Why would my mom do that? She makes a lot of content on the fly, so why couldn’t she just make another Get Ready with Me video or pick one of the most recent trending sounds and do her a little dancey-dance. She’s pretty, people like her. I’m not even home—maybe that’s why she made the video. I wasn’t there to stop her. I manage not to cry. I don’t think I’m sad. Just mortified and maybe angry?
“I’m a good passer and Saylor is fast,” I hear Charlotte say suddenly. I look over at her and Tyson, who are huddled together next to me on the bleachers.
“Good, I can work with that. It’s hard to get through me and I’m money anywhere outside the paint. We try to get the ball to Saylor, and if that fails, kick it back to me.”
“Perfect,” Charlotte says. I just nod, and Tyson seems fine with that.
I’m still in a haze when it’s finally our turn. It’s a rough start. The other team gets two quick buckets, but that spurs Tyson on. When he gets the ball back, he hands it off right to me. When the ball hits my hands it’s like my brain finally pushes my mom out of the way and reminds me that I’m inthe middle of a scrimmage. I should probably play. Everyone on the other team is bigger than me, but I’m faster. I spot the open lane immediately and make my way down the court. But my body is still tense. And that’s when things go terribly wrong.
I trip. It’s like something out of a cartoon where I just keep tripping forward but not falling—until I stumble hard toward the end of the court. I lose my footing completely and go down so fast, hand first and then my face, which scrapes the chain-link fence. I feel something pop, but I’m still so stunned by the way my face is pressed against the metal my mind can’t process it all. I don’t scream when one of the guys gently tries to scoop me up, but when I see the absolutely unnatural way my arm is bent halfway between my elbow and my wrist, I definitely faint.
3
Heaven
I let out a shaky breath and try not to laugh at the way Jake is looking at me. “Stop,” I snap.
“What?” He chuckles, leaning against the kitchen island. “I just don’t know why you’re so nervous. It’s just my mom. You love my mom. My mom loves you.”
“I do love your mom. And she might love me, but that doesn’t mean she has to love my work.”
Jake sputters out, laughing, “What? are you talking about? Tell me one person who hasn’t absolutely loved your art!”
“Uh, the list is actually kinda long. Remember Mr.Hargrove said my self-portrait was uninspired.”
“Whatever. Hargrove doesn’t know what he’s talking about. And if my mom didn’t believe in you, she wouldn’t be encouraging you like this. Trust me.”
Jake has a point. Both our parents have always supported my art, but I still didn’t know howmyparents would react when I said I had no interest in being a dentist or a food scientist, that I wanted to follow in the Yeuns’ footsteps and become a tattoo artist.
Luckily no one freaked out. My parents have been super cool about it, actually. They just want me to get my associate’sdegree in accounting so I don’t get arrested for tax fraud or whatever. Miss Kelly and Mr.Rick have offered to help me in any way they can, including letting me apprentice at their shop, Ink & Pearl, after graduation. Still, I am terrified that sometime between now and then I am gonna absolutely blow it. So of course, when Miss Kelly told me to come over so she could check out my portfolio from school, I accidentally showed up two hours early. Yay, anxiety.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your goodbye-make-out-party time with Bethany,” I tell Jake, and then I lie to cover my jitters. “I didn’t know she’d be over. I thought your mom said eight, not nine.”
“Nah, you’re good. There wasn’t much making out. Bethany wanted to see me, but she also wanted to watchLove Island. That’s her show.”
“What I saw seemed really important.”
“She let me rage aboutLower Decksbeing canceled for like a month, so I try to be cool about the stuff she wants to watch,” Jake says with a shrug and this little smile that would be so disgusting if him and Bethany weren’t really cute together. He’s got plans of his own—working on a student film project—and I don’t know how they are gonna handle being apart all summer.
No one’s ever liked me like that, even if they did like my art. Not that I’ve been looking, but Culver City High has an available gay girl shortage, so I figure I’ll just wait another year and see if anyone at Santa Monica City College thinks I’m cute. I’ve been to the homecoming dance and a winter and spring formal alone, and I’ll do it again.
“Well, maybe you guys can spend the summer writing each other gushy love letters. Something about the absence makes the heart grow hornier or whatever.”
“Shut up.” Jake laughs just as I see some headlights swing into the driveway. My heart drops into my butt. Jake’s parents are back. I’m distracted for a second by a loud thud upstairs. A few seconds later, I hear Jake’s little sister, Esther, tromping down the stairs. She runs through the kitchen, punching Jake in the shoulder.
“Ow! What the hell, E?”
“Oh my gosh, Jacob! Language!” she cackles back.
“You want a little sister? I’m sure my parents will pay you,” Jake says. I cringe and shake my head as I hear the front door open.
“Hi! Did you get the ice cream?” Esther practically shouts.
“Hello to you too, honey,” I hear Miss Kelly say.
“We did. And we can give it to you as soon as you move,” I hear Mr.Rick add.
There is no reason for my heart to be trapped in my throat, having migrated north from my butt. Jake’s parents have seen my work. They’ve seen me draw. I’ve spent hours doodling on their couch. They’ve seen the results of my student art shows throughout the years. Plus, they love me like their own. I should not be freaking out like this. Still, as soon as Miss Kelly walks into the kitchen with Mr.Rick right behind her, I think I might have a heart attack.