Misfit in Love (Saints and Misfits #2) - S. K. Ali Page 0,66
of a school year.
“Okay, it’s okay. I’m not mad. It was just weird you didn’t tell me.” I sit on the edge of my bed and then let myself drop down so I’m lying on my back with my feet on the floor. “Can you play ‘Ocean Eyes’? Please.”
“No. Not a good song for you now.”
“Please.”
“Janna.”
“It’s not like that.”
She comes over and lies down beside me. “Are you really happy about me and Jeremy?”
“Yeah. How long have you guys been together?”
“From like three days after you left.”
“Whoa, that was fast.”
“We make sense. ’Cause he’s chill and quiet. And I’m not.”
“But isn’t he leaving for college now? After this year off?”
“No, he decided to work with his dad again for another year. So we’ll still see each other.” She smiles big.
Tats’s going in state for junior college—literally just an hour from Eastspring—so she’ll continue living at home.
I’m so happy she’s headed toward having a good summer.
The blue skies will be in her heart.
“I’m excited for you, okay?” I sit up and twist myself to prop my face on a hand, my elbow poking into the bed. “Really. I want you to have the best, blue-skies summer.”
Tats smiles and nods and holds up her hand for a five. I meet my hennaed hand to her hennaed one—the design startlingly dark on her pale palm—and smile big.
Then I sink back into the bed, back to staring at the ceiling.
“Your mom left for breakfast. She told me to tell you we need to meet at the restaurant to eat with everyone,” Tats reminds me. “If you don’t want to swim, let’s at least go down to eat. I’m hungry.”
“I saw the girl Nuah likes. She’s beautiful and so much better than me in all ways.” I say this plainly, with no sadness. At least on the outside.
“Whatever. Janna, you are so not going down that path,” Tats says. “Let’s go get breakfast.”
“ ‘Ocean Eyes.’ Please. It’s going to help me get ready for today. If I can feel sad here, get it all out, then I’m not going get sad when he’s around today.”
She sighs and plays the song and changes out of her burkini right there into a strapless short white cotton summer dress that she pairs with a big, bulky, super-faded jean jacket. “It’s Jeremy’s,” she whispers with a sly smile. “I stole it from his car.”
I nod, completely lost in the song. No tears fall, but I let myself feel the rejection. I close my eyes and wallow in it.
Then I imagine my recovery—which starts today.
At the wedding. A happy occasion that I’ll rise to the challenge of.
When I see Nuah today, I’m going to give him a smile with blank eyes. A blisteringly polite but cool gaze like the ones Layth delivers so well.
Like the someone you’re looking at is there but not in a fully charged way. It’s like they’re fading into the surroundings, and you’re acknowledging their aura—present but not robust. Flimsy.
After I let the song loop five times, Tats takes her phone back, and I go to the bathroom to change.
For last-minute wedding prep, I’m wearing big black sweatpants and a big black sweatshirt and a big black scarf. I’m aiming to fade into the surroundings too.
* * *
When we get to Dad’s, I head upstairs to my room to get the clipboard Sarah gave me. I’m going to be all work, all steely.
Wear a pretty dress, wear a glazed gaze, lock up my heart, and get this wedding done is going to be my mantra.
Just as I get to the second-floor landing, Dad comes out of his room holding several suit jackets on hangers.
Great, perfect timing.
Just get the clipboard from the room. Just check off those to-do boxes one by one.
“So, you can’t stay home with me anymore? I’m too old-school for you?”
Old school? Is that what they call racism nowadays?
I’m so glad I’ve got headphones on. I orient myself toward my room and make my way to it like I don’t see Dad.
“You’re not going to answer me?” Oh my God, he’s still standing there like he expects me to respond. “All because of some boy? Now I’m absolutely nothing to you?”
I open my door and go inside and close it and lean against it.
He’s so angry I snuck out to stay with Mom.
I hate this wedding.
* * *
Can you please keep Dad away from me
I look out the window while I wait for Muhammad to answer.
There are hired people setting up chairs and running wires