#GoodGirlBadBoy

by Yesenia Vargas

  I smiled, unable to meet her eyes. “Yeah,” I confessed.

  My mom turned toward me, her sunglasses resting on top of her head. “What’s his name?” she asked.

  “Emerson,” I said.

  She thought for a moment. “Where have I heard that name before?”

  I shifted so I was facing her, making sure the sun hit my back. There were only a couple hours of sunlight left, and I wanted to take in as much of it as possible while we were here. “He volunteers at the nursing home with me.”

  “Ah,” she said. “Is he cute?”

  I nodded. “Totally. He’s kind of rough around the edges, but he’s so sweet once you get to know him.”

  “Hmm. Well, I want to meet him,” she said. “Make sure you invite him to dinner when we get back.”

  I smiled wide and texted Emerson right away, letting him know what he was in for.

  “Now, tell me more about this boy, Emerson,” my mom said.

  Girl talk with my mom? This was the best trip ever. I still missed the #BFFs, but even so, this moment felt pretty good.

  I opened the front door to find Emerson waiting there. He came in, a small dish in his hands. “Hey,” he said. “My sister made this. I think it’s—”

  Before he could go on, I put my arms around him and hugged him. Using his free arm, he hugged me back.

  “I missed you too,” he whispered, leaning his head on mine.

  I heard a small cough behind us, and I pulled away and found my mom standing in the doorway to the kitchen. “Mom,” I said, a little embarrassed. “This is Emerson.”

  Emerson stepped forward, and I took the small casserole dish. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Lee.”

  She took his hand with a big smile. “And you, Emerson. Harper’s told me so much about you.”

  That comment had Emerson giving me a nervous look, but I took his hand.

  Mom’s eyes went to the dish in my hand.

  I held it up. “Emerson said his sister made this for us.”

  He nodded. “It’s her specialty. She thought it would be a great dessert to have with the chicken parmesan.”

  My mom gave him an impressed look and winked at me. “Oh…I can’t wait to try it.”

  She took the dish from me, and we followed her into the kitchen. The dining table was already set, and it wasn’t long before we were eating together around our small dining table.

  I could tell Emerson was nervous. He sat across from me, hardly eating a thing and constantly staring down at his plate.

  Just glad he was finally meeting my mom, I glanced at him every few seconds during the dinner conversation. Thankfully, my mom was good at filling in all the awkward pauses.

  Emerson answered her questions politely, if not curtly. Wanting him to relax and know that everything was going great, I reached my foot across to his under the table.

  When he looked up at me, I smiled, and he finally seemed to exhale and relax.

  He actually laughed at something my mom said about the number of skateboard accidents she saw each week. “I’ve definitely had my share of uh…maneuvers gone wrong. I’ve landed on my face, on my butt, almost broke my arm once.”

  I put down my fork. “I don’t know how you do it. How do you even attempt something new?”

  He shrugged. “You just do it. Flying through the air, sticking a landing…it’s the best feeling.”

  My mom nodded. “I guess it’s comparable to a runner’s high.”

  Emerson agreed. “Definitely. Except maybe I’d say it’s closer to skydiving or something. Which, I’d actually love to do someday.”

  I gasped. “I would die of fear. What if I forgot what to do, how to unlock the parachute or whatever?” I contemplated the scenario, closing my eyes, and shook my head. “Nope, nope. I just couldn’t.”

  Emerson laughed. “Or bungee jumping.”

  Mom stood up, grabbing our empty plates. “I draw the line at bungee jumping,” she said. “Voluntarily jumping toward my own death? Do you know the percentage of accidents that happen? No thanks.”

  With that, she walked off toward the sink, and Emerson and I smiled at each other.

  This time, he touched my foot under the table.

  “You have to go skydiving with me one day,” he said quietly.

  “Did you not hear me?” I insisted. “I would die!”

  “I meant together,” he said. “We’d hold onto each other the whole way down.”

  That had my heart doing all kinds of funny things, like not beating right.

  How did Emerson just say things like that out loud? Did he enjoy making me blush on purpose?

  My mom came back with dessert. “Oh, Emerson. This looks amazing. Tell me what it’s called again.”

  “Chocoflan,” he said. “Chocolate cake and flan.”

  I took a bite, and the two textures made my taste buds explode. “This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted,” I said, staring at Emerson.

  He popped a second piece into his mouth like it was no big deal that we were eating the most perfect dessert in the world.

  “Emerson, you have to tell your sister that this is amazing,” my mom said between bites. “All other dessert is now ruined for me.”

  I nodded. “Agreed. You get to have this all the time?”

  He shrugged. “Birthday parties. Holidays. For no good reason. Sure,” he joked.

  “I have a feeling I’ll be saying hello to the five pounds I just lost,” my mom said. “You, young man, are officially my favorite. For the sole reason of this chocks-flang.”

  We laughed at my mom’s attempt at pronouncing the name of the dessert.

  After dinner, we helped my mom clear the table until she insisted we sit in the living room for a few minutes while she finished up.

  She winked at me as we left, and I couldn’t believe how well tonight was going.

  When we sat on the couch, Emerson pulled me in close.

  I smiled up at him. “Keep that up, and she’ll want to adopt you,” I teased. “Excellent manners and a chocolate dessert? My mom loves you.”

  Emerson grinned. “Good. You don’t know how nervous I was. I’ve never met a girl’s parents before,” he said.

  That comment had me thinking all kinds of things, mainly what I’d heard about Emerson not doing relationships.

  What were we, then? He wouldn’t meet my mom if he didn’t see us officially together, did he?

  I wished he would ask me to be his girlfriend. Then these doubts would disappear. But for someone who usually sensed the right thing to say, I was coming up blank.

  I was terrified of ruining tonight, of pushing him away.

  What if he just closed back up? Or admitted that this was nothing serious to him?

  I bit my lip, trying not to think about it. I just wanted to enjoy tonight. Whatever we had was still entirely new. We could always talk about it some other time.

  So instead, I lay my head on his shoulder and took in his smell, listening to him talk about how happy his sister would be that we’d enjoyed her dessert.

  When it was time for Emerson to go, I walked him outside. “No motorcycle tonight?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Nah. My brother almost killed me last time for taking it.”

  I shook my head but smiled.

  Emerson picked up his skateboard.

  “Are you sure you don’t want a ride home?” I asked. “My mom wouldn’t mind.”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I love skateboarding at this time. It’s the perfect temperature. And I don’t live too far.”

  He came in close and leaned his head down toward me. Letting my eyes shut on their own, my lips moved against his, and for a few seconds, I forgot about everything except the way he tasted.

  Emerson pulled away, but it was like he realized he wasn’t done yet because he came in again, and this time, I wrapped my arms around him. He did the same.

  We pulled away, my heart going a million miles an hour.

  �
�See you on Monday?” he asked, his hand sweeping hair out of my face.

  I nodded, unable to form the words.

  He set his skateboard down on the ground, about to get on it.

  “Emerson?” I said.

  He looked at me.

  “No more coming in through my window,” I teased.

  He bit his lip and smiled.

  Then he was gone, and I stood there, completely in awe of the amazing kisser that was Emerson Lopez.

  Nineteen

  Back in my room, I felt like I was floating on air I was so happy.

  I opened up the #BFF messages thread right away, knowing they had to be the first ones to hear how tonight had gone.

  They’d blown up my phone when I’d told them about Emerson sneaking in my window and then kissing him right before shoving him out the back door.

  Now I sent them a message, telling them tonight had been perfect.

  A few seconds later, my phone buzzed.

  Lena: EMERGENCY VIDEO CHAT

  Ella: ^

  Tori: I want details!

  Rey: !!!

  A few minutes later, they all shrieked and screamed and demanded I tell them everything.

  Ella smiled from her bed in Puerto Rico. “This is so exciting! I can’t believe you’re going out with Emerson.”

  Tori nodded. “Good for you, Harper.”

  Lena raised her hands. “I’ll be the first to admit it. I was wrong. Maybe there’s more to Emerson Lopez than everyone thinks.

  “Definitely,” I said. “My mom adores him.”

  “Now tell us everything,” Rey said, pen and paper in her hand as usual.

  When I was done, Rey sighed dreamily, and everyone else had on puppy love expressions.

  “So romantic,” Ella said.

  Tori stared back at me, a smile on her face. “I can’t believe he’s your boyfriend. Who would have thought? Then again…good girl Harper and bad boy Emerson…”

  Rey spoke up. “It sounds like a movie or something.”

  Everyone nodded, but I tried to figure out how to say what was on my mind.

  “What are you thinking?” Ella asked.

  I looked down at my comforter. “It’s just that…he hasn’t actually asked me to be his girlfriend. How do you know if you are or not? Especially if what he’s said is true…that he doesn’t do relationships?”

  I bit my lip, wondering what my friends had to say about it. For once, no one had anything to say.

  Then Tori said, “Maybe he will ask you.”

  Ella nodded. “Yeah, maybe just give him a little more time.”

  Rey looked up. “How long is too long, though?”

  Ella shrugged. “He did meet your mom. If that doesn’t say in a relationship, I don’t know what does.”

  Lena came in toward the screen. “Or just ask him yourself. Ask him if he wants to be your boyfriend.”

  I scoffed. “I could never do that.”

  She shrugged. “Why not? I’ve done it.”

  Everyone laughed. Typical Lena. Of course, it was no big deal for her. But just kissing Emerson had used up all my courage, and it felt like I was out.

  I liked what Ella had said, though. Maybe I just needed to give it a little more time. This was still new.

  And what Emerson and I had? It was real.

  It had to be.

  Between sneaking kisses at the nursing home and completing homework during movie time, Emerson and I prepared for our big community fundraiser coming up in a couple of weeks.

  “Are you sure this isn’t a little, uh, overboard?” he asked, watching me cut out golden stars and add them to the huge pile on the table.

  “Are you kidding?” I asked. “This place is going to look magical.”

  The theme was Dancing with the Stars, except the stars in our case were the senior citizens at the nursing home. Plus I’d be wearing a glamorous dress. I’d already found one for a steal at the local thrift shop.

  Everyone would be in their Sunday best, and I couldn’t wait.

  “How’s the playlist coming along?” I asked.

  He gave me a thumbs up. “Good. I’m almost done. I already got down all of Ms. Ellie’s requests. That alone is about thirty percent of the playlist for the night.”

  I smiled. “This dollar dance is gonna be so much fun.”

  He took my hand. “I’ve already got my dollar ready to go,” he said with a wink. “And I’m not talking about dancing with Ms. Ellie.”

  I laughed. “You know she’s gonna make you dance with her. Along with every other lady here.”

  He fake sighed. “Just the price of being young and handsome, I guess. The ladies can’t resist.”

  We laughed. I pictured him dancing with every little old lady here, and my heart just about burst.

  Next, I found Ms. Ellie, and we worked on the flyer announcing the dollar dance fundraiser.

  When we finally got it just right, she clapped. “Oh, these contraptions are wonderful,” she said, admiring the ancient desktop at the front desk.

  I held up a printed copy. “Ms. Moreau said I could hand these out at school tomorrow. Any summer school student who shows up gets extra credit, so I think we could really draw a big crowd.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Oh, this dance is going to be like reliving my youth. It’s been too long since I danced all evening.” She left with a wink.

  I found Emerson with Mr. Roberts. He didn’t look so well today. A thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead, and he looked more tired than usual.

  “Is he okay?” I asked Emerson.

  Mr. Roberts opened his eyes. “I’m just tired, is all. I think I need to lay down a mo’.”

  Emerson led him away to a room with a bed in it.

  “I’ll find Ms. Nancy,” I called after him.

  A few minutes later, she was at his side, double-checking all his vitals.

  Emerson came over, but he could hardly tear his eyes away from Mr. Roberts.

  “Is he going to be okay?” I asked, putting my hand on his arm.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. He seems off to me.”

  I squeezed his hand. “Maybe he’s just extra tired today. I’m sure he’ll be better tomorrow.”

  He nodded, but even so, it was like he was hardly listening to me.

  “Come on,” I said. “We should get going, or we’ll miss the bus. Maybe we can check in tomorrow at lunch.”

  “Okay,” he said. “You’re right.”

  But the entire walk back to school, Emerson seemed to withdraw back into himself, and all I could do was hold onto his hand and hope all would be better tomorrow.

  Twenty

  But things weren’t better the next day.

  In fact, they were worse than we ever could have imagined.

  As soon as Emerson and I walked into the nursing home, we knew something was wrong. The entire atmosphere was off. Instead of everyone being lively, they were still and somber. The whole place was too quiet.

  Ms. Ellie came right over, a tissue in her hands. I’d never seen her without a smile on her face.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked her, and her face fell.

  “It’s Mr. Roberts,” she said, her voice breaking. Suddenly, she looked entirely too small and thin and frail.

  Emerson headed to the front desk right away, and with one last empathetic look to Ms. Ellie, I followed him there.

  What had Ms. Nancy just said to Emerson? Had I heard her correctly?

  “A heart attack?” I asked her in disbelief.

  She nodded solemnly. “I’m afraid so. It occurred late last night. Mr. Roberts is in the intensive care unit at the hospital right now. We’re not sure when he’ll be back. I think he was still in critical condition last time I called.”

  Emerson bit his lip, hardly looking at either of us. Why wasn’t he saying anything? What was going through his mind?

  I thanked Ms. Nancy, and we walked back to the benches in front of school. Lunch didn’t end for another half hour, a
nd I had a feeling Emerson would rather not start our time at the nursing home early today.

  In fact, he didn’t look like he was up for anything.

  “I’m really sorry, Emerson,” I said quietly. “I know Mr. Roberts means a lot to you.”

  The sky was gray, the sun hidden somewhere, and I couldn’t help but feel that it was a perfect reflection of Emerson at the moment.

  “Ms. Nancy gave me Mr. Roberts’s room number,” I said, handing him the little piece of paper. “Maybe we can go see him.”

  He took the paper in his hand, crumpled it up, but didn’t say anything.

  Slowly, I put my hand on top of his and squeezed, but even so, Emerson wouldn’t look at me, wouldn’t talk to me.

  So I just held his hand and sat there with him. After a while, by the time we were supposed to be at the nursing home, he got up. I stood up with him. “I know maybe you don’t want to go to the nursing home today. But maybe we could go study for our math final in the library instead? I bet Ms. Moreau would understand.”

  Nothing.

  “Or, if you’re feeling up to it, we could even go visit—”

  But he shook his head and grabbed his skateboard. “I have to go.”

  “Emerson, wait,” I started, but he got on his skateboard in a flash and pushed off from the ground.

  I tried to go after him, but I knew it was useless.

  Emerson was gone.

  Emerson didn’t show up for school the next day. Or for our afternoon at the nursing home.

  He missed both the math and social studies exams the next day. Plus we had the dollar dance community fundraiser coming up. He couldn’t give up on everything now, not when he was so close to passing.

  Anxious about his grades and mine, I texted him, but he never replied.

  Not the first time, or the second time, or the third time.

  I wondered if he was okay, and it seemed like I was the only one who cared. The only one who missed him, missed his touch, his smile. His crazy skateboard stunts.

  The only other person who asked about him was Ms. Ellie.

  She was still upset about Mr. Roberts. He still wasn’t out of the woods with the heart attack, and I could tell she had feelings for him.