Page 22 of It’s All in How You Fall
All three heads whip his way, and Alex has his own VulcanVhanging out of the car. With all of our faces pointed at him, he grins. “That’s how they answer ‘Live long and prosper’—‘Peace and long life.’”
Somehow this is a surprise despite his very recent echoing ofHamiltonlyrics. Of course he’s an expert in pop culture, just like he’s a star athlete and nice and hot and, yeah.
“Sunny, Peregrine, this is my ride, Alex Zavala.”
Now Peregrine is the confused one. Because they’ve crossed paths, well, a lot. “Uh, I know Alex. Hey.”
He closes theVin his fingers for a quick wave.
“Okay, yeah, you do, but Sunny doesn’t,” I say, and hold my breath. It’s been almost two years, and if there’s one thing I know about crushing on someone it’s that you remember way more about your crush than your crush remembers about you.
Sunny shades her eyes and takes a step in his direction. The sun is at her back, casting a shadow toward his car, but he’s lit up like the Olympic torch.
Square jaw. Dark eyes. Neat hair. Golden-brown skin that gleams with the perspiration he accrued on the way over here. Then he smiles, and the way the sun catches his teeth is blinding in wattage.
I hold my breath, tryingvery hardnot to facilitate.
“Wait, no, Idoknow you.” Sunny lights up when she figures it out. “Mathletics! You’re the skinny kid who sat with Topps.” She sweeps her arms high above her head because Topps is Tobias Topperman, a champion mathlete, Lily Jane’s boyfriend, and basically a brick wall with a beard and a driver’s license that claims he’s only seventeen. He’s a football lineman, which sort of explains it. “I mean, not that you’re small.”
A blush crawls across her face because it’s a pretty observant comment, considering that all but his smiling face, broad shoulders, and a single long arm are blocked by the Challenger’s driver’s-side door. Her cheeks pinking harder, Sunny flails a sweeping gesture toward her own body, which makes it to five feet with shoes on. “Everyone looks giant to me, though.”
“To be fair, Alex is on the varsity basketball team, so he’s anactualgiant. No matter your perspective,” I say. While this is cute, it’s also hella awkward. Plus, what I’ve just said isn’t totally accurate because no one over the age of five would call my brother tall and he’s on the same team. “Okay, so dinner, yes?”
“Thank God,” Peregrine answers, and she starts toward Sunny’s SUV, which is parked in the far corner of Balan’s lot, under one of the very limited number of trees.
“Thanks for the ride, Alex!” I say cheerfully, complete with a wave, and grab Sunny’s hand because Peregrine is already yards ahead of us—she’s about as food motivated as Nat, and that’s saying something.
But Sunny hesitates. “Alex, do you want to come?”
The glee I felt ten minutes ago at the realization of Alex’s crush on my surrogate older sister is nothing compared to Sunny inviting my surrogate older brother to our dinner unprompted.Nothing.Let’s be real,gleehas not been my thing for almost a month now, so I chomp down hard on my cheek and stare at him from over Sunny’s shoulder.Yes, say yes. Do it. You guys would be so cute.
“Thanks, but I’ve got stadium stairs calling my name.”
I nearly form the wordsbut you’re meeting Nat after dinnerbefore the Challenger’s engine lets off a new lion’s growl.
And with a wave and the opening lines of “My Shot” thrumming through the open window, Alex is gone.
We pile into Sunny’s hand-me-down Hyundai Santa Fe, which brims with sunflower adornments—hanging from the rearview mirror, standing sentry in a front-facing vanity plate, and in more than one bumper sticker on the back—and weave through Thursday night traffic to Eomma, a Korean restaurant across the street from Northland. The school’s old brick bell tower casts a shadow across the on-street parking as Sunny snags a spot.
Before exiting the vehicle, Peregrine paints on lavender lipstick, swiping at the corner of her mouth with a pinky as she checks her work in the passenger seat’s visor mirror. “There, now no one will think we’re too matchy-matchy,” she deadpans, and finally unbuckles her seat belt.
“One thousand percent less embarrassing now, Per,” I say with a laugh. This girl and her lipsticks—they say everything so she doesn’t have to.
“Who do you have to be embarrassed in front of?” Sunny asks, a mischievous upsweep to her question as she locks the car. A perfect brow arches toward the baby hairs she likely slicked down with some water after changing.“Alex Zavala?”
“Noooooooo.” I’m so horrified that my answer is automatic and high-pitched. I make a beeline for the door and pull it open for my friends. They don’t move to enter, even while standing in the full brunt of a July sun—they just glue themselves into a human wall of two and stare at me.
“So, uh, why were you with Alex?” Sunny asks.
I can’t explain why, but the whole private lessons truth sits funny on my tongue—like I’m cheating on my friends instead of facing the reality that I had to quit the thing we had in common. Both of them are watching me and I suddenly realize that the longer I delay, the more they won’t believe anything I say.
Peregrine folds her arms across her chest. “Are you and Alex a thing?”
“Huh, what? No!”
Her eyes narrow. “So you just happened to be riding around in his muscle car, without Nat, like that’s a normal thing you do on a random Thursday night.”
“Nat pawned me off,” I fib, and escape into the confines of the restaurant.
