Does he even know what I’m thinking? Do I even know what I’m thinking?
Jamie ran into me at a party by accident. If we hadn’t seen each other, I would never have known he was in town, and he would’ve never come to see me. We’re sitting here together because we bumped into each other and remembered we were friends.
Maybe he’s thinking he felt sorry for me. Maybe I’m thinking I don’t like what that means.
“I don’t want you to think I didn’t want to see you.” His eyes are like two shiny crystals. “It’s just . . . complicated.”
We watch each other like two people who used to know each other and now don’t know what to say.
Jamie opens his mouth, but my phone goes off next to me.
“It’s my mom.” Pushing myself to my feet, I grab my phone, pull my shaky gaze from Jamie, and walk toward the guest bedroom.
“Hello?” I close the door behind me.
“Umm, hi.” There’s an uncomfortably long silence. “How’s Cal-i-for-nia?” She drags out each syllable like she’s being completely sarcastic.
I breathe out of my nose. “It’s good. How did you know I was here?”
“You could have left a note or something. I had to find out from Taro.”
I start to ask how he knew, but then I decide I don’t care. “Did you need something?”
“Can’t I find out how my only daughter is doing? I’m worried about you. I gave birth to you. I will always care about you, no matter how many times we fight.”
“Okay. Well, I’m fine.”
“What have you been doing?”
“I don’t know. Looking at schools and stuff.”
“What, so you’re moving there now? Are you coming back home?”
“I haven’t decided yet. And I told you, I’m not living in the same house as Uncle Max.” My heart starts to beat faster and my throat closes up.
“Max didn’t take your money. I asked him.”
I roll my eyes even though she can’t see. Because of course he isn’t going to admit it. Why would he? It’s my word against his, and I’ve already moved out.
“Look, I want to ask you something, but don’t get mad. Did you take some money out of my purse to pay for California?”
“What? No,” I growl into the phone. “Of course I didn’t. I have a job, remember? I don’t need your money, and I certainly wouldn’t steal it. Why would you even ask that?” Thud. Thud. Thud.
“I think I’m missing money too.” She laughs uncomfortably. “I’m only asking, okay? You don’t need to get so upset.”
“Umm, did you ask Uncle Max?” My voice is too loud because I can’t help it.
“I knew you were going to say that.” Her voice is almost melodic.
I sit at the edge of the bed and grab a fistful of quilt. “Did you seriously call me to find out if I took money from you?” I’m breathing so quickly the air is hurting my nose.
Mom groans loudly. “You are making this a way bigger deal than it needs to be.”
WHAT I WANT TO SAY:
“It hurts my feelings that you think I’d steal from you.”
WHAT I ACTUALLY SAY:
“I have to go.”
“Well, all right. Call me later, okay?” Mom says in her cheeriest voice.
“Bye,” I say. My heartbeat doesn’t slow.
When I return to the kitchen, Jamie is clearing the table. He looks up at me thoughtfully, his left hand balancing two plates and his right hand holding the tub of butter.
I cross my arms to hide how shaky my hands are. I don’t want to talk about Mom, and I don’t want to talk about why Jamie didn’t want to see me. “I’m going to apply to Brightwood.”
His smile is brighter than the sun.
I return a little bit of his warmth so he won’t ask if anything is wrong. After we clean up, Jamie lets me borrow his laptop. While he watches TV, I fill out the online application and try to imagine what it would be like to never go home again.
? ? ?
I draw a girl living on the edge of a crescent moon, staring down at the earth and not missing it at all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Do you think aliens are a lot more advanced than humans, or do you think they’d look at us and think we were the Japan of the universe?”
Jamie’s hands are behind his head and he’s only slightly propped up by a wooden lawn chair.
Laughing, I stare up at the broken pieces of glass decorating the night sky from my own chair. “I doubt we’re the Japan. It’s impossible that another planet out there doesn’t have better robots than us already.” My arms are folded around my knees.
He hums. “We are pretty behind on the artificial intelligence. I was at least expecting some kind of robot butler by now.”
I grin. “Robot chef or robot housekeeper?”
“Housekeeper. Who likes cleaning?”
“But a chef could make you a sandwich at literally any time of the day. Like you could wake up at three in the morning and ask it for a snack.”
“Or you could never clean again for the rest of your life.”
I shrug. “I know how to clean. I don’t know how to make butternut squash risotto with truffle sauce and fried gouda cheese.”
Jamie rolls his head toward me. “Is that a real thing?”
“I don’t know. It sounds good though, doesn’t it?” I’m grinning. And hungry. Brandon started making enchiladas but had to run back to the store when he realized they were out of cheese. Jamie and I are the only ones home.
“If you could travel back in time to any point in history, what would you pick?”
I blink at him lamely. “I’m half Asian, a girl, and I believe in aliens. Pretty much every lifetime before mine would have sucked for me.”
He raises his brow and pulls his hands to his chest. “That’s a good point. I thought you were going to say medieval times or something because you like all those fantasy games, but you’re right—they would’ve arrested you for heresy or something.”
“And burned me at the stake.” I shrug. “I wouldn’t even last in medieval Japan—they’d just be wondering why the weird not-really-Japanese-but-not-white-either-looking girl was wearing pants.”
Jamie’s face steadies. “Why do you always refer to yourself as weird?”
Surprised, I scrunch my nose. “I don’t know. Because it’s true?”
He sits up and grips the metal of the chair. “You say it like it’s a bad thing. Like you think ‘weird’ is all you are.”
It gets quiet. We just breathe to ourselves, and while Jamie watches me, I watch the crickets leaping away from the stone fire pit next to us. The light breeze tickles the palm trees, and I can hear the crackle of the ocean from down the coast.
“I want to show you something.” His voice slices across the air, stirring something in the pit of my stomach.
“Okay,” I say.
I follow him upstairs, where he leads me to his room. The walls are painted dark blue, and there are oversized black-and-white movie posters crammed close together like a Tumblr grid. Blade Runner. Back to the Future. E.T. The Empire Strikes Back. It’s sci-fi heaven.
To top it all off, his room smells like him—like the ocean and warm sand and crisp leaves. It makes my brain spin in a thousand rapid circles.