My sister and I have fought a lot over the years. From little spats when we were kids, arguing about what show to watch, to giant explosions once we were teenagers and Jasmine started dating a string of boys I hated. One time she didn’t talk to me for two weeks after I told her I thought Dominic was homophobic because of something he said in class.
(Turns out he was homophobic, which Jasmine only found out after they went on a date that turned out to be a service at Dominic’s church, where he and his parents tried to bully her into getting baptized. I guess I’m not the only one in the family who’s had to deal with the Toxic Jesus Fandom from time to time.)
(Not that I’m not cool with Christians. I love going with Bowie to their church. But their church doesn’t want to wipe me from existence.)
But I’ve never seen Jasmine looking the way she is now. Like she’s about to burst into flames as she storms around her still-running car and up the sidewalk toward us.
Liam steps closer to me, as if he could diffuse her anger by sharing in it. But Jasmine’s anger doesn’t diffuse: It multiplies.
Besides, I’m the one she’s mad at. I step in front of him.
She glares at me, tears in the corners of her eyes, but they’re not falling. Her nose is too scrunched up in anger to let them.
“You!” She points at me, but nothing else comes out, like she can’t find the words. “You!”
“Jasmine, listen. This isn’t the way I wanted you to find out, but—”
“This is your secret boyfriend?” She cuts me off. Apparently she’s discovered a few more words. “I can’t believe you. The two of you. Behind my back. How could you?”
“It wasn’t like that.” I hold my hands up, to try and calm her, even though the waves of anger rolling off her make me feel like I’m back in the pool. “It only happened after.”
But Jasmine ignores me. She’s a steamroller when she gets this mad. She rounds on Liam. “How long were you somethingsomething my own brother?”
“I wasn’t.”
She snorts, which makes her tears start to fall.
But Liam keeps going. “I made a mess of things, and I’m sorry. I was scared and I made some bad choices and I hurt you in the process. But I promise, me and Jackson only happened after.”
“Like the promise of a cheater means anything.”
Liam looks like she slapped him.
She knows she shouldn’t throw that around.
“Don’t say that!” I say. “Don’t you ever say that. He’s not a cheater and you know it.”
But Jasmine’s too busy being outraged. “All I know is my own brother betrayed me.” She spins around, stalks back to her car. Shouts something over her shoulder that I don’t catch.
“What?”
“She said you can walk home.”
I stare at her car as it pulls away.
Suddenly I can breathe again.
I turn to Liam. “Are you okay?”
“Are you?”
I nod. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told her a long time ago. I should’ve—”
“No. You were right. There was never going to be a good time.” He reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze.
“Yeah.”
“But at least it’s all out there now. Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He looks past me. “Hey. That’s my mom. We can give you a ride home. You don’t have to walk. Okay?”
“You sure?”
“Of course.” He leans in to rest his forehead against mine. “Love you.”
I stretch up to kiss him. “Love you.”
Amy’s in the kitchen when I get home, dressed in a nice blue sweater and black dress pants.
“Oh, Jackson, good. Sorry I couldn’t get you; your dad wants to take us to family dinner.”
Family dinner is this thing Dad does when he unexpectedly gets a night off. He picks a restaurant, makes us all get dressed nicely, and takes us out.
It’s the last thing I want to do tonight. Being stuck in a car, at a restaurant, with the glowing thermonuclear warhead that is my sister.
“Wasn’t Jasmine picking you up? She got home a few minutes ago.”
“I got a ride,” I say.
“Ah. She didn’t look so good.”
I keep my mouth shut.
“Well, go get dressed, okay? I’ll check on her.”
“I’m not really feeling up to it.”
Amy feels my forehead. “You’re not sick?”
“No, just . . .”
“Jackson?” Dad asks as he comes down the stairs, wearing a deep maroon sweater. “Better get dressed.”
“I’m not . . .”
“Jasmine’s not feeling well,” he says to Amy. “Cramps.”
I’m pretty sure that’s a lie; now that I think about it, I’m sure it is, because we share a bathroom, and I do notice when the supply of tampons under the sink fluctuates.
I can’t believe she’s playing the period card.
I’m kind of relieved, though.
“I’ll go get dressed,” I say.
I’m honestly relieved to disappear into the back seat of the car as Dad drives us to this Greek place he loves. With no Iranian restaurants in town, he’s decided Greek is the next best thing. I pick at my pastitsio, tuning everything out, until Amy excuses herself for the bathroom and Dad knocks on the table to get my attention.
“Did you and Jasmine have a fight?”
“Yeah.”
“What about?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“If you change your mind . . .”
How could I explain any of this to him?
It’s dark when we get back home, but the light in my room is on. My notebook’s still open on my bed, all out of sorts—I was working on organizing it this morning—but I’m too exhausted. I stuff everything back in and shove it into my backpack.
After getting ready for bed—Jasmine’s room is already dark, her side of the bathroom locked—I text Liam.
At least now we can be together for real.
Sorry about everything today.
I love you.
It doesn’t take long for him to write back.
Love you
Monday morning, I find Dad in the kitchen, in a faded sweatshirt and plaid pajama pants. He’s got the day off.
“Morning,” he says into his coffee. “Jasmine left early. She asked if I could give you a ride.”
“I can take the bus.”
“I don’t mind. Gives us some time together.”
Which is not something Dad and I do very often. We don’t exactly have much in common.
But on the road, he asks, “How’s your portfolio thing coming along?”
“Okay I guess.” I did my best with it over break, since Dr. L basically abandoned me.
“When do I get to see it?”
“Whenever you like.”
We fall into silence again. Dad reaches for the radio and turns it on—he usually listens to NPR—but then he turns it off again. He asks me how rehearsals are going. And reminds me he wants tickets. And I ask him how the hospital is.
As we stop in the student drop-off, he turns to me.
“You know, your amou Sina and I got into the worst fights growing up. So bad I thought we’d never talk again. But sooner or later we forgave each other. Just give it time.”
Time? Dad doesn’t understand.
I don’t think there’s anything that can ever fix this.
“Thanks, Dad.” I grab my shmoodies and head inside.
There’s a crowd around the Theatre Board when I get upstairs, and it’s covered in twice as much paper as it was Friday. I don’t have time to deal with someone vandalizing it again.
But as I get closer, people start to notice me. The chatter gets quiet.
Paige spins around and stares at me, and there’s something in her eyes. I don’t know what it is. But I don’t like it.
There’s a familiar pair of shoulders near the front. Liam, standing right next to Dr. Lochley, her scarf half-unwound as they both stare at the board.
It’s covered with my breakup lists.