Page 17 of The Golden Boy’s Guide to Bipolar

By the time I get to school, the events of the morning have slipped through my hands like a wet bar of soap. I don’t even

remember why I was mad, and I don’t care. It doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is that my grades will go up now, which

means Yami and my mom have to be at least a little relieved, even if I am a fuckup.

I don’t even fall asleep in class all day. It’s like the colors are brighter, the food tastes better, the air is crisper.

Hell, Mr. Franco’s voice even sounds nice for once.

In the car on the way home, Mami looks at me like she’s worried, but my smile makes her relax a little bit. I feel like she’s

about to bring my mood crashing down by mentioning this morning, so I start talking first.

“I finished all my late work! My scholarship is officially safe.”

“?Eso!” Yami says from the back seat, and Mami beams.

“I knew you would,” she says, even though I know it’s a lie. Still, it doesn’t matter right now.

When we get home, the first thing I do is help Yami and my mom fix the jewelry shit I fucked up. It only takes about an hour and a half with all three of us working, then I get straight to my homework, which I’m already ahead on after last night.

Yami knocks on my door a bit after I finish. She doesn’t wait for me to answer before opening it and coming right in.

“So when were you planning on inviting me to that party? If you wait too long, I might have plans... ,” she says as she

plops down on my bed.

“You don’t have plans.” I laugh, rolling my eyes. I was planning on inviting her right after Jamal invited me, but it must have slipped my mind. Jamal probably figured I’d forget and texted

her himself. “So, want to come? Your nemesis won’t be there.”

“Do you really want me to go?”

“I’ll only go if you go,” I say, not realizing until then that I really do . If Jamal is the only one at the party I’m comfortable around, I don’t know if I trust myself not to let my feelings get

the better of me. Yami would be a good buffer, but I don’t want to tell her that.

“Well, you definitely have to go, so it’ll be a worthy sacrifice.”

“What do you mean?” Why would Yami care if I went to a party or not?

She raises an eyebrow like I should know. “You’ve been...” She pauses, probably choosing her words carefully. “Broody lately.”

Despite my conversation with Dr. Lee about how my support system being supportive is a good thing, an immediate pang of annoyance

clangs against my temples.

“I’m fine, seriously. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Yami gives me a skeptical look. “I don’t believe you. You’re getting detention almost more than last year at this point. Even then, your grades never slipped like this. You haven’t gone anywhere but school since that open mic. You need to get out there. I miss having fun with you!”

“Is going to a party supposed to help my grades come up?” I ask, laughing. She’s really grasping at straws here if this is

her idea of a solution.

“It’s not about your grades.” Yami shrugs. “Have you ever considered that getting out of the house will make you feel better,

and if you feel better, maybe you’ll be more motivated.”

I roll my eyes, not buying Yami’s little speech. “Of course it always comes back to my grades.”

“Fine.” Yami rolls hers right back. “Well, you do have a scholarship to maintain.”

“What if I don’t want to maintain my scholarship?”

That seems to push one of Yami’s buttons, because she stops with the peppy-big-sister act. “Do you realize how lucky you have

it? I’m working my ass off every day just to make a dent in my tuition, and you have a full ride . That’s huge! And you’re practically throwing it away!”

“You’re the one who has it lucky!” I shoot back. “You like Slayton, but you wouldn’t even be going if it wasn’t for me. I don’t even want to be here!”

Yami looks like I just slapped her in the face, which I might as well have, but I can’t stop.

“No one asked me if I wanted a scholarship. No one asked if I wanted to go to Slayton in the first place. No one ever asks

what I want! You all just drop your whole lives for some idea of what you think is best for me!”

Yami’s quiet for a while, her eyes shiny with tears. Then finally she softly asks, “What do you want, Cesar?”

And since it’s the first time anyone’s ever asked me that, I don’t have an answer. Do I want to go back to Rover? Do I really

want to lose my scholarship to Slayton?

I do know I want to rewind this conversation. I want to stop making everyone around me miserable. Sometimes I want to just

stop existing.

“I want you to come to the party,” I say, grasping at the remnants of the lighthearted conversation this started as. It’s

the closest I can get to a peace offering without acknowledging everything that went wrong.

She pauses for a while, and I can only hope our sibling telepathy is enough to get my message across. Casual conversation.

No tension. We’re chill.

“Fine.” She gets up and starts walking out but pauses at the door, a tiny smile on her lips. “But I’m bringing Bo.”

My shoulders relax. I think she got it.

On Saturday, our doorbell rings at exactly seven forty-five, even though the party is only five minutes away and starts at

eight. Jamal is never one to be late—doesn’t matter if it’s a party where you’re supposed to be late. Yami and I share a quick look before I get the door.

“Don’t worry, we still have to wait for Bo to get here,” Yami says, reading my mind like she always does.

When I open the door, Jamal is standing in the doorway looking even nicer than usual. His button-up shirt is long-sleeved

and solid white instead of his usual plaid or stripes.

“Hey, you,” he says with a small grin as I open the door.

“Hey, you,” I say back, the sight of him pulling my lips into a grin of my own. It’s not like I was in a particularly good

mood before he got here, but something about him just makes me feel lighter.

“Hey, Yami ,” Yami says, inserting herself into whatever moment Jamal and I definitely were not just having. She walks out the door and

hugs Jamal, which kind of gives me permission to hug him too. It’s a quick hug. Something that says ‘We’re friends,’ I think.

Still, I can’t help but notice he’s wearing the “I’m single” cologne we bought together. And, really, is it still singles

cologne if we’re wearing it together? Fuck, my head hurts.

Yami practically pushes past Jamal and me on her way out the door when she hears Bo’s car pull up next.

Jamal and I turn around to see Yami run into a hug, and Bo picks her up, squeezing her tight. Jamal clears his throat awkwardly.

“Should we give them a minute?” he asks.

“Nah, let’s go bug ’em,” I say mischievously, and run past Jamal to hug Bo.

I’m sure it’s not lost on Jamal that I hug Bo tighter than I hugged him, but he doesn’t show it. What he does show is a whole

lifetime’s worth of awkwardness on the ride to the party. He’s keeping both hands on the wheel instead of resting one on the

center console like he did when we were together. That was always his way of inviting me to hold his hand, but obviously that’s

off the table right now. Which shouldn’t bother me because this is what I wanted.

Ugh. I need a drink.

Luckily, there are plenty of those where we’re headed. There’s a sign on the door that says to go through the backyard gate, so we go that way. The music shakes the blood in my veins like I’ve had too much caffeine.

Once we’re in the gate but before we get to the crowd, Yami takes out her phone and pulls us all in for a selfie. I throw

one arm around her and one around Jamal, and Bo kisses Yami’s cheek as the flash goes off. Then Yami and Bo slip away, and

a few seconds later, I get a notification that I’m tagged in her story.

I share it absent-mindedly, and I swear it’s not even a full five seconds before I get a like from Bianca, of all people.

I’m glad Yami’s already ahead of us, because I don’t hide my reactions that well. Pretty sure Bianca has her notifications

turned on for me since she likes basically anything I post involving Yami. Not sure if that’s her way of trying to be nice

or passive-aggressive or what, but I’m staying out of it.

I pocket my phone and follow Jamal toward everyone else, but we don’t get far before he suddenly stops. “Shit, I didn’t realize...”

He turns to me. “Do you want to leave?”

I look behind his shoulder to see that while Nick isn’t here, Avery and two of their other friends are. I don’t blame Jamal

for assuming they wouldn’t be here without Nick, since I’ve barely ever seen them without their ringleader. I accidentally

catch Avery’s eyes, but he just goes back to his conversation like he didn’t notice me at all.

“Nah, we’re already here,” I finally answer. Without Nick or even the whole group, I doubt Avery’s stupid enough to go starting

shit. “Let’s do some shots.” I nod toward the sliding door, and Jamal follows me inside to the kitchen.

I pour one out for me, then one for Jamal.

“I’ll stick with water since I’m driving,” he says, and I shrug and take both shots in my hands.

“Cheers to me, then,” I say, clinking the two shot glasses together and downing them one after the other. It’s crowded enough

that the kitchen is pretty much the only place to hang out without having strangers breathing on your neck, so I lean against

the fridge while Jamal hops back to sit on the counter behind him.

I catch a glimpse of Yami and Bo from the living room. They’re dancing together, but Yami is looking around the room instead

of at Bo. Her eyes find mine, and she holds a thumb up at me. Then Bo puts a gentle hand on Yami’s cheek to coax her to look

back at her girlfriend. I roll my eyes. We’re at a damn party, and Yami still can’t stop worrying about me.

I pour another shot for myself and down it.

“Question,” Jamal says, leaning toward me with a curious look in his eye.

“What’s up?” I can’t help but smile. I love his random questions.