Drew: Don’t overthink it!! just be casual.
Jamie: okay! Sheesh
Give me a minute
Maybe if I did it over text. Kept it really casual. I mean, it would make the bat mitzvah a million times more bearable having her there. After all, Felipe and Nolan have each other, and God knows Drew will be busy hitting on my cousin Rachel. And the thought of dancing with Maya, hanging out with her all night, maybe sneaking off somewhere to be alone—and if she does like me—NOT that she does.
Okay. No big deal. Gonna just—
Jamie: Hey, I meant to ask you
Do you want to come with me to Sophie’s bat mitzvah?
WITH ME? With me with me with me with me. Seriously? Why am I like this?
Ellipses. Maya’s typing. Okay.
God. Why did I say with me? Why?
Maya: Oh!
More ellipses.
Shit.
Okay, I can’t do this.
Jamie: Was just thinking we could pass out flyers and stuff!
Cool. Just like Mom expressly forbade. Awesome. This is going great.
Maya: Are you sure? I don’t want to mess up the numbers or anything!
Oh, right, the flyers!! That makes sense
Jamie: You wouldn’t be messing up anything! You should come
Maya: Okay! That sounds awesome. Thanks, Jamie!!
I lean back in my chair, pressing my hands over my eyes, just breathing. Wow.
I mean, I did it!
Sort of.
Drew: did you ask her???
what did she say
Jamie: she said
Felipe: The suspense!!
Jamie: she said sounds awesome
Drew: SHIT
Felipe: What did I tell you!!
Jamie: as friends though! Not a date.
Not a date. Definitely, definitely not a date.
Drew: we’ll see
Chapter Twenty-Two
Maya
“Busy day?” my dad asks. He’s making coffee and scrambling eggs. “You’re up way too early for summer vacation.”
“It’s ten in the morning.” I glance at the clock.
“At your age, I hibernated until lunchtime.”
“I can’t imagine you sleeping in. You’re such a morning person.”
“It’s your fault.” He takes a sip of coffee. “When you were a baby you woke up every morning at five. Screaming. As if there was some important meeting you urgently needed to be at. Ever since then, I get up at five and hit the gym. You sleep trained me pretty good.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be! Look at these guns.” He flexes his arms.
“You are ridiculous.” I roll my eyes and laugh.
“Canvassing with Jamie today?”
“We’re doing something different.” I pull up the flyer Jamie and I designed and formatted. We were up late last night FaceTiming and figuring it all out.
My dad squints at the screen. “Love, not hate. Say no to H.B. 28. . . . It takes thirty seconds to be a hero. Call your state senator today!”
“The second part was me, the first part was Jamie.”
“Wow, Maya. When your mom offered a car in exchange for canvassing, I figured you’d follow in your dad’s footsteps and do the bare minimum to seal the deal, but you’ve gone above and beyond.”
“Yeah.” I shift in my seat. “It’s not just about the car anymore. . . .”
“I’m proud of you, bug.” He kisses my forehead.
My dad heads off to work, and I wander to my bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I reread the text from yesterday where Jamie invited me to Sophie’s bat mitzvah. For a split second, I felt goose bumps. He asked if I wanted to go with him to the bat mitzvah. His plus-one. Which—we hang out all the time, but being an official date for his sister’s bat mitzvah—what does that mean, exactly? I had no idea how I’d explain it to my mom (and way to go, Maya, for defining all hangouts as dating). But it’s not a date. Jamie made that very clear.
So, dilemma solved.
Whatever it is, I’m excited about Sophie’s bat mitzvah. I really like her, and plus I’ll get to hear Jamie’s toast in person. I spent the evening googling gift ideas for a bat mitzvah. Some people give money in multiples of eighteen because it symbolizes life—but it feels so impersonal to give cash. And then what to wear? I went to a few when I was twelve, but I’m sure fashion standards have changed. Also, according to my research, you can show up in jeans at some bat mitzvahs, and some have people wearing full ball gowns.
Jamie hands me my invitation when he picks me up that afternoon.
“An official invite!” I squeal, opening the envelope quickly. “Look at this.” I trace my hands along the embossing. “It’s so fancy, like a wedding card.”
“My mom has no chill.”
“So that means this will be a fancy event, right? I should dress up?”
“That’s up to you,” Jamie reassures me. “You can wear whatever you want.”
“I’m not showing up in my pj’s. Any guidance at all on what to wear?”
“I’m wearing a suit and tie, if that helps.”
“Suit and tie isn’t my aesthetic.” I shoot him a look. “I just wanted some ideas. I don’t want to show up looking completely ridiculous.”
“You couldn’t look ridiculous if you tried.”
I meet his gaze, expecting a half grin, but he’s looking at me with such utter sincerity, I suddenly feel shy.
“I printed out the flyers.” He clears his throat. “They’re at your feet.”
I pull up the cardboard box. Opening it, my eyes widen.
“How many are in here?”
“Three hundred. To get us started.”
“These are in full color! This must have cost a fortune.”
“It’s my house printer.”
“Your mom was cool with that?”
“I figure all the unpaid labor for this bat mitzvah is worth at least a pack of ink cartridges.”
I look at the freshly printed flyers. They looked nice on the computer, but holding them in my hands, it feels real.
“I can’t wait to show these to Kevin. He’ll love them.”
“Yeah.” Jamie glances at me. “My grandma was saying we might not be allowed to just hand them out at Target, though.”
“Maybe most people can’t, but we have inside connections.” I grin.
Kevin is at customer service helping someone with a lamp when we walk in. He nods to us as he finishes up her return, and then waves us over.
“Hello, my dudes!” he exclaims. “Welcome to casa Target. Returning that box?”
“Hey, Kev.” I open the lid and hand him a flyer. “No. Actually, had a question for you. A favor. We want to hand these flyers out to get the word to customers about this bill. It’s set to be passed after the election. But we want to squash the narrative they’re trying to build before it gains steam.”
Kevin reads it. He frowns.
“This is so messed up!” he says. “I’ve never even heard about it.”
“Exactly!” I say. “That’s why we need to get the word out.”
“Definitely. This is straight-up racist.”
“Thanks, Kevin.” I feel a rush of relief. “We were thinking we could maybe park ourselves somewhere, by the patio section or the dorm room displays, and hand them out.”