The whole friendship bust-up with Audrey happened because I hadn’t come clean about having a crush on Elliot. I hadn’t meant for it to be a secret, but when Audrey had announced she liked Elliot at the start of seventh grade and intended to make him her boyfriend, I froze. When it came out that Elliot and I were already kind of a thing, Audrey lost it and acted like I’d betrayed her or something. In the end, she’d done much worse to Keiko, but I still felt burned.
“I’m not keeping secrets,” I said. “I just don’t need to pick the whole thing apart.”
“Okay,” she said without much conviction. “I’m here if you need me.”
“Oh my God, Keiko,” I said, my voice rising. “I heard you! You said that a million times already. I’m fine! I don’t need to talk about it!”
Keiko blinked and then busied herself with smoothing out the blankets on my bed.
I sighed. She didn’t deserve my bad attitude. She had always been there for me. Always. And she’s never judged me.
“So, hey,” I said. “This semester, newspaper club only meets Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. We can hang out after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
Keiko smiled.
“I know you go to Conner’s basketball games on Tuesdays. We can watch together,” I said. “And I can go with you to the games you play with them. Don’t make me play, though.”
“On Thursdays, let’s just do stuff the two of us,” Keiko said. “I don’t need to play every day.”
“But what about Conner?”
She shook her head. “I see him all the time. I want to hang out with you.”
I finally smiled.
“And you can come to family game night at my house on Saturdays.”
“That would be fun.” I hadn’t been to game night since before the divorce.
“Be warned, though,” Keiko said. “My mom has gotten super competitive. I swear she’s going to make Doug and Teddy cry one of these days.” Keiko laughed.
I hadn’t realized that all the guys had been going to game night at Keiko’s. I felt a twinge of something. Like I was on the outside looking in.
“And you’ll eat lunch with us, right? It was nice having you there today.” Keiko squeezed my arm. “This is going to be awesome, Jenna! I’m so glad we’re hanging out!”
I was, too. And it was all because Elliot and I had broken up.
It was for the best. Now I could focus on what was really important. School. Friends. Newspaper club. Someday, I wanted to be a top-notch investigative journalist. That meant I needed to be objective and dedicated. I had to avoid any stupid emotional distractions. Be a little heartless.
I could do that.
At lunch the next day, I made my way to the bleachers by the gym. Keiko and the guys were clustered at the top two rows. She laughed as she handed a bag of chips to Conner, while his best friends, Doug and Teddy, were deep in conversation.
I hesitated, clutching my lunch bag. I’d started seventh grade eating lunch with Keiko and Audrey. But then Audrey became more of a drama queen than usual and I couldn’t deal anymore. Keiko stayed, but I started spending my lunch periods with Elliot in Ms. Fontes’s room. Then Audrey had stopped hanging out, and Conner and the boys had taken her place. I didn’t want to insert myself where I didn’t belong. It was obvious that Keiko and the guys were a solid group.
I realized now that spending all that time with Elliot had been stupid. I’d left myself wide open and vulnerable by allowing myself to get attached. I would not be making that mistake again. Not with boys. Not with anyone.
It wasn’t like Keiko and I had stopped being friends, but things weren’t the same as before. I looked around. Maybe I could eat alone. I wouldn’t need to rely on anyone. I could just be that chill, serious loner. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more perfect that felt. But where could I go to get away from everyone?
“Jenna! Over here!”
Keiko’s voice carried. She stood and waved both arms at me. I couldn’t miss that. I squared my shoulders, walked over to the bleachers, and climbed to the top. She patted the seat next to her.
Just as I sat, Doug leaned toward me. “Dude, what superpower would you have?”
“First off,” I said, “I’m no dude.”
Doug shrugged.
Keiko nudged me. “They have these ridiculous conversations all the time. It’s always better just to humor them.”
“Ha-ha! That’s how we get you …” Teddy turned to Doug and Conner. “You guys are wrong. Invisibility is totally superior to mind reading.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” Keiko said to me.
As I took a big bite of my sandwich, I realized I was glad I was here, too.
“I hear you’re coming to our game today,” Conner said to me.
I nodded as I chewed.
“Excellent!” Doug clapped once. “Our cheering section has doubled!”
The guys laughed. They were doofuses, but at least they weren’t jerks anymore. All last year, they had tormented me, Keiko, and Audrey. The ridiculous name-calling hadn’t bothered me as much as it had Audrey and Keiko, but all the same, this was much better, and I actually found myself looking forward to watching the guys’ basketball game.
After last-period PE, Keiko and I walked to the park. When we got there, I was surprised to see how crowded it was. All six courts had players, and there seemed to be official timekeepers.
“They have refs?” I asked Keiko.
“It’s a league organized by the park.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t realized it was a real thing.
I followed Keiko to the benches in front of the court where Conner, Doug, and Teddy were warming up. And then I stopped in my tracks.
“What?” Keiko turned to look at me. She saw my face and scanned the crowd. “Oh.”
Elliot was sitting in the third row.
I stalked over to him. “What are you doing here?”
His eyes grew wide. “What are you doing here?”
“I asked you first.” Seriously! What was Elliot Oxford doing at a three-on-three basketball game at the park?
Elliot rolled his eyes and closed the notebook on his lap. “I’m doing my assignment for Ms. Fontes. I’m supposed to be writing about sports, remember?”
“And you’re covering a park league? It’s not even part of our school!”
“I wanted a new angle. Every sports article we do is about one of our teams at school.” Elliot nodded at the court. “Teddy Chen is in my PE class. He told me about the league. He and the rest of his team go to PV Middle, so it’s still school-related. How’s your essay coming along?”
Gah! Why couldn’t he mind his own business? And did he have to cover the league today? He didn’t care at all how my essay was coming along. The only thing he cared about was being the best. Or at least being better than me.
I swung around without answering and rejoined Keiko, who waited for me on the sidelines.
“Do you want to go somewhere else?” she asked. “We don’t have to stay.”
I flopped onto the bench and jiggled my leg. “We’re staying.” Elliot wasn’t going to chase me off.
Keiko sat down, watching me. I sighed and turned to her. “I’m okay. Please stop tiptoeing around my feelings. It’s starting to annoy me.”
Hurt flashed across Keiko’s face, and for a quick moment, I felt bad. But maybe now she’d back off.
Soon the game had started, and Keiko was too busy cheering for Conner and the guys to hover over me. I tried hard to pay attention. I usually loved watching basketball, and though it was no Bruins game, it was pretty entertaining. But I was distracted, wondering how Elliot was following the action. We’d watched two college games on TV, and he’d been completely bored and confused. He totally didn’t get the rules. That had been the last time we’d watched sports together.
Mostly we hung out at school in Ms. Fontes’s classroom after newspaper club was over. We’d play this silly interview game, kind of like twenty questions.
“Fried chicken sandwich,” Elliot said. “You?”
“Japanese curry.”
“Isn’t all curry the same?”
“No. Japanese curry uses less spices than Indian curry and is more like stew than gravy.” I leaned back in my chair. “Now I’m hungry.”
“What do you like about it?”
“What do you mean?”
Elliot leaned forward, his eyes bright like whenever he got really excited about something. “For me, the fried chicken sandwich makes me think of visiting my grandparents. My grandpa makes the best fried chicken ever, and it reminds me of eating on his porch and playing cards every summer. I mean, the sandwich is definitely outstanding, but for me, it’s more about my grandpa.”
“Oh. Well, I guess I just love curry because it’s thick and delicious and served over rice.”
That wasn’t entirely true. Japanese curry was sentimental for me. It was Dad’s favorite meal. But after he left, Mom pretty much tossed out anything remotely associated with him, including family traditions. Curry Sunday dinners went right out the door, along with my dad.
“Oh,” Elliot had said with a disappointed frown and a cute furrow between his brows.
The interviews he and I did with each other had been fun, at least until he got all competitive.
“Your last two questions were a little basic,” he’d said a month into it.
“What are you talking about?”
“You need to dig deeper. Like I do.”
I shook my head. “I thought we were only playing. You know, getting to know each other.”
“I’m just saying if you want to be a great reporter, you might as well use every opportunity to improve your skills, right?”
I’d tried a little harder after that, but the fun had gone out of it. Elliot was supersmart and ambitious, and I admired him for it, but sometimes it got annoying. He liked to be right about everything. In fact, the main reason we’d stopped watching basketball together was that he hated that I knew more about it than he did.
A whistle blast shook me out of my thoughts. Conner had gotten fouled.
It would be funny to see Elliot’s face all scrunched in confusion. He probably wondered why Conner was getting a free throw. I turned to look at Elliot, but he wasn’t watching Conner. He was watching me. My heart slammed into my throat, and I quickly swung back around.
“I have to go,” I told Keiko in a rush. I didn’t give her a chance to object—I just grabbed my bag and fled from the courts. I knew I was being rude, but I couldn’t stick around the park for a second longer.
I wanted to forget Elliot, and that was impossible when he was everywhere I looked.
Now that I wasn’t spending the afternoon at the game, I had some time to kill. With tax season coming up, Mom was getting busier and wouldn’t be home from the accounting firm till well after six. And I definitely was in too foul a mood to go home. I’d just stew about Elliot. I needed a distraction.
So I left the park the back way and started walking without any real purpose. I spotted Passages, a tiny bookstore I loved, ahead but couldn’t bring myself to stop. Elliot and I had browsed there together. Great. He’d ruined one of my favorite places to hang out.
I turned left onto Beach Boulevard and ended up in an area I hadn’t been to before. It was mostly industrial complexes, but across the street was an old-fashioned diner. The sign, faded and battered, read LEIGH’S STAGE DINER. I wasn’t sure it was open. The teal paint was chipped, and the sidewalk in front buckled from past earthquakes. I crossed the street and peered in a smudged window. There were customers inside.
I texted my mom to let her know I’d left the park. Ever since the divorce, her rules had gotten … loose. I only had to check in regularly after school and let her know where I was. She texted back a thumbs-up and reminded me to be home before dark.
I walked up a cement ramp, and when I pushed open the glass door, a bell tied to the inside handle tinkled. For how run-down the outside of the place looked, the inside was spotless. The vintage black-and-white-tiled floor sparkled. Red-cushioned stools lined a long counter edged in shiny chrome. Against the opposite wall with big picture windows stood booths with wood benches, the tables topped with white-and-black-speckled laminate that matched the counter. It was oddly quiet for a diner. No music played. That was kind of nice.
“Sit wherever you want, honey,” a waitress with red glasses called from behind the cash register.
I passed an old man reading the paper at the counter and two moms with toddlers in a booth as I walked to the back of the diner and tucked myself into the far corner booth. It was the largest one. Maybe I should have saved it for a big group, but the waitress said to sit wherever I wanted and I doubted a big crowd would be showing up any time soon. After sliding all the way in and dumping my bag next to me, I pulled out my newspaper club notebook. In case inspiration struck.
And there was a lot to be inspired by. The diner was decorated with posters for Broadway shows. I recognized a few. One was for Waitress, which was maybe too spot-on. But funny. I also noticed posters for Newsies, Rent, and Fiddler on the Roof. I liked the theme. It had personality.
I snagged a plastic-coated menu and perused. I expected pages of every typical diner item possible but instead found a short list of sandwiches and salads on the front and side dishes and beverages on the back. The menu items had long strange names: Jean Valjean’s Stolen Garlic Bread, the Welcome Home to Santa Fe Salad, and the Phantom of the Onion Burger.
My stomach rumbled. I glanced at the chalkboard over the counter for the daily specials. They had milkshakes! And the flavors also had weird names like Lulu’s Strawberry Dream Pie, Grape Jellicle, Banana and the Beast, and Rum Raisin in the Sun.
“All the ice cream for the shakes is made in-house,” the waitress who’d greeted me said as she approached my booth. “I’m Leigh. Owner, manager, waitress, and cashier. My husband, Tom, is the chef.”
“Um, hi. I’m Jenna.”
Leigh smiled and nodded at the menu. “I recommend the cheesy fries and the Waitress shake, made with roasted strawberry ice cream.”
Waitress shake? What did that mean? I glanced down at the menu to check out the fries. Regina George’s Fetch Fries with Cheese. I wrinkled my nose.
“You don’t like fries?” Leigh asked.
“I like fries. I’m just confused about these names.”
Leigh laughed. “Not a Broadway fan?”
Ah, that made sense. Regina George was from Mean Girls. I remembered seeing the old movie on DVD with Keiko and Audrey.
“Each booth is named, too,” Leigh said, tapping a small plaque at the front of the table. “You’re in the Hamilton booth.”
I stared at the small brass sign under Leigh’s finger, even though it was too small for me to read. “I saw that show,” I said. “In LA.”
“Same! Amazing, right?” Leigh nodded. “So, what can I get you?”
“Um, the things you recommended sound good.”
“Fetch Fries with Cheese and a Waitress shake! You got it!”
I gazed around, the posters swimming in front of my eyes. I’d seen Hamilton with my parents. It had been amazing, just like Leigh said. But what had made it more amazing was that it had been a rare time that our whole family had done something together. On the drive home, Dad had pulled up the soundtrack on his phone and we’d all sang along to some of the songs. Not well, but it hadn’t mattered. Dad put on a French accent to do Lafayette, and Mom couldn’t stop laughing. And neither of my parents had argued or complained, and for a short time after, I hoped that maybe everything between them would be better. But no. They’d gone back to their yelling a few days later.
I pulled out my math textbook and started my homework. A few minutes later, Leigh came back to drop off my order, but as she set it on the table, she burst into a song about sugar and butter and flour. I assumed it was from a musical. She had a nice voice,
but it was still kind of strange to be serenaded.
The cheesy fries were spectacular. They were amazingly crisp on the outside and fluffy on the inside. The cheese wasn’t the fake kind, and it was generously sprinkled on top. And the shake! I’d never had roasted strawberry anything before, but it popped with berry flavors. By the time I finished both, I had done all my homework. Well, all except for the personal essay.
By then, the mommy club had left, but two other booths were occupied. I wondered what musicals were on the plaques on those tables. All I knew was that the one I was in was perfect for me. Hamilton. It was like a sign or something. Like maybe my dad was somehow with me here, even though he lived in Texas now.
I thought of the Hamilton T-shirt I’d stolen from him last year. Keiko’s mom had just dropped me off. When I walked into the house, there were cardboard boxes stacked in the living room. I’d found Dad in the bedroom packing his clothes into a box.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Dad looked up at me, startled. “Jenna! You were supposed to be sleeping over at Keiko’s.”
I leaned against the doorway, clutching my overnight bag. “I wasn’t feeling well.”
Dad stood up and in two steps was at my side, hand on my forehead. “No fever. What hurts?”
My heart. But I didn’t say that out loud. “My stomach. Maybe I ate too much.”
Dad put his arm around me and walked me to the kitchen, where we always had a Japanese electric hot water pot plugged in. He sat me at the table and went to the fridge to take out a plastic container of sliced lemons. Then he grabbed a mug, squeezed a wedge of lemon into it, and pressed the button on the electric pot to release hot water into the mug. He slid it over to me and sat down.
“So,” he said as I took a careful sip. “I’m moving out.”
I clenched the mug, willing the tears not to fall. I cried only when I was alone, in my room, while listening to my parents yell at each other. I wasn’t about to start doing it in front of anyone now. “I figured.”
And that was all that had been said on the matter. Dad was gone two nights later, but not before I broke into one of the boxes and stole his Hamilton T-shirt. I already had one with the Schuyler sisters on it, but I’d wanted Dad’s. It had been his favorite.
Just Be Cool, Jenna Sakai Page 2
