The past few weeks have been slow and quiet. Mom is working extra shifts because she is determined to start saving money so she can put a down payment on a car. E.J. practically lives at the studio, so I am usually home by myself. Which is good. The house stays cleaner this way, and the food lasts longer.
I haven’t spent much time with Sam. Partly because I usually have something to do after school, but mostly because I don’t know how to be around her when I know she doesn’t think that salesclerk treated me wrong. I don’t even think she feels the tension between us. She has moved on and acts like everything is fine, but me? I’m stuck wondering if I can truly be friends with someone who doesn’t understand what I go through, how I feel. I don’t expect Sam to always agree with me, but she didn’t even give me that generic I’m sorry that happened to you or I’m sorry you feel that way response.
Today, though, I have nowhere to go after school, so there is no avoiding Sam. She sees me at my locker as I swap out one book for another, and waits for me. “I have to stop by Mrs. Parker’s office before I leave,” she says.
“Okay.”
We walk to Mrs. Parker’s office, and when she sees us, she smiles and opens her jar. “What’s your pleasure today?” she asks. She holds the jar out.
Sam takes two sour apple Jolly Ranchers. I take a cherry one.
Then Mrs. Parker says, “Jade, do you mind if I speak with Sam alone? Just for a moment.”
“Oh, ah, okay. I’ll wait out there, Sam.” I point to the sitting area outside Mrs. Parker’s office. I take one more Jolly Rancher and leave. When I step into the waiting area, I dump my bag onto one of the chairs and walk over to the alumni hall of fame wall. Here, the counselors have posted photos of graduates from last school year, each photo with a small sign under the name that lists the college the former graduates are attending. I smile, knowing my picture will be here one day.
Sam comes out of Mrs. Parker’s office, an envelope in her hand and the biggest smile on her face. She can’t even get words out, she is breathing and smiling so hard. “Oh my God, Jade. This is so unreal. You are not going to believe this!”
“What happened?”
We walk out of the counseling center and make our way to the bus stop. “I’ve been nominated for the study abroad program,” she says. “This year the trip is to Costa Rica.”
When she says this, there is a pain in my chest. A real physical pain. What I really want to do is turn around, go back to Mrs. Parker’s office, and ask, What about me? Instead I say, “That’s— Wow, Sam. That’s— Congratulations.” I feel horrible that I can’t do better than that. I try again. “That’s really amazing. What did Mrs. Parker say?”
“Well, she said I was nominated by Mr. Flores,” Sam tells me. We get to the bus stop and wait. I can barely look at Sam right now, because I’m afraid she’ll see my eyes and know how I really feel. I sit down and look out at the street. Sam opens her envelope. “There’s an information session happening in two weeks. I have to bring an adult.”
She keeps talking, but I lose track of what she is saying. I am too busy thinking, How did this happen? Too busy trying to concentrate on the moving cars and trucks so I can distract my tears from falling.
“What’s wrong?” Sam asks.
If she has to ask, it’s not worth explaining. “Nothing,” I say. She probably wouldn’t understand anyway.
“Are you sure?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
The bus comes. We get on, show our bus passes, and head to our usual section. I get in first, sit next to the window. The bus jerks, and Sam stumbles into the seat next to me. Once she is situated in her seat, she turns to me and says, “You should come to the meeting too. The two of us in Costa Rica? That would be the best thing—”
“You have to be nominated to go, Sam. No one nominated me.”
“But, well, maybe—”
“Maybe what?”
Sam puts the envelope into her backpack.
We ride in silence. Finally silence.
Passengers get on and off the bus. On and off.
Sam moves her too-long bangs out of her face. “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing,” I say.
“Are you mad at me?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
We’re getting close to Sam’s stop. She scoots forward, getting ready to get up even though there are at least four more blocks to go. Sam starts talking again. “I, uh, I was going to ask if you wanted to come over this weekend. Maybe spend the night?”
“I’ll let you know what my mom says.”
“We can make pizza. My grandpa taught me how to make it from scratch. You like pizza, right?”
I nod.
When the bus pulls over at Sam’s stop, she walks to the back door. “See you tomorrow,” she says.
“Bye.”
I ride through the transition blocks, and then I’m back on my side of town. Where the river is polluted. I am thinking about the fish and the river. The giving and the learning. I am wondering how choices are made about who gets what and how much they get. Wondering who owns the river and the line, and the hook, and the worm.
41
familia
family
I haven’t spent time with Maxine since the outing to the symphony. She’s called a lot, but I usually make an excuse and say how busy I am and that I can’t talk. But she was determined to hang out today, so she invited me to her family’s Sunday dinner. “It’s a tradition in my family to eat dinner together on the first Sunday of the month,” Maxine tells me. “We call it Soul Food Sunday.”
I am surprised when Maxine says this. She doesn’t seem like the type of person who knows anything about soul food.
“I’m in charge of dessert,” Maxine says. She studies the cakes inside the glass case. We’re at some fancy bakery in the Pearl District, browsing through cakes, scones, and cookies. “What looks good to you?”
“Everything,” I tell her.
She laughs. “Yeah, this is pastry heaven. I get myself in trouble when I come here on Fridays. Everything’s half off on Fridays.”