Super Fake Love Song - David Yoon Page 0,71

is fire and fire melts ice

lightning cancels fire

no it doesn’t

and so on.

“They’re so cute,” said Cirrus.

“Nn,” I said.

We snuggled in closer. We kissed. The sky above fluttered and rasped like the world’s most elaborate paper chandelier.

“Ew!” said a voice.

A girl stared at us. She wore mirrored swim goggles and a Frisbee as a chest plate.

“Hey there,” said Cirrus.

The girl aimed a toddler-size tennis racket at us. “Avada kedavra!” she screamed, and ran away to join the rest of her group.

I watched the children play. I’ll make that one Jamal, I thought. That one is Milo. That one can be me, that one can be Cirrus.

“Kind of makes me want to be a kid again,” I said.

“Kind of does,” said Cirrus.

All at once Cirrus took a pause. She became lost in a tiny cluster of eggs on the backside of a dead leaf.

“What is it?” I said.

“My parents,” said Cirrus. “They keep going on and on about some big project going on in China.”

I killed inside at the word China. All I could say was “Okay.”

“Another mall, the world’s biggest this time, but apparently still not big enough,” said Cirrus. She found a twig and bent it.

My heart fought against blood suddenly turned thick as syrup. “But you haven’t even been here two months. I thought that project in LA was supposed to last for a long time.”

I thought we were supposed to be together for a long time.

“It’s on hold because of city budget red tape or something,” said Cirrus. “Dunn matter.”

“Wait—” I said. “So—”

Cirrus snapped the twig, flung it away, and grinned. “Wanna know what I told them?”

I could not help but admire her smile. She had two beautifully crooked incisors.

“I told them that if they just waited a year for me to finish out high school, they could move wherever they wanted without having to bother anymore with the whole parenting thing,” said Cirrus.

I covered my mouth and hooted. “Dude.”

“You should’ve seen how guilty they looked,” said Cirrus.

I tried to picture her parents with any kind of emotion aside from detached inquisitiveness, and failed. But I didn’t care. Because what Cirrus was saying was—

“I’m not going anywhere,” said Cirrus. She buried her forehead in my neck. “I’ve been wanting to say something to my parents for years. Know why I finally did?”

She lifted her gaze to meet mine. I thrilled inside at the sight.

“Why?” I said.

“It’s not because of this place,” said Cirrus. “I’ve seen better places.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, smiling now.

“It’s just that I met this guy,” said Cirrus. “Real dark and broody rock-and-roller type.”

I killed inside again. I thrilled, I killed, thrillkill.

“So Rancho Ruby’s not so bad,” said Cirrus.

“Could be a lot worse,” I said.

I kissed her, and she kissed me back, tighter and tighter, neither of us having any clue just how much worse.

“I love you, Sunny Dae,” said Cirrus.

“I love you, Cirrus Soh,” I said.

And for the rest of the day, neither of us went anywhere except right where we already were.

Ready

You didn’t see my email, did you,” whispered Jamal.

Around us, imbeciles sprinted and hurdled in the purposeless Sisyphean contest known as track.

I removed my cleat spikes using a hand tool, then blew sharply to eject red clay debris. I hated dirty cleats; I found the best way to keep them clean was to avoid running whenever possible.

“Email,” I said, “is the awkward transitional technology between snail mail—”

Jamal hissed me silent, like one does to a bad cat. “I wrote Lady Lashblade late last night. I thanked her for her support. I wrote a freaking torch song for her.”

“You should see this email,” Milo susurrated, like a spy.

I dropped my hand tool. “You wrote to her?”

“I had to do something,” said Jamal. He counted on his fingers. “It’s Tuesday, and last night I wasn’t around because of that stupid dinner with my stupid uncle, and now tonight Milo’s not gonna be around.”

“I have a quinceañera for my cousin all the way in Topanga,” said Milo. “Shoot me.”

“What did your email say?” I said to Jamal.

“And all the after-school time this week’s been eaten up by band practice!” said Jamal, ducking his voice as two jocks passed. “Then we have the show on Wednesday!” he hissed. “The whole week’s been fubared for DIY Fantasy FX!”

“Jamal,” I whispered. “What did your email say?”

“I asked if she could guest star on an upcoming episode,” said Jamal.

“He showed her your video of Esmeralda’s Veil,” said Milo.

“And then what?” I said.

“She loved it!” whisper-shouted Jamal. “She wanted a date and