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I nod. “One of my cousins just took an Asian Am class in college and there’s even a 1.5 gen—that would be my mom.”

“The Woos have been here since the first Chinese immigrants came over to work on the railroad,” Kat says with a shrug. “Dreams of the Gold Mountain and all that.”

“Oh wow. That must be so cool, to be connected to all of that history and hear all the stories!” My own family history feels so abrupt, like we were lifted up by a storm and had to start anew.

My grandparents hardly ever talk about the war, and I can barely hold a conversation with them in Vietnamese.

It must be nice to be able to connect with family members who have had more generations here.

Kat blinks and looks away quickly. “Oh, I only know a little of that. I don’t really have a lot of family left on my mom’s side.” She taps my laptop, quirking her eyebrows at me. “So what was your scholarship thing about?”

“Oh, just, like, what I plan to do in college and why they should select me specifically for this scholarship.”

“And what do you want to do?”

“Save the world, basically.” I laugh a little, trying to play it off as a joke, but really, that’s what I want to do. I don’t think I’ve ever said that out loud before.

Kat doesn’t laugh or give me any sort of patronizing that’s nice expression. She tilts her head, regarding me. “Okay. How are you gonna do that?” The question seems exactly what it is: honest curiosity.

I plunge forward, emboldened by her gaze, and begin talking animatedly about the Plan.

I’m already on Step 7 and how I realized in AP Chem that through science I could make a difference when I realize Kat is actually paying attention.

Most people’s eyes gloss over if I get this far in the spiel, but she’s leaning forward, listening with interest. There’s a little furrow in Kat’s forehead as she knits her eyebrows together, and a hint of a smile on her lips.

This… is new.

I feel flushed with the attention and lose my train of thought, fumbling through the rest of the Plan. How do I explain Step 11 again? She is so cute, those eyelashes, damn.

She’s staring at me. I stopped talking. Right.

“Yeah, so, I just want to make a difference,” I mumble awkwardly.

Kat shakes her head. “When do you sleep?”

“I sleep,” I insist. At least five hours. Okay, maybe more like four.

“You just told me you’re part of marching band and the school paper and the president of like three different clubs—”

“Only one—I’m the vice president of the honor society—”

Kat snorts. “Yes, college is all well and good, but you’ve got to be in one piece when you get there, you know?

It’s cool, though, you want to be a… scientist?

” She scrunches up her face, like she’s still processing everything.

“Not many people can pull that off, and you’ve got a twelve-step program and everything. ”

“Nineteen.”

I like her laugh, how she throws her head back and her whole body shakes with mirth.

“Sounds like a helluva plan,” Kat says. “Just make sure you make time to have some fun in there.” The corner of her mouth quirks up, like she’s holding back a smile just for herself and she knows all the secrets in the world.

She leans in closer, and I take a slight breath, hoping to be unnoticeable. She smells like freshly ground vanilla beans.

“Okay,” I say, swallowing back the urge to giggle nervously. The only thing I can think about is how cool she is, how she didn’t laugh at the Plan, how I could never in a hundred years pull off how casually confident she is.

I fiddle with my hair self-consciously. “So, um. Fun. What do you—do you like to do?” Way to go, Brenda. You’ve definitely impressed her now, what with your endless rambling about the Plan and your dorky goals.

Kat grins at me, tipping the chair forward and leaning back and forth casually. She shrugs. “Lots of things. Walk around the pier, people watch. Mess around with runes and come up with my own spells.”

“Cool, like Dungeons I even have my character sheet and notebook in my messenger bag right now—you never know when you might have inspiration or when your friends want to do a one-shot.

Kat lifts her eyebrows at me in surprise. “You think it’s cool?”

“Well, yeah,” I say, giving her a small smile. Of course, I’d never admitted this to someone I just met. There are certain expectations at school on what’s cool and what isn’t. But I bet if anyone met Kat and her effortless confidence they’d think Dungeons I know I’ve got work to do, lists to write and rewrite and check off, but a few hours with Kat seems like the best thing in the world right now.

We stare at each other for a few seconds, and then the moment is broken when one of the customers coughs.

“I have to go, but I’ll see you Saturday,” Kat says. “Is four okay?” She takes a napkin off the table, scribbles hastily on it, and hands it to me. “I might have to pick up a shift in the afternoon, but I’ll definitely be done by four.”

I nod, tucking the napkin into my pocket for safekeeping, the reality of a date still kicking in. I accidentally knock over the chair as I stand up and apologize, trying to pick it up.

Kat laughs, helping me tuck the chair back in and our hands meet in a brush of warmth.

“Saturday,” she says.

“Saturday.” It’s a promise, the hope of something new and exciting in my usual routine. I can’t wait.

I gather up my things in a daze. I pause at the door and catch her eye as she waves at me.

I wave back with a giggle, then turn to face the window with a smile before I make a fool of myself.

Outside, I can see wind rus tling through the green grass by the street, and everything is beautiful and peaceful—

Wait.

Green grass?

I stare; the sidewalks are lined with overgrown, tall grass.

Looking down Main Street, the whole road is lined with lush oaks rustling with thick, waxy green leaves, willows swaying in the wind, tall leafy plants I can’t name, all of it bursting with life on the narrow meridian in the middle of the street.

I open the door and step out just as a dry, hot wind rushes by, whipping my hair into my face. I cough and splutter and when I look up, all I can see is the same old dry and dusty meridian, parched earth and long-dead weeds.

Huh. It’s so hot I must be seeing things.

My phone beeps with several texts. I must be late.

I race toward the library, making it to the end of the block in record time.

A storefront window reflects a hot blast of sunlight into my face.

I squint and turn back toward the row of faded shops where Sammy’s Coffee and Pick-Me-Ups was.

The giant coffee cup sign is faded and hanging at a strange angle—huh, that’s weird.

It looked brand new to me earlier, but I was so stressed and distracted, I probably missed it.

Stacey stands up from the library front steps. “Where have you been? Mom’s been texting me nonstop for the last few minutes,” Stacey says.

“I said an hour,” I say, scowling.

“Yeah, well Mom said whenever she was done shopping, so—”

I look down at Jimmy, who’s holding a tote bag full of books and beaming. “What’d you get?”

“This one is about a dog who goes to space and this one is about a cheese monster and—”

We get in the car, and I tune out Stacey’s negativity and listen to Jimmy’s excitement about his new books as we drive across the street.

Pulling up to the grocery store, I spot Auntie Van in a comfortable squat, looming protectively over all her grocery bags at her feet like a mother hen.

She waves me over and tsks at me for being late as I hop out to help her load the bags.

“Did you finish your work?”

“Yes, thank you,” I say, stashing the last bag securely in the trunk.

“Good, good.” Auntie Van wipes away sweat from her brow. “You took so long I got worried! Good thing I found this shade.”

The flimsy tree barely casts a shadow; it’s mostly dry branches, withering in the drought like everything else.

I think about that moment at the coffeeshop, seeing all that greenery exploding out of the ground, like the plants had so much water and nutrients they didn’t know what to do except grow.

It’s a ridiculous concept. We’ve been in a drought since before I was born. The city hasn’t watered those meridians in years.

I must have imagined it.