Twenty-ChapterEight

Even if I’m going to be dateless at homecoming, I’m obviously still going to go. Who needs a date, right?

And because it’s rapidly approaching, I have to buy a dress.

Buying a dress means I have to pay for it with money.

Paying for my dress with money means I need to go to work.

And this is how I will myself to get out of bed and go to Nature’s Grocer for a long day of condescending customers who argue with me over prices, then get frustrated when they enter their credit card PIN wrong and act like it’s my fault.

The day crawls by. I honestly feel like I might scream when I have to ring up an older white guy who comes through my line with a box of melted gourmet chocolates and attempts to return them because he left them in his car and they had the audacity to turn into “goo.” Sir, how do you think the sun works?

By the end of my shift, my feet ache, my tongue is sore from a day of biting back what I wanted to say, and my stomach is rumbling.

Normally, I would head straight home and eat some leftovers prepared by Abuela. They’re always delicious and it would save me a couple of bucks. But tonight, I just want to grab something greasy and warm and eat it alone in my car.

A cheeseburger and some fries later, my stomach is full and I’m just about to turn my car on and head home when I spot some people around my age across the parking lot. They’re skateboarding, and a thought flickers in my mind. Could a tall, cute boy with locs somehow be part of that crowd?

Then I catch sight of the familiar hoodie. It is the tall, cute boy with locs— and h is friends.

I have two choices: I can either turn on my car and peel out of the parking lot, avoiding being spotted by my classmates and the boy who makes my heartbeat quicken, content in the knowledge that crushes don’t last forever and the next episode of Gilmore Girls is waiting for me at home.

Or I can fix my hair, add a touch of mascara and lip gloss, slather on some scented lotion, and march over there, in hopes of enjoying my crush— bec ause crushes are fun and delightful and harmless and I deserve a little sunshine.

I guess the real question is do I go with plain or sparkly gloss?

As I walk toward Isaiah and his friends, the confidence that washed over me in the car starts to wane. Is this silly? This might be silly.

But I can’t exactly turn around and run back to the car. Not when I’m this close, and not when—

“Whit?” Isaiah looks up, a con fused— but pleased?— look on his face.

I smile at him, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I thought that was you.”

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“Oh, you know. Just admiring the sunset from this delightful fast-food parking lot, as one does,” I joke. “Actually, I just finished up a shift at my job and I needed sustenance ASAP. I was going to do the whole eat- shamefully-in-my- car t hing, but then I spotted you and wanted to come by and say hi.”

He gives me an understanding nod. “Ahh, I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve desperately needed some fast food after I’ve finished up a tutoring session. I feel you. And I’m glad you came by to say hi.”

But just how glad, Isaiah? Enough to forget your ex- girlfriend? Because if so . . .

Isaiah’s hands go into the air like he just remembered something. “Oh! Let me introduce you to everyone.” He kicks his board into the air and grabs it, then takes me by the elbow and gently guides me toward his group of friends. I savor the electricity that shoots through me at his touch. “So, okay, that’s Malik.” A chubby, adorable Black boy with a fade gives me a nod. “And that’s Jay.” Isaiah points toward a Mexican boy with perfect curls (whose social accounts I may have lightly stalked in search of Isaiah). Then he juts his chin toward a shag gy-hai red, olive- skin ned Chinese boy. “And that’s Daniel over there. Guys, this is Whit.”

I smile at them. “I think I’ve seen you all around. Hey.”

“Hey,” Jay says, giving me a warm smile back. “You’re in my math class, right?”

I nod. “I am. But no judgments, please. Numbers are not my thing.”

“Jay is kind of a math genius, but the nonjudgmental type, so you’re good,” Isaiah says.

“You skate?” Daniel asks, gliding on his board in a circle around me.

“God, no,” I say with a laugh. “I wish!”

Daniel suddenly does something with his board that flips it in a circle. He lands perfectly on both feet, steady and grinning. “You could learn. Zay taught his little sisters to skate when they were, like, four. Now they’re practically pros.”

I shoot a look toward Isaiah. “Did you now?”

“Well, it was more like Amaya bullied me into it, but yeah,” Isaiah says.

“That sounds like Amaya.”

“We’ve all seen how intense that little girl can be. She once told me my mustache looked like dirt over my lip.” Malik shakes his head. “Most savage burn I’ve ever heard.”

“I notice you don’t have a mustache anymore, man . . . ,” Jay teases.

“You think I was going to keep it after hearing that?! Nah, no way. She humbled me,” Malik says, chuckling. “I think she might rule the world someday. And you know what? I’d be here for it.”

“Me too,” I agree. “I’ve only met her once and she’s already kinda my idol.”

“So, you down, then?” Isaiah asks. “To learn to skate?”

“Um, sure!” I hear myself say, because clearly my body is operating on pure adrenaline and my overthinking mind hasn’t quite caught up yet.

Isaiah gently kicks his board toward me. “Hop on.”

I look at him as if he has four heads. “Now?”

He shrugs. “Why not?”

Great going, Whit. Now you’re going to fall over in front of all of these cute boys and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.

“Well, talk me through it. What do I do first?” I ask.

“Let’s try to just get you on the board without falling to start. Okay? So, you can start by putting your nondominant foot on the area directly above the trucks,” Isaiah says.

“Okay . . .” I move my sneaker toward the board, but pause midair. “What the heck’s a truck?”

This makes them all laugh.

“She’s a beginner, man,” Malik reminds him. “Spell it out like you do for your tutoring kids.”

“I’ve got it,” Isaiah huffs. To me, he says, “The truck is a T- shaped thing the wheels are attached to. Right here.” He points with his shoe. “Gently place your foot right there, so that your shoe goes across the board.”

I do as he says, keeping my weight on my dominant foot. “Like this?” I ask.

“Exactly! Okay, so, actually, what I want you to do is add your other foot just beside it and try to balance. Do your best to keep your weight as centered as possible. You’ll want to lean left or right when the board wiggles, but try not to.”

The idea of stepping up onto Isaiah’s board terrifies me. What if I fall? What if I break my neck? What if the board splinters beneath my weight? “I’m going to break your board,” I blurt out. He blinks at me. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know!”

“Here.” Isaiah holds out an arm to me, patting his forearm. “Hold me for balance.” I hesitate for a second, but he meets my eyes. “I’ve got you.”

I don’t think and just do, adding my right foot beside my left. And when I realize I’m up, a laugh bubbles out of my throat. “I didn’t die!”

“Yet,” Jay teases.

Isaiah shakes his head. “Ignore him. You’re fine.”

I’m wobbly, though, and I find myself unable to straighten and find my center of gravity. Instead, I’m leaning, hard— just like Isaiah said not to do— and before I know it, I’m a tower of Jenga blocks crashing to the ground as the board zips out from under me and across the parking lot.

“Shit!” Isaiah swoops down toward me, and so do his friends. “You good?”

I’m stunned for a moment, just blinking, looking around at Isaiah, Malik, Jay, and Daniel. It takes a moment before pain surges through my legs and butt—not oh-my- God-I’m-dying-pain, but it hurts.

Yet I surprise myself when instead of hearing a yelp or a cry come from my throat, it’s a laugh. A big, throaty laugh that echoes through the parking lot.

“I’m good,” I say, lacing the words with giggles that come and go like waves, a signal to Isaiah and his friends that it’s fine if they start cackling, too. They do. With each laugh, I feel like I’m also pushing away some of the tension and stress from the day. It feels nice.

Isaiah holds out a hand for me to take it, and I reach for him. His hand is softer than I expect, and warm despite the chill in the air. It eclipses mine and I find myself holding it longer than I need to as he helps to pull me up.

“Ow,” I complain, rubbing my lower back, which took the brunt of my fall. “That hurt.”

“We can be done,” Isaiah assures me.

“No way! That’s part of it, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely! I still fall,” Jay says.

“Mostly because you do stupid tricks, but yeah,” Malik jokes. Jay flips him the bird. Daniel, who took off after Isaiah’s board, skates back into view. “Rescued this bad boy just before it almost knocked into an old lady carrying her food. Some might say I’m a hero.”

“And not a single one of those people is here tonight.” Jay grins at him, but it doesn’t stop Daniel from proudly puffing out his chest.

Isaiah takes his board and sets it back down in front of me.

“Try again?” I ask.

“You sure?”

I surprise him by grabbing on to his shoulders and mounting the board. “I’m already up!” I shout victoriously.

Isaiah whistles. “Look at you!” He steps closer to me, putting a hand on either side of my hips and helping to steady me. The skin beneath my clothes where his hands rest feel like it’s on fire a rush of heat and tingling. “We’re going to move now, okay? Just hold on to me. Don’t be shy.”

I gulp, worried he can hear from there how hard my chest is thumping. “Okay.”

He starts to move me and it’s rocky at first, the board jolting a bit under the cracks in the pavement, but once we have a little momentum and I get better at centering my weight, I feel myself grinning. “I’m not falling!”

“You sure about that?” A devilish grin comes over Isaiah’s face. “I’m about to let go.”

“What?! Don’t!” I shout.

“You’ll be fine,” Isaiah says. “I promise.”

I take a deep breath, not wanting his hands to leave my body, but nod. “Okay. Do it!”

Between Isaiah’s gentle push and the momentum we’d already built, the board sails across the lot on its own. “You’ve got this!”

“I don’t got this!” I yell back.

But I’m upright and alive. For just a few moments, it’s me, my curls bouncing in the wind, this board, and the phantom feeling of Isaiah’s hands on my hips, as I slowly sail across the parking lot.

Since I have no idea how to kick, it doesn’t last long. It’s enough, though.

When I successfully stop the board and get off it by myself, with no injury, to the far-too -kind and over-the -top cheering of Isaiah and his friends, I’m wondering if this is further proof I don’t need to be in control of every little thing all the time.

Maybe sometimes, I can just glide.