“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He turns out the lights, and I lie back in my bed. The city bleeds around the edges of the shades, throwing light on the small bumps in the ceiling that look like melted rock salt on sidewalks. Outside, an angry driver leans on his horn. My foot throbs against the pressure bandage. I roll to my side, stretching for my middle drawer. My hand fumbles, finding only space where there should be the familiar edges of my pointe shoe box. It isn’t there. The throbbing in my foot rises to my chest. I’m seconds from full-on hysteria when I spy the box on top of my dresser, tucked underneath the faded black hoodie. I was looking at the poems earlier in the week, after I saw Alex outside the Academy. I was so upset that night, I must have forgotten to put it away.
I reach out and run my finger over the shiny purple jewel on the box. I carefully lift the lid.
On top is a note folded in half. It’s not from Alex. Not all his poems remain in the tiny square I found them in, but this one has only one crease, right down the middle. And the paper isn’t lined. It’s from the printer. My heart pounds. How could I have been so stupid to leave the box in full view of anyone who came into the room?
I pinch the corner of the note and ease it out. I close the box. This paper doesn’t belong in there. The note springs open as soon as I release it. The shaky, slanted cursive looks nothing like Alex’s; but I recognize it all the same. Merrit scolds me in that joking way of his. He even sketched a picture of himself, eyebrows a V, mouth a zigzag, finger pointing. He’s glad I have someone special in my life. He hopes I know he would accept whoever loves me like those poems show. He hopes that now that I’ve read his note, I’ll tell him about this mystery person, maybe even introduce them. He promises he’ll take his medicine that day and he won’t do anything awkward like stick spaghetti in his ear to make the person laugh. He signs it, I love you. I’m sorry you have to put up with me.
I’m crying so hard I almost can’t read his P.S. He apologizes for opening the box but since I left it out, I should know it was fair game. I fold the note into a square. It ends up being even smaller than the ones from Alex. The edges aren’t sharp. The paper’s so damp I’m afraid it’ll tear.
I open the box. I was wrong. It does belong inside.
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 16
ALEX
“So you’re on second. The score is 8–7 in the eighth inning, your team’s up. You’ve got one out and no one else on base. You gonna steal third or not?” Bryan’s shoulders rock with the train. He waits for Robi’s answer.
Robi stares at the space under the seats across from us. He’s sucked his lips into his mouth, he’s concentrating so hard. “Steal?” he answers.
“Good.” Bryan knocks him with his elbow. “Now, what if you’ve got two outs and you’re down 8–5?”
“Stay.” Robi straightens. He shows Bryan a smile. “You said if we’re behind more than two runs, stealing third isn’t smart.”
“You didn’t ask about the hitter,” I remind him. Papi would have hammered him if he’d given an answer without all the facts.
Bryan claps his cap to his head. “Ay, sí. Robi, what do you do if it’s a left-handed hitter? Same setup.”
Robi screws up his face again. He doesn’t remember. I’ve been trying to spend more time with him but there’s more homework at Haeres than there was at AHH. I’ve had more baseball practices too, even in the off-season. I told Papi he should bring Robi when he comes up to the school during the week to help train the team. But Papi never does. He almost didn’t let Robi come today to the Institute’s holiday charity drive. Gracias a Dios, Yaritza worked her magic. Papi’s been setting up since six A.M., but we’re only just leaving.
We get up to change trains at Forty-Second Street. Bryan’s arms wave as he explains how a right-handed hitter blocks the catcher’s view and stands in the way of his throw to third. He would know. Bryan’s likely going to get AHH’s MVP if he keeps upping his game like he has. Papi said it’s because Bryan’s not in my shadow no more. A star player can ruin the confidence of a solid one. I think it’s because there’s not as much drama between him and Julissa. Last time I saw them, they were like an old couple. I joked about it, but they’ve gotten pretty cute.
An express pulls away just as we reach the platform. The local’s a few minutes out. No way I’m waiting for another express and getting Robi there late so we shove onto the crowded local 1 when it pulls up. Bryan asks Robi to list the nine ways you can score a run if you’re on third. He turns to me as Robi’s thinking about it.
“Last night Kiara texted Julissa asking after you.” He nudges my shoulder. “That’s good. She still be thinking about you. See? Playing it cool just drives ’em wild.”
“’Cause that’s what you’re doing with Julissa?”
Bryan stretches back against the orange seats. His leg sways out and bumps mine. “Nah, we way beyond that. We like honeymooners now.” His grin falls. “I want to tell you something, only you got to promise you ain’t gonna tell no one.”
I hold up my hand like I’m swearing an oath.
He bends forward, elbows on his knees. “I’ve been having these dreams of when I get drafted senior year.”
I have those dreams too. Only, in some of them, I’m not going for the draft, I’m applying to college, and when I get in, Papi disowns me. “Yeah, so what’re you worried about? That you don’t get picked?”
“No, no, nothing like that.” He blows out an exhale. “In my dream, I get drafted in the second round. And then I ask Julissa to come with me. She says yes.”
“That’s great, Bry. That’s a good dream, right?” Only, he doesn’t look happy.
“When I wake, my heart’s racing and I’m all sweaty.” He checks to make sure Robi’s not listening. He leans over to me again. “You don’t think I’m missing out, do you? Staying with one girl so long?”
“Don’t know. You want something else? Something more than Julissa’s giving you?”
His mouth twists as he considers. I can’t believe he’s taking so long to answer. I never wanted anyone other than Isa. She was it for me. Problem was, it wasn’t the same for her.
“No. Don’t think so.” Bryan doesn’t look at me. “I mean, sometimes I get curious, por supuesto. But never enough to wreck the good I’ve got going with her.”
“So there’s your answer.”
Bryan nods. He doesn’t smile. “So you don’t think there’s something wrong with me? That maybe I just don’t got the confidence to try with someone different? ’Cause seriously, what would the team think of me if they knew I’d only ever been with one girl?”
I can’t believe he’s worried about those pariguayos. “Oye, you either want to be with her, or you don’t. You shouldn’t worry about what other people think. What other people expect. It’s just the two of you in the relationship.” It’s like what Robi told me. And Mami too. I wish that had been the only problem Isa and I had.
Bryan straightens. He nods a couple more times. “Thanks.” His leg hits mine again. “So. What about Kiara? You changed your mind about your white girl preference yet?”