Page 1 of The Golden Boy’s Guide to Bipolar

I watch the air leave Jamal’s mouth when he lets out a nervous breath—but no, it’s not because I was staring at his lips.

It has nothing to do with the fact that it’s New Year’s Eve, and in less than an hour everyone inside will be paired up sharing

their midnight kisses. The thought of using the new year as an excuse to kiss my ex-boyfriend/current best friend has absolutely

not crossed my mind, and I’m definitely not thinking about it right now.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asks as he crosses his arms and rubs his biceps. I can’t tell if he’s doing that out

of nerves or because he insisted I wear his jacket while we’re standing on the curb outside the party.

“It’ll be fun,” I reassure him. “Besides, I already paid for it; I’m not going back now.”

Jamal turns his head when he spots our hookup coming around the corner.

“You have a leaf,” I say as I reach out to pluck it from the ripples of his dark hair, careful not to mess up the waves he’s

been training recently.

“Thanks,” he says with an almost-shy smile. That’s when I realize I leaned in a little too close to get the leaf, and he didn’t back away.

Before I can read too much into it, though, the black Dodge Challenger with tinted windows makes its way to the curb we’re

waiting at. The window rolls down, and my friend Hunter nods at us from the driver’s seat. He was one of my best friends last

year, before he graduated. Now that he’s in college and free from Catholic school, he’s able to get his hands on the kind

of stuff us mere minors would have to practically sell our kidneys for.

“You’re late,” I say as I step closer and lean forward, resting my forearms in the window.

“Well, yeah, this shit wasn’t easy to get. I had to go all the way across town!”

Jamal steps up next to me, looking guilty. “Shit, sorry you went out of your way. Do you want to join the party?”

Hunter grins. “Hell yeah. I didn’t go out of my way for nothing. No way I’m letting you guys try this shit without me.”

“Cesar, what the fuck!” I jump as the gate leading to the backyard slams and a voice shouts from a few paces behind me.

I whirl around to see my sister, Yami, marching angrily over to us. I hadn’t heard her open the gate, but it seems like she

just overheard some of our conversation with Hunter.

“You better not be in the middle of a fucking drug deal right now. How am I supposed to cover for you if you don’t even try

to hide your own tracks? Mom and Bo’s parents are literally right inside!” Yami yells as she pulls me away from the window

and then throws her arms up in exasperation when she sees Hunter inside the car. “You couldn’t have pulled up like a block

away from Bo’s house ? Our parents are in there!”

I burst out laughing at Hunter’s deer-in-headlights look as he stumbles over a frantic denial.

“What? I’m not... It’s—it’s not like that!”

I’m laughing too hard to offer an explanation, so Jamal chimes in. “We bought fireworks for New Year’s. It was supposed to

be a surprise. Still potentially dangerous, but nothing illegal.”

I almost want to be annoyed at Yami for being so overbearing about literally everything I do. Still, the reminder that she

has my back if I ever get in trouble is kind of nice.

Just then the front door to Bo’s house opens, and Bo walks over to us, followed by our friends David and Amber, who were also

invited to Bo’s family New Year’s Eve party. Hunter parks the car on the curb, and after we explain the situation to everyone,

Yami laughs it off and agrees to have some fun with fireworks.

Hunter and David jump at the chance to unpack the fireworks, but Jamal stops them. “Wait, wait! We have to read the instructions!”

“Eh, I feel like fireworks are pretty intuitive,” Amber says, without looking away from David’s thick black hair as she tries

to pull it up into a tiny pigtail. He’s been growing it out just enough for it to feel like a rebellion from our Catholic

school dress code, but not enough to actually get a violation.

“I respect you for being able to access the intuitive part of your brain, but I’d rather rely on clear instructions than a

gut feeling of how not to blow my hands off.”

Maybe I’m too protective, but I do a quick scan of the group’s reaction.

Jamal might have come off a little sarcastic, which doesn’t always land well if you’re not close enough to the group.

Hunter, Bo, Amber, and David met Jamal at Slayton’s anti-prom last year, but they probably don’t know him well enough to know he’s not making a jab at them.

Jamal’s body language, tone, and general personality all prove to me that he’s genuinely trying not to offend anyone right now.

Hence the whole I-respect-you thing. Luckily no one looks annoyed.

“I’m with Jamal,” Yami says. She’s the only other one here who knows Jamal pretty well, since he lived with us for a while

after he got kicked out last year. “I’m so good at being intuitive. Like, my intuition is talking to me right now. It says we should read the instructions so no one

gets blown up.”

Yami, on the other hand, is definitely being snarky on purpose. She takes the box and starts reading the instructions out

loud. Once she and Jamal are satisfied it’s all safe, she holds the box up.

“Who wants to do the honors first?”

David eagerly volunteers, so Yami hands him the box. But before he’s able to set off any fireworks, Bo looks worriedly at

her phone.

“How long is this gonna take? We only have ten minutes until midnight.” She squeezes my sister’s hand, and Yami’s eyes light

up with something eager.

“Hey, Siri, what’s my next alarm called?” Yami says with a flirty smile, not taking her eyes off Bo.

Siri responds from Yami’s phone. “I found one alarm, ‘New Year’s kiss,’ set for twelve o’clock a.m.”

Bo’s cheeks go red almost immediately. Considering how shy Yami was about Bo last year, she has clearly been working on her

game.

“Aww, I’m getting a New Year’s kiss too, right?” Amber looks to David, who pulls his phone out to set his own alarm.

“Of course, babe.”

I turn to look at Jamal like muscle memory from when we were together, only to find he was already looking at me. Jamal isn’t

the type of guy to look away when he gets caught staring, though, so he holds my gaze earnestly. I glance down at his lips

and wonder if maybe I should set an alarm of my own. What better time than the new year for a fresh start?

Before either of us can say anything, though, David effortlessly sets off the first firework without warning. Bo lets out

a startled scream and hides behind Yami when it goes off. I watch it shoot high into the air before lighting up yellow sparks

in the sky.

From the corner of my eye, I can see Yami and Bo holding hands, and David and Amber holding each other. The warmth from Jamal’s

hand being so close to my own but not quite touching makes my fingers twitch in anticipation. He must notice, because I suddenly

feel his gaze on me once again.

His fingers twitch too, and for a tiny fraction of a millisecond, the tips of our fingers make contact. If anyone saw, they’d

probably be able to write it off as a firework-induced flinch, but I know better.

Bo and Yami are next to set off a firework. They do it together, since Bo seemed so skittish the first time. Yami pretends

to be brave, but the slight tremble in her hands as she holds the firework tells me it’s all an act to impress Bo. As if Bo

wasn’t already completely head over ass cheeks.

As soon as the firework shoots up, Yami’s tough-guy look disappears as she and Bo both hold each other, screaming and laughing.

I watch as the sky crackles again, like really pretty popcorn in an invisible microwave in the sky.

“Question,” Jamal says, quiet enough for only me to hear under the sound of exploding lights. He’s been prefacing his questions

this way ever since his cousin told him his tone doesn’t always translate, which I guess makes him sound sarcastic when he’s

not trying to be. He used to just blurt out questions at random times—anything from a “would you rather” to a deep investigation

into your soul. Having the preface of “question” usually does nothing to prepare me for whatever might come out of his mouth

next.

“Go ahead,” I say, once I realize he’s still waiting for me to give him permission.

“What are you thinking?” he asks—one of his go-tos.

“Skycrowave,” I blurt out and immediately regret it. A question like “What are you thinking?” while we’re watching fireworks

and our fingers are almost touching should have been my golden opportunity. The amount of smooth or flirty things you can

say to that question are basically infinite. But apparently all the brain cells that got me a photographic memory and a 5.0

GPA don’t mean shit when a hot guy’s involved. Put Jamal in front of me, and all those brain cells work on overdrive, sifting

through all my knowledge and memory files to find the perfect answer, and somehow the best I can come up with is skycrowave .

“Skycrowave,” he repeats, as if it’s a math equation. He pauses for a minute before finally saying, “I understand,” which

makes me laugh.

“You understand skycrowave?”

“It’s the sound, right? Like when you microwave popcorn. That’s what this is.” He gestures at the sparkling sky. “A sky microwave.”

Okay, maybe he does understand. I really can’t get enough of how sincere Jamal is about things most people (myself included)

would just make a joke about.

Hunter goes to light his firework next, but he must not have been paying much attention when Yami was reading the instructions,

because his firework shoots off prematurely, right in Jamal’s direction!

Jamal freezes while everyone else runs for it. I must be going off pure adrenaline because I jump right into gear, yanking

Jamal out of the way by his hand.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!!” Hunter shouts as we scatter, screaming and darting in all directions away from the literal explosives

headed toward us. Everyone else takes cover behind Bo’s car, while I pull Jamal across the street to hide behind his truck.

The street doesn’t stop igniting once we’re safely crouched and huddled together for cover. I shut my eyes tight, as if not

seeing the colorful explosions on the street will keep them from hitting us. It isn’t until the metaphorical popcorn kernel-bursting

slows down that I finally open my eyes and realize I never let go of Jamal’s hand.

He meets my eyes without pulling away. His eyes flicker down to my lips for a moment, not bothering to hide where his gaze

lingers before going back to meet mine.

No one can see us. We could kiss right now, and no one would have to know....

The final popcorn kernel bursts, but I don’t bother checking on the settling dust on the other side of the truck.

The sounds of our panting breaths and beating hearts slow, fading into the background.

Maybe I can’t hear because of the fireworks having been so loud and so close, or maybe I’m just laser focused on him .

Without sound, the only proof that we’re both still breathing is the condensed air coming from our mouths in puffs. His shirt

slightly tightening and loosening with the rise and fall of his chest. The movement of his shoulder pressing softly against

mine.

Then the silence ends as two separate phone alarms go off at the same time, and we’re making out before anyone can shut off

the sound again.