“Oh, um… I hadn’t thought about it.”
“No one’s told you?”
“No, nobody’s said, Hey Parker, Molly’s black, just thought you should know.”
“There,” Molly says with some relief. “If you could see, you’d just know, without it being, I don’t know, a thing. But if someone specifically tells you, you’d think they were trying to tell you something and you’d probably say, What’s your point?”
“Okay, so no one’s gone out of their way to tell me you’re black—they don’t think it matters.”
“Oh… yeah, well, maybe… but also since I’m not black.”
“Jesus, Molly!”
“But I’m not white either.”
“Asian? Peruvian? I don’t enjoy being blind, you know! Molly Ray isn’t much to go on.”
“Have you been picturing me as a frizzy ginger with freckles?”
“I don’t picture anyone much anymore except people I saw before the accident. It’s funny because I know Sarah doesn’t look seven now but I can’t help seeing her like that sometimes.”
Molly laughs.
“Glad to entertain you, but can we skip over screwing with the blind girl to the part where you tell me what color you are, if that’s where this is going?”
“It’s not, but my mom’s from Nigeria and my dad’s a blue-eyed-blond mishmash of every European country there is. Most people aren’t sure whether I’m black or white and say I look like my parents merged their faces in Photoshop, except my eyes are all brown and my hair is just wavy and not quite black. Technically I’m biracial, but I never say that—”
“Why not? I mean—”
“Oh, it’s just because when guys hear the ‘bi’ part it revs them up. Don’t want that.”
I laugh. She doesn’t, but maybe that’s just modesty, not laughing at your own jokes?
“So your face is exactly half of your mom’s and dad’s faces and they look nothing alike… That either looks really great, or…”
“My big sister’s a model,” she says in a smirking voice. “She got the good halves—I got the leftovers. I don’t know what that leaves my little sister—she’s only twelve.”
“A model? Like runways, stuff like that?”
“Some, but mostly photo shoots. She was in Vogue last spring—March, I think. In the lower right corner of some page in the middle, wrapped around some shirtless guy like a snake. I don’t even remember if it was an ad or part of a story… It’s hard to tell with Vogue.”
“Wow. Sounds very glamorous.”
Molly snorts. I can’t tell what it means. “She’s coming home this weekend—maybe you’ll meet her. She’s not one of those big sisters who’s too important to notice us. She wants to be in on everything right up to the moment she disappears on a plane to Italy and doesn’t call again for weeks.”
Aunt Celia’s car bounces into the parking lot. It’s an awkward time to leave, but… I grab my bag.
“When you fell today,” Molly says quickly, “if you could see, you’d just know who ran over to you. If I tell you now, it’s like I’m also trying to tell you something else but I’m really not.”
“Who was it?”
“You see what I mean, though?”
“Was it Scott?”
“Yeah. He was first. When you asked for someone to get out of your light, that was him.”
“Then what?” I ask. “He stick around?”
“No, he backed off. I guess he knows you don’t want him around.”
Smart guy, that Scott. That was one of the things I liked about him, back when I liked him. Back when him caring about me might have been something other than guilt or obligation or some kind of lingering regret.
“I’m not saying it means anything, right? It is what it is.”
“I get it. And I’ll never get mad over something you tell me but I might get mad over something you didn’t. Just tell me anything you’re not sure about and let me worry about what it means.”
THIRTEEN
It’s almost one o’clock on Saturday and I’m riding Aunt Celia’s Silent Shuttle Service to the mall. There was an awkward moment when she suggested Sheila go with me but before I could open my mouth, Sheila said, “Can’t—homework” and ran upstairs. My disbelief was silenced only by my agreement that I didn’t want her along. The conversation about me going on a date and having Jason drive me home took longer, but in the end it was settled by promising to reply to any texts and getting home by ten. I complained about that last one mostly for show. I’m meeting Jason at five so that’s still plenty of time.