Heartbreakers and Fakers

by Cameron Lund

  But then my eyes catch on a singular white T-shirt, its wearer nonchalantly pulling a book from his locker, ignoring the chaos behind him. Kai.

  “Are you kidding me?” I say, more a grumble under my breath than to Olivia. Of course Kai Tanaka would ignore the pep rally, would think himself above showing even a little bit of school spirit. “He’s the only one who didn’t dress up.”

  “Who?” Olivia asks. She walks over to her locker to put her camera away and I follow. We got to pick our lockers last week at orientation, so most of our group’s are in the same corner. This means that every time I stop by my locker between classes, there is the exhilarating and terrifying possibility of running into Jordan. But it also means I have to deal with him.

  “Kai.” I nod my head over to his stupid white T-shirt, and Olivia calls out: “Hey, Tanaka!”

  Kai looks over at us, shutting his locker.

  “No,” I say, swatting Olivia’s arm. “Don’t call him over here. I’m not in the mood for—”

  But it’s too late. He’s grinning and heading in our direction, and soon he’s right in front of us. Olivia and Kai have been friends ever since he moved here and I don’t understand why. He’s the kind of person who always has to make a stupid joke when things get too serious, who doesn’t care about anything that matters, who talks to fill space that doesn’t need to be filled.

  “You never texted me back last night,” Olivia says, pouting.

  “Yeah, I fell asleep partway through the episode.” He shrugs. “Her British accent is so soothing, and every time she starts talking about the cupcakes, I—”

  “So do you just not give a shit?” The words are out of me before I’ve thought about them.

  Kai turns to me. “About who wins the Bake Off? Of course I do.”

  “No, about who wins the pep rally!”

  He chews on his lip for a second and then laughs. “Um, yeah, for sure. I most definitely don’t give a shit about the pep rally.”

  “It would have taken you like three seconds to pick out a black T-shirt.”

  “Oh, lighten up, Penelope,” Kai says. “If I want a day off school, I can skip. Why are you so pressed?”

  “You can’t just . . . cut class all the time, Kai. That’s not how this works.”

  “It’s not a big deal,” Olivia says, ever the mediator between us. “Come on, you still need to do my eyeliner.”

  And I know she’s right. I know it’s not a big deal. I can’t control how other people act, can’t force them to take things seriously. But I can’t let it go. Because it’s not just the T-shirt. It’s a million little moments built upon each other: all the times Kai has told me to “lighten up,” the way he always makes fun of the effort I put into things—as if the act of caring is something to be ashamed of.

  Before this, it was last year in Mr. Simon’s English class, when Kai and I were partnered up for a project and despite my incessant pestering, he’d written his share of our poem twenty minutes before it was due.

  It’s when I didn’t get any cards in my Valentine’s Day box in fifth grade, and instead of ignoring it to make me feel better, Kai pointed it out to everyone; when I came to school with the flu and threw up all over myself and Kai said: “It’s Pukey Penelope!” and the name followed me down the hallway for the rest of the year. Pukey Penelope smells like barf. Don’t let her touch you.

  So yeah. Maybe this white shirt isn’t a big deal to everyone else, but it is to me.

  “This doesn’t make you cooler than everyone,” I say. “Just because you’re not dressed the same.”

  Kai laughs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I could never be cooler than you.”

  “Even if you don’t want the extra day, the rest of us do.” I pull the black Madonna gloves a little tighter on my hands. “Besides, I actually think dressing up is fun. You should try it sometime.”

  “So I can look as fake as you do?”

  I’m about to lunge at him when Olivia steps between us. “Children, please. Tanaka, settle down with the insults. Today is supposed to be a happy and momentous occasion, and I don’t want my two besties fighting.” She boops me on the nose and then spins around and boops Kai’s nose too. “You are both perfect in your own ways.”

  “No, don’t encourage her,” Kai says with a maddening grin. “Penelope already thinks she’s perfect.”

  “I just don’t get you,” I say, speaking to him over Olivia’s head. That’s the thing about being almost a foot taller than her—she may be strong, but I’ll always have the height advantage.

  “I don’t see what’s so hard to get,” Kai says with an infuriatingly indifferent shrug, like he’s not even bothered by this conversation at all. That’s when I see Jordan approaching from down the hallway behind him, and my response shrivels up on my tongue, my mouth a dry husk.

  He’s smiling that megawatt Jordan smile, holding an old boom box up on one shoulder with AC/DC’s “Back in Black” blaring from it. He’s got tall black knee socks below his shorts, two black football smudges across his cheeks. Of course he does. Jordan always goes all in.

  “Hey, Jojo!” Olivia says when he reaches us, leaning in to give him a quick hug. We took that love language quiz last year and Olivia unsurprisingly got physical touch—she’s always draping her body around people, pulling us into hugs, tapping us on the nose. Jordan holds up a fist for Kai to bump and then brings it in my direction too. I tap my fist against his, reveling in the brief moment of contact when his skin is on mine. I can feel the flush of heat to my cheeks indicating I’ve gone completely red. From a fist bump. Pathetic.

  “’Sup, Harris?” He nods, and I nod back, hoping he doesn’t notice the color of my face. “I like your outfit. Very cool.” He waves a hand over the whole of me, and I am trying not to freak out about the fact that he is maybe kind of checking me out.

  “Nice gloves,” Kai says to me. “Are you trying to look like a Victorian woman who just killed her husband?”

  “They’re eighties,” I say. “Not Victorian.”

  “Michael Jackson, right?” Jordan asks, and I die a little inside because that is so not an association I want him to make with me.

  “It’s supposed to be Madonna?” I say, my voice lilting like it’s a question. I clear my throat and try again. “Madonna. It’s supposed to be.” Great. Now I sound like Yoda. For the millionth time, I curse the fact that Jordan Parker turns me into a puddle incapable of human speech.

  “Don’t you like my outfit, Jojo?” Olivia asks, with a spin.

  “You fishing for a compliment, Anderson?” Jordan smiles, showing off his dimples. “You know you’re a dime.”

  “And don’t you forget it.”

  The second bell rings, indicating it’s time to head to the gym, and we pour down the hallway, black shirts coming from all directions.

  “So, you gonna wear those gloves all day?” Kai asks from beside me. Olivia and Jordan have fallen in step ahead of us, and with the crowd, I can’t really move up next to them.

  So I’m stuck with him.

  “I was planning on it, yes. Why is that a concern of yours?”

  “I dunno, seems like you wouldn’t be able to text with them on.”

  “I’ll manage, thanks.”

  “It’s just, you know, you’re usually always on your phone.”

  “Jealous?” I ask, turning to him. “You know, when you’re fun to be around, people actually text you to hang out.”

  Kai laughs then—loud enough that both Olivia and Jordan turn back and glance at us with confused expressions. “You? Fun to be around? That’s hilarious. I didn’t know you were capable of making jokes, Penelope.”

  “Ha ha,” I say in a sarcastic tone. “Just because I don’t turn everything into a joke doesn’t mean I’m not fun.”

  “Yeah, when I look back on high school, that’s how I’ll re
member you. Penelope Harris. She was so much fun.”

  I hate to admit it, but his words sting a little bit. I want to be above it. I don’t want to let stupid Kai Tanaka keep affecting me. Still, I know I could be more fun. I know I could loosen up a bit, try to care less about things, but who is this boy to think he knows better about my own life than I do?

  Besides, it’s not like Kai knows me the way Olivia does. He wasn’t there all those times we put on her old dance costumes—sequined leotards and pink cowboy hats—and shimmied around the living room. He wasn’t there the night we mixed frozen strawberries in a blender with her parents’ whiskey and ended up calling everyone in school.

  He doesn’t know that side of me. He only knows the me that’s constantly on the defensive. The truth is, the reason I suck so much when I’m around him is just because he sucks more.

  “Don’t act like you know me,” I tell him.

  He shrugs. “You’re right. I don’t know you because you’re exactly the same as everyone else.” He motions between my combat boots and Olivia’s, our matching black tights, and waves his arms in the general direction of every other person around us—the sea of black T-shirts.

  “It’s spirit day,” I grumble. “That’s the whole point.”

  We round the corner into the gym, and I use the opportunity to move away from him. My legs are a little bit longer than his, so I take the biggest, most aggressive strides I possibly can and push my way up toward Jordan. I’ve always been a fast walker, have never understood the concept of strolling, or god forbid, moseying. I am a girl with places to be.

  I let myself daydream briefly of two Septembers from now, speed-walking to my first college class at UCLA, where Olivia and I are planning to go together. If Kai was moving slowly in front of me, I would push him out of my way. Maybe dump a coffee on him for good measure. The vision fills me with a special kind of warmth as we enter the gym.

  Until I look to my left and Kai is still there. I was so sure I lost him, but he’s like a cockroach. He just won’t die.

  “What are you smiling about?” he asks, nudging me gently with his elbow.

  “I was thinking about dumping coffee on you,” I say.

  “You daydream about me a lot, Penelope?” He grins. “I’m flattered.”

  “It wasn’t a daydream,” I answer. “It was a nightmare. You are my sleep paralysis demon.”

  The noise of the gym is deafening—a sea of colors all around the bleachers as each of the classes enter, trying to one-up each other on school spirit. I hate to admit it, but the seniors are definitely going to win. Their section is bright red—red cowboy hats and ribbons and T-shirts. One of the soccer players, Gabe Pinkerton, is dressed like Moses in long red robes with a huge fake beard and staff. There’s another guy dressed in a full Spider-Man costume, a mask covering his face so I can’t even tell who he is. Everyone has whistles and tambourines and cymbals—anything to make noise.

  “See?” I shout to Kai so he can hear me. “The seniors are going to beat us. They actually care about spirit day.”

  “I know,” Kai says. “It’s so sad, isn’t it?”

  I roll my eyes and turn away from him, finding our friends in the juniors’ section. They’re all waiting for us—Katie laughing with Danny Scott, Myriah and Romina sitting close and whispering about something. When they see us approach, they all turn in our direction, making room.

  “Parker, my man!” Danny says, raising his fist for one of those complicated bump-handshake things that guys do. Jordan takes a seat next to Danny, and I try to maneuver so I can slide in beside him, but then Kai is there, taking the spot that was supposed to be mine. Typical.

  Olivia shoots me an apologetic look, and then sits on the bench in front of Jordan. I decide to sit next to Myriah and Romina because I do not want to spend another second near Kai Tanaka.

  “I heard Luke Stevens wanted to ride in on a horse,” Myriah is saying, referring to one of the seniors. “That would have been amazing, but the school wouldn’t let him.”

  “Where the fuck would he get a horse?” Romina says, then turns to me. “Nice outfit, Harris. You are a vintage queen.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “You look awesome too.” Romina shaved the side of her head in an old-school Skrillex way sophomore year after a particularly bad breakup with her girlfriend Harper. Her parents freaked out—they’re Persian and can be strict—but she knew if they could get over the fact that she’s gay, they would get over the hair.

  Right now, she’s in this amazing dark red lipstick—like she’s a vampire—with her hair twisted up into a million little buns. “Ugh, I can’t wait until college so I can get my nose pierced.” She sighs. “I feel like a nose ring would have made this so much better.”

  “You look beautiful either way,” Myriah says. She reaches out as if to squeeze Romina’s knee and then pulls her hand away before it makes contact. In complete contrast to Romina, Myriah is in one of her black ballet leotards, her wavy light brown hair held back by black butterfly clips. She has tiny black hearts dotted like freckles across her cheeks.

  “Only you would be able to find black butterfly clips,” I say, and she smiles, reaching up to touch one of them.

  “She has butterfly clips for every occasion,” Romina says.

  “I like what I like,” Myriah says. “Butterfly clips are cute. Even these little goth ones.”

  “I think Myriah might actually be made of cake,” Romina says to me.

  Myriah frowns. “Is that a good thing?”

  “Duh,” Romina says. “Everyone loves cake.”

  It’s funny that Myriah and Romina are best friends because in a lot of ways they’re so different. But they’ve been close since elementary school—back before anyone knew Myriah would grow up to become a gentle, soft-spoken horse girl, and Romina would become a person who generally hated most gentle, soft-spoken horse girls. But they just fit. And ever since Myriah came out as bi last summer, they’ve become inseparable. We spent all of fourth grade obsessing over Kim Possible, Romina joked to me once. I should have seen the signs.

  “I saw you talking with Tanaka,” she says now, leaning closer to me with her voice lowered. “You guys gonna pound it out or what?”

  My whole body shudders at Romina’s words. “Did you just use the phrase pound it out?”

  “Ride the Pound Town Express.” She grins. “A one-way ticket to Pound Town.”

  I roll my eyes. There’s a common theory among our friends that Kai and I are secretly into each other or something—that all our fights stem from displaced passion and one day we’ll fall in love. But sometimes an annoying guy is just an annoying guy.

  “Ewwwwww,” Myriah whines, pushing against Romina’s shoulder. But then she giggles. “They wouldn’t go to . . . Pound Town,” she hesitates on the words, tripping over them. “They would make love. A one-way ticket to Falling-in-Love Town.”

  “Doesn’t have the same ring to it,” Romina says.

  Myriah thinks for a second. “Lovers’ Lane?”

  “Soul Mate City,” Romina answers.

  I give them my best are you done? face. “I’m not going to be taking any train rides with Kai Tanaka to any destination.”

  “Oh, come on,” Romina says. “Your sexual tension is insane. If you guys would hook up already, we could all move on with our lives.”

  I feel myself flush with heat, can tell my cheeks have turned a spectacular shade of scarlet. Because before I can help myself, I’m thinking about it. Kai may be the absolute worst, but he’s got this power—that effortless cool I hate so much, but which seems to make all the other straight girls in our class love him. And yeah, he has high cheekbones, a wide smile, black hair that flops down into his eyes. I guess his face is objectively attractive, even if it’s extremely punchable.

  I shake my head, embarrassed to have been complimentary to Kai, even
inside my head. If he knew what I’d been thinking, his ego would grow so monstrous it would crush cities.

  “Would you keep it down?” I say, trying to shush her. Kai and Jordan are both right there on the bench in front of us, like four feet away.

  “She’s not denying it,” Romina says with an evil grin.

  “I don’t like Kai like that,” I say. “I like . . .” I trail off, nodding my head to where Jordan is sitting. He’s too close for me to possibly say any of this out loud.

  “Yeah, we know,” Romina says. “Penny is madly in love with Jordan.” And oh my god, her voice has not gotten any quieter. It feels like it’s ricocheting off the walls of the gymnasium. It’s so loud in here right now, practically vibrating with school spirit, but I swear her words have carried above all of it. It feels like everybody around us can hear.

  I risk a glance to my right to where Jordan is sitting, and notice with horror that he’s looking at me. Our eyes meet, just for a moment, and then he turns away, flipping around to laugh at something Danny is saying.

  Did he hear what Romina said? Does Jordan Parker know I have a crush on him?

  And then it gets so much worse, because Kai is looking at me too. If Kai heard, he’ll use this against me for the rest of our lives. This will be more ammo for him, another thing to throw in my face. Penny is madly in love with Jordan.

  And obviously Jordan doesn’t like me back.

  “Romina,” I say, her name a gasp. My stomach is churning like maybe I’m about to be sick.

  “Relax.” She shrugs. “No one heard.”

  “Maybe it’s a good thing if someone heard?” Myriah reaches out and squeezes my hand. “How are you and Jordan ever going to get together if you don’t make a move?”