CHAPTER 8
“ T avah Riggs was at the game for you tonight, Miller. Again.”
I finish my text to Meemaw about our insane win, slouched low, knees pressed into the train seat in front of me.
Johnny leans his head back and swivels it toward me. “‘ Yay, Magic Miller’ ,” he whisper-screams in falsetto, waving his hands to imitate the girls at our game.
I laugh once and shake my head, still texting when Johnny goes on.
“Should’ve seen your dad’s face, dude. Had a pretty good view from my usual spot on the bench and, every time those girls yelled your name, he had his hand on his gun.”
I shrug, my mind replaying the game, wishing I’d scored one more goal as the train wobbles toward Chinatown.
“You blind and deaf, maybe? ‘Cause ain’t no one comes to our games but girls screaming your freaking name.” Johnny looks at his phone and laughs to himself, then responds to a text before swiveling his head back toward me, but my phone beeps and I read Meemaw’s response:
YOU’RE MY CHAMPION. Love you, my big ol’ grandbaby.
“You into guys?” Johnny asks, and when I don’t respond, he straightens in his seat and turns fully toward me.
I glance at him, clicking off my phone.
“Or maybe you aren’t into either. It’s cool. You can tell me anything.”
I toss him a weary glance, then pull out my Sharpie and write the final game score on my arm. “I like girls.” Especially when there are girls like Mei anywhere in this universe. Haven’t told Johnny or any of the guys about her ‘cause I don’t want Dad to find out, and they have oversized mouths.
“Good to know, since there’s a whole stadium full of them who want you.” He shakes his head. “And Tavah, man. She’s fine. And Savvy’s best friend, so…best friends dating best friends…”
I pull up a picture of my future motorcycle on my phone, flashing it at Johnny. “Meet my girl—she’s Asian. I like Asians.” Huh. Yeah. True. But I can’t really like like the real-life Asian girl until after I get my two-wheeled Asian girl.
“No wonder you tear it up on the field. All that pent up frustration.”
I laugh again. “Maybe you should stop scoring with Savvy and you’d score on the field more often.” I smirk at my phone screen as it lights up with a call from an unknown number. Usually, I wouldn’t answer but Johnny’s not gonna drop the girl thing. I accept the call and hold it to my ear. “Hello?”
“Magic 8 is kind of bossy.”
My entire body stiffens, down to my sore calves, and I shoot up in my seat. Girl. Phone number. Magic 8 ball. No freakin’ way .
“Hello? Can I talk to Buddha, maybe?”
I swipe my arm across my forehead, glad she can’t smell through the phone .
“Who is it?” Johnny mouths.
He’ll tell the guys and there’ll be no mercy. Then, when they’re all over some night, Dad will hear the jokes and—
“Hello?” Mei’s voice is in my ear and the reality gets me to my feet.
I grab the overhead rail and walk down the aisle away from Johnny and his curiosity. “Uh…sorry—hey. Buddha’s…in the shower. And then he has meditations and a whole bunch of other stuff before bed. Can I give him a message?” I put my fist to my mouth where my lips aren’t sure whether to smile or let out a scream.
“It must be time-consuming being a hostage.”
“I’ve got him doing all my chores in his free time. Organizing drawers, returning emails, folding my socks. Which is really hard for someone his size.”
“Mmm. Important stuff.” She’s smiling. She. Is. Smiling.
I grip the rail tighter, the metal burning against my sweaty palm. “Don’t sound so sad. I’m sure we can work out visitation rights or something.”
“Isn’t he afraid of losing his place to a Magic 8 ball?”
“Uh, no.” I smile to the black tunnel outside the window. “He and Magic 8 are working together, and turns out they’re pretty effective. Also, he told me he prefers the view from my windowsill. You know, street versus alley. He’s grateful for the guy time too ‘cause he said you talk about embarrassing girl stuff, and he needs sports talk and bad language. But he did tell me in total confidence that he misses you.” I curl my toes in my Adidas.
“Sounds like a lot of late nights for someone so old. He should probably come home and rest. I’m afraid he might pick up some bad habits.”
“Oooh.” I sigh. “Too late, but…” I lower my voice. “Maybe we could schedule a visit? I’ll give you two some time, and we’ll let him decide if joint custody is possible.”
“I’m listening… ”
Should’ve thought before I spoke. “Um, okay, so…” Where do I meet her? Can’t meet at The Clubhouse; Dad will come home and sense all the girl voodoo in our apartment. My mind flicks through locations, but the train lady announces my stop and I’m out of thinking time. The only thing on my mind besides Mei is Oreos. “Meet me at Phil’s Big Deal.”
“Umm…where?”
“You know—Phil. The market guy around the corner from our apartments. Big orange sign? Next to the new boba place?” Silence. “He’s bald? White goatee? Wears purple pants way too short for him? Not sure what the store’s actually called—can’t speak Chinese. I just call it Phil’s Big Deal ‘cause he holds mahjong tournaments in his basement.”
“Where Guo Mama goes on Sunday nights?”
“That’s the place! Meet me there in five? In front of the Oreos? Aisle three.”
“Okay.” Her voice curls at the end.
I end the call, then stare at my phone, my stomach wrapped around itself like a mass of cold, jittery noodles. The moment I daydreamed about all day is about to happen in real time. Me and Mei…alone. If only I already had my motorcycle. If only I knew what’s going on between her and Face Eater. Also, if only I was as smooth in real life as I am in my head. Oh, the things we’ve done in my head.
Johnny’s still watching me as I grab pole after pole, walking back to my seat to grab my bag. “Don’t even try to lie to me, Miller. That was a girl on the phone.”
“Catch you later, man.” I move toward the train door and when it finally opens, I take a deep breath and rush out.
Taking the escalator steps two at a time, I hit the sidewalk at a jog, my bags bouncing against my back until I slow under Phil’s bright orange sign and take a deep breath. Anticipation shoved me here. I wanna see her, but I’m throwing gas on a raging bonfire. Am I willing to let my motorcycle dreams explode for this moment? This is girl contact—the stuff I told Dad was no problem to avoid. But it’s a huge problem. I wanna see Mei. Bad. Dad didn’t say I couldn’t talk to a girl. We’re just two humans about to have a conversation at a convenience store. It could happen with anyone, anytime. Talking doesn’t make babies.
Pushing the door open, I slow way down, roll my neck, and pop my knuckles. Phil’s not behind the counter, which is probably best. He’s a cool guy, but hat’s waiting for me on aisle three is way cooler.
I turn the corner past the Chinese candy, and my eyes skid to a stop on skinny jeans that outline surprisingly long legs, and hair draped over her shoulder in a black, shiny waterfall. Surrounded by glossy packages of Oreos. One stop shop for God’s most beautiful creations.
I talk myself into cool as I stop in front of Mei, meeting her eyes. “Hey.”
Her head’s tilted and she gives me a shaky side smile, her eyes darting away. “This seemed like a good place to run into you.”
Is it the fluorescent lighting, or is her face bruised? “Think I’ll hang out on aisle three even more often than I already do.” I smile, then squint, looking at her cheekbone that’s casting a bigger shadow than it should be. Definitely swollen.
I resist the urge to hold her head between my hands to get a closer look. “You’ve got a little somethin’ on your face and…I’d offer to wipe it off, but it doesn’t look like it’s coming off anytime soon.”
She tightens her jacket around her and turns to face the shelves.
“Was it Face Eater?”
She shakes her head. “I ran into my closet door.”
I squeeze between the shelf and her, looking down at her. “Does your closet door have a fist?” She watches her feet, so I press a little harder. “Everything okay at home? ”
“Yes. I’d just rather not talk about it.”
Confirmed—Face Eater. “Uh, okay. Well…I’m not really cool with the way your closet treats you, and there’s a 95 percent chance I’ll bring it up again, but I’ll drop it for now.”
“I’m okay, really.”
“Maybe you are, but your eye’s not.” I pull out my phone. “And your closet’s gonna have a close encounter with the cops.”
“No.” She puts her hand on my phone, fingers on mine. I look at them, then her. “Please. It was an accident. Completely my fault. It’s embarrassing.”
I search her eyes, looking for hints. “I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t have to.” She presses her lips together and turns to walk away.
“Fine—okay.” I sidestep and cut in front of her, holding up my hands. “Sorry. Let’s get something for your cheek. Then we can go for a walk and not talk about it.”
“Can we maybe go somewhere not outside?”
“Uh, sure.” But where? We could go to Guo’s but I wanna talk to Mei without a pair of old but surprisingly good ears listening. I could slowly walk her home through dark alleys, but I’m not ready to say goodnight, and Face Eater might be hiding in his ninja clothes. He obviously already practiced on her tonight, which makes me wanna bust his ugly face. I swallow anger. I could take her to The Clubhouse. Dad’s working late. He hasn’t gotten home any night this week before 4 AM. After she leaves, I’ll scrub it clean, so nothing smells like Girl.
But I could lose the motorcycle if we’re in my apartment alone. But no. I won’t. No. Just…ice for her cheek and talking. That’s it.
A few minutes and a grocery bag full of milk and Oreos later, Mei steps inside The Clubhouse and I freeze in the doorway. No girl besides Aunt Audrey and Meemaw has ever stepped inside this apartment and this is the first time I’ve ever spent time with a girl my own age besides the girls in my Sunday school class who guilt me into helping them bake cookies for old people. They’re on Dad’s approved list ‘cause they love Jesus and service. But I am doing service. And with cookies. Just not for old people. No big deal. Bet still on.
Mei follows me inside and I lock the door behind us. There’s a girl IN THE CLUBHOUSE. Where are the sirens and blaring lights? Where’s my brain? I was mentally capable before Mei called. But it’s also kinda like I don’t need to be. Like I’m on autopilot. Didn’t know I came equipped with autopilot.
“Do I get to see Buddha now?” Mei’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I snap into motion, setting the bags on the counter and snatching a bag of peas from the freezer and wrapping it in a towel.
“First this.” I hold it out to her. “I’ll go tell him you’re here, but he’s not gonna be happy about your closet’s aggression.”
I walk into my room, stop, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. In…out…calm. Cool. All the freaked-out parts of me collected. I roll my neck like I’m warming up for a game and let out a shaky breath as I snatch Buddha from my windowsill and walk back to the kitchen.
Mei’s checking out the bookshelf in the corner and I’m just glad I picked up the pile of dirty socks by the ottoman and vacuumed the rug yesterday. Glad there are no jock straps lying around.
Mei glances up. “Someone likes history.” She gestures toward the bookshelf, and I nod, setting Buddha in the center of the table before grabbing two bowls. “My dad. Huge reader. By candlelight, actually so…candles.” I wave my hand around the room.
“He reads by candlelight?”
I shrug and nod. “Yeah. Kind of his thing. And collecting weird, abstract photos.” I nod toward a few pictures hanging above the table. A tree made of bike chains and a river made of wire and rope.
“That’s…unexpected for a detective.” She smiles and walks to the table, grabs Buddha, and sits across from me while I pour milk over the mound of Oreos in each bowl and stare at Buddha in Mei’s hand. Kinda wish I was him right now, Mei’s hands all over me, her fingers on—
I slide my bowl over a shriveled piece of cereal I missed wiping off this morning and jerk my eyes to her face.
“So, what you do,” I explain as Mei watches, “is pile Oreos in the biggest bowl you can find. Then you drown them in milk, and when I say drown, I mean, like a Pacific Ocean of milk. Then, you wait four and a half minutes exactly. They’ll be perfectly soaked and show your mouth a whole new world. Guaranteed.”
She holds the peas over her left cheek and eye, but her right eyebrow arches.
“And while we wait, you can tell me what the Buddhist said to the hot-dog vendor.” * 1
She rests her elbow on the table. “What?”
I pop the lid back on the milk with my palm. “If we’re gonna hang out, you should know I tell stupid jokes. Done it forever, no matter how obnoxious.”
“I’m fine with that.”
“The hanging out part or the stupid jokes?”
She shrugs. “Both.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Cool.” I swirl my Oreos in the milk with a spoon.
“So, are you going to tell me the answer?” she asks .
“Was kinda hoping you’re a guesser.”
“I’m not.”
“But you like me to guess.” I look at the peas she’s still holding to her face.
She stares at me until her eyes talk. “ Hi.”
I smile and lean forward, forearms on the table, and respond silently . “Hey.”
Her one eye blinks.
Both of mine hold it and say, “So…Face Eater…”
Her solo eye responds, “I still don’t want to talk about him.”
“I don’t wanna talk about him ever but…Face Eater is…” I push an Oreo into its milky grave with the back of my spoon. “This is where you fill in the blank.” My heart goes for a jog when I meet her eye again and I wanna fill in the blank by introducing our lips.
She presses hers together, but her eye tells me she understood my silent thoughts, loud and clear. Like a megaphone next to her ear.
I swear through a smile and hold up my hands. “Sorry! Just discovered a big problem with Eye Language. Can’t hide my thoughts from you. Even with your obvious disadvantage.”
“I like that.”
“I’d like it better if it went both ways.”
“We’ll see.”
I bark a laugh. “Is that, like, some obnoxious pun?”
She shrugs and smiles.
“Could you be any more cryptic?”
She shrugs again.
“Ah — you can. Awesome.” I dig into my Oreos. It hasn’t been four and a half minutes, but I need a distraction.
“Are you going to tell me the answer to your joke?”
I look up, shaking my head, my mouth stuffed with Oreos. “Nope. You have to earn it.”
“How? ”
“Let me consult Buddha.” I slide my hand across the table, palm up, and she places him in my hand. “He knows how to work things out peaceably. He’s a great listener; I’ve told him everything. And he told me some pretty interesting things about you.”
“Like?”
“Nope. Confidentiality, you know? He’s totally trustworthy—something about religious convictions.”
She eases back in her chair. “How exactly do you talk to him? Just curious.”
“Hold on.” I hold up my finger and lean toward him. “He needs to tell me something. It’ll only take a minute.” I rub his belly and put my ear near him, laughing and shaking my head like he said something hilarious. I whisper in his ear, then listen to his reply. “I know, man, I know, but since you’re a statue, guess you’ll have to be okay with it.”
Mei tilts her head. “Okay with what?”
“You know…eating Oreos. Together. You. Me.” I wag my finger between us. “Hangin’.”
She stares at me while sirens blare outside, then smiles. “Tell me more about what ‘hangin’ with you requires so I can make the decision for myself.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s pretty grueling, actually.” Slouching in my chair, I lean my head back. “No one’s ever survived it. Then again, no girl’s attempted.”
“No one?” Her eye darts away, but not before I read it loud and clear. “ How is that possible? ”
“Ha!” I jump out of my seat, leaning across the table . “I saw it. Dude—I’m getting good at this Eye Language translation thing, and it’s only been twenty minutes. And you’re only talking with one eye.” I settle back into my seat and sigh. “Ahead of the curve, right where I like to be.” I devour another Oreo. “I’m flattered, but I’ve made it possible for eighteen years.”
“Why? There are a million girls who like you. ”
I frown at her. “Uh…I think your estimations are a little high, and even if they were accurate, there are approximately zero that I’ve liked back. Except…” I play with my spoon, lift it, twist it, watch it. “I don’t know…” I stare at my Oreos, then glance up at her. “Think I might like you.” The words run out of my mouth like prisoners set free, not looking back.
A smile lights her face, and she sets down the peas. “You don’t even know me.”
I rub my palms on my shorts and lean into the table. “I know I like your smile. Really like it, actually. And your notes. Especially your extremely symmetrical handwriting.” I glance at her, gripping my knees under the table. “You have big, gorgeous mostly brown eyes with a shimmer of green. It’s like…” I scan the living room behind her, remembering a day in Astoria, Oregon. “It’s kinda like sitting in a forest, looking up.”
She presses her lips together, trapping a smile and pink floods her cheeks.
I hold on to her gaze as the words swing out of me. “Reminds me of one of my favorite places. Like…you’re kinda a favorite place. And…I like you. And…everything else. Including your choice of Wednesday night company.”
She grins but looks past me to the framed artwork above the table. “You’re not brave enough to like me.”
“Why’s that?”
She shrugs, smiling at the table again before looking back at me. “ So…what if I think I might like you, too? What are my chances ?”
I hold her eyes, then lean forward and pull the Sharpie from my pocket, grabbing her wrist. I pull her arm toward me across the table and write 100%, snap the lid on the Sharpie, and sit back. Dad just can’t know. Betrayal and guilt tango through my chest and leave a trail of hot lava no amount of Tums could touch. But I don’t wanna fix it if it means resisting Mei. Why can’t I have my motorcycle and her? If she’s even available. We can like each other. Just can’t do anything until I graduate. Forget the car. Motorcycle’s barely worth it now.
She reads the number. “Really?”
“Yeah.” I tap the Sharpie against the table’s edge . “As long as Face Eater doesn’t want in on this. Like I said—not my type. And we’re the only people who speak Eye Language. He might feel left out.”
“We’re also the most unlikely people to be together.”
“Why?”
“Because.” She talks to the crumpled bag of peas on the table. “You’re you and I’m me.”
I frown into the air. “How ‘bout a real reason?”
She tilts her head. “For someone who’s never done this, you seem to know exactly what you’re doing.”
“Or you make it feel like I don’t have to worry about what I’m doing.”
Her eyes drop back to the table.
“I think I’ve got a lead on Face Eater since I won’t beat you, but give me a percentage. If I were to guess just by reading your eyes, I’d say I have a solid… 75 percent chance.”
She looks at me. “You’re a terrible translator.”
“Lower?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Ah .” My fingers drum the table. “Don’t know enough about this whole liking each other thing to understand complications.”
She bites her lip and looks away, stirring her Oreos.
When she lifts her eyes again, I ask, “Am I being stupid?” She shakes her head, I swallow. “‘Cause I wanna get a 4.0 in this liking you thing.”
“I’ll bring down your GPA.”
Footsteps clomp up the stairs outside and my heart plummets. Dad footsteps. I grab Buddha and both bowls and bolt toward my room, motioning for Mei to follow, whirling my bedroom door shut behind us. “My dad’s home,” I whisper. “He can’t know you’re here.”
“Should I go out the window?”
I shake my head, my eyes on the door, head lit up with visions of Dad finding her here. “No. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Mei’s eyes go wide. “But my jacket’s still out there.”
1 ?*Answer: Make me one with everything.