Most Likely (Most Likely #1) - Sarah Watson Page 0,23
plan was to toss him a couple of softballs first. She would let him get nice and comfortable. Then she’d hit him with everything she knew and see how much he flinched.
Her mom worked quickly, pulling Jordan’s hair upward with a thin comb. She was great at this. As a kid her mom had spent about ten thousand hours practicing on all of her friends. She’d grown up in a mostly black community and almost all of her childhood friends had hair like hers. Jordan sometimes wondered what that would be like. There would be a shorthand and a shared experience. She wouldn’t feel people staring at her when she walked down her own street. Her neighborhood wasn’t as white as Ava’s—which was alarmingly white—but she did stand out.
“Don’t let the college counselor talk you out of aiming high,” her mom said as she combed through Jordan’s hair. “I don’t care if she thinks Columbia and Northwestern are too much of a stretch. There’s absolutely no harm in applying.”
Jordan didn’t want to think about it. She just wanted to relax and enjoy this feeling of sitting on the tub with her mom. “Can we talk about something else? I’m already too nervous.”
“What do you want to talk about?”
Jordan shrugged. “I don’t know. Anything.”
“Okay. I’ve got something.” Jordan could hear the smile in her mom’s voice. “How’s Logan Diffenderfer?”
Jordan tried to turn her head so she could shoot her mom a look. “He’s fine, Mom.”
Her mom loved Logan. He was polite and charming, and knew how to talk to adults. He also wasn’t afraid to let Jordan shine. Her mother had once noticed him beam when Jordan received news about a newspaper award she’d won. She was convinced that Jordan and Logan were going to get married someday. Which was ridiculous for about a million reasons. Not the least of which was, who even married someone they met in high school anymore?
“Ava still hates him, Mom. But thanks for checking.”
Jordan could never date someone one of her best friends despised.
“All right,” her mom said. “But someday she won’t. I’m just saying, he’s a very nice boy.”
“Noted.”
Her mom finished with her hair and said, “Voilà.” Jordan turned around to look at herself in the mirror. Her stripes were almost entirely hidden underneath other pieces of her hair. It was still possible to notice them but only if you were really looking, and Jordan doubted that a guy with the title of legislative deputy would be really looking.
Martha took the bus to work that afternoon. She was supposed to get a ride from Ava, but Ava had sent some cryptic message that she had to bail because Logan Diffenderfer was ruining her life.
Martha got off at her stop and walked the three blocks to the theater. She was surprised to find the door already unlocked. Inside, Victoria greeted her chipperly in her vaguely British accent. “Good afternoon.”
“Did I misread the schedule?” Martha asked, her voice dripping with passive-aggressive annoyance. “I thought I was working today.”
Only one employee was usually scheduled to work on weekday afternoons. Martha couldn’t afford to keep losing out on hours.
“Yes. I mean, yes, you’re working. No would be the answer I should have given. Since you asked if you’d misread the schedule.”
“Huh?” Martha said.
“I’m here to see the movie.” Victoria shifted her weight. She was wearing pink jeans, which Martha didn’t know was a thing people did. “I can pay. Should I pay? Uncle Benny didn’t tell me if we got free tickets or not.”
“We don’t. But I’ll let it slide.”
Martha walked over to the concession area and began setting up. Victoria followed her. “So, how’s it going?” Victoria asked.
Martha hated small talk. “The weather is lovely,” she said flatly, hoping that Victoria would take the hint.
Victoria did not. “Interesting. I find it lovely too. So many people complain about the humidity, but I’ll take it over the dreary cold any day.”
Realizing that they were going to have a conversation whether she liked it or not, Martha decided to at least get some information. “Hey. Can I ask something? Where is your accent from? It’s…” She was going to say “weird” but settled on “tough to pinpoint.”
“Well, my mum is American. But I call her ‘Mum’ because I was born in London. Dad’s British. But we moved to Paris when I was five. I went to an English-speaking school, but my teachers were mostly Canadians. After Paris, it was London again. Then here.”