Jonah wraps his arm across his mom’s shoulders and squeezes her. “Okay. For you.”
I always thought Jonah was a carbon copy of his dad. Up close, though, I notice it’s his mom who Jonah resembles more. He has her heart-shaped face and slightly larger nose.
“Thank you. Now, stop standing around and help me.” When Mrs. Choi hands Jonah two packages of colored napkins, I notice the boulder-size diamond on her long, artistically manicured nails. I put my hands—with my sloppily painted nails and ninety-nine-cent-store rings—behind my back.
“Arrange those decoratively,” Mrs. Choi says before swooping out of the room.
Jonah puts them on the kitchen table in two neat piles. I come behind him and fan them out into two colorful arcs.
“That’s better.” I poke at the Mylar balloon tied to one of the kitchen chairs. “You guys went all out.”
Jonah bops the balloon toward me. “Yeah, especially since there will only be five of us, not the fifty my mom prepared for.”
I bop it back. “Be a normal teen, Jonah Choi.”
Mrs. Choi comes back into the kitchen. She picks up one arc of napkins and places them on top of the other. “That’s better. Now, show Olivia what you got on Friday.”
“Mooooom,” Jonah says, but slips his wallet out of his back pocket. He pulls out a learner’s permit.
“Hey, congrats.” I take a look at his license and then hand it back. “Good picture, even.”
“Do you drive, Olivia?” Mrs. Choi says.
“I have a learner’s permit. I hope to get my full license soon.”
“See, Jonah, I told you. All your friends at school are going to be driving soon, and I can barely get you behind the wheel. When I was a teen, we couldn’t wait to drive. We—”
“Mom, please. Not today. I promise, after the season is over, I’ll put more effort into learning how to drive.”
“And your school work. Especially English.”
“And this is why I don’t have people over,” Jonah jokes, but I suspect there is a kernel of truth in it too.
“Anyway, he’s going to need a little more time, Olivia, but then Jonah can take you out. To a dance. Or to the movies. Miniature golf? And not be so serious all the time about skating.”
“Mom thinks I’m obsessive about speed skating,” Jonah says.
“Who else would take PE when they weren’t forced to?” I say.
“See. Listen to Olivia.” Mrs. Choi hands Jonah three six-packs of soda. “Here, set these out before the rest of your friends arrive.”
She hands me extra-large bags of potato chips, cheese puffs, and Doritos. I see three serving bowls lined up beside a giant white sheet cake with a speed skater airbrushed on top. I rip open the bag of cheese puffs and pour them into a bowl. When Mrs. Choi goes outside into the backyard, I bump Jonah with my hip.
“So what are you eating for dinner?” I say.
“Not this crap, that’s for sure.” Jonah shoves the cans of soda into the tub of ice. “I gotta skate tomorrow morning.”
I rip open the potato chips and pour them into a bowl. I stop to test a few of them. “Where’s your dad?”
“Pouting upstairs,” Jonah says. “We were supposed to go to Salt Lake City this weekend to train with a former Olympian, but Mom said no. She was determined to throw me a birthday party whether I wanted one or not. She even made me skip practice Friday to go party shopping.” Jonah shudders. “She’s going to make me normal if it kills her. And me.”
“What exactly is normal?”
“I have no idea.”
Mrs. Choi pokes her head back into the kitchen. “Olivia, can you bring the hamburger patties out for me? They’re in the fridge. Jonah Choi, I’ve asked you three times today to take the garbage out. Right now, mister.”
“Sure, let me grab my shoes,” I say, as Jonah groans dramatically.
I’m relieved the Chois don’t wear shoes in their house either. That way I don’t have to put my fashionable torture devices back on until the very last second. My mouth waters when I pull the platter of high-grade meat patties out of the refrigerator. I head out the French doors into the Chois’ enclosed backyard. A gasp sneaks out of my lips. Fairy lights wrap around the bottom of the palm trees and line the barbeque pit area. There’s a colored light show going on in the pool, and the water feature in front of their Jacuzzi bubbles like the yoga soundscape mix Mom meditates to. Little 16 signs and centerpieces dot the area along with baby pictures of Jonah.
“Wow, this place is magical.” I place the tray next to their shiny, built-in gas grill and try to remember the last time I’ve been outside in my weed-infested backyard. Everything is so perfect here. Every little detail. I can’t decide if I hate the Chois or want them to adopt me.
Mrs. Choi looks over her shoulder. Jonah is still fussing around in the kitchen with the trash.
“I’m so glad that Jonah has you as a … friend,” Mrs. Choi says in a hushed girlfriend-to-girlfriend voice. “He gets so hyperfocused on his skating that everything else suffers. Schoolwork. Friendships. His health. And when the skating falls apart”—Mrs. Choi’s voice drops even quieter—“then he has nothing.”
Something pings in me. I know how that works. How it felt. How it feels.
“I’m glad you guys moved here. I like Jonah. We get each other.”
Mrs. Choi’s face lights up. She squeezes my hand. “I’m glad we did too.”
A wave of sound comes out the back door, followed by Brandon Park, who is hopping around trying to get his Nikes back on. Erika and Naomi are behind him, and Jonah brings up the rear. Brandon sees Mrs. Choi and launches into an elaborate greeting in Korean. Mrs. Choi continues the conversation, but you can tell by the blank look on his face that Brandon has already used up his entire Korean vocabulary. To break the awkward silence, Brandon holds out a paper plate with tinfoil on top. When he pulls back the edge, a wisp of cinnamon-sugar steam sneaks out.
“What are they?” I put a hand on my stomach to stifle the growl.
“Hotteok,” Jonah and Brandon say at the same time.
“It’s like a yeasty pancake with brown sugar syrup inside.” Jonah pulls back the tinfoil some more until I can see the pile of thick, palm-size pancakes on the plate. “Halmeoni—Grandma, Mom’s mom—used to make them for me every Saturday morning before practice when we lived in Arlington.”
I’m guessing Mrs. Choi is giving Brandon a big Korean thank-you. He keeps bobbing up and down, saying something.
“I’m going to put these inside to keep them warm. You kids make yourself at home.” Mrs. Choi crinkles the foil closed again and darts into the house with a big smile on her face.
“Happy Birthday, Jonah.” Erika gives Jonah a side hug and hands him an envelope.
“Happy Birthday, Jonah.” Naomi also gives Jonah a side hug and hands him an envelope.
“Happy Birthday, Jonah.” Brandon hands over an envelope and then puts out his fist. “Yeah, I’m not going to hug you, bro.”
“Yeah, not going to happen.” For once Jonah bumps his fist with enthusiasm. “And thanks, everybody.”