“Good idea,” Mom says, and nods. Then she smiles at me, her eyes tender. “I am proud of you, Sana. You’re very responsible.” Elaine and I exchange glances. A little worm of guilt bores through the back of my neck and starts creeping around, prickling and tickling. Mom hardly ever praises me, and now that she’s doing it, I don’t even deserve it. I put a piece of ginger pork in my mouth and shrug.
“Um-hmm,” I say around the pork. If I look uncomfortable, maybe she’ll just figure it’s because my mouth is full.
“Don’t take such big bites,” she says, and I feel a teeny bit better. “See what a good manner Elaine has?”
“Um-hmm.”
“You look like cow, chewing so much.”
I swallow the pork and the guilt goes right down with it.
After dinner, I change into my-slash-Janet’s black T-shirt with fluttery cap sleeves and hide the red halter in my bag. Elaine and I parade in front of Mom to show off our outfits and to make sure she’ll recognize them when I text the fake photo later. Then I pull an Anderson XC fleece on top.
It’s ridiculous how cool it gets at night here. Sunny and seventy-five degrees all day and suddenly fifty-five at night. Totally unreasonable. There’s no point in wearing anything nice if you don’t want to freeze to death, I think, and then I laugh. Since when is fifty-five degrees on an October night freezing? I’ve turned into a real California girl.
At seven twenty, Elaine and I head out the door and I say, “Itte-kimasu!” It’s essentially a promise to come back: “I go and I will return.”
“Itte-rasshai,” replies Mom. “Go and then return.” Same thing. It’s a send-off, but also an expectation: “You’ll go, then come back, and I’ll be waiting to welcome you home.”
I think about Mom sitting at home alone, waiting to welcome a man who lies to her and a daughter who (kind of) lies to her about what they’re doing when they leave the house. The guilt reappears and starts to turn circles in my chest this time, like it’s getting ready to lie down and settle in for the night.
“No,” I say aloud, startling myself and Elaine.
“Huh?”
“Oh, uh. Nothing.”
I set a brisk pace, to clear my head and hopefully leave the guilt behind. Elaine totters along beside me in cute but clearly uncomfortable high-heeled sandals, complaining about how fast we’re going and how much her feet already hurt. I wonder if Jamie’s there yet. I think about the sexy top stashed in my bag and shiver a little. I can’t wait for her to see me in it.
Right after the ID check, we have to stand in line before we’re allowed into the gym. “The D and A line,” explains Elaine. “For like, flasks and joints and stuff.” We scan the crowd while we wait, and Elaine asks me about sixteen thousand times if I see Jimmy anywhere. “Do you think he’ll like my outfit?” comes in a close second. I can’t tell her, but I know just how she feels. Finally we reach the front of the line. Mr. Van Horne, the vice principal who everyone calls Mr. Van Horny behind his back, greets us with a toothy grin.
“Well, good evening, ladies! Don’t we look lovely tonight?” he booms. “Time to check our purses!” And he holds out a pair of hands like grizzly bear paws. There’s a paper bag on the table behind him, full of what I assume is confiscated contraband. “I know I don’t have to worry about you Asian girls,” he chuckles, “but I have to check anyway. Rules are rules.” Elaine hands her bag over and he sticks an enormous paw in and stirs it around. “Oh, ho!” he cries. “What have we here?” And he starts to pull out Elaine’s new top.
“That’s in case I have to change,” Elaine says, flipping her hair. “You know, like if someone spills something on me?”
“Don’t change, you’re perfect just the way you are,” replies Van Horne with a smarmy wink and gun hands. Blech. “You’re always so well prepared. Well, all done. Let’s have ourselves a fun but safe evening, ladies!”
“Asshole,” Elaine mouths at me as Van Horny addresses the next kids in line. Once we’re out of earshot, she says, “It pays to be Asian, but still.” And also, just yuck.
Elaine and I hustle into the bathroom to change. Off comes Janet’s T-shirt, on goes my red halter top. Janet’s borrowed T-shirt fits into my bag, but there’s nowhere to put my cross-country fleece. Tying it around my waist looks dorky, wearing it defeats the purpose of the halter top, and leaving it somewhere is just asking to get it stolen. “Wait ’til Reggie gets here, then put it in her van,” suggests Elaine. “Hey, you can take my shirt, too. And our bags.” We survey the edges of the gym for a table where Reggie can find us. Which gives us a good excuse to crowd-scan for Jimmy. And Jamie.
It doesn’t take long. Jimmy is hanging out on the opposite side of the gym in a group that includes Janet and Andy. “C’mon!” Elaine grabs my hand and we take off on a very uneven journey across the gym floor. Elaine alternates between a wobbly saunter and a mincing trot in her strappy heels, with her desire to appear sexy, cool, and collected clearly battling her desire to sprint right over to be near Jimmy. As we saunter-wobble-mince our way across the floor, I catch a glimpse of Jamie, already dancing with a clutch of her friends. Darn. They probably don’t want me there. Why does she always have to be with them? Her hair is out of its usual ponytail and cascading down her back. She’s got on black skinny jeans, flats, and a peach-colored Y-back camisole top with a plunging neckline. She looks gorgeous.
I would stop and stare at her but a) I have to look where I’m going, b) I don’t want anyone to get suspicious, and c) Elaine is tugging on my hand and urging me toward Jimmy and the others. So I keep going and sneak peeks in Jamie’s direction whenever I can, pretending that I’m just looking around to see who else is here. We finally reach the group and after a round of hugs and “Omigod, look at you, sexy/hottie/cutie!” we settle in. Pretty soon, Reggie and Hanh arrive, spot us, and hurry over. “Holy shit, you would not believe how hard it was to get my mom out of Sharon’s apartment!” complains Hanh, and she and Reggie launch into The Saga of Getting Rid of Hanh’s Mom. I smile and nod along, but I’m only half paying attention because now that I have a little time, I’m watching Jamie more closely. Wow. She’s a great dancer. I mean, she can move. How am I going to get over there? Maybe I can lead everyone onto the floor and we can dance in a group near Jamie’s friends. At least I’d be closer to her then. I watch her as she shakes her hips in a way that makes me want to walk right over and—
“Sana! Yoo-hoo! Earth to Sana!” I come back to the conversation with a jolt. Reggie is waving her hands in front of my eyes and calling to me, and the whole table is laughing. “Who are you looking at?” asks Reggie, staring in Jamie’s direction.
“Oh. No one, really,” I reply, shrugging, but Reggie raises her eyebrow at me.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes! Who’s there to look at? It’s just Jamie and her, um—”
“Punk-ass gangster friends,” interrupts Hanh. “C’mon, you guys, let’s dance!”
“Jamie’s friends are gangsters?” That makes me a little nervous.