I follow them into the kitchen. My idea is clever. They want to hear more. They want me to stay for dinner. This is going even better than I hoped.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Mai
This is going even better than I hoped.
I set the table, adding an extra plate for Anthony. Anthony is here. He’s staying for dinner. It’s all so normal. It’s all so okay. Would anyone notice if I ran up to my room? Would they hear if I stood in my closet and screamed, Yes! A sock. I could stuff a sock in my mouth first.
Anthony is leaning against a set of drawers, watching. He asked Mom if he could help. Nicely done. But I want to tell him not to slouch. Mom hates slouching. Is she noticing? I’m being ridiculous; I know that. People slouch. I just want them to think he’s perfect.
Did we hire a new yard guy?
Ethan’s words run through my head again. That wasn’t fair—or nice—but it makes me wish Anthony was in a shirt with a collar and something other than faded jeans and flip-flops. It’s not as if Ethan is in a suit. He does have a collared shirt and boat shoes, but that’s what he always wears. Besides, this is Sunday dinner. It isn’t a job interview.
Except it sort of is. The job of boyfriend.
Boyfriend. I have a boyfriend. I’ve already given him the position. I just need the CEOs to agree. I don’t know how Anthony and I will work as a couple, but I want to see if we can.
I cross to where he’s standing. “I need to get in there.” I point to the silverware drawer he’s leaning against. It’s just the two of us for a minute. Dad got a phone call, Ethan was instructed to take out the three garbages (regular, recycled plastics, recycled paper), and Mom is in the pantry searching for ingredients for the salad.
He shifts and gives me a sweet smile. In a low voice, he says, “Sorry I just showed up.”
“It’s okay. I was going to tell them at dinner.” I grab a handful of silverware. “But this is better. I mean.” I meet his eyes. “It might be better, right?”
“It might be excellent. Your parents already like me, and I haven’t even broken out the good stuff.”
“Good stuff?”
Before he can answer, Ethan comes back, followed by Mom holding a package of almonds. “Any allergies, Anthony? I’m throwing together a chicken salad. It’s too hot to cook.”
“No allergies. Sounds great.”
Dad returns with a quick, “I’m sorry about that.” He takes a seat at the bar. He’s got Anthony’s necklace and pulls on his readers to take a closer look. “Very interesting.”
“Thank you,” Anthony says. “You have other questions?”
I try not to think about all the questions my dad would have if he knew the whole truth.
Ethan comes up beside me, setting glasses of water on the table. “An athlete?” he mutters.
Ethan’s never been a fan. He thought athletes got a pass at Cholla. Money that could have gone to debate club went to new uniforms for football or a new scoreboard for the stadium. He finally quit tutoring because he said athletes turned up and they were all brainless bullies.
I feel guilty now for accepting that. I didn’t know athletes then, but I do now, and the baseball guys I know aren’t like that.
“He’s a good guy,” I say.
Before Ethan can answer, Mom sets the salad bowl on the table along with a basket of multi-grain rolls. “Dinner’s ready. Anthony, you sit here.” She pulls out the chair next to me.
“Thanks, Mrs. Senn.”
Ethan sits across from us, Mom and Dad at the head. I take deep breaths while everyone fills plates with salad, rolls, and butter.
“So have you made other things?” Dad asks.
“I’ve been making stuff out of scrap for a while. This is the first thing I made out of trash.”
“One of our Community Care groups in California has been experimenting with creative ways to use water bottles fished out of the ocean.”
Anthony spears a piece of chicken. “I can see why. A bottle a day ends up in our oceans.”
Mom gives him an approving nod. “That’s right. You’re interested in environmental issues?”
“I like to be outdoors. Clean air. Clean water. Those things matter. I don’t like the way global warming is changing the desert. There’s more drought that kills off the trees, and the grasses that take their place are a fire hazard. It’s going to change the landscape.”
Mom and Dad exchange looks.
I do the same with Anthony, holding back a smile when he gives me a tiny wink. This is what he meant. He prepped for this. For my parents. To impress them. My heart expands, pushing aside my nervousness. This really can work. I can have Anthony and my parent’s approval.
“So why bottle caps?” Mom asks.
He smiles at me. “We were picking up trash for the trail project. I liked the look of the caps.”
“You liked the look of them?” Ethan asks.
“Anthony recycles all sorts of things for his art,” I explain. “He lives in the house with the metal sculptures—”
“You live in the junk house?” Ethan interrupts.
“Ethan.” Dad gives him a look.
He shrugs. “That’s what we call it.”
Anthony puts down the roll he’s buttering. “I guess it might look that way. It all started out as junk.”
I give Ethan a pointed look. Be nice! “He made all of that a long time ago.”
“So what are you making now?” Ethan asks.
The chair creaks as Anthony stiffens. “Just messing around.”
“He’s working on projects,” I say. “I’ve seen some of it. He’s very talented.”
“Really?” Ethan gives me a look. “Where have you seen it?”
I flush as I realize what I’ve just admitted. “He showed me some things. At his house.”
“You’ve been to his house?”
Dad puts down his fork.
“To see his art.” I look from Mom to Dad. “He’s really good. I told him about the grant program for Community Cares. He’d be perfect for it.”
“You’re interested in a grant?” Dad asks him.
Anthony clears his throat. “I’m not really sure.”
“It’s a wonderful program,” Mom adds. “You can use the money for college tuition.”