“Seriously? Is that what you’re upset about? She was driving through on her way up to Athens. We went to the coffee shop next door on my break.”
“When’s the last time you asked me to meet up with you during a break?”
“I’m sorry, but aren’t you too busy ‘canvassing’?” She raises her fingers into air quotes.
“What are you trying to say?” My eyes narrow.
“You know exactly what I’m saying.” She crosses her arms. “Don’t act like you’ve been sitting around sobbing about me. You’ve been plenty distracted.”
I get that she didn’t understand what H.B. 28 was about. And it’s fine that she didn’t want to go knocking on doors—even I didn’t want to until my mom pushed me into it. But to belittle everything we’ve been doing?
“Maybe some of us want to try to effect change around here. Maybe some of us care about things beyond ourselves. This election is important.”
“If you think I’m wasting gas money to drive down here to vote for that smiling potato, you should take up stand-up comedy, because that’s fucking hilarious.”
“It’s not funny!” I stare at her. “This election has huge stakes. How can you not get that?”
“I go to rallies and marches. I do my part, but I’m not participating in a corrupt system and pretending I deserve a cookie for it.”
“How can you say that?” The men at the bar glance over at us. I know I’m talking way too loudly. But I don’t care. “They’re going to ban hijab!” Sara looks surprised and I feel a tiny bit of satisfaction. “You didn’t know. Why would you? You’re too focused on yourself—and fucking trash cans—to notice what else is going on. You didn’t text me to say Happy Eid or anything.” I blink back tears. “I posted a photo on Instagram, since I know you live on there, but you didn’t even like it. You’re too busy with Jenna to notice anything or anyone else.”
“I’m sorry I forgot about Eid, but I can’t help it if I follow a thousand people on Instagram and you follow ten, Maya!” Sara exhales. “Do you know how impossible it is to be your friend? To be your only fucking friend? God forbid I have more than one person I’m close to. Most people do. Do you understand how much pressure it puts on me that you lean on me for all your emotional support?”
“Believe me, the message is loud and clear that I can’t lean on you at all.” Tears stream down my face now. “When my parents split this summer—I had no one to talk to. No one. You were always too busy.”
“What . . .” Sara’s eyes widen. She pauses as she digests this information. Then she shakes her head. “If you needed to talk about something, anything, all you had to do was tell me it was urgent, and I’d have made the time for you. But no.” She glares at me. “You had to be all precious about it, and now you’re acting like a martyr, like I chose not to be there for you when I didn’t even know.”
“There was no time to tell you! You’re always working.”
“Gee, I’m sorry, Maya. I’m sorry my dad isn’t a doctor who can fund my entire college education. I’m sorry I have to get scholarships and loans and even then have to save up so I can eat more than ramen noodles during college. Forgive me for trying to make a living for myself.”
There is a long ugly silence. She leans against the seat and glances out the window. “Friday can’t come soon enough,” she mutters. “I can’t wait to have friends who aren’t such damn high schoolers.”
I jump out of the booth, gulping down sobs. It’s hard to breathe. I can barely see through my tears. I rush outside and lean against the side of the brick restaurant wall. Sara hasn’t followed. Not that she would.
That’s something old Sara would do.
I pull out my phone and try to keep my hands from trembling. Acting like a martyr? The words feel like needles cutting into me.
I have to get out of here.
But I’m not going home. I can’t.
I open the rideshare app.
I type in Jamie’s address.
Chapter Nineteen
Jamie
“Jamie, your roll,” says Felipe, but I hardly hear him. I’m frozen, staring at the text on my screen.
Maya: I’m outside your house.
I scramble to my feet, leaving Felipe, Nolan, and Drew gaping at me from around the Catan board. “Everything okay?” Nolan asks.
“Maya’s here.”
Felipe’s brows shoot up. “Right now?”
“I want to meet her!” says Drew.
I’m already halfway down the hall, my heart in overdrive. I just . . . can’t believe this is happening. Maya’s here? Other than last night’s drive-by when we dropped Sophie off, I don’t think she’s been to my house in almost a decade.
I open my own front door.
And there she is on the doorstep, sobbing, clutching her elbows. The minute she sees me, she crumples. I rush outside, bumping the door shut behind me as I envelop her in a hug. “Hey. Hey.” I rub her back as she sobs against my chest. “It’s okay.”
I swallow roughly. I’ve never seen Maya this upset. Not even after the Dickers meeting. She’s crying so hard, she can’t talk, can barely even catch her breath. But she pulls me in so tight, there’s not an inch of space between us.
“I’m sorry,” she says shakily. “Your friends are still here, aren’t they?”
“What?” I draw back, just enough to see her face; she’s gazing past me at Felipe’s car in the driveway. “No—no, it’s fine. They’re just hanging out here. Maya.”
She disentangles from the hug, breath still ragged. “We can talk later. I’m totally fine. I can just—”
I grab her hand. “Please don’t leave. Just. Hold on.” I crack the door open to peer inside—sure enough, the guys are camped in the entryway, looking way too intrigued. “Get Sophie to cover for me,” I mutter to Felipe—and then I yank the door shut again, turning back to Maya. “They’re fine, okay? They’re just playing Settlers of Catan. Sophie’s going to step in, and she’ll probably win the whole game.”
Maya wipes her eyes with one hand, but keeps the other hand in mine, lacing our fingers together. Which is—okay. Wow. Wow.
Except Maya’s clearly heartbroken. There’s nothing wow about that.
“Do you want to sit out here and talk? We could go on a walk. I could grab Boomer.”
Maya shoots me a teary half smile. “Boomer the celebrity Insta-dog?”
“Boomer the influencer!” I make myself let go of her hand. “Okay, wait right here. I’ll get him. Don’t leave, okay?”
Maya nods. “I won’t.”
By the time I step back onto the stoop with Boomer, Maya’s much more composed. She shoots me a wavering smile. “Hey.”
“We’re back! Maya, meet Boomer. Boomer, meet Maya.”
Boomer decides to meet Maya very intimately. She steps back, with a startled laugh.
“Boomer, NO.” I yank his leash back, cheeks burning. “Sorry. He’s—uh. Friendly.”