The storms return the next day. The forecasters are predicting an “Extreme Summer Storm,” complete with more hail, high humidity, and damaging winds. The suburbs may even see tornadoes. It’s a “supercell” of a storm that’s certain to damage property. Mr. Bautista orders Virgo to close the pool and we all get text messages not to report for work until Thursday.
Sammie and I get the text while we’re getting ready.
“Hallelujah,” Sammie says, throwing her brush in the drawer.
“No work for two days. I mean, it sucks we’re stuck here and can’t go to the beach or something, but at least we get a few days off.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“I’m not so good at doing nothing,” I say. “I thought I wanted inertia, but I’m not so good at it. Plus, being at work—even when the helicopter moms are complaining about the no-floatie rule—it distracts me, you know?”
“Yeah. I get it,” she says. “Well, we have the whole day. What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know. Nothing?”
We both laugh at first, but then she gets quiet. “Vivi, you’ve seemed more upset these past few days. Did you hear from your dad? Did something else happen?”
“What? No.” I haven’t told Sammie about finding the keys or seeing Mila or the fact that she knows about the photo. Just thinking about it makes my heart race. The last thing I need is to talk about it, too. “I’m just tired, I guess.”
Our phones buzz. Extreme Summer Storm calls for game of Extreme Summer Ping-Pong Championship, wouldn’t you say? It’s a text from Virgo to Evan, Sammie, and me.
“Awesome,” Sammie says. “Want to?”
I nod.
She looks up at me. “They’ll be here in about forty minutes. Want me to give you a crown braid?”
I shrug. “Sure. Thanks. I can do whatever you want, too.”
“Okay, turn around.” She starts combing my hair into strands. “We’ve got to make you look good for Evan.”
“Sammie, come on. Stop. That’s not happening. I will not destroy my friendship with you over a guy.”
“He’s not. Anyway, I’m not into guys who are totally into my BFF.”
I smile. “Okay. Fine. Stop, though, please. After that whole thing with Dean, I doubt anything’s going to happen as it is.”
“Fine.” She tugs my hair into a braid. “I will. Whatever you say.”
*
I have to admit: Playing Extreme Ping-Pong during an Extreme Summer Storm on the thirty-eighth floor of a building is a much better distraction than sitting at work all day. Evan’s also brought his guitar, and Virgo’s brought a violin, and in between matches, they play songs for us while the building shudders from the wind and thunder.
We spend the morning going back and forth between Ping-Pong, songs, and sitting on the floor and watching the passing storms. Then, around twelve-thirty, we go back down to Sammie’s to gather leftovers for lunch.
“My mom made dinner last night. Do you guys like Filipino food?”
“I’ll eat anything,” Evan says.
“Even chicken innards and pork bits?”
“Yes, probably,” he says.
Virgo raises his hands. “Thanks, but I’ll pass on both.”
“I’m just kidding.” Sammie takes the food out of the fridge. “Today’s menu is just chicken macaroni salad and pork adobo, no innards or bits included.”
She leans into the fridge and pulls out a six-pack of Coke. We help her grab plates, napkins, and utensils, then head back upstairs. She spreads a picnic blanket on the ground near the window, and we fill ourselves on her mom’s awesome food.
“Your mom’s adobo is the best,” I say. “I am so going to miss it.”
“It’s not like we’re moving to Canada. We’ll still see each other on weekends.”
“I know.”
“What are you going to do after Sammie moves?” Virgo asks. “Are you going back home?”
“I guess. I mean, I have nowhere else to go.” I take a sip of Coke. “Can we talk about something else? This conversation is depressing the hell out of me.”
“Sure,” Virgo says. “I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m just sick of talking about my problems. I want to hear about someone else’s problems.”
“I’ve got one,” Evan says. He puts down his plate and then shifts uncomfortably. “I got a message from my ex-girlfriend last night.”
“Whoa,” Virgo says. “Joanna? The high school sweetheart?”
“You mean the tenth-grade sweetheart? The one I pledged my life to when I was fifteen, the one I thought I’d marry and grow old with? Yeah, that one.”
“You seriously thought you were going to marry her?” Virgo laughs. “No one should be talking about marriage when they’re in high school.”
“Well, we did.” Evan’s shoulders slump. “And then she broke my heart.”
“How?” Sammie asks.
“She cheated on me. Even though we were going to different colleges, we promised to stay together, since we’re only a few miles away. But then she got together with another guy her first week at Northwestern, and she told me about it a week later. Said she was racked with guilt and couldn’t take it anymore.”