“For Eid. She has a potluck coming up, so she’s helping her mom cook.”
“Eid’s sort of like Muslim Christmas, right?” Drew asks.
“Does that mean I get to say Easter is like Christian Passover?”
“Okay, wiseass,” Drew says. “I just mean it’s a big deal and you send holiday cards and stuff, right?”
“I guess so? It’s the end of Ramadan.” I make a mental note to google Eid again, even though I might have spent an hour or two falling down that rabbit hole already. Maybe I’m being a little extra, but I don’t really care. All I know is there’s no way I’m making even one more Ramadan-related faux pas.
Drew’s looking at me with this curious half smile. “So, you’re really—”
“Hey, what did I miss?” Felipe asks, suddenly reappearing. “Nolan’s still slammed.”
“Jamie’s just bringing me up to speed on his girlfriend.”
I smack Drew’s arm. “Not my girlfriend, dodo.”
Felipe smiles. “But you’re working on it, right?”
I blush. “We’re just doing campaign stuff together.”
Drew laughs. “Felipe, remember when you and Nolan were ‘just doing a history project together’?”
“I do remember that.” Felipe beams.
“Okay, we’re done here.”
Felipe side-hugs me. “We’re just teasing you. I think it’s cool that you’re doing this stuff for Rossum.”
“Me too.” Drew nods firmly. He pauses, suddenly fixing his gaze somewhere over my shoulder. “Why are those baby princesses staring at me?”
“They know their father,” says Felipe.
“NO,” Drew says, pointing at the dolls. “I disown each and every one of you creepy fuckers.”
My eyes drift back to the stuffed animal display, landing on a big stuffed poodle. It looks so much like Fifi, it makes my stomach twist.
I turn back to Drew and Felipe. “Did I tell you guys someone put a Fifi poodle meme bumper sticker on Alfie?”
Felipe’s face falls. “Really?”
I nod. “Thursday, right when we were coming out of a meeting with Holden’s legislative director. I have no idea who did it.”
“Shit,” says Drew.
“Yeah, it was pretty bad. Hard to get off too.”
“I hear you,” Drew says, making a face. “I had to get all my mom’s Hilton Head stickers off before they sold their car, and it was such a bitch. You know they make stuff for that—you just have to rub it on there—”
“I know. I got some. I took care of it.” My heartbeat quickens. “You know, Hilton Head bumper stickers and white supremacist memes aren’t really the same thing.”
Both Drew and Felipe turn to look at me, startled. To be honest, I think I startled myself. I guess I don’t usually speak up about the stuff that annoys me. I just swallow it back.
“We know it’s not the same,” Felipe says slowly.
My cheeks go warm. “I’m just saying, someone literally put an anti-Semitic symbol on my car.”
Felipe shakes his head. “That’s so gross.”
“People are assholes,” says Drew.
I look at him. “It’s not just a random asshole, though. It’s been happening to a lot of Rossum supporters. They took our magnet too.”
“Can’t you get Gabe to give you another one?” Drew asks.
“You’re missing the point.”
“Look, I get it.” Drew flips his palms up. “But you got the sticker off, right? You have the hookup for a new magnet. No harm, no foul.”
“It’s an anti-Semitic meme! In real life! I don’t know if Newton’s people are trying to intimidate Rossum’s people, or—”
“Do you actually think it’s Newton’s campaign behind it?” asks Drew. “Don’t get me wrong, Newton’s an asshole. But it sounds more like a random troll trying to get a rise out of you—”
“So I should just—”
Drew cuts me off. “You have nothing to gain from getting upset. You’re just letting him win.”
I open my mouth, and then close it again. Wow.
“You okay?” Felipe asks.
I stare wordlessly back at him, head spinning. They don’t get it. Drew especially doesn’t get it. Fifi may not be a big thing, but it feels like part of a bigger thing. And I know Drew isn’t trying to gaslight me on purpose, like Dickers, but I have that same weird prickle I had stepping out of that meeting. Like I’m going crazy. Like everything I say or think or feel is an overreaction.
Sometimes I honestly think Maya’s the only one in the world who understands.
Though clearly the guys think I have some kind of ulterior motive. That this all comes down to me trying to make Maya my girlfriend.
Right.
I’m tired of that too. Maybe I just want to spend time with someone who actually gives a crap, for once. Unlike my so-called friends, who literally couldn’t be less invested.
Even as I think it, I know I’m being unfair. After all, there’s nothing quite like the futility of being seventeen in an election year. And from a strictly logical perspective, Drew’s right. I have nothing to gain from getting upset. My anger won’t get Rossum elected, won’t make H.B. 28 go away, won’t stop a single troll from trolling.
I mean, two weeks ago, I wasn’t so different from Drew and Felipe. I wanted Rossum to win, obviously. And yeah, I was putting in hours at the campaign office. But I certainly wouldn’t have canvassed if Mom hadn’t forced me.
Now it feels like I can’t canvass enough. I really feel that.
It’s like living with fire in my chest. Maybe it was Fifi. Or Dickers. Or H.B. 28. I don’t know what sparked it, but suddenly everything’s different. Everything feels huge and momentous and terrifyingly real.
And I can’t seem to push it to the background. I can’t put the fire out.
I don’t think I want to put the fire out.
Chapter Sixteen
Maya
My dad bought a bed.
It’s just a bed.
But it’s a bed.
A bed.
If you say it enough times, bed bed bed bed bed, the word squishes and compresses and retracts until it doesn’t even mean anything at all.
Except this bed in my dad’s apartment means everything.
Today is Eid. Ramadan is officially over. We need to head to the masjid for prayers, but I’m stuck at this spot in the hallway looking at the comforter spread over a queen bed in my father’s bedroom. I missed it when I came over last night. Walked right by it. Now I can’t unsee it, even if I wanted to.
My mother dispelled any fantasy I had of Eid being some kind of magic countdown that would reset my parents back to happily married . . . but this bed. This bed means this separation isn’t ending anytime soon.
“Got coffees in to-go cups because we’re running a little late,” my dad calls out. “Almost ready?”
I swallow the brick wedged in my throat and join him.
As if on cue, Tammy Adrian starts talking H.B. 28 as soon as we get in the car. The pushback has been surprisingly vocal, she explains. But the GOP majority in the state House of Representatives is determined to push ahead and bring it to a vote, maybe even before the special election.