compromise?”
“Yeah.”
“How many of the toddlers held on to you and wouldn’t let go?” she asks with the knowing smile of someone who’s also taught two-year-olds.
“One in every class. I even had a crier. Didn’t stop the entire time. Wailed and screamed and strangled my neck. The kid has a serious water fear. The mom never once offered to help.”
“Was she on her cell the whole time?”
“Yep.”
“Parents are worthless.”
True.
Sylvia deflates. There’s a shadow of hurt in her eyes, and all the anger I’ve had with her vanishes. “You okay?”
She shakes her head. “Mom and Dad tried talking to me again today.”
Damn.
Regardless of the fact that we’ve been mad at each other, Sylvia’s my friend. My best friend. I wrap an arm around her shoulders and she leans into me.
“They aren’t telling me that I shouldn’t be attracted to girls, but they keep questioning me in this nice way. It’s like a backhanded compliment. Saying things like, ‘We support you and we love you, but are you sure you’ve thought this through?’ Mom and Dad think I can’t say for sure I’m a lesbian unless I kiss a boy.”
“That sucks.” No one has ever told me that I should kiss a boy to be sure I’m into girls.
“Mom and Dad suggested that I try kissing you.”
“You know you want to kiss me,” I tease.
Sylvia places a hand on her chest and dramatically dry heaves. “Excuse me while I vomit out my pancreas.”
The light moment ends when she sighs heavily. I rub my hand up and down her arm. “I’m sorry … for a lot of things.”
“Me, too … for a lot of things as well.” A pause, then she continues, “I wish my parents were more like your mom. She accepts me. Like you do. Like Miguel does.”
I rub my hand up and down her arm again because I can’t bring myself to tell her that my mom pushes me to date her.
“I think that’s why I was so angry with you about Veronica. You chose to work with her over me. I guess there was a part of me that was scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“I don’t know. I guess I was scared you were switching one weird girl for another. That I’d been replaced. Because who could be friends with more than one weird girl in this town without losing their minds over the stupid gossip?”
“You’re not weird.” A pause. “And neither is Veronica.”
“We live in a small town where I can count the number of gay people on two hands. Most people around here consider me weird.”
“But you aren’t.”
She rolls her eyes and pulls away. “Whatever. So here’s the thing, Miguel and I need a favor.”
“What?”
“Because we haven’t agreed upon a topic, Mrs. Garcia told us that we need to join another group. Miguel and I talked and we’d like to join your and Veronica’s group.”
I warily eye Sylvia then shove my hands into my cargo shorts. “You don’t like Veronica.”
“Well … you seem to like her so maybe I’m missing something about her. Plus Mrs. Garcia showed us the list of project ideas she’s approved. I have to admit, your ghost idea is far-fetched, but it’s also the most interesting.”
A pit forms in my stomach. “If this is my mom maneuvering for a good grade again—”
“It’s more than that,” Sylvia cuts me off. “I don’t want to get into another argument, but can you trust me that there’s more to this than just your grade? Without overanalyzing and asking a billion questions, can we go back to being friends? Can you let us in your group?”
I can’t imagine Veronica is going to be anywhere near okay with this, but Sylvia is my friend and I can’t let her down. “Okay. But there’s something you should know.”
“What?”
“Veronica and I are dating.”
VERONICA
“You had a seizure last week.” Mom is on the window seat in my bedroom, looking out beyond the glass to the world below. “It wasn’t a major one, but a seizure nonetheless. You promised him you’d tell him if you ever had a seizure.”
“It wasn’t a seizure. It was an ice-pick headache.”
“You’re lying and you should tell your father.” The phrase has become her personal mantra.
I finish tying my boot. “And I’ll be in the hospital before my toast pops up from the toaster. No, thank you. I had my heart set on strawberry jam today.”
I pick through the curls in my hair and do a last look of myself in the mirror. Thanksgiving was a bust so I’m moving