21

Dear Sunny and Cloudy

THE NEXT MORNING, Garrett and I both skipped Chinese class to set up our table at the Convention Center. When I got there, the room was packed. I waved at Linda and Kelly. Both of them had dressed up in prom outfits, complete with corsages and fancy hairstyles. They were playing dance music and had set up their display with a mirror ball and two mannequins with sparkly dresses. It was a brilliant way to advertise their dress exchange service.

The competition had randomly assigned tables, and ours was thankfully close to the center of the room. Garrett was already there when I arrived, in a white T-shirt and a dark pair of jeans. He was grace in motion, and I couldn’t help but notice the shift of his back muscles, the shadowed dip of his T-shirt between his shoulder blades.

I walked up to him, but he didn’t notice me. I put a hand on his arm.

“Juliana.” Garrett yanked out his earbud and it fell to the table.

I had dressed up for today in my cutest dress, one that said, I am a professional at love advice, but also, I am super fun, come visit our table! Garrett stared at me, then fumbled with his headphone, jamming it back in his case.

I nudged the cardboard box next to him. “What’s all this stuff?”

He pulled his attention to the table, which was covered in a red sparkly cloth. The box was full, paper streamers and other decorations spilling out.

“They’re from the bookstore. Auntie Beth said we could borrow them.”

“Those are great. But don’t we need something with a little more pizzazz?” I whipped out a set of sparkly heart wands, which I had found for two dollars. “Like these?”

“My God,” he said. “What is going on right now.”

I reached into my purse, gleefully. “I got something for you, too.” I brought out a special hat I had found on sale. It had two floppy ears, which were connected by a hidden air tube to long dangly paws hanging on the sides. One squeeze of a furry paw, and the ear would shoot up. It was exactly the sort of thing he would hate. I bought it on the spot and had the ears outfitted with gray knitted covers, à la our favorite cranky donkey, Eeyore. “Auntie Cindy is so talented.”

I pulled the hat over his head, then stepped back, cackling. Garrett’s hair was smushed down, the longer strands in the back curling at the ends. His face did not change expression when I reached over and squeezed one of the paws. When the ear shot up, I doubled over, laughing.

“So glad you find this amusing, Juliana.”

“This whole event is worth it for just that.”

But he didn’t take it off. He merely grabbed a box, hat paws swinging, and set up our stand. With dignity.

The wands and the hat were a success. Our table started off pretty empty, and we had to answer some previously emailed questions so we wouldn’t just be sitting around. But then I started squeezing one of Garrett’s Eeyore ears before he spoke or he would wave one of my wands. We were having so much fun that the people started gathering and our traffic started to soar.

Toward the end of the session, a small group came to the front of the line. As promised, the competition had provided fifty random, unbiased volunteers from around the city. Instead of name tags, they were all given numbers, which they would use when they entered their feedback on the computers that were stationed throughout the room.

“You give free love advice?” one of the boys asked.

I waved my sparkly wand. “Sure do! You can also enter our romance giveaway if you leave a review. Give us your number, and we’ll randomly draw one at the end.”

He nudged one of the girls, a brunette. “Ask her!”

The girl stared at her shoes. I leaned forward. “Is there something you’d like to know?”

She shook her head. I glanced at her friend, who pulled her arm. She didn’t budge. The friend sighed, then stepped forward.

“So,” he said. “Someone I know has this problem.”

“Okay.” I smiled encouragingly.

“This someone—let’s call her Nora—has a boyfriend who wants to be exclusive. Only Nora doesn’t know if what she is feeling is serious. How can she tell?”

The girl glanced up hopefully.

“Well,” I said. “If you like him and he likes you, it must be love. Go for it.” I waved the next group over. I was on a roll.

“Wait,” the boy said. “That’s it?”

“What do you mean?” I said. “It’s great advice.”

“Just because they’re dating doesn’t mean it’s love.”

“Why not? They like each other. Voilà!”

“Have you been in love before?” the boy asked. “It’s not that easy.”

Garrett had gone quite still next to me.

“Well,” I said, “no. I haven’t. But you just know. You can tell.”

The boy said, “Well, that explains a lot. What about compatibility? Emotional connection? Vulnerability?”

Sure, I hadn’t wanted to get close to a lot of people, to tell them everything about me. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t recognize love. It wasn’t why I had never been in love myself.

Was it?

Before I could answer, they stomped off.

More people came and went. We got a steady stream of traffic. But what the boy said kept coming back to me like a snag, one I couldn’t quite sew together.

At the end of the event, even my sparkly hearts were sagging. But we had seen a lot of people, and I hoped the giveaway would translate into feedback.

Eric and Albert passed our table, and they were arguing. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it didn’t look good.

I carefully peeled off Auntie Beth’s paper decorations and removed the tape so she could reuse them again for Valentine’s Day. I should have been thrilled at the number of people who had stopped by. Our website analytics were also spiking up. But our test audience didn’t seem as happy as I thought they would have been.

I tried to stretch out the tablecloth so I could fold it in half, but it was too long. I lined up the corners and tried snapping it in the air, but the ends slid into tangles. I tried to fold it from the middle, which was even worse. I threw the whole thing on the table, and the words spilled out before I could stop them: “Do you think that boy was right? About the love advice?”

Garrett picked up one end of the tablecloth and handed me the other. He walked out until it was straight, then walked back and neatly lined up his end with mine. “Now you’re asking me about love? You must be desperate.”

“How am I supposed to be an expert if I don’t know what it is?” I clutched the ends of the cloth.

Garrett had an odd expression. “Have you never been in love before?”

“No! Have you?” I thought of his ex-girlfriend. I had heard that he had dated her in the beginning of his sophomore year. “Did you . . . love . . . your ex?”

“I did.” The way he said it—quiet, certain—threw me into a sudden weightlessness. What would it be like to be loved by Garrett Tsai? I knew what his parents’ messed-up relationship had done to him; love was not something he would ever give lightly. As I knew all too well, any parts of his personality that he chose to show to others had to be earned.

Was that what the boy was talking about? Love wasn’t as easy as two people wanting to be together? There was something deeper and more complex to it. Something involving vulnerability and risk. Two things that were, frankly, terrifying to me.

I had always gone with my instincts, watched how people interacted with each other. I believed people in love would always find each other and have their happily-ever-after.

Had I been wrong this whole time?

The rest of the day was impossibly busy. I picked up Hattie, ran to the grocery store for my mom, called some of the vendors for the SBA fundraiser, then gathered all of my things to study. I had to skip CultureFest since I had to cram for my Spanish exam. But before I tackled my vocab, I had to check on the competition.

I logged in and there, at the bottom, in the last slot, was the following:

10. Team SunCloud

We were on the board.