Page 33 of The Golden Boy’s Guide to Bipolar

“She’s so annoying. I’m so glad I’m a single child. If I had to be around someone like her every day I’d jump off a bridge.

How do you do it, Cesar?”

“What?” I ask, not prepared to get pulled into the conversation.

“With Yami. How do you put up with being around someone like that all the time ?”

My face twists in disgust, but not because of the chicken nuggets. Yami might think I hate her, but I don’t need Bianca jumping

on board. “What do you mean, someone like that ?”

“You know how she is,” Bianca says, like she expects me to just start talking shit with her about my sister.

“I told you I don’t want to talk about Yami,” I say firmly. “Talk about literally anyone else.”

She takes that as an invitation to turn the conversation back to her cousin, and I go back to eating and ignoring her.

Eventually the chicken nuggets disappear, and Bianca puts a hand on my cheek, turning my head to face her.

She kisses me in front of everyone, completely ignoring Stefani and Chachi.

I can feel Nick’s glare burning a hole through the back of my head from the table behind us.

At first I’m a little confused, because if Bianca likes me enough to ignore her friends, why isn’t she annoyed or mad I’ve

been avoiding her?

I push the thought down and savor the kiss, knowing how much of a privilege it is to kiss the person you’re dating in public.

What I would have given to be able to kiss Jamal in public when we were together...

The kiss grows deeper, and I turn so one of my legs is on the other side of the lunch bench. She immediately scoots closer

to me and kisses me harder. But no matter how hard I kiss Bianca, she doesn’t feel like Jamal. Her lips are smaller, and her

breath is mintier, since she’s always chewing gum. When she pulls away, she doesn’t look at me the way Jamal did either. Her

look is full of pride, like I’m a trophy she’s showing off. Jamal never looked at me like that.

Jamal always looked at me like I was the world. His world. It didn’t matter if no one else ever knew he had me. We knew, and

that was enough for him. He never guilted me for not wanting to wear his promise ring in public. Never made me feel bad for

taking a step away when people were watching.

“You should come over sometime,” Bianca says, wrapping her arms around my neck.

“Uh, I’m busy,” I say without a second thought.

Bianca’s smile disappears. “I didn’t even say when yet. How do you know you’re busy?”

“Oh, I meant... I’m grounded.” Okay, that part is actually true.

Bianca gives me a mischievous grin. “Sneak out then. My mom’s in Mexico until next week. We’d have my house to ourselves....”

She winks.

Oh.

It’s not that I don’t want to have sex with Bianca. I do. But I hesitate for some reason.

“Come on, I know you want to,” Bianca coaxes.

I swallow the uncertainty. “Okay,” I say, setting my hands on her waist. “Let’s do it.”

In astronomy the next day, Mrs. Velez announces that we’ll be partnering up to do our senior projects. She hands out a piece

of paper that has everyone and their partners listed, along with a list of potential projects to do.

I scan the paper for my name, and my heart sinks into my gut when I see I’m paired with none other than Jamal. Mrs. Velez

used to partner us together when we were in AP Biology freshman year and AP Chemistry sophomore year, since we got along so

well and always wanted to be partners. She’s obviously noticed how distant we’ve been lately, so my guess is that this is

her way of trying to get us to make up. She may think she’s doing us some kind of favor, but really, she just made it hard

to breathe.

Everyone gets up and switches seats to be next to their partners, and Jamal turns to face me since we already sit by each

other.

“Hi,” he says tentatively.

“Hi,” I say back.

Jamal smiles. It’s the first time we’ve talked in a while, and I feel like a baby learning to walk for the first time. But

when we get to talking about which project to go with, I find myself stumbling.

“I, um, what do you, uh, want to do?” I stutter, looking from Jamal to the paper listing possible projects.

Jamal scans the paper, his finger dragging down the page as he reads each prompt.

“This one looks cool,” he says, ignoring the fact that I don’t know how to word right now. “Create a model of starlight by

developing a sensor app with your smartphone to discover the key relationship between distance and brightness.”

I immediately shake my head. Creating an app together? That sounds like way too much time spent together. I want to spend

the least amount of time with Jamal as possible. I can’t go back on the boundary I set. And I know he has the power to make

me without even trying.

“How about this one?” I ask, pointing at prompt number five. “Calculate the orbits of near-earth asteroids. This one only

requires three nights of work,” I say. Three nights spread out over the next few weeks, looking at the sky, barely having

to talk, feels a lot less potentially romantic than spending every day together developing an app.

“Okay, we can do that one,” Jamal says without protest.

“Really?” I’d expected some kind of pushback, for some reason. Maybe Jamal really is over me and isn’t looking to spend a

lot of extra time together. Which is a good thing.

Right?