“Oh, do you have any ketchup?” Saylor asks, just as I reach for it out of the fridge door. I come to the island and set the bottle between our plates.
“It’s the only way to eat a grilled cheese,” I say.
“Me too! Thanks. This looks great.” I watch as Saylor awkwardly picks up one half of the hot buttery bread with her left hand and dips it in the fresh puddle of ketchup on her plate.
“Axel broke his arm and his ankle, but I’ve never broken anything before. I forgot how much of a pain it is,” I tell her, and then for the first time ever, I see this look of legit sadness pass over Saylor’s face.
“Yeah. This hasn’t been fun. I try not to, like, blame anyone for accidents, but I’m kind of mad at my mom.”
“Wait. I thought you tripped. Do I need to call CPS on your mom?”
“No!” She snorts. “I saw her long Pride video right before we went out to play three-on-three and I was so upset and distracted, my head was not in the game, and I tripped. It’s silly. I just—my mom is so embarrassing.”
“Jesus. I’m sorry,” I reply, not knowing what else to say.
Saylor shrugs and then code-unlocks her phone with her pinky on her busted arm. “Okay, so what do you want to do first?”
“Um, go to the LACMA. That was my original plan anyway.”
“Okay. Let’s do that. I don’t think I’ve been before.”
“Good thing for bingo.” We keep going through the board square by square. Going to the beach will be easy. We can go anytime, and even though Saylor can’t go in the water or get her cast all sandy, we agree that we can do that little walking path from Venice to Santa Monica. We need to get the tie-dye supplies and pick out which LEGO kits we want to do. We also have to decide what books we wanna read for the “read a book written before 1990” and the “read any book” squares.
“Let’s readFrankenstein. All the seniors have to read that. We can get that out of the way,” Saylor suggests.
“That’s smart. Let’s do that. My mom got me this book calledCinderella Is Dead. It has gay Black girls. I haven’t started it yet.”
“Oh, let’s definitely read that,” Saylor says, nodding frantically. “Why does your dad want you to interview two people?”
“They want me to practice coming out of my shell.”
“Man, this must be torture for you. I’m surprised you’ve talked to me this much.”
“I mean it’s been awful, but I’m coping,” I reply.
“I bet. You said Miss Anita is the mail lady?”
“Yeah. My dad got her okay for us to interview her. I just need to suck it up and talk to her.”
“Well, no time like the present. Let’s rip that social anxiety Band-Aid off.”
“What—” I look up and see Miss Anita walking down the street.
“Come on.” Saylor hops up and rushes toward the frontdoor. I’ve barely wiped my hands before she already has her shoes on and is out the door. I scramble after her, shoving my feet into my Vans.
“Miss Anita!” Saylor calls out as she rushes down our walkway. Miss Anita is next door dropping off the Fullers’ mail.
“Hello,” Miss Anita says, and then she spots me and smiles. “Hi, Heaven.” We catch up with her on the sidewalk as she shuffles a fresh stack of mail in her hands.
“Uh, this is my friend, Saylor. She’s doing the bingo challenge with me.”
“Nice to meet you, Saylor,” Miss Anita says with a nod before she turns back to me. “I told my daughter about it and she’s gonna do a more kiddie-friendly version for my grandbaby.”
“Nice!” Saylor says.
“I’m sure my dad will be happy to give his input. He’s the bingo master.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. So, you girls want to interview me now?” she asks as she eases by us and drops my family’s mail in the box.