I lock eyes with him. “Forgive me?”
He sighs, and it sounds like he’s letting out more than just air. Like he’s letting all his frustration and irritation with me out too. “Yeah,” he says, and then he shakes his head, but it is more at himself than at me. “Of course I do.”
I drive into the deep desert dark a while longer. Neither of us says anything, and then, I pull over. “Hey. Want to go on a walk?”
“Yeah,” he says, eyes on mine. “I think I do.”
We walk in the desert, side by side, mostly in silence, using our phones to light the way when the moonlight isn’t enough. We find a coyote skull, picked clean by birds and bleached by the sun. It’s smaller and more fragile than you’d think, and so bright, it practically glows under the stars. I feel like we’ve found something magical. And then we get back in the car and we drive and drive and talk.
After a while, I ask Seth what he wants to do after college.
“If I could do anything?” he says. “Design board games. Or video games. Some kind of game design. How do I even get into that, though?”
“The same way you get into anything. Look at a company website. Email them. Call them. Get an internship.”
Seth makes a derisive sound in the back of his throat. It takes me a second to realize he is laughing.
“What?”
He shrugs. “I don’t even know if I’ll go to college.”
“What are you talking about? You are one of the smartest guys in our grade. And you would have the highest score in Advanced Physics if I wasn’t beating you.” I grin and toss my hair over my shoulder. “Anyway, I bet you can qualify for some financial aid or something. You absolutely have to apply for the UC schools. It’s just one application for all of them: UC Santa Barbara, UC Irvine, UC Riverside.” I pause. “Maybe you’ll even get into UCLA.”
He rolls his eyes. “OK, Reiko. Whatever you say.”
“I’m just trying to be helpful.”
“It’s not like that for everyone, Reiko. Not everyone can make their dreams come true with a snap of their fingers.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Just you know you’re pretty privileged, right? You can get whatever you want.”
“I work my ass off,” I say, frowning. But I think about where he lives, and where I live, and I wonder if he has a point.
“And I don’t?”
“Seth, all I’m saying is you have to prepare yourself for success.”
He shakes his head. “You have no idea.” But he smiles at me. “Maybe if I hang out with you enough, some of that luck will rub off on me.”
“I’m not a four-leaf clover,” I say with a snort, but I’m smiling too.
On the drive back to his place, when the sun is just starting to turn the sky pink, Seth suddenly says, “Hey, pull over! I think there’s something here.” And I slam on the brakes, and at first when we get out of the car, I think we’re surrounded by these huge rocks, but then one starts moving, and I realize they are giant desert tortoises. There are at least eight or nine of them, and they are stretching out their old wrinkled necks and turning their faces to greet the sun. We sit down in the middle of them, staying as still as we can, and it is like watching the sunrise with dinosaurs.
Later, Seth tells me that desert tortoises are solitary, so there was no reason for them to be in a big group like that, but I say there doesn’t always need to be a reason. Sometimes things just happen, even if they don’t make sense.
Just like there is no reason for me and Seth Rogers to start spending all our time together. It just happens.
SUMMER
CHAPTER 12
There is nowhere to hide in the desert.
In the desert, our shadows are long and lean and bigger than us. They stretch out across the sand, mimicking our movements before taking on lives of their own.
We aren’t touching but our shadows are.
I watch Seth’s shadow reach for mine.
“It’s hot,” I say, turning away from his shadow. Turning away from him.
“You were the one who wanted to come out here,” Seth points out, scooting imperceptibly closer to me. He’s been doing this more and more recently. Ever since we saw the sunrise with the tortoises, we’ve been hanging out on the weekends. Sometimes studying, but mostly roaming the desert. It’s a Saturday, and we’ve come out in the heat of the day to shadow dance in the sun.
And I see all his furtive glances, how his eyes slide down my body when he thinks I’m not looking. I notice how his fingertips linger when he has an excuse to touch me.
I wonder if it’s the heat. I wonder if it is getting to him. Or to me.
Sun-touched, they call it. Air over 100 degrees would make anyone do crazy things. You breathe it in, all that heat. Can’t escape it.
And this summer is even hotter than last. Out here, every degree makes a difference. Makes you feel like you are cooking to a crisp. My thin silky shift dress is sticking to me and it feels as snug as a second skin, like I’m a snake waiting to shed.
I want to peel it off.
I imagine what Seth’s reaction would be.
Suddenly, I want to get out of the sun. Get out of the heat.
“Come on,” I say, standing up and stepping away from him. “Let’s go to my house and cool off in my pool.”
“All right,” he says after a slight pause, as if he had even considered saying no.
I smile, and when he grins back at me, I smile even bigger in return, and then there is this rapid back-and-forth between us with no words, only grins, like some kind of smile ping-pong, until it isn’t just my mouth smiling, or even my face, but my whole body.
I smile more with Seth than I do with anyone I know.
CHAPTER 13
When we get to my house, I see Seth taking it all in. Despite hanging out so much, this is the first time he’s been to my house, and he is so taken aback by it all that he barely says a word, just stares and stares till I think his eyes might pop out. It makes me see my house, my life, through new eyes too. Through his eyes.
My house both blends in with the desert and stands out. It’s two stories, but it’s still long and low. Low enough to snuggle up against the mountains.
We have a front lawn and one in the backyard. It’s expensive to keep the grass green, but my mother insists and my father shrugs and says he doesn’t mind paying. Because he likes to make her happy. Because if she is happy, so is he, and then that happiness will trickle down and fill our home and we will all be happy. Or something. Happiness is something that used to come easily to my family, but now it is something we work hard at. And while I’m sure my parents know that money can’t buy happiness, they’re trying their best.
We have a pool too, but almost everyone I know has a pool. Except for Seth − and that’s because he lives out in a trailer with nothing but rocks for company, where even the sand is scarce.
But by the time we get inside, he is managing to keep his eyes in his head and has finally started to relax. A little bit.
“Whoa,” he says, slightly under his breath.
“What?” I say, nudging him with my shoulder. And then he lets out a low, appreciative whistle. “It’s just … really nice.”
“It’s all right,” I say with a shrug. It’s all I’ve ever known. But I remember when I first saw his trailer, how it felt unreal. And suddenly I get that this is the inverse moment of that − that my house, my life, everything about me, might not feel real to him.
“Reiko, it’s more than all right. I’ve never even seen a house this nice.” He gives me a sheepish grin. “Sorry, I sound like some sort of hick from the sticks.” And something about his sheepish smile makes me smile too, like a reflex, like the corners of our mouths are connected by an invisible string.
Thinking about having a mouth connected to Seth’s makes me flinch. It’s not that I’ve never thought about it. Because I have. In a casual, curious way. The same way I think about kissing lots of
people I know I would never kiss. Like Tony at the deli or my Art History teacher Mr. Flynn − just a curious thought, a wonder about what their lips are like, nothing I’d ever act upon.
But for some reason, my mind keeps returning to Seth’s mouth. His too-wide mouth with thin, chapped lips. It shouldn’t be appealing, and yet … I can’t stop thinking about it.
“You all right?” Seth asks. “You’re looking at me funny.”
“Sand on your cheek,” I lie, as I reach out and brush the imaginary particles away, the tips of my fingers feather-light on his skin.
Seth freezes under my touch − he stops breathing, and I wonder if even his heart has stopped beating.
“Got it,” I say, relieved because I felt nothing more than I would feel if I touched Dre or my brother, Koji. That’s good, that’s normal. As much as we’ve been hanging out, I shouldn’t be thinking about kissing Seth Rogers.
“Come on,” I call over my shoulder. “I’ll show you the rest of the house.” We head into the kitchen, which opens up to the living room. My brother is sprawled on the couch in front of the television, playing a video game.
“Where are Mom and Dad?” I ask.
“Out,” he says without looking up. Koji used to be so cute. When he was tiny, Mika and I loved playing with him. He’d even let us dress him up. But since she died, it seems like the gap has grown between us. I spend more time with Mika as she is now than I do with Koji. He’s always playing video games or practicing his guitar, anyway.
“I gathered they’re not here. But where are they?” He doesn’t respond, so I go and stand in front of the screen, meaning he can’t see what he is blowing up or shooting at or whatever it is he is doing with the controller.
“Hey!” he says.
“Mom and Dad?”
“Hendersens’, I think. Barbecue? Dinner party? Luncheon? Something. I don’t know. I wasn’t listening. Text Mom. And move, please.”
I flop next to him on the couch and wave Seth over. He’s standing in the kitchen, behind a marble island, still looking a bit stunned by it all. “Koji, this is…” I pause. Not sure what to call Seth. I guess we’re friends? But “Friends” simultaneously seems both too intimate and too distant to describe us. So I just say, “This is Seth. Seth, this is my brother, Koji. Koj, can Seth borrow a pair of your swim trunks?” It is a slight dig at Seth, that he can fit in my little brother’s swim trunks.
“Sure,” Koji says, still staring at the screen in front of him. “They are in the bottom drawer in the dresser next to my bed.”
“Do you want to come swimming with us?” Seth says, coming to sit on the arm of the couch.
“Um, you know my sister doesn’t actually swim, right?” says Koji.
I flinch, wondering what he’s going to say. I haven’t been swimming since Mika died. I can be in the pool on a raft, but I can’t bear to be submerged in water. I don’t want Seth to know this. I don’t want him to ask why I don’t swim.
“She just lounges,” says Koji, and I relax. He glances away from the screen for a second to scrutinize Seth. “Who are you again?”
“I’m Seth,” he says.
“And you know Reiko how?” Koji sounds strangely protective of me, and I find it a little bit adorable. He looks back and forth between us, his video game forgotten for the moment, trying to piece it together. Trying to piece us together.
If even my brother can’t figure out how Seth and I fit, can’t see why we hang out, there is no way my friends are going to. I want to run out of the house, pulling Seth with me. We can only exist in the desert. Not in my house. And definitely not at school.
“From around,” Seth says.
Then Koji shrugs and picks up his controller again. “Cool,” he says.
I let out a breath. I’m starting to realize that Seth and I only make sense when it is just the two of us. Even just chatting with my little brother is adding a layer of unease, making our interactions heavy in a way they weren’t before. We float when it’s just us. Any added pressure is going to make us sink.
“All right, man, good luck getting to that next level,” says Seth. Then he shakes his head. “But there’s always another level, isn’t there?” He’s not looking at my brother, or even the television screen. He’s looking at me. It makes me feel weird. I don’t understand what he’s getting at, but then he smiles, and he’s Seth again, and it’s all right.
He follows me up the stairs.
“My brother’s room is at the end of the hall,” I say. “Just grab any pair of swim trunks from the bottom drawer in his dresser.”
“Got it,” he says. But then he moves toward a door that isn’t to Koji’s room; it’s the door to my sister Mika’s room.
I lunge at him and swat his hand away from the doorknob. “No!”
Seth jerks back like he’s been burnt.
“That’s not … not Koji’s room,” I say. “His is there, at the end of the hall.” I point in the correct direction.
“What is it?” Seth’s hand is straying toward the door again like he might open it. And I notice his eyes flicker to the framed picture on the wall of me, Mika, and Koji.
I step in front of it. “It’s nothing,” I say. “Storage. Just go get changed.”
I stand in the hall until he goes into my brother’s room. And even then I wait a moment, just to make sure he’s not going to come back out and open this door.
Open Mika’s door.
I wonder, if he knows. If he’s figured it out from looking at the photo. Or maybe someone at school has already told him. But I don’t want that.
I don’t want him asking questions about Mika. So even though I’m perfectly capable of tying my own bikini top, I wait for Seth in the hall with only the straps around my neck tied, holding the bikini to my chest, my back bare, the straps dangling at my side. The bikini is new and maraschino-cherry red. I know it looks good on me.
Seth’s eyes go wide when he sees me. I’m glad. I want him to think about me, just me, and nothing else.
“Help me tie this?” I say, turning around.
I can feel his fingers trembling as he fumbles with the straps.
“Double or single knot?” he says, his voice barely a whisper.
“Single is fine,” I say. And then, voice pitched feather-soft, “Just don’t tug on it or it’ll come off.”
He makes some sort of noise that might be a laugh or a groan.
“Come on,” I say, slipping away from him and back down the stairs.
And, with that, Mika’s closed door is banished from both of our minds.
* * *
I sit on the steps of the swimming pool, only my legs submerged in the water, like a mermaid sunning herself. I flinch at the thought of mermaids. It was a game Mika and I always played in the ocean together when we were little: diving under, like our dad taught us, and popping up again. I shake the memory away, then tilt my head back, and close my eyes. I can feel Seth watching me. I keep my eyes closed so he can keep watching.
The seconds move slow, lazy in the sun. When I open my eyes, Seth is on the other side of the pool, floating on his back.
Maybe he wasn’t watching me after all.
Maybe it is all in my imagination.
CHAPTER 14
After it gets too hot to even be in the pool, we towel off and go back inside to study for finals.
Whenever we hang out, I can tell Seth’s a little more comfortable with me, like he’s peeling off another layer of himself. There is something strangely intoxicating about feeling like I am really discovering someone. A someone that nobody else knows. A someone that is just mine.
Seth gets his books and notecards out of his backpack. “Doesn’t your brother have to study for finals or something?” Seth asks as Koji plays the same chord over and over again on his guitar. He’s switched from video games to guitar practice. Which is equally as loud and annoying.
“Koji! Go practice in your room!” I shout.
Seth and I look back dow
n at our notecards.
“A mirage is due to: a, unequal heating of different parts of the atmosphere,” Seth asks; “b, magnetic disturbances in the atmosphere; or, c, depletion of the ozone layer in the atmosphere.”
I think for a minute. “A,” I say. “I’m sure of it.”
“Correct,” says Seth with a smile. “Have you ever seen a mirage?”
“Of course,” I say. “Haven’t you?”
“How would you know if it was a real mirage or just your eyes playing tricks on you?”
“Because I know what a mirage looks like,” I say.
“You ever wonder if what you see − like, what you think is a mirage − looks totally different to someone else?”
“Next time I see a mirage, I’ll point it out to you and we can compare notes,” I say.
Seth grins. “What makes you think I’ll be with you the next time you see a mirage?”
I roll my eyes. “It’s the desert. We won’t have to wait too long.”
Seth’s feet keep knocking against mine. I tuck mine under my chair. He probably thinks he’s kicking the table leg. I don’t want to embarrass him. I don’t know why I care − it’s just Seth Rogers.
“I’m going to get some water,” he says, standing up. “Do you want anything?”
“No, thanks,” I say, copying out another question from our textbook onto a flashcard.
He pauses by the giant ceramic sculpture of the eagle in our kitchen. He’s been looking at it since we came in. Not that I blame him; it’s hard not to look at it. The thing has a wingspan of five feet and looks like it is about to fly out of the window. It sits on its own special podium, watching everything.
“This is cool,” he says, running his fingertips across the eagle’s wings. “Like, how cool would it be to be a bird? That’s why I climb, you know? Closest I can get to flying.”
I’m surprised how wistful he sounds. “Mmm. I guess. Used to scare me to death when I was little. When my parents would leave us with a babysitter, I’d make the sitter cover its face with a dish towel because it scared me so much. Mom loves it because it belonged to her mom, my grandma Gloria. I never met her, but people say we’re alike. It was a wedding present from this artist Ruth Setmire who lives way out in the desert. She’s pretty famous now. She even knew Georgia O’Keeffe.” I can tell Seth doesn’t know who that is.
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