“I get that, but this is different. Newton is evil. He’s why H.B. 28 is on the table in the first place. He masterminded it years ago.”
“H.B. what?”
“House Bill 28,” I say slowly. “You know, the racist bill?”
Sara shakes her head.
“It’s the one with—”
But before I can say anything else, the front door chimes. A troop of tweens in cheerleading outfits march inside.
“To be continued,” Sara says apologetically. “Jamie, it was so nice to meet you. Come back for a custard with Maya once Ramadan is over.”
“Sara’s nice,” Jamie says.
“Yeah.” My phone buzzes. A text from Sara.
I can see why you’re canvassing now. He’s cute.
I look up at her. She winks at me and slips her phone in her pocket. And then she’s back to work, scooping and handing out tiny spoon-sized custard samples. It’s like I’m gone, even though I’m sitting right here.
We head out to the car, mapping out our day tomorrow. I think about what Sara texted to me. She doesn’t get it. I mean, yes. Jamie is cute, but if Sara thinks I’m doing all of this just to hang out with a good-looking boy, and not because my community is in imminent danger—how far apart are we drifting?
Chapter Fifteen
Jamie
I wake up with yesterday running through my head like a film reel. But it’s not the usual cringe-by-cringe replay. This is a legit sun-soaked montage. I picture Maya with a stack of Rossum signs up to her chin. Maya, looking so at home in my passenger seat. Maya’s dimple deepening as she smiled across the table at Skeeter’s.
Maya, who texted me four times overnight.
Which isn’t a big deal. And I’m pretty sure a normal person would just read the texts and be done with them. As opposed to staring at the ceiling, trying to put off reading them as long as possible, for no real reason. I guess it’s kind of like how Sophie will go for weeks before reading the last chapter of a book. The longer you put good things off, the longer they’re there waiting for you. And texts from Maya are good things. They are very good things.
I’m not looking, not looking, not looking—
I yank my phone from my charger.
Maya: Oh no!! Really sorry, I need a rain check on canvassing. Already started prepping the biryani for the Eid potluck, and my mom keeps getting emails from clients and forgetting about pots on the stove, it’s a mess
Okay, so maybe not all texts are good things. But I keep reading.
She literally gets so many work emails at 5:00 on a Saturday morning, is this what being an adult is going to be like???
Anyway, I have to stay and keep the house from burning down
Sorry Jamie! Maybe later this week?
I smile down at my phone. Kind of wild how seeing my own name written out by Maya can make me forget my disappointment completely. I know it’s just a text. But there’s something about the way it sounds in my head when I read it.
I write back.
Happy almost Eid! Are you excited to eat again during the day?
And even though her last text is time-stamped 5:30 a.m., she replies immediately.
Maya: YOU HAVE NO IDEA.
Already planning the menu.
Jamie: For the potluck?
Maya: No, for my life!! Okay, thoughts for my first post-Eid donut meal, are we thinking Dunkin or Krispy Kreme?
Jamie: Is this a serious question??
Maya: Hahahaha good point, Krispy Kreme it is
OMG AND THE 7 LAYER CHOCOLATE CAKE AT CAFE INTERMEZZO
I have a NEED
Jamie: Ooh, sounds really good!
Maya: You haven’t tried it?! Jamie. You are missing out.
Jamie: Apparently!
Maya: Okay it’s like beyond chocolatey, and HUGE. Like remember when the kid from Matilda had to eat the whole cake and we’re supposed to feel bad for him but you and I were so confused, like why is he struggling with this? He is living the dream!
Jamie: Bruce Bogtrotter!!! Lucky jerk
Maya: This cake is like THAT. Super dense, not spongy, and that icing omfg
Okay I need to stop talking about this, I’m getting hungry!
I smile even harder, typing Bruce Bogtrotter’s name into the GIF menu bar. But before I can press search, my bedroom door swings open.
“Jamie! It’s an emergency.” Sophie practically skids across my floor, flanked by her friends Maddie and Andrea.
My heart drops. “Wait—is everything—”
Sophie cuts me off. “Okay, so Tessa and Paige are meeting at Perimeter Mall at eleven thirty, and Grandma’s out somewhere with Gabe, and I don’t want to ask Mom, because she’ll rope me into her mason jar washi