagle Gate and joined Newspaper Club with me. We’d have so much fun! Then I remember she has her job at Kiki’s, so it’d be an unlikely scenario. Still, a girl can dream.
Vicky’s always been good with money, unlike me, who makes silly bets and spends the rest on hot pot. She’s saving for college, which is why she works so many hours. I haven’t thought that far. About college, I mean. Although I really should, seeing as it’s our senior year.
After Vicky fills me in on her classes and the funny work drama she’s not involved in but hears about anyway, I tell her about my tiff with Oliver—specifically how I don’t have a tutor anymore.
Vicky’s dark, glossy hair shifts in the breeze as we walk. “Subwayboy for sure remembers it was you?”
“You should have seen his face,” I say, then take another sip from my drink. Brown sugar boba, my favorite. “His reaction was so obvious, which probably means he knew all along but never said anything.”
“Well, that’s a jerk move. Why wouldn’t he say anything?”
“Ugh, I don’t know. I guess I never said anything either—but who cares. All I know is I need a tutor.”
Vicky thinks for several seconds, stirring her strawberry boba around with the thick straw. “Patrick can’t help?”
“I told you, we’re fighting.” Then I try my best to make big doe eyes at her. “That’s why I need you, my prettiest, smartest, kindest cousin ever.”
“I’ll help you, no need for all the flattery.” She laughs.
Vicky’s also taking calculus at Brookside and, I hope, absorbing more than me. Which is perfect, because this proves I don’t even need Subwayboy anymore. Take that!
“How long do you plan on fighting with Patrick?” she asks, all casual.
“Ugh, it’s not like I wanted to make him mad, Vicky.” I slurp the last of my drink. “I tried apologizing. He’s just stubborn—I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately.”
Vicky gives me a sidelong glance, as if telepathically reminding me I should offer him a real apology.
“Anyway,” I say, moving on. “I’ve got bigger problems right now.”
“At least you’ll get to go to the school festival with Joe. That’s good, right?”
“True.”
After my first Newspaper Club meeting, I texted Vicky to tell her about the festival and how I’d get to hang out with Joe if I went, since we’re supposed to interview students together.
She was so excited for me. Not about the Joe part (although that still is a big bonus), but about my writing.
She said this was a great way to start letting more people read my work, and how brave is that?
I’d never let anyone besides her and Patrick read my blog, so her encouragement meant a lot.
Vicky peels off the sidewalk and stops under a forest-green awning. I follow her, noticing we’ve temporarily paused at the corner store.
“I have to run in here real quick,” she insists. “Mom asked me to grab some stuff for her.”
“Then after we’ll study for calculus? I have so much to learn, I’m hopeless.”
She releases a gentle tinkling laugh. “Just wait out here, I won’t be long.”
After she disappears inside, I find a nearby trash can and toss my empty boba cup inside. Then I slump onto a bench outside the store, right near the big glass window.
Pulling out my phone, I navigate to my conversation with Patrick and read what I’d last sent him. The apology texts I’d fired off in Mr. Day’s class. They do seem insincere now that I read them back, so it’s no wonder he still hasn’t replied.
Should I send another? No, he probably doesn’t want to hear from me. I don’t get why he’s so sensitive about this. It’s not like that essay was a huge part of our grade.
When Vicky doesn’t emerge after a few minutes, I whirl around and peek inside.
What’s taking so long? It takes me a moment to spot her standing near an endcap displaying canned lima beans—currently on sale, apparently—and then I realize she’s laughing.
Huh? Are the lima beans doing stand-up comedy?
Only, no—she’s laughing because she’s talking to someone.
I rise to my feet and head inside, excusing my way past customers until I find her.
And that’s when I see him.
Joe.
My heart stutters. Joe and Vicky are midconversation between the lima beans and mosquito spray, and of course Joe looks perfect. He’s still in his school uniform, hair perfectly coifed, hands gripping a bright-red shopping basket filled with pantry items.
“Oh, Sara.” Vicky waves me over. “Sorry I’m taking so long!”
Joe grins at me. “Hey, Sara.”
Vicky looks between us. “Wait, you know my cousin?”
I widen my eyes, attempting to telepathically tell her that this is The Joe.
“Yes! Sara’s in my class,” Joe says. “I had no idea she’s your cousin. What a small world.”
Vicky laughs. “It really is.”
“I quite literally bumped into Vicky while looking for chicken broth,” Joe fills me in, his eyes lingering on her before meeting mine. “We used to go to Brookside together before I transferred.” He points a finger at her. “I knew you looked familiar.”
“We had some classes together, but never really talked,” Vicky adds. “I do remember you, though.”
“I definitely remember you.” Joe says this in his overly friendly way, and it reminds me why I like him so much. He’s so sweet to everyone.
“So funny seeing you here,” I say.
His phone chimes. When he glances at it, his face drops. “Shoot, I have to go. I’m making dinner for my little brother.”
What, Subwayboy can’t cook? That’s cute. Maybe this is the one thing he isn’t good at.
“Nice running into you, Vicky,” Joe goes on. “Oh, by the way, Sara and I are going to our school festival next week. You should come! It’s on Friday.”
And then my world goes all hazy and dreamlike, because he clasps his hand on my shoulder.
Ahhhh! My stomach may just burst into a thousand butterflies!
That doesn’t happen, though. Instead, I nod along as a blush rises in my cheeks.
“Sounds perfect.” Vicky tucks her hair behind her ear as Joe releases his hand. (Nooo! I was appreciating that hand on my shoulder!) “Count me in.”
“Great, see you both there.”
Leaving us with one final dazzling smile, he heads to the checkout counter.
Vicky giggles and pretends to fan herself, and, giggling along with her, I pull her around the corner so we’re both out of sight.
“I can’t believe you’ve been telling me about Joseph Yang the whole time and I didn’t know,” Vicky whispers.
From over the aisle, I spot the cashier bagging Joe’s haul. “Wait, so you know him?”
“I’d seen him around school when he went to Brookside, but we never talked or anything,” she says. “Wow, you’re right. He’s so nice!”
My heart warms at her approval. It’s kind of exciting to have a crush. When I first started to like Patrick, I’d get this excited tingle in my stomach every time I was in his presence. Thank goodness that doesn’t happen anymore since we’re just friends.
Now I’ve started to get it again whenever I’m talking to Joe, which, as it turns out, is a lot.
If we leave for school at the same time, we’ll walk over together and chat the entire way there.
And since Patrick still isn’t talking to me, I’ve started sitting with Joe and the Newspaper Club at lunch.
We’ve only had one more newspaper meeting, and even though Oliver and Rose were there, I got to help map out which student programs we’d try to interview at the festival.
My belly does a little flip every time he smiles at me.
To invite Vicky to the festival with us? That’s just another example of his generosity. Always thinking of others, like how he’s making dinner for Subwayboy. I mean, can he get any more perfect?
I doubt it.