There’s no band on stage at the moment, so people are milling about, and it’s easy enough to push through the crowd. I pass a group of girls taking shots in the middle of the afternoon, a couple of guys laughing at something on a phone, and a girl wearing a dress with planets on it, beating drumsticks against her leg.
As I near the stage, Malka and Sook exit through a side door. There’s a girl with violet hair next to Sook. I recognize her from the Carousels video Sook made me watch. It’s Clarissa. She whispers something into Sook’s ear and squeezes her hand before Sook and Malka step my way.
“Holy shit,” I say. “Y’all look badass.”
Sook’s wearing a black dress, ripped at the shoulders, and Malka has on black jeans, Converse, and a black tank.
“Thanks,” Malka says.
Sook doesn’t respond.
I bite the edge of my nail. “So, Clarissa, is that happening?”
After a long moment, Sook says, “We’re friends. But maybe one day…” She’s unfocused, jittery. “So do you have it?”
I reach into my pocket, terrified for a moment it somehow fell out, but my fingers land on the small flash drive. “Right here.” I hand it over.
About a dozen emotions cross Sook’s face at once. Then she leaps forward and hugs me tight. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
I hug her back and inhale. She smells like Sook, fresh soap and something sweet, like there’s honey in her shampoo.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m so sorry I bailed at the last minute. Is there any way you’ll forgive me?”
“Ariel.” She stays close and takes one of my hands. When she locks eyes with me, my throat catches. “Malka told me what’s going on with you.” She looks down for a moment. “I didn’t know. I didn’t notice. I’ve been the terrible friend, not you. I pushed you to join the band, pushed you to play more songs, pushed you to rehearse extra for the gig. All while you were so stressed over school. I was too focused on myself to see it.”
“It’s not your fault.” I grip her hands. “I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want anyone to know. I was…ashamed. I was struggling so much when everyone else—my parents, my classmates, you—have it all together.” I take a short breath. “I don’t understand why it’s so much harder for me.”
“It’s hard for all of us, Ariel,” Sook says. She twists her lips. “Earlier this week I talked to my parents about college. They said their parents put so much pressure on them to get into a good school, they didn’t want me to go through that. They figured with Dartmouth I’d almost definitely get in without too much stress.”
“Oh, that makes sense.”
She smiles. “Yeah, it’s actually awesome of them. Except I went and stressed myself out over the band instead.” She throws up her hands and sighs. “But there’s nothing to be ashamed about, Ariel. No one has it all together. I bet not even your parents. Can you promise me something? Promise me we’ll talk about this stuff going forward.”
I nod. “I promise.”
Sook touches her forehead to mine and inhales, then steps back. “Love you,” she says.
“Love you, too.”
Malka sniffs, and I turn to see her wiping her eyes. “Oh, shut up,” she says. “Hey, how’d your interview go?”
I open my mouth and close it. I don’t need to tell them I left early. Not to lie—I just don’t want them feeling bad, or making it seem like I’m some martyr. They deserve this. “It went well, I think. We’ll see.”
“Yay! Fingers crossed. You going to stay for the show?”
“Yes,” a voice behind me says. “He’s going to watch with us.”
I turn and find Amir with Rasha at his side. He’s even smiling at me. I need to fix us before his Hufflepuffness runs out.
Ten minutes later, the lights dim, and Sook and Malka take the stage. I stand near the front with Amir and Rasha, feeling grateful and awake. The concert hall fills more and more. People sway and shout and dance. My friends are real musicians. Their songs are real songs. They’re playing a real show, and it’s incredible.
Tears spring to my eyes, and I feel silly, but I also don’t feel silly at all. Amir nudges my shoulder. His hand brushes against mine. I take the temporary forgiveness, grasp his hand, and inhale. Spearmint and basil. My body floods with warmth and relief, and for the first time in a long time, I know I’m exactly where I should be.
* * *
“You’re in trouble,” Rachel sings when I walk through the door a little past eight.
“Way to rub it in, sister.” I ruffle her curls. She looks better. More like my Rachel. She’s wearing her favorite tie-dye dress, and there’s Cheetos dust on her fingers.
After the Dizzy Daisies’ show, my friends asked me to stay and go with them to a Motel/Hotel show, some popular EDM band that got their start in Athens. But I knew my punishment would be worse the longer I put off coming home. As I was leaving, a woman with sleek hair started talking to Sook, and by the look on Sook’s face, I’m pretty sure the woman was an agent.
“Ariel Moshe,” Dad says from the living room. Uh-oh. Full Hebrew name. I’m in trouble.
I ask Rachel, “Can you wait upstairs?”
“Hmph,” she says. “Fine.”
Mom and Dad are sitting on the love seat together. Mom is kind of curled into Dad, one leg resting over his lap. I smile. I like how much they still like each other.
“Sit,” Mom says.
My smile fades.
I plop on the three-seat couch, feeling like a little kid, swallowed up by its size. My phone buzzes in my pocket. Maybe Sook about the agent? Now is not the time to check. I crack my neck left and then right and take a short breath. “Before you guys say anything,” I start. “I’m sorry.”
Dad pinches the bridge of his nose. “All right,” he says. “Explain first. Why did you go to Athens?”
“Sook forgot her drum tracks, and she needed them to play her show.”
“So you left after your Harvard interview and drove to Athens? Just like that? Without permission?” Mom asks.
“Actually, I left before my interview ended.”
Mom shakes her head. “I don’t understand, Ariel. You’ve been working so hard to get into Harvard, and now you’re risking it all? For what? Why?”
“Because Harvard isn’t the most important thing!” I snap, surprising us all. Mom slips her legs off Dad’s lap, and they both sit up straight.
“We know that,” Mom says. “But it seems to be all you focus on.”
“If it’s not important to you, why do you tell everyone I’m applying there? It’s all you guys talk about. Like it’s the only worthwhile thing about me.” My voice begins to shake. “If I don’t get in, that’s it. I’ll be Ariel, the one who didn’t get into Harvard. I’ll let everyone down. I’ll let you guys down. And I might not get in. I really might not, because I’m not perfect. They asked for perfect, and I’m not, and I don’t know what else I can—”
“Ariel,” Mom says, voice breaking.
I realize all three of us are crying.
Dad leans forward. “Ariel.” He pauses and meets my eyes. “Everything about you is worthwhile.” More tears fall, but with them, tension eases from my body. “People ask where you’re applying, so we tell them. That’s all. They’re interested in you, so we tell them.”
“Tatala, we don’t care where you go to school. Perfect is overrated.” Mom’s eyes shine. “Who would want perfect when they could have you?”
I swallow hard and run a hand through my hair. “But what do I do then?” I ask.
Mom walks over and sits next to me. She hugs me, her face damp against mine. “We’ll make a plan. Right, Saul?”
“Yes,” Dad says. “We’ll figure this out together. Ariel, you’ve done enough on your own. You’ve worked hard enough. We’ve got you now. Okay?”
“Okay.” I breathe out. “Okay.”
Seventeen
“Here.” I hand the slip of pink paper to Ms. Hayes.
It’s Monday morning, and I walked straight to her office as soon as I got to school. After a long talk with my parents this weekend, we agreed this was the best move, and now I want it done with. I still want to go to Harvard, even more so after my conversation with Hannah, but it’s not worth tearing myself apart over it.
Ms. Hayes looks up, surprised. “You’re dropping a course?”
“Spanish lit,” I say. “I need your signature.”
“Spanish lit…” She types into the computer. “But your grade. You have an A in Spanish.” She scans the screen. “You have an A in all your classes.”
“I know,” I say. Even my English grade is back up because Mrs. Rainer entered the extra credit. “But—” My throat is tight. I push through. “It’s too much. Spanish lit takes up hours of my time every week, and it’s only an elective. It’s putting a strain on my other classes, and on me. I need to drop it.”
“Ariel, I’m not trying to fight you. I just want to make sure you’re considering the situation. Harvard might see this, not to mention schools you apply to regular decision. Are you absolutely sure?”
“Ms. Hayes.” Her gaze snaps up to mine. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, genuinely. But this is my decision, and I’m making the right one. If Harvard sees the withdrawal, well, hopefully the rest of my transcript makes up for it. And if it doesn’t, it doesn’t. You can’t guarantee I’ll get in if I keep the class, can you?”
“No, but—”
“Then I’m dropping it,” I say.
“You might not be valedictorian.”
“I know.”
“Pari could—”
“I know. Please sign it.”
Her eyes search mine. Then, she chuckles, filling out the form with an amused smile on her lips. “Hey, you’re running the show.”
* * *
The rest of the week rushes by. My Spanish teacher was surprised when I told her I was dropping the course, but she didn’t argue. Now it’s Friday afternoon, and I’m talking with Amir and Sook in the hallway before AP Gov.
“She told us to keep in touch,” Sook says. The agent didn’t sign her, but Sook is still bubbling with enthusiasm. “And she said I have a ton of potential and that college towns are great places to get started because there are a bunch of little venues always looking to book bands.”
“So wait, you do want to go to Dartmouth now?” I ask.
Sook nods. “Yeah, I think so. I mean, I’m only seventeen, right? I have plenty of time to become a famous musician. I guess I could go and get an Ivy League education first.”
Amir raises his eyebrows. “You guess?”
Sook laughs. “I swear, I don’t know what I was thinking turning down that opportunity. Just being a privileged little shit I guess.”
Amir shakes his head and smiles at me. We’ve been texting all the time, and one night we even had an actual phone call that lasted hours, rambling about everything from our favorite Harry Potter creatures to places we’d want to live if we didn’t have to go to college to dead musicians I’d want to play music with.
But things still aren’t right between us. We haven’t kissed since before his photography show. And it’s not just because my parents grounded me after my Athens stunt.
I have something epic planned for tonight, and I hope it’ll make things good with us again. Getting everything in order has taken more time than I expected. At least my parents are behind the plan, because I had to ask for an exception to my grounding and to dip into my bar mitzvah fund.
“I’ve been talking to Clarissa,” Sook says. “And I think Malka and I might move to Athens for the summer to play our music and get comfortable on stage. I’ll miss playing with her, so we’re going to make our last months together count.”
“Really? That’s awesome,” I say as I notice Pari walking down the hallway. She’s wearing chunky headphones and a hoodie sweatshirt. On Wednesday, we both played the solo for Dr. Whitmore. I hadn’t practiced for days, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyways because Pari was masterful. When Dr. Whitmore told me I was dropping to second chair, I felt a twinge of panic, then relief. Pari deserves first chair, and I don’t need to bloody my fingers more to fight it.
“I’ll see you guys later,” I tell Amir and Sook, turning and speed-walking down the hall. “Pari!” I call. She doesn’t hear me. I walk faster, until I’m right behind her, and tap her on the shoulder. She spins around, startled. “Crap,” I say. “Sorry.”
She keeps her headphones on.
“Can we talk?”
It looks like she’s going to ignore me, but then she nods and slips off her headphones. We move around a corner, off to one of the short, empty hallways leading to an emergency exit.
“What?” she asks, voice curt.
“I’m sorry.” I tug my backpack strap. “I’m sorry about the other day. I was a jerk. This school pressure, it’s been a lot for me. I know you’re not as affected by it…”
“Ariel. What? I’m as affected as you.”
“You are?”
“Of course, I am! I’m a person, Ariel.” She shakes her head. “When I found out you were taking that computer science class? It almost broke me. I put in all that work, and I was going to lose my shot at valedictorian because I missed signing up for one class? I don’t blame you for signing up and not telling me, but you were so damn elitist about it. Like congratulations, you’re so smart. You gamed the system better.” She takes a breath. “Not to mention, I deal with a lot more shit than you do. You’re a guy. It’s cool for guys to be successful. But if a girl wants to achieve the same level of success, we’re annoying. Like we’re asking for too much.”
“Oh,” I say. “I didn’t realize—”
She keeps going. “It took months, but I finally accepted that I didn’t have a chance at being number one, and then you tore into me. I was only trying to help you, and you were a jerk.” Her gaze meets mine. “I never wanted to be your competition, Ariel. I just wanted to be your friend.”
My stomach drops, her words hitting hard. After a long moment, I say, “I’m sorry. Really sorry. I was so focused on myself…I should’ve never treated you like that.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.” She shifts on her feet. “We’re all stressed. This place does that to us.”
“It used to be okay. Fun even. Remember freshman year?”
“Yeah, we were all in it together then. It was exciting. And I felt cool, you know? Smart. Capable. But then the workload got ridiculous, and people got intense, and it didn’t feel supportive anymore.”
“Yeah.”
Pari picks at her yellow nail polish. She must sense me watching. “Nervous habit,” she says. “Like your neck cracking and nail biting.”
My eyes widen. “Wow, call me out.”
She grins and puts her hands down. “Sorry. I’m observant.”
“Well, maybe we could be in it together again. We have that AP Gov test coming up. Want to study with me?”
Pari gives a soft smile. “Yeah, that sounds nice. Can I bring Isaac?”
“Absolutely. I’ll see if Sook can join, too. It’ll be a group study hang.”
“We probably won’t get much work done.”
I grin. “I’ll get a B if you do.”
Pari’s smile reaches her eyes. She holds out her hand for a shake. “Deal.”
* * *
“I’m here! I’m home!” I shout, closing the front door behind me.
The Naeems are already here for Shabbat dinner, their voices echoing from the kitchen. Amir stands in the entryway.
“Shabbat Shalom,” he says.
My cheeks warm. “Shabbat Shalom.”
“Where ha
ve you been? I didn’t see you after class today.”
I scratch behind my ear. “Oh, you didn’t. I was—”
“Tatala, come here!” Mom calls from the kitchen.
“See you in a second.” I hurry away before Amir can press. He didn’t see me after class because I had to leave school early to finish getting ready for tonight. It was my first time skipping class. Amir has been so kind, so forgiving, again and again. And I want to show him I know it and I appreciate it.
It was kind of scary, walking out of the school doors, knowing I was missing material. But my parents literally encouraged it. They gave me a fake doctor’s appointment note and even said I could skip once a month until graduation if I want. They think it’ll be good for me.
And it did feel kind of good.
Sook and Malka met me after class. They’re still preparing while we’re at Shabbat dinner. Things weren’t quite ready when I left, but they were almost there. I hope this works. I hope Amir fully comes back to me.
Ten minutes later, we’re all settled at the table, except for Mom and Rachel. They say the prayer for the candles. “Baruch atah adonai eloheinu melech haolam asher kideshanu bemitzvotav vetzivanu lehadlik ner shel Shabbat.”
As Rachel sits, I lean over and whisper, “We’re having a sibling date tomorrow night, okay?”
“What are we doing?”
I grin. “It’s surprise.”
She narrows her eyes but grins, too. “Hmm, okay.”
After this weekend of surprises, I’m planning to sit down and finish my Harvard application on Sunday. Now that I’m officially second chair, there’s no reason to wait to hit submit. I’ve done all that I can, and I’m scared, but I’m ready for the rest to be out of my hands.
The house smells amazing, thanks to the giant pot of matzo ball soup on the stove and the cedar plank salmon Dad made. Everyone’s phones sit on the breakfast bar, stacked on top of each other so no one is able to check without us all seeing it. Even though we don’t turn off electronics for Shabbat, I love that we go off the grid for at least an hour.
“What a beautiful table,” Mrs. Naeem says, using the tongs to fill her plate with spinach salad.
You Asked for Perfect Page 17
