24. Amalia
Exactly fourteen hours and twenty-four minutes have passed since I left Silas, and the reason I know that is because I’ve been counting every hour since I last felt him close and every hour until I can see him again.
Ay, for the love of Thales! I’m done for.
My phone tells me I have a message, and all the quiet melancholy that had settled over me disappears the moment I see who it’s from.
SILAS:
Hugo Duarte scored a B+.
ME:
OMG, that’s amazing
SILAS:
The grade is now a C.
ME:
What? You just said he got a B+.
SILAS: 1.
You sent three heart emojis. 2. Keep defending him, and his paper gets lost forever.
ME:
Where is your integrity?
SILAS:
Amalia…
Has he lost his mind?
“Why are you smiling like that?” Lupe asks, amused.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I answer, closing my phone and sliding it into my back pocket.
My twin comes around from my right and cups my face in both hands, turning it toward her and narrowing her eyes.
People have been telling us our whole lives how alike we are, but all I ever see are the things that set us apart.
Our eye color is almost the same — where I have more green, she has more brown.
Where my hair is longer, kept up in a bun, she wears hers short to the shoulders.
Where I have a few freckles, her complexion is entirely clear.
“No fever, but something is off about you today. Amalia Sanchez, what are you hiding from me?”
I burst out laughing at her tone and the face she’s trying to hold. Lupe can’t stay serious for more than ten seconds, and according to my internal clock, she’s already approaching a full minute.
“Stop it, there’s nothing going on.” I pull away to throw my laptop and two USB drives into my backpack.
I know what’s going on. It’s probably called early-onset brain death, courtesy of some butterflies that have been circling my stomach since yesterday.
Since Silas Vaughn, my mathematics professor, ran a statistical analysis on my hot chocolate.
Since he seemed ready to pick a fight with the world over my onion tears.
Since he held me close and I watched him swallow every time our bodies made contact.
“I don’t believe you, but whatever it is, me gusta muchísimo. ?Brillas, hermanita!” she tells me, laughing, as she heads out of the room.
I know her tone, and I know it won’t be long before she starts connecting the pieces.
But for now, I want to keep Silas for myself. I want to stay inside this bubble where I don’t owe anyone an explanation, where no one is watching and judging.
When I step outside, I find Lupe standing beside a black car. Aleksandr is next to her, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear, and I frown at the gesture without meaning to.
Because my twin has stars in her eyes, but he doesn’t. At least none that I can see.
What I see is curiosity. What I see is interest. But more than anything, I see a wolf looking at his prey with quiet satisfaction, and I take an instinctive step toward them.
“Lupe, don’t you want to walk to school together?” I ask, pulling my book to my chest like a shield.
Why does this man put every nerve in my body on alert?
My sister’s eyes move from my face to her boyfriend’s, and I already know I’ve lost.
“Alek is only in town today. Do you mind if we go tomorrow instead?”
A small, sad smile appears on my face.
“No, we’ll go tomorrow,” I whisper, and I’m about to turn away when I hear his voice.
It feels like pressing your finger into a jar of honey. Like having a film of oil against your skin. The urge to shake it off is held back only by my sister’s presence. I don’t want her to see the reaction this man gets out of me.
“Take care of yourself, Amalia,” Alek says with a smile, and even though my sister smiles back at him, his eyes carry something that makes every pore in my body hum on high alert.
Normally I would have dropped my head and walked away, but I find myself meeting his eyes and saying, “You too!” And then, so as not to make it too obvious, I look at my twin and correct myself. “Both of you! See you at home tonight, Lupe.”
But I know my message was received, because his shoulders look suddenly tighter.
Ay, almighty Euclid, give her the wisdom to stay away from this man! Though I can hear my favorite mathematician sighing from the heavens because I’m asking him for the impossible.