“Spain?”
I nod. “My mom had a fling while studying abroad.”
“Well damn.”
“Right.”
“So I take it you and your brother have different dads?”
“Yep. His dad, though single, was rich and shitty like yours.” Oops. “I mean, not that your dad is shitty—sorry, that was presumptuous.”
“Oh, he is absolutely shitty. Go on.”
It’s strange. I’m feeling things I’ve refused to acknowledge for a long time, but with Jess, it’s almost like I can’t help but open the cage. I tell her all about Jax’s dad and getting kicked out and being homeless for a while.
“Holy shit” is her response.
I swallow. “My mom worked really hard and we eventually moved here, but it was kind of a dark time. I literally never talk about it.”
“I had a sister who died as a baby,” she says. “That’s the reason we left Cali. Not even Ness knows.”
Brief pause, then we both sigh. “Thank you,” she says.
“For what?”
“I’ve been carrying that around for a long time. Felt good to like…release it into the ether.”
I smile. “Same.”
And it’s true. I feel lighter now that someone knows we were homeless but isn’t judging or repulsed or, worst of all, giving me pity-puppy eyes.
We smile at each other for a few seconds, having what I think is my first real friendship moment since…ever?
I take a deep breath. “Can I tell you something else?”
“Of course.”
“I’m a little bit…in awe, I guess, of your and Ness’s plans for the future.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just that you’re both going to college and have career goals and all that.”
She frowns. “You don’t?”
“Not really. My mom needs my help financially, so I don’t really have much of a choice but to keep working.”
“Hmm.”
Is she judging me? I hope she’s not judging me. “What does ‘hmm’ mean?”
Now she smiles. “Nothing bad. Just wondering what you’d do if you did have a choice.”
I shrug and look away. Feeling very exposed right now. “I’ve honestly never thought about it.”
“Well, maybe you should.”
“Should what?”
Jess rolls her eyes. “Think about it, Rico. You say you have no choices, but that’s not true. Everyone has choices. Are some of them hard? Yes. But if you want something bad enough…” Now she shrugs.
And I don’t respond. Because what if she’s right?
“You’ll figure it out,” she says, squeezing my shoulder. “For now, we have the wedding of the decade to get ready for.”
“Right.” Because I’m not letting this day be ruined. “Let’s do it.”
Over the next several hours, I pretend my other life doesn’t exist. Jess puts that old ’NSYNC album on, and we dance. We sing. We sip cans of Aranciata Rossa Sanpellegrino, and we put hot curlers in each other’s hair.
We eat pizza and then she teaches me how to put on foundation and powder (found a bag with the right colors beside my bed this morning with an unsigned Have fun! note in Mama’s handwriting), then how to make my eyelids sparkly and put mascara on without injuring my corneas.
Not once do I feel ashamed or embarrassed or afraid.
Apparently Ness and Zan are somehow involved in the wedding, so it’s actually a really good thing I agreed to come—if I hadn’t, Jess would’ve had to “brave the anxiety-inducing waters of expendable wealth” alone.
I know because she won’t stop thanking me.
“I seriously appreciate you being here,” she says for the umpteenth time today as we sit down on opposite sides of the expensive-looking desk in this bedroom full of her stuff. “You’re like the friend I didn’t know I needed.”
It’s the strangest thing. Never in a kabillionbajillionillion years would I have imagined prepping for Zan Macklin’s sister’s wedding inside Finesse Montgomery’s house with Jessica Barlow…who is currently polishing my fingernails royal blue to contrast with the coral color of my “keyhole-back” (read: backless) mermaid gown.
In truth, I don’t even know how to feel about it.
“So how did you and Finesse wind up together?” I ask, looking around.
“Ah, it was inevitable,” she says. “When I moved here in sixth grade, I got assigned to the desk right in front of his. He used to sit and play with my hair.”
Okay, that’s adorable. “Seriously?”
“Mm-hmm. First day of school, I sat down in front of him, and within thirty seconds, he’d picked up my braid and said, ‘Wow, it’s like golden silk!’ ”
I laugh.
“Needless to say, once I turned around and saw how cute he was, I started wearing it loose. We totally lost our virginity to each other in tenth grade, but it took until the beginning of eleventh for us to get together, together,” she says. “People can still be a little weird about the interracial thing.”
You didn’t tell me he was a white boy, Rico. “Yep.” Though is Zan actually white? I still don’t know….
She starts the second coat of blue on my right hand. “I’d ask how things are going with Zan,” she says, “but I have a feeling you’re not sure yet?”
I don’t respond. Because she’s right. And I know that despite just sharing my deepest, darkest secret, confessing the more-than-partners-in-quest stuff I’ve been feeling toward Zan will make it that much more real. Not sure I want to deal with that yet.
Then again, I guess I did admit it to him….
Why do I get such a strong feeling of impending doom when I start thinking about this?
Jess hasn’t said anything else—guess she’s waiting on me to respond. Man, I hope this doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass….“I mean, I definitely like him—”
“But money,” she says without looking up from my hand.
“Huh?”
“It’s the money thing, right?” She puts some quick-dry drops on each nail and then blows on my fingertips; it gives me a shiver. “Like you don’t really feel worthy?”