Chapter Twenty-One

Jamie

I wake up in a contented fog, phone still pressed to my cheek. The battery’s totally dead. But when I plug it in, Maya’s name pops onto my screen.

Incoming call. 8 hours. 25 minutes.

I fell asleep watching TV with Maya. Which is . . . kind of the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to me.

I mean, yeah, it was technically just a phone call. But there’s something nice about that too. No pressure or weirdness or worrying about where my hands go. Just our voices and Dunder Mifflin in the background and Maya’s soft laughter in my ear. We’d started drifting off after the third or fourth episode, waking ourselves up only enough to migrate to our bedrooms. But we didn’t hang up.

For eight hours and twenty-five minutes.

Probably only six hours of that were actual sleep. I’m definitely having trouble keeping my eyes open. To be fair, it’s barely seven in the morning, but going back to bed is pointless.

Is there such a thing as being too hazy and happy to sleep?

Turns out, everyone’s awake but Sophie. Mom’s at the kitchen table in her work clothes, frowning at her laptop while she sips from a mug. But Grandma’s pacing all around the kitchen, opening and closing drawers, and stepping over Boomer, who’s gnawing on Mr. Droolsworth in the middle of the floor. “I love that boy, but my goodness.” Grandma clenches her fists. “Wants me to cross-post, do more videos, message more celebrities. DM Oprah—can you imagine?”

Mom chuckles without looking up.

“And he’s texting me thirty times a day. Driving me batty.”

I pour a mug of coffee, grabbing a bagel from the bread box before settling in next to Mom at the table. “Are you talking about Gabe?”

“I swear, bubalah. I’m this close to blocking him.”

“He was really intense at the campaign office yesterday. I guess he’s pretty stressed about the election.”

“Oh, I know.” Grandma joins us at the table. “Don’t mind me. I’m just being a grouch.”

“No, you’re totally right. He needs to chill.”

Grandma rubs my arm. “How are you doing, sweetheart? So, you were at the campaign office yesterday? Good for you.”

Mom looks up from her laptop, meeting my eyes. “I really am so impressed, Jamie. All this canvassing.”

“Well, we didn’t actually knock on any doors yesterday,” I admit. “But we will! Right now we’re working on flyers to push back against H.B. 28. Maya came up with the whole concept—it’s pretty brilliant. We’re FaceTiming tonight to finalize the design, and then we’re meeting at Target tomorrow to start handing them out.”

“Oh, wow,” Grandma says. “At Target? Are you sure that’s allowed?”

“It’s worth a try. We’re starting small,” I add quickly. “Just local places. But eventually we want to hand them out at Emory, Tech, Georgia State, and Kennesaw. We really just want to educate people. And Maya was thinking—”

I catch Mom smiling.

“What?”

Mom’s eyebrows shoot up. “Nothing.”

I pause. “Anyway, we’re hoping to put more pressure on people to make phone calls. No one ever calls state legislators, so if we flood their phones, that could really have an impact. I may even shout it out at Sophie’s reception during the toast.”

“Jamie.”

“Actually, we could bring flyers to the reception! And I could mention it in the toast. We could do both.”

Mom and Grandma exchange quick glances.

“Jamie,” Mom says slowly. “I’m glad you’re resisting the bill, and frankly, I’m glad you’re thinking about the toast—but are you sure your sister’s bat mitzvah is the right moment for that?”

“Why not? There will be a hundred and fifty people there! I’ll have a captive audience. I can shout out the Rossum campaign too, and remind everyone about the election date. And even Sophie’s friends can make phone calls—”

“Jamie, no.” Mom presses her lips together. “That wouldn’t be appropriate. You’re a cohost of this event. And it’s about Sophie, not politics.”

My cheeks flush. “But H.B. 28 isn’t about politics! That’s the hijab bill. It’s a human rights issue. You can’t just pretend this stuff doesn’t exist because we’re at a party. The election is three days after Sophie’s bat mitzvah!”

“I get it! I do. H.B. 28 is completely vile,” Mom says, nodding. “But sweetie, there will be other opportunities to protest. Your sister’s bat mitzvah isn’t just a party. It’s a really important moment for her—”

“But—”

“End of discussion,” Mom says. She turns back to her laptop.

I set my mug down with a clank and stand so abruptly, I startle Boomer. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this furious at my mom.

“End of discussion? Seriously? You’re the one who goes on and on about political action, and how important the Rossum race is. You’re the one who made me canvass in the first place! So, what, it’s important to care, but only sometimes?”

“That’s not fair. Jamie, you have to remember, we’re hosting—”

“Really?” I fake gasp. “We’re hosting a bat mitzvah? Wow, it must have slipped my notice. Guess I haven’t run any errands recently—”

“Sweetheart.” Grandma sets a hand on my shoulder.

Mom looks up at me, stunned. “Jamie, what is this? Talking back? That’s not like you.”

My chest tightens. “I’m not—”

“Maybe Gabe isn’t the only one who needs to chill out a little,” says Mom.

“You think I’m like Gabe?”

“No, Jamie.” She snaps her laptop shut. “This isn’t worth fighting over, honey. We’re all on the same team here. I know it’s been a lot, and you’re under tons of pressure. Maybe you should take some time off from canvassing.”

“Time off from canvassing? The election is in eleven days!”

“I know, I know.” Mom peers at me. “But Jamie, I’ve never seen you this upset. Yes, it’s an important election, but you have to take care of yourself too. It’s just not sustainable otherwise. Why don’t you and Maya have a fun, normal date instead—”

“What are you talking about?” I gape at her. “Maya and I aren’t dating.”

Mom flips her palms up defensively. “Okay. I just thought, since you guys have been spending so much time together—”

“Oh my God. Can we not?”

I storm back to my room, yanking my phone from my charger, before collapsing into my desk chair. This is bullshit. Utter bullshit. Mom spends all her time trying to get me to speak up and be more assertive, but the minute I do, she can’t handle it. It’s ridiculous. And then she has the nerve to say I sound like Gabe—

Okay, maybe I do sound like Gabe. A little. But maybe Gabe is right! Not about Fifi—that was gross—but the fact that people only want to support Rossum when it’s convenient? That’s legit. Oh, sure, let’s canvass . . . when we have time. Resist white supremacy—as long as it doesn’t interfere with our super chill weekend. I’m not saying I’m perfect. I’m as guilty as anyone. But at least I’m trying.

And the Maya thing? Mom knows she’s not my girlfriend. Maya doesn’t believe in dating. And even if she did, there’s no way she sees me that way. We’re friends. Canvassing partners, like Nolan said. We’re canvassing friends who sometimes vent to each other about stuff.

The worst part is, I can’t even vent to Maya about this. Hey, Maya, my mom thinks you’re my girlfriend. Bet you’re totally cool with that. I mean, for all I know, Mom’s going around telling people that. People like Alina, which means—yup. Maya probably thinks I think we’re dating. Wow. That’ll be a fun conversation. Can’t wait to find out what it feels like to be unambiguously rejected by the girl I’m completely—

Yeah. Anyway.

A lump settles in my throat, thick and heavy. To think that an hour ago, I was sure I’d never stop smiling.

I open my laptop, blinking fast. I need a distraction. Like the H.B. 28 flyers. I could work on the flyers. Which are hardly a distraction, at least not from Maya.

Then again, nothing is.

By eleven, I’ve tried every font, every color, every layout. I have no idea which ones look good, or if any of them look good. All I know is that Maya hasn’t texted me, Grandma hasn’t knocked, Sophie’s still sleeping, and Mom—

I don’t want to talk to my mom.

I feel like I’m going to explode all over again.

This calls for the group text. I tap into iMessage, fingers flying over my keyboard.

Jamie: I’m so pissed at my mom

sflskjfghlkszjdhfglkjhsdlkj

Drew: whoa. what’s up

Jamie: I swear, I’m so

ARGHGGGGGG

like she’s so dismissive of the stuff I’m doing with H.B. 28

even the Rossum stuff!!!

Drew: huh really? I thought that was her idea

Jamie: It WAS

but apparently I’m supposed to turn all of that off and focus on the bat mitzvah

like I’m incapable of doing both!!

Drew: sorry dude, that sucks!

Felipe: Sorry I’m at work, customers just left, who gets fro yo at eleven??? Okay catching up now

Oh man, Jamie, I’m sorry. Maybe she’s just stressed about the bat mitzvah?

Jamie: she doesn’t have to be so condescending though! She was implying I was only doing it as a way to get closer to maya. She was like, just go on a normal date

Drew: ohhhhhh shit

okay so not gonna lie, we thought the same thing at first BUT

we get that you’re for real with this stuff.

I stare at my laptop screen. So that’s what everyone thinks. All this work—the canvassing, the flyers. It’s all to get closer to Maya.

I mean, do I like seeing Maya? Yes. Is it fun to work on this stuff with her? Yes. Do I have a crush on her? Yes. Okay? But that’s not why I’m doing this. That’s like saying I don’t care—about the campaign, about H.B. 28, about Islamophobia and anti-Semitism and bigotry or anything. And the idea that I would use all of that to somehow trick Maya into falling for me. Like it’s even possible to trick someone into falling for you!

I reread Drew’s text, and—yeah. I need to calm down. Drew’s saying he knows I’m for real now.

So why does it feel like he’s saying the opposite?

Maybe Drew’s not actually the one questioning my sincerity.

I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment, before turning back to the screen.

Drew: though maya is reeeeealllly cute bro

Jamie: that doesn’t mean we’re dating!!

Felipe: You should ask her out

Jamie: that’s not the point!! The point is that my mom totally trivialized my work when she said that!

Drew: okay but also

you should ask her out

Jamie: uh yeah, not doing that.

Felipe: Why not?

Jamie: remember the slowmance!!

Felipe: Hahahahaha, legendary, but Maya actually likes you! You know that, right?

Jamie: as a friend

Drew: uhhhh

Felipe:

Jamie: what??

Felipe: Nothing. We just . . . did not get a friend vibe on Wednesday.

Um. WHAT?

I stare at the messages box, stunned. Not a friend vibe. And from Felipe too, who’s way less likely to be joking.

Drew: dude, have you seen the way she looks at you?

Jamie: uh

Drew: okay, here’s a question. When you’re alone, does she touch your arm and stuff? Lean into you? things like that?

I think about Wednesday, when Maya was so upset about Sara. The way she collapsed into my arms and stayed there, and how she laced our fingers together when I grabbed her hand. But that doesn’t count. She was upset. And I was comforting her!

But the way she kept drifting near me on the walk afterward was . . . kind of flirtatious, maybe? And the tiny couch she picked at Target yesterday was definitely built for physical contact. Unless that was unintentional. Probably unintentional. Definitely.

Felipe: She texts you a lot right??

Jamie: yeah

she actually called me yesterday

For eight hours and twenty-five minutes.

Drew: DUDE

like on the phone?

Jamie: well at first it was about a protest idea

Drew: uh, she could have texted that shit. She likes you

But she can’t. There’s no way. Unless—

Maybe? Maybe? I mean, Drew and Felipe are probably just trying to make me feel like less of a loser. But then again, they’ve always been brutally honest about my lack of game. So.

Maybe?

Felipe: Is she going to the bat mitzvah?

Drew: oooh good call

Jamie: I don’t think so—haven’t brought it up

with maya OR with my mom

Felipe: Well I think your mom just made it clear that she approves haha

You should invite her! see what she says

Jamie: I don’t know

I can picture it. Maya wincing. Maya biting her lip. Oh. Jamie, I don’t want to give you the wrong impression. I really love us as friends. Maya patting my arm. I think you’re a really great guy and everything, but . . .

Drew: Don’t overthink it!! just be casual.

Jamie: okay! Sheesh

Give me a minute

Maybe if I did it over text. Kept it really casual. I mean, it would make the bat mitzvah a million times more bearable having her there. After all, Felipe and Nolan have each other, and God knows Drew will be busy hitting on my cousin Rachel. And the thought of dancing with Maya, hanging out with her all night, maybe sneaking off somewhere to be alone—and if she does like me—NOT that she does.

Okay. No big deal. Gonna just—

Jamie: Hey, I meant to ask you

Do you want to come with me to Sophie’s bat mitzvah?

WITH ME? With me with me with me with me. Seriously? Why am I like this?

Ellipses. Maya’s typing. Okay.

God. Why did I say with me? Why?

Maya: Oh!

More ellipses.

Shit.

Okay, I can’t do this.

Jamie: Was just thinking we could pass out flyers and stuff!

Cool. Just like Mom expressly forbade. Awesome. This is going great.

Maya: Are you sure? I don’t want to mess up the numbers or anything!

Oh, right, the flyers!! That makes sense

Jamie: You wouldn’t be messing up anything! You should come

Maya: Okay! That sounds awesome. Thanks, Jamie!!

I lean back in my chair, pressing my hands over my eyes, just breathing. Wow.

I mean, I did it!

Sort of.

Drew: did you ask her???

what did she say

Jamie: she said

Felipe: The suspense!!

Jamie: she said sounds awesome

Drew: SHIT

Felipe: What did I tell you!!

Jamie: as friends though! Not a date.

Not a date. Definitely, definitely not a date.

Drew: we’ll see