“I’d like to go to Berkeley. Just for a few hours before work.”
My parents trade an unsettled glance as Norah shuffles into the room behind me. “Oh, for God’s sake, let her go. She’ll go anyway.”
They give me permission. Hourly phone-call check-ins, but I gladly accept. I’m bouncing out the door when a split-second decision has me returning for something tiny that I keep stashed away in my sock drawer. I slip it into my purse.
I stop by New Seoul Garden, and Lindsey packs a bag of takeout, which causes the entire car—on both of the trains it takes to get to Berkeley—to smell. Whoops. I decide to be brave this time and call him when I reach his dormitory gates, but someone is leaving as I’m arriving, and it’s not necessary. I pass through the landscaped courtyard and the other doors just as easily.
And then I’m at his door.
I lift my hand to knock as a girl laughs on the other side. My knuckles land against the wood in a tremble. Is that Jessica? Again?
The door pops open, and . . . it’s Anna.
“Hey, space cowgirl!” She’s already taken in the silver fringe dress and my red cowboy boots. For one nightmarish second, I’m consumed by suspicion, but the door swings back and reveals St. Clair. Of course. He and Cricket are sitting against the side of Cricket’s bed. And then Cricket Bell sees me, and the atmosphere lights up.
My soul lights up in response.
“Hi.” He springs to his feet. “Hi,” he says again.
“I was worried that you wouldn’t have time to eat lunch today.” I hold up the takeout as I notice a spread of empty Chinese boxes on the floor. “Oh.”
Anna gives me a gap-toothed grin. “Don’t worry. He’ll eat what you’ve brought, too.”
“His stomach is quite tall,” St. Clair says.
“And yours is so wee,” Anna says. He shoves her legs from his place on the floor, and she shoves his back. They’re like puppies.
Cricket gestures me forward with both arms. “Here, come in, sit down.”
I glance around. Every surface is covered.
“Uh, hold on,” he says. There’s a mound of school papers spread across the surface of his bed, which he bulldozes aside. “Here. Sit here.”
“We should go,” Anna says. “We just stopped by to feed Cricket and grill him about the Olympics. Did you know they’re in France this year?” She sighs. “I’m dying for a visit.”
Her boyfriend bites a pinkie nail. “And I’m trying to convince her that if Calliope makes the team, we should consider it a sign and take the holiday.”
I smile at Anna. “Lucky you.”
St. Clair turns toward Cricket and points an accusing finger. “I’m counting on you to ensure your sister wins at Nationals next weekend, all right?”
My heart selfishly plummets. Next weekend. More time away from Cricket.
“She only has to get one of the top three spots,” Cricket says. “But I’ll take out an opponent’s kneecap if I have to.”
Anna prods St. Clair’s shoulder. “Come on. Weren’t you gonna show me that thing?”
“What thing?”
She stares at him. He stares back. She cocks her head toward Cricket and me.
“Ah, yes.” St. Clair stands. “That thing.”
They rush out. The door shuts, and St. Clair shouts, “Lola, Cricket wants to show you his thing, too-oo!” They’re laughing as their feet echo down the hall.
Cricket hastily looks away from me and places the carton of Bibimbap in his microwave.
“Oh. I got something beef-y for you,” I say, because he’s heating the vegetarian dish first.