by Kasie West
“You do not want to get in a water fight with the girl holding the unlimited supply of water.” I squeezed the handle once, the water hitting him right in the face.
He gasped. “I got your apron, not your face!”
“Yeah, well, my water is clean so I think the exchange was pretty even.”
“I think someone is a dirty fighter.” He flung more water at me.
“Yeah. You. Literally.”
He laughed and I squirted him in the face again, causing his laugh to become more of a sputter. His hair that was normally full of body flattened and fell into his face. He picked up one of those buckets full of dirty, soapy water and started walking toward me. I screamed and began a continuous spray in his direction. It didn’t stop him from tromping forward.
“Don’t you dare,” I called out, but he kept walking. I backed up until the hose, which I hadn’t fully unwrapped from its housing, stopped me. I either had to abandon my weapon or stay and face the bucket. He got within ten feet and sent the water flying at me. It hit me right in the neck, soaking the bottom half of my hair and my entire shirt, regardless of the apron I wore. I kept spraying even through my screams. He managed to outmaneuver me and got around behind me, wrapping his arms around mine so I could no longer spray him. We were both dripping wet and laughing.
“Drop the hose,” he said.
I did, but he didn’t let go. Like he didn’t trust that I wouldn’t pick it up again.
“I won’t spray you anymore,” I assured him. “But for the record, you started it.”
“Is that why I’m wetter than you are?” His face was by my left ear, his bear hug still fully engaged. His breath became deep, and I could feel each rise and fall of it against my back. I wanted to lean back against him, let my head drop back, and rest on his shoulder.
Oh no.
Blaire was right. Seth was part of my hesitation in leaving Southern California. Maybe not all of it, but at least ten percent of it. His arms tightened a little and I closed my eyes. Or twenty.
I cleared my throat and forced that line of thinking out of my head. “But seriously, Seth, I think you’re college material. You’re smart and work hard and plus you have that thing that I don’t have that will make you a much better college student than me.”
“What thing is that?”
He slowly dropped his arms and backed up. I turned to face him, not realizing how little he had backed up. Our aprons squeaked against each other and I met his eyes. “You’re easygoing.”
“Easygoing? How will that help?”
“Professors want you to think creatively on assignments, not always have to tell you exactly what to do. You’ll be on your own, surrounded by new things and places and people. It’s good not to get uptight about all that stuff.”
“In other words, you have to let go of some control?” he asked.
“Right.”
“Are you worried about college, Maddie?”
I laughed. “No. I’ve been preparing for it my whole life.”
He nodded slowly like he wanted to call me out on that. But I was prepared. Totally prepared. This pep talk was for him.
He ran his hand along the top of his head, sending a mist of water into the air. “I needed this today.”
“Me too,” I said.
Monday morning I learned the true meaning of the words pop quiz. It wasn’t that I hadn’t known the meaning before. But it had never mattered to me because I had always been prepared. Always being prepared meant a quiz had never caught me off guard. But on Monday, as I sat down in History class, I wasn’t prepared. So I felt that panic other people must’ve felt all the time when staring at the surprise questions on the page in front of me. Questions a little bit of studying would’ve helped me easily answer. I fumbled my way through each one, vowing to go home that afternoon and study all my subjects for an hour each just in case another teacher decided to take advantage of my recent distractions.
It’s just a quiz, I told myself, to keep at bay the panicked thoughts racing through my head. It would not have that much bearing on my overall grade. I took every minute of class to go over the questions and answers. When the bell rang, I was forced to turn it in, not sure how I fared. I’d never not been sure.
At lunchtime, I ran into Trina on my way to the library. “Come off campus with us for food,” she said.
“But it’s a closed campus.”
She laughed. “And? It’s lunch. We’ll be back for sixth period.”
“Do you do this a lot?”
“Almost every day.”
I pointed to the library. “My friends are in there and I really need to study. I’m falling behind.”
“Okay. Have fun.”
I headed off, but a thorough search of the library produced no friends. I shot off a text: Where is everyone?
Blaire got back first with: Grading tests for Mr. Stovall.
I cringed. This meant Blaire would see my awful quiz score before I would. Maybe it wouldn’t be as awful as I thought.
I have a lunch meeting, Elise texted back next.
I sighed, then quickly hitched my bag up higher on my shoulder and rushed out to the parking lot. Trina and a group of her friends were piling into a big SUV. I hightailed it across the parking lot.
“Is there room for me?” I asked.
Trina smiled. “You changed your mind? No studying for you?”
“I’ll study after school. My friends all had obligations.”
“Lucky for us.”
The rest of the group greeted me and I pulled the door shut. Mason Ramirez was driving. I was in the same car as Mason Ramirez, the most popular guy at our school. The car was actually full of Tustin High royalty—Daniel Lake, Beth Lucas, Heidi Gray. I felt completely out of place.
Mason backed out of his spot and approached the exit. This was the part I was curious about. There were teachers stationed at every exit. I had no idea how they made it past them every day.
“Hey, Mrs. Lin,” Mason said after rolling down his window.
“Hey, Mason,” she said. “Another group doctor’s appointment?” Mrs. Lin said it like she was making up an excuse for him. Like she was providing the lie.
“Yep,” Mason said.
“Don’t be late to sixth.”
“Never.”
And as easy as that, we drove off of our closed campus.
“That was educational,” I said. “How did you get Mrs. Lin to do your bidding?”
“We’re on student council. She’s our mentor teacher,” Trina said. “This is one of the perks.”
“Who knew that becoming a politician started as early as high school student government?” I said out loud. Everyone in the car laughed, even though I knew what I’d said wasn’t that funny.
As we stood in the long line at Café Rio, Daniel said, “You should buy your own Café Rio restaurant and only let us come to it, Maddie. Then we’d never have to stand in line again.”
I snorted. I could write a book about all the crazy ways people had advised me to spend my money. “I’ll think about it,” I told Daniel.
“So,” Trina said, when we sat down with our trays. “Have you come up with an answer to my question?”
“What question?” Mason asked.
“I asked Maddie if she couldn’t save a penny of her money, how she would spend it.”
“Ooh, good question,” Daniel said. “And?” He looked at me expectantly. Maybe he thought I was serious about his Café Rio plan.
“I don’t know.” I was trying to figure out what I wanted in a lot of different areas right now.
Trina raised her cup in the air. “To figuring out what we want in life.”
If only it were that easy. We all tapped our soda cups together.
I had been studying for two hours straight. Catching up was a lot harder than just maintaining. Also, how had I ever studied for this long? I yawned.
Mountain Dew and Reese’s Pieces. I needed my study boost. I pushed away from m
y desk and went to my car.
At the Mini-mart, I got the largest-sized soda possible and a bag of Reese’s Pieces. Maxine was there reading a magazine and sipping on her own soda. She looked up when I approached.
“Well, there she is in all her multimillion-dollar glory. How do you like your odds now?”
“I definitely defied the odds,” I said.
“And you didn’t even have to get struck by lightning first.”
“True.” I put my soda on the counter and pulled out my money.
“You’ve learned that dreaming big works.”
“Yes. Dream big.”
“You haven’t come in since you won.”
“I’ve been busy, I guess.”
“Busy spending money.” She took in my outfit, my hair, and her eyebrows rose. Then she shifted in her seat and pulled something out of her pocket, a small card of sorts. “I’ve been waiting for you since the day I saw you on the news.” She handed it to me.
“What is this?”
“My address.”
“Okay … ” An address written in perfect block letters filled the card.
“I just feel like you wouldn’t have bought that ticket if not for me.”
My mouth dropped open and I quickly shut it.
“So if you felt the need to thank me in any way, that’s for you.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure what to say. She was right, I wouldn’t have bought the ticket if not for her. Should I have felt obligated or indebted to her in some way?
“Think about it,” she said, and rang up my purchases. I handed her a five and she gave me back my change.
I walked out of the store numb. What should I do? Maxine was obviously not the owner of the store. The owner of the store had received a nice payout from my lottery win. But the clerk who talked me in to buying the ticket had received nothing. But what was I supposed to give her?
An hour later, as I tried to study, my mind wouldn’t leave the questions alone. I had no idea what to do. I thought about asking my mom for advice, but I was worried it would make her angry. But maybe there was someone else I could talk it through with.
I stood and made my way to Beau’s door. I knocked lightly. There was no answer.
“Mom!” I shouted. “Is Beau home?”
From the living room she called back, “I think so.”
I pursed my lips and opened his door. His room was nearly packed. Stacks of boxes lined his bed, but he wasn’t anywhere. I sent him a text: Where are you?
A buzz sounded in the darkness and I glanced over to his nightstand where I saw his lit phone. I sighed, then walked over to it and picked it up. The screen was locked. I set it back down and opened his nightstand, looking for a piece of paper or something I could leave him a note on.
I took out the first scrap I saw and a small piece of paper fluttered to the ground. I picked it up. It was a parking receipt for Morongo Casino dated last Sunday at 3:05 a.m. Beau had been at a casino at three o’clock in the morning?
I dropped the receipt back into his drawer. He didn’t get to trade sleeping all day for gambling. Anger coursed through my chest. I did not give him money for this.
I scribbled a note on the paper: We need to talk. Find me when you get home.
Back in my room, I lay on my bed steaming. I tried to calm myself with thoughts. Like, maybe this was his one and only time at the casino.
Or maybe that’s where he’d been all this week. I hadn’t seen him much. I sat up with a frustrated growl.
The penny Seth had found at the zoo and gifted to me sat on my desk. I picked it up and turned it over in my hand. Then before I thought too hard about it, I retrieved my phone from my pocket and sent off a text.
Tell me something happy.
Seth’s reply came quickly. The square root of 144 is 12.
How is that happy?
Facts make you happy. And numbers. You like numbers.
I smiled. You’re right. My mood was already brighter.
What’s wrong?
Ah. If I demanded someone cheer me up, they were going to want to know why.
Kind of crappy day.
Tell me.
My brother is … I stopped writing. How did I explain this all in a text?
My phone rang and I practically jumped out of my skin. But then I saw the name. Seth was calling me. We didn’t call each other. But I was very willing for this to change. I answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Madeleine, pronounced the French way. Did you know you could actually talk to people on cell phones?”
“Weird.”
“Right? How come we’ve never done this before?”
“I don’t know. The same reason we never see each other outside the zoo maybe?”
“That’s true. Am I interrupting your studying?”
I glanced over at my books on the desk, my watery soda next to them, condensation clinging to the cup. “No, actually.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Maybe nothing.” My brother was allowed to have a fun night out. But how many fun nights out had he had? “Maybe everything.”
Seth laughed, his warm, deep laugh that allowed me to conjure up the perfect image of his face—dark eyes, full lips, high cheekbones. “Those are two very different options.”
“I know. I guess I just mean that maybe I’m overreacting.”
“I’m listening.”
Those words made my insides warm. He was listening and I needed it. “I think my brother was depressed for a while.” That was obvious from how he’d reacted when he had to postpone school because he couldn’t afford the tuition. He’d drawn inward, shut down, became a hollow version of himself.
“That sucks.”
“And he seems better right now, but I’m worried he’s making choices that might lead him straight back into his spiral.”
“Have you talked to him about it?”
“He gets defensive. But I need to try.”
“I’m sorry that you’re worried about him.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“Because it’s making you unhappy.”
“I’m happy now. I was reminded that the square root of one hundred forty four is twelve and all my problems became so much less important.”
“So true.”
“How have you been?” I asked, shifting my position on my bed. “Anything new going on with you?”
“Nothing at all. You’d think now that I wasn’t grounded anymore that my life would be full of nonstop excitement, but everyone is already fixated on graduating and just going through the steps.”
“Are you not fixated on graduating? It’s what we’ve spent the last nearly thirteen years waiting for.”
He made a hmm sound. “I guess I should jump on board.”
I wondered if Seth wasn’t so fixated because he wasn’t sure about what came next. “Yes, you should or the train will leave without you.”
“Okay, teach me how to be focused?”
I flipped onto my stomach and ran my hand over the ridges on my comforter. “No need to mock me,” I said. “I get it. I’m too focused.”
“What? No, I wasn’t mocking you at all. I really want to know how to channel focus.”
“I will teach you how to be fixated on a goal if you teach me how to let things go more often.”
He laughed. “You want to know how to relax?”
“Yes, please.”
“Okay. First you. What kinds of things should I be focusing on right now?”
“Right now? With two months left of school, you should be checking the mail every day for college letters, making sure you know all your assignments in each class from now until graduation day, and be completing each one of those assignments in record time.”
“Are these all the things you do?”
“Yes. I’m an expert in each one.”
“Okay, so the first. How many college letters do you have?”
“All but UCLA and Stanford.”
&nb
sp; “And those are your favorites?”
“Well, UCLA is. Stanford is my … ”
“Your what?” he asked.
I ran my hand along a crease in my comforter. “It’s Blaire’s favorite and maybe the school I never thought I could go to, so I never thought about it but now I’m … thinking about it more.”
“Fair enough. Thinking is good.”
“It’s the overthinking that gets me every time. Which is why you need to teach me your relaxing ways.”
“First we have to finish your instruction. So item two on your list I’m sure you have down. You know every single assignment from now until graduation.”
“Of course.”
“What if a teacher throws a surprise assignment in there? Something you didn’t plan for?”
“That’s why studying is so important. It helps with all the possibilities.”
“And number three? Are you done with all your assignments for the day?”
I looked at my desk. “No. But I will be.”
“That sounds exhausting just thinking about it.”
I smiled. “Okay, Mr. Laid-Back. What do I have to do to be more relaxed?”
“That’s the beauty of it, nothing at all.”
“Nothing?”
“Well, you can lie down.”
“I already am.”
“Good. But don’t lie down and let your mind replay every unsolvable problem in your life. You need to empty your mind, and relax each muscle group until you feel like you are going to melt into the floor. Then you just let it all go. All the expectations, all the unneeded worry, all the things other people want for you but you don’t want for yourself.”
I took several deep breaths. “Is this how you figured out you didn’t want to go to college? What would you do instead, if you don’t go?”
“I don’t know. Work. Figure out what I want in life.”
“I thought you knew what you wanted! To be the next big filmmaker.”
He sighed. “If only it were that easy. Do you know how hard it is to break into that industry? Nearly impossible. And even more so as an Asian.”
“And you’re going to back down from that challenge?”
“I don’t want to,” he said quietly. “But sometimes … ”
“Sometimes what?”
