“You still do that?” Erika says.
“Of course. But only when I’m trying to talk my mom into buying me a new stand mixer.”
A shadow falls across my homework. A second later, an eight-by-ten picture of a finely tuned machine wearing a huge smile and a gold medal lands on top of Brandon’s test. A shaft of golden light shoots down through the gray clouds that have been following me around all weekend. I leap up and throw my arms around Jonah. I can feel all the muscles in his core contract to keep us from falling over backward onto the grimy cafeteria linoleum. I’m not sure who is more shocked at my behavior, Jonah or the rest of our squad.
“Yeah, I’m not giving you a hug, but congrats, bro.” Brandon holds out his fist, and Jonah gives it a solid bump. “Represent.”
“Wow. Way to go.” Naomi picks up the picture frame.
“So, details,” Erika says, looking closely at the picture. “I knew you skated, but this is a whole different side of you.”
“This is a whole lot of you.” Brandon takes the photo out of Naomi’s hands and gives it back to Jonah. “You got guts, bro.”
My heart slams around in my chest as Jonah and I sit back down. He never answered my text from last weekend. I’m not sure what to do with that.
“I wish I could show you the race, but I lost my phone somewhere between Phoenix and Denver.” Jonah digs out his usual lunch. “My dad had it last on Wednesday, but it must have fallen out of his coat pocket or something.”
“So you never got my text?” I say.
“Nuh-uh. What’d it say?”
Naomi’s chopsticks stop halfway to her mouth. “Yes, what did it say, Olivia?”
“Nothing. I don’t even remember. Good luck or something.”
“Thanks.” The pause in Jonah’s voice gives me hope, but he doesn’t press the issue.
Instead of wolfing down his lunch and taking a nap, Jonah gives us a blow-by-blow account of every race he skated on Saturday. Three minutes into his monologue, the non-skaters’ eyes glaze over. But I’m there. I remember how a single performance can be burned into your brain for forever. The good and the bad.
This is the senior level, sweetheart. Raw talent is no longer enough.
I shake the thought loose from my brain and give Jonah my attention again.
“You should have seen it, Liv.” Jonah is still on his skater’s high. I remember that feeling. “We came around the final turn, and I thought I was done for. Not even a third place. But then number two bumped number one, and suddenly the whole front of the pack was a tornado, people spinning out of control. One guy fell right in front of me, and I had to pull up to slide around him.” Jonah puts his hand on my knee and a line of fire races up my spine. “Then number one and I almost got tangled in each other’s blades. I ended up backward while he face-planted onto the ice. It was possibly the ugliest finish in the history of speed skating, but there you go. First place. I’ll take it.”
“See, we should skate together more often.” I place my hand over Jonah’s and squeeze it.
“Agreed.”
Naomi is staring at us again. Jonah looks at his picture one last time before putting it into his backpack.
“So, this Saturday, my mom is throwing a party for me. I hope you’ll come.” Jonah looks at me first, before saying to the rest of the table, “All of you. Please come, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“To celebrate your win?” I say.
“Birthday.”
“Cool. I’m in,” Brandon says, and Naomi and Erika agree.
I haven’t been to a real birthday party since elementary school. The last social event I went to was Mack’s baby shower. Not exactly your normal teenage event. Then again, when have I ever been normal?
“You don’t have to work Saturday night, do you?” Jonah puts his hand back on my knee. “I’ll get Mom to change the date if you can’t come. Or better, cancel the whole thing.”
“No, I’ll definitely be there.”
“Cool.”
* * *
How do girls do this on a regular basis? I’ve been obsessing over my clothes, my hair, my nails, and my shoes all week. It’s one party. I even watched movies about teen parties to see what they look like. Somehow, I don’t think it’s going to be the same thing. It’s not like Jonah knows a lot of people in Phoenix. Unless some of his skater friends come for the weekend. This is going to be a disaster.
Chapter 11
I look over my shoulder when I get to the Chois’ Saturday night and wave. Mack—Mom’s stunt double for the evening—gives me a thumbs-up from her Toyota. Mack declined her invitation to the party. Not because it would be weird for her to hang out with a bunch of high schoolers, but because she would have had to bring Fiona with her. Yeah, I’m not sure the Chois are quite ready for that yet. Part of me feels bad, but part of me also says it’s every woman for herself. I take a deep breath and ring the doorbell.
“I got it, Mom,” Jonah yells from the other side of the door.
My heart feels like I’ve been skating sprints. Normal. Be normal, Olivia.
“You came.” Jonah’s panicked expression relaxes into a smile.
I follow Jonah into his enormous—but currently empty—house. I slide my shoes off and leave them at the front door next to Jonah’s Chucks.
My heart hiccups. “The party is tonight, right?”
“Yes. I just wanted you to come early. Before Mom completely loses her sh— Oh, hey, Mom.”
“You must be Olivia. Welcome.” A middle-aged woman walks in the room carrying a life-size cutout of Jonah in his skinsuit under her arm. She puts Cardboard Jonah down in the middle of the living room.
Jonah cringes. “No, Mom, no.”
“What? I’ll put a giant 16 over the ad in your hand.” Mrs. Choi swoops out of the room, ignoring Jonah’s continuing protests.
Jonah rolls his eyes and sighs. “And it begins.”
“Oh, I gotta send this to Mack.” I pull out my phone, swing an arm around Cardboard Jonah, and take a selfie.
LOL! Mack texts back a second later. Be sure to take a picture WITH the birthday boy too, ok?
Mrs. Choi returns with a Mylar 16 balloon and a 16 cutout. She ties the balloon around Cardboard Jonah’s free arm and tapes the 16 over the info bubble sitting on his two-dimensional palm which reads: OH BOY! GET YOUR TOYOTA SERVICED AT OH’S BIG 5 TOYOTA IN ARLINGTON.
“Mom! We are not doing this.”
Mrs. Choi throws her hands up in defeat. “Fine. Put him in my office, and I’ll take him back upstairs later.”
“Since you’re here early, Olivia, can you give us a hand?” Mrs. Choi gestures at me to follow her to their state-of-the-art kitchen. “The birthday boy’s dry land training went too long this afternoon, and now we’re all in a tizzy.”
“Correction. You are in a tizzy.” Jonah follows us into the kitchen. “Dad and I were the ones who were fine with not having a party.”
“Jonah Choi, you will let me have this sentimental moment,” Mrs. Choi teases, but then adds seriously, “Please.”