“Boomer?” asks Imam Jackson—and the next thing I know, he and Grandma are absorbed in looking at puppy pictures on Grandma’s phone. Maya watches them for a minute, and turns back to me smiling. But before she can even open her mouth to speak, Sophie sidles up.
“You guys look like you’re having a good day,” she says.
I tug her ponytail. “Shut up.”
“I’m just saying.” She beams. “Hey, have you seen Hannah?”
“Don’t look now,” Maya says as soon as Sophie wanders off toward the bar. “But our moms are huddled together.”
“Is that a good thing?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I can’t see my mom’s face.”
“I mean.” I lower my voice. “As long as she hasn’t been watching the security cameras at Target . . .”
Maya steps closer, pressing the backs of our hands together. “I really think she’ll come around.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Really?”
“She’ll have to. She will. I mean, it’s you—” Suddenly, her hand falls to her pocket. “Yet another text.” She pulls her phone out, looks at it, and looks up at me.
Her mouth hangs open.
My stomach drops. “Everything okay?”
“It’s Sara.” She peers up at me. “She says she’s here. She’s right outside.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Maya
There she is. There’s Sara. She’s standing under the restaurant awning and tapping a finger against her leg nervously. There’s an oval sticker on her dress with the words I voted.
“You drove all the way down here to vote?” I ask her.
She shrugs and smiles a little.
“Looked into Newton, and he’s the ultimate troll. The chance to say fuck you to him was worth the gas money.”
“Thanks for voting,” I tell her. “And for coming here.”
“Your mom told me where you were.” She bites her lip. “Maya, I’m sorry. This was our last summer. I messed up. I really did.”
“I’m sorry too.” I embrace her.
“It kills me that you were going through so much, and you felt like you couldn’t talk to me.”
“I should have told you how I was feeling instead of bottling it up,” I tell her. “And you were right. About me being privileged. I am. You had a ton of stuff on your plate, and I’m sorry I wasn’t as understanding as I could’ve been.”
We hug each other again.
“How’ve you been?” I ask her. “How’s the dorm? Jenna? I want to know everything I’ve missed.”
“The dorm is great, Jenna is good.” Sara nods. “My summer class is okay. Work is fine. Busy. I love it there. But it gets kind of lonely sometimes too.”
“Lonely?” I glance at her. “I thought you’d have five hundred friends by now.”
“Maybe I do.” She laughs. “But still, it’s not the same. They can’t get me in the way someone can who’s known me since the Elmo days, you know?”
“I still have some of your fanfiction somewhere.”
“Shut up.” She laughs. “You do not have my ‘tickle me’ fanfic saved up.”
“Just the drawings,” I concede. “I could blackmail you for real.”
“Where do you think you’ll be applying next year?” she asks. “Deadlines for college are around the corner.”
“Haven’t thought about it much,” I tell her.
“You’ll at least apply to UGA, right?” She smiles.
“You’ve been brainwashing me about it since we were in middle school, so maybe.”
“Oh!” Her eyes light up. “I almost forgot. I got something for you!”
She opens up her purse, digs through, and pulls out a book.
“Is that . . . ?” My eyes widen.
“Yep.” She grins. “Angie Thomas’s newest book, and surprise! It’s personalized to you.”
I open the copy. Sure enough, there’s my name in gold Sharpie.
“I can’t believe it!” I hug her. She was thinking of me. Even when we weren’t speaking—she had missed me too.
The restaurant front door swings open just then, and Jamie pops out.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hi.” I grin back.
We both smile at each other until Sara clears her throat.
“Oh.” Jamie blushes. “Hi. And, um, sorry to interrupt, but Cobb and Fulton County are both about to report their results,” he says. “Figured you might want to watch it?”
“We’ll be right there,” I tell him.
He grins at me. I flush a little.
“Whoa,” Sara says, when the door shuts behind him. “What was that?”
“The results are in.”
“That’s not what I was talking about. Spill it.”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “So, we, um, kissed today.”
“You what?” She breaks into a huge grin. “Is it too obnoxious to say I told you so?”
“It really is. And you did not tell me so!”
“Basically I did! I totally did!” She pokes my shoulder.
I can’t even put into words how nice it is to share this with her. To tell her about Jamie. To see her so happy for us. I don’t know what our friendship will look like going forward, now that we live two hours apart. But I’m so glad she’s back in my life again.
When we step back into the restaurant, the mood is noticeably different. Reporters are pacing. The cameraman is biting his nails. Everyone is murmuring quietly. The television news anchor’s voice echoes through the restaurant. I settle into a high-back chair next to Jamie, and Sara takes the one next to me.
DeKalb County is still colored in deep blue.
“Why is everyone looking so nervous?” I ask Jamie. “I mean . . . we’re winning.”
“Yeah, but the margin is shrinking.”
“It’s still in the double digits. I’m telling you—the KKK Grand Wizard endorsement is a fatal flaw. There’s no way Newton is winning.”
But then Fulton County results start pouring in. The double-digit lead trickles.
“He’s still got the upper hand,” I tell Jamie.
“Yeah . . . ,” he says. “I think these are the more conservative polling places reporting anyway.”
Even though he nods supportively, I can tell in his eyes—he’s worried. And I can’t deny the knot that’s settled in my stomach.
When the Cobb County precincts start reporting, the race tightens down to the single digits. Rossum has the lead in some polling precincts, but Newton is catching up. Quickly. Most of the wins and losses in each polling station are literally by one or two percent.
Jamie reaches for my hand under the table. It’s going to shift, I tell myself. It has to. There’s no way they’re letting that Koopa Troopa win.
But then the northern districts start reporting.
It’s like a kid tipped a red paint bucket over the entire upper portion of the map.
“It’s a mistake,” Jamie says slowly. “It has to be.”