Yes No Maybe So

by Becky Albertalli

  “Right, okay.” He nods.

  But it doesn’t look like he believes me.

  We chat a bit more, before I hop on the escalator and head upstairs. It’s so weird. First the waitress at Intermezzo. Now Nolan?

  Jamie and I are just friends.

  Aren’t we?

  I mean, he definitely looks at me in awe when I have Wi-Fi at Target. And he’s a good listener, so he meets your gaze when you talk to him. But that’s what friends do.

  My mind wanders to when he invited me to Sophie’s bat mitzvah. For five solid seconds, I thought he was asking me to go as his date. Fine. I can admit it: my heart might have skipped a beat at the thought of it. How I’d tell my mother. The objections she might have had to it. But it turned out it wasn’t a date. He’d been very clear about that.

  No. I shake my head. This is not the time to let Nolan get in my head.

  Zara turns out to be a bust. Madewell is heavier into jeans than usual this season. The Anthropologie store looks warm and inviting when I pass by, though; it’s also the last store before I make a full loop back to Nordstrom, where I started.

  Stepping inside, my eyes are drawn to a teal dress hanging on a display dummy in the center of the store.

  It’s the first promising outfit I’ve seen.

  “That dress looks great on you,” the salesgirl says brightly when I step out of the fitting room. I study myself in the full-length mirror. She’s supposed to say that, right? I wish I had someone I could actually ask, like Sara—she always told me the truth. I’m about to text my mother a photo when I see someone coming out of the changing room in front of me.

  It’s Shelby.

  “Maya?” She’s wearing a summery dress with a tag hanging off the shoulder strap, and looks as surprised to see me as I am her.

  “Hey.” I blink. “What are you doing here?” And then it dawns on me. The text she’d sent me about going to the mall . . . “Where’s everyone else?” I glance around.

  “Oh, they couldn’t make it.” She shrugs. “I came anyway, because I’m trying to find an outfit to wear to a Fourth of July barbecue my parents are dragging me to this afternoon. Hey, that dress looks really nice on you, by the way.”

  “You think?” I look at myself in the mirror. “I feel like it’s bunching up a little at the waist?”

  “Well, a little,” Shelby agrees. “But the color is pretty.”

  “Yours is great too. I like the yellow.”

  “Too bad it was misplaced in the clearance section.” She points to the tag. “I can’t afford anything in the regular part of the store.”

  “I know what you mean. I have some money from a recent holiday, otherwise . . . ,” I begin, but then I check the price. Two hundred and thirty-five dollars? For a dress?

  “Well, make that two of us who can’t afford anything in this store.”

  “They do have a good clearance section, though,” Shelby says. “Want to check it out?”

  Shelby leads me to a hideaway spot tucked in the back of the store. There’s a row of dresses hanging on one wall.

  “Look!” She pulls one out. “The gray lace looks pretty!”

  I check the tag. It’s also seventy-five percent off.

  I pull off a couple of other possibilities from the rack. Shelby hands me a pink one with flowers embroidered along the hem, and I help her pick out a couple of sundresses.

  We try our clothes on in neighboring dressing rooms. Shelby ends up going with a short white one I helped her find. And it turns out, she was right about the gray lace dress—it’s perfect.

  I also find a great gift for Sophie in the other end of the store: a whitewashed crate and a journal decorated in unicorns.

  “This is some fancy birthday you’re going to,” Shelby says.

  “It’s a bat mitzvah,” I tell her. “My friend Jamie’s little sister. I’ve been canvassing with him all summer for the special election, and he invited me to come along with him.”

  “I guess that’s why you’ve been too busy to hang out this summer.”

  “I’m sorry about that.” I glance at her. “It’s been bonkers. . . .”

  “I get it.” She smiles a little. “Everyone’s been busy. It’s fine.” She shrugs. “There’s always something to do; besides, I can always drag my little brother along if I absolutely need someone to go with me.”

  She honestly looks like she means it. I take it so personally when Sara can’t hang out with me, but Shelby just keeps on keeping on. Still, I pause and think of Sara and her myriad excuses. Just because Shelby is fine with it doesn’t mean I don’t owe her an apology.

  “Seriously, Shelby. I should’ve texted you back. I assumed you had a whole crew coming, and you wouldn’t notice if I was there or not, but that still wouldn’t make it okay. I’m sorry.”

  She smiles. “Make it up by going axe throwing with me?”

  “Axe throwing?”

  “I was going to send a text out to some friends this week about it. Would you be up for it?”

  “Isn’t that dangerous?”

  “It’s amazing!” Shelby says. “My parents and I went last month. Best stress relief ever. If you’re too busy, though, I get it.”

  “That sounds like fun,” I tell her.

  When she offers me a ride home, I say yes. It turns out, she lives a mile down the road from me. I get in the passenger seat, and we chat about school and our summers. I’m still stunned that not only did I go to the most Maya-Sara place in the universe and not cry, I’m leaving it smiling.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Jamie

  I shove my phone in my pocket as soon as Maya cracks open the passenger door. Barely 10:45 in the morning, and every organ in my body is cranked up a hundred.

  Maya eyes me, equal parts suspicious and amused. “Who are you texting?”

  I pause. “Sophie.”

  “Is she excited for tomorrow?” Maya clicks her seat belt, twisting around to face me. “I bet your mom’s so stressed.”

  “Yeah, it’s been intense. They’re at the rehearsal right now, and there’s a Shabbat dinner thing for the out-of-towners tonight. Oh, and Mom’s freaking out, because we had to replace our DJ last minute, and the new one keeps mispronouncing ‘Hava Nagila.’”

  “Do you think it will be okay?” Maya asks. “I mean, he’ll be playing a prerecorded version of it, not singing it himself, right?”

  “Oh, totally.” I sneak a glance at my phone in the cup holder. “She’s just looking for stuff to worry about.”

  “Well, it will all be over by Sunday. Then you can just go back to worrying about the election.” She rubs her forehead. “I can’t believe how stressful this is. We’re not even really part of the campaign. How do people do this every election cycle? Why does anyone want to run for office?”

  “I used to want to.” The words slip out before I fully realize I’m saying them. “Run for Congress, I mean. I guess . . . I’ve thought about it.”

  Maya smiles faintly. “Really?”

  “It’s stupid. Can you imagine?” I laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. “Giving speeches all the time, trying to talk people into choosing me—”

  “I’d choose you,” she says.

  “You would?”

  “Of course.” She nods emphatically. “You’d be an awesome congressman.”

  “I’m not exactly the politician type.”

  “So? I wish more politicians were like you. You’d be so great. You’d always vote with your conscience, you’d work twice as hard as everyone else, and, I mean, you’d actually listen to your constituents. That’s huge.” She pokes my arm. “What a game changer. You should totally do it.”

  She thinks—

  I don’t trust myself to speak. I just gaze at the road, head spinning. Maya thinks I should run for office one day. She said I’d be awesome. A game changer.

  She said she’d choose me.

  Which is ridiculous.

  But maybe it’s not.

 
By the time we pull into the campaign office, my stomach’s churning with nerves. Maya peers around the almost empty lot, looking relieved. “Thank God. I really thought we weren’t going to find parking last time.”

  “Right?” My voice can barely choke out one syllable without jumping.

  Maya unclicks her seat belt, yawning. “Weird that Gabe wants us to canvass at eleven on a weekday. Is he sending us to an office complex?”

  She starts to open the door, but I blurt, “Wait!”

  Way too loudly. Maya raises her eyebrows at me, smiling.

  “Let me just make sure . . . Gabe is ready for us.” I pull out my phone.

  “Since when do we make sure Gabe is ready for us?”

  “I’m just . . .” I tilt my phone up, so she can’t see what I’m texting. “You know.”

  Maya laughs, idly tapping into her own phone. “Why are you acting so shady?”

  “I’m not.”

  She stares me down. “Are you up to something?”

  “What would I be up to?” I glance quickly at the dashboard clock. 10:59. 10:59. 10:59.

  Neither of us speaks.

  10:59. 10:59. 11:00.

  “Okay!” I say quickly. “I think we can go in now.”

  “Okaaaaaay.”

  Maya’s definitely side-eyeing me—but I’m pretty sure she’s also biting back a smile. We hop out, and she follows me up the stairs to the side-access door. But just as I reach for the door, it bursts open.

  “Hi, loveys!” Grandma bustles out the door, pausing only to hug us both. “Don’t mind me! Just clearing out. I don’t want to keep you! I know Jamie’s been—”

  “Getting ready for a canvassing day!” I shoot Grandma a pointed look. “A regular canvassing day.”

  Grandma’s mouth snaps shut. “Well, look at the time! Past eleven. I better get home and walk that pup!”

  “Pup.” Maya laughs.

  The campaign office looks empty at first glance, but I can hear low, murmuring voices coming from behind the white video backdrop.

  I call out, “Hello?”

  “Back here!” Gabe announces, stepping into view.

  Maya looks at me questioningly. “Are we filming another video?”

  “Not exactly,” I say—but before I can finish, Jordan Rossum steps out from behind the backdrop. Maya’s eyes flare wide, and she lets out a noise so faint and high-pitched, it almost makes her Jim and Pam squeaks seem gruff.

  “Hi!” Rossum steps toward us, hand extended. “Maya and Jamie, right? I’m Jordan.”

  I shake his hand. A moment later, Maya unfreezes and does the same.

  “Your Fifi Gets Flipped video was amazing. And Gabe tells me you’re two of his top canvassers too. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

  Maya stares at her hand, looking awestruck—and then back up at Rossum. “It’s . . . so nice to meet you.”

  “Are you kidding? So nice to meet you,” he says warmly. “You guys are rising seniors, right?”

  Maya’s eyes flick toward me, mouth falling open. I know exactly what she’s thinking.

  Rossum—Jordan Rossum—knows who we are.

  Not going to lie—it really is pretty wow.

  “Yup,” I manage. “I—uh. I’m at Riverwild and Maya’s at Stanley.”

  “Nice. I went to Gallovin, but I knew people from both at Hebrew school.”

  “That’s so cool.” Maya’s voice comes out breathless. And when I sneak another sideways glance, she’s twisting the ends of her hair between her fingertips.

  She is, hands down, the cutest fangirl ever.

  Gabe ambles over, collapsing a small tripod as he walks. “We just shot some sweet new video for the final social media push,” he says. “It’s Get Out the Vote time! GOTV, baby!”

  Maya turns to Rossum. “How are you feeling?”

  “Good! Definitely nervous.” He half smiles, half grimaces. “It’s my first time running for office. But the response has been incredible, and I’ve met so many awesome people. I feel really good.”

  “You got this, bro.” Gabe pats his back. “Hey, let me steal my dude back for a sec. Gotta grab a few still shots to promote the vids.”

  The vids. Wow. Gabe is even more Gabe when he’s trying to impress Rossum.

  “Sorry!” Rossum smiles apologetically at Maya and me. “Should just take a second. Hold that thought.”

  They step back behind the cloth.

  And the minute they’re out of sight, Maya doubles over. “OH MY GOD,” she mouths.

  “Surprise!” I whisper. “I knew you wanted to meet him, so I got Gabe to—”

  She flings her arms around me. “You’re the best. Jamie! Is this real life?”

  The look on her face makes me feel—I can’t even describe it. It’s like beating every level of every video game. And getting elected president of the universe. And being buried alive in puppies. All at once.

  “I knew something was up,” Maya whispers. “But God. I had no idea. And he’s so sweet and down to earth! He really is awesome.”

  “I know! It’s an accurate slogan.”

  She hugs me again, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I can’t believe we’re meeting Jordan Rossum.” She draws back slightly, meeting my eyes. “Thank you.”

  “Better than canvassing in an office complex?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  Maya looks at me, beaming—and there’s this tug in my chest.

  “Okay, we’re back!” says Rossum, stepping around the backdrop again. Maya disentangles from the hug and clasps her hands together.

  She’s standing closer to me than before. So close, I can barely think straight.

  “Sorry about that. It’s so hard for me to get a good picture. I make the most awkward faces.” Rossum demonstrates, stretching his lips into a panicked-looking smile.

  Maya and I both laugh. I can tell she’s totally charmed, and I don’t blame her one bit. Rossum’s the good kind of awkward—the cool, self-deprecating kind, with that sturdy, quiet nerd confidence. I’d give anything to be like that.

  “So, what was your most memorable experience on the campaign trail?” asks Maya. She still looks slightly flustered, but she’s starting to sound like herself again.

  “Huh. Good question. Well . . .” Rossum turns to me. “Your grandmother brought me to an elderly Jewish singles mixer.”

  “To set you up?” Maya asks, looking delighted.

  Rossum smiles, cheeks flushing. “Probably? I don’t know. She told me it was a meet-and-greet for Jewish seniors, but . . .”

  “Did you get any voter commitments?” I ask.

  “Lots. And a couple of phone numbers.”

  Maya giggles. “Wow.”

  “What about you guys?” asks Rossum.

  “You mean did we pick up any Jewish seniors?” Maya shoots back.

  Rossum snorts. “That is definitely what I meant.”

  “Not yet.” Maya nudges me. “Maybe your grandma can set me up with a bat mitzvah date.”

  Gabe grins. “Isn’t Jamie—”

  “So!” I say quickly, turning back to Rossum. “I was wondering . . . could we get a selfie?”

  “Of course!” Rossum says. “Let’s do it. Right here?”

  Gabe’s face brightens. “Actually, why don’t I get some pictures of you three together for Insta!”

  Soon, we’re being ushered out the side by Gabe, who suddenly has very strong opinions about natural sunlight. “Right there. Brick wall. Great. Big J, you stay in the middle.”

  I look back at him, confused. “I’m not—”

  “Not you. Other Big J. Bigger J.”

  Rossum leans toward me. “He calls you that too?”

  I laugh. “Yup.”

  “Great. Great. Okay, everyone, look at me. And . . . smile!”

  “Wait!” Maya bursts out of formation, jogging toward Gabe. “Will you take one with my phone?”

  “Oh, good call,” Rossum says. “If you post it on Instagram, tag me! Then
I can follow you.”

  Maya looks like she might burst. “Oh! Okay, yeah!”

  “Aww, cuz.” Gabe smiles knowingly at me from behind his phone. “Bet you wish you had a ’gram!”

  “I’m starting one,” I say. Out loud, apparently.

  Maya grins. “Oh, Jamie! That’s awesome!”

  Well, now I kind of have to, right? Because what could be a better inaugural picture than a shot with Maya—and Jordan freaking Rossum?

  Ten minutes later, Gabe heads back inside to make phone calls—and Rossum heads out to his car. The minute he pulls out of the parking lot, Maya presses her hands to her mouth, letting out a muffled scream.

  “Oh my God oh my God oh my God.” She’s bouncing again—almost dancing. “That just happened. Look.” She waves her phone in front of my face. “Look how cute we are. Ahh! Okay, I’m texting you this.”

  My phone buzzes in my pocket. “Got it!”

  Maya hugs me. “And it’s about time you got on social media. Your grandma will be so happy. She told me you’re too cute not to be on Instagram.”

  I nod. “Sounds like Grandma.”

  Maya smiles up at me. “Well, it’s true.”

  There’s a tiny, fluttery yank below my stomach. Is Maya . . . flirting with me?

  Nope. No way. She’s just comfortable calling me cute because we’re so clearly, unambiguously platonic. After all, she was cosigning Grandma when she said it. So she probably means it in a grandma way.

  “We have to take a selfie together too,” she announces, “so you can post it on your account. That way, when you’re a famous congressman, you’ll remember me. I’ll always be your first Instagram selfie.”

  I smile. “You really think I’d forget you?”

  “Nah.” She smiles back. “I won’t let you.”

  The next thing I know, her face is smooshed against mine. I snap the picture, and then bring my phone back to show Maya.

  “Okay, am I just in a good mood, or is this the greatest selfie ever taken?”

  I grin. “I think you have a Rossum high.”

  “Oh, really?”