“I’m not a child,” I snap, pulling all the way forward, until I’m pressing my upper body onto the bench.
She sighs, running a hand through her hair. “I know. I’m just saying. We can’t do this, Noelle.”
I wish my name in her voice didn’t still shoot lightning through my body. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters besides getting that money. “Ican. I could do anything for my dad.” I hold her gaze like a challenge, my chest rising and falling steadily. “Please?”
Her beautiful face is impassive for so long that I’m sure she’ll refuse, but then she says, “You told me we could see him after the call.”
I’m on my feet before I can think about it. “You wanna see him? We’ll go now.”
Yumi nods, standing to join me. “If he’s really as sick as you say he is, I’ll consider this terrible,terribleidea.”
This is a deal I’ll take, because once she sees my dad, she won’t be able to walk away.
Chapter 7
Twenty Minutes
The drive isn’t just awkward,it’s unbearable. Since I first got my license, we’ve spent hundreds, if not thousands, of hours in this car. It’s been the extremely vivid setting of at least half of the dreams I had about us speaking again, my hand on the gear shift and our windows down as we glided along the stretch of desert between Phoenix and Tucson. In real life, and in my dreams, we’d pull over, recline our seats back, and listen to audiobooks as we stargazed through my sunroof.
In all that time, including the silent moments of reflection after the narrator has thanked us for listening and Audible has hoped we enjoyed this program, my car has never been so quiet. I’ve spent the last thirty minutes white-knuckling the steering wheel to the low hum of the air conditioner. Occasionally, for some variety, one of Yumi’s almond-shaped nails will tap against her phone screen as she scrolls social media. So. That’s something, I guess.
We pull into my parking spot and I hesitate with my finger tracing the edge of the ignition button. “I…” With only twenty minutes left on the Aliona Timer, I’m not sure how to handle this. I want Yumi to see my dad and I want his permission to go on the show. But it doesn’t make sense to bring Yumi in to see my dad,come back out to the car to ask if she wants to do the show, go back inside and ask for permission if she says yes, and then come back out and call Aliona. But, also, if I pressure her on this and she bolts, my dad’s chance at stability leaves with her. Butalso, Aliona doesn’t seem like the type to be lax about a deadline, and if we’re late calling, she might just not even pick up. But if—
“Are you lying to me about how sick he is?” Yumi asks yet again, interrupting my thoughts.
“No,” I snap. I’m getting real tired of—
“Then I’m obviously gonna do it,” she declares with a roll of her eyes. “We can just tell him we’re going on the show.”
“What?”
She lets her head loll back against the seat, bored into submission. “We don’t have time for you to spiral out about what to say to him. Just say we’re doing the show together. It’s fine. If I change my mind after I see him, you can tell him the spot was already taken by the time we called back.”
I don’t miss the switch fromwetoyou, but I do repress it. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Then let me go in first.” I try to hide my excitement as she reaches to undo her seat belt. “To warn him about”—you being here—“them wanting to cast us.”
Yumi blinks, incredulous. “You haven’t told him already?”
“What, was I supposed to tell him before I askedyou?”
Cocking her head to the side, she says, “Fair.” It’s the smallest of wins, but so, so satisfying to hear her agree with me. “Are we pretending to be dating now, then?”
“No, I don’t want to lie to him.” Besides, I’m not mentally prepared for that. “We can tell him we reunited at graduation.”
“And that’s…not a lie?”
“You know there’s a difference.”
She shrugs. “It’s your conscience.”
I massage my temples. I feel a headache coming on. “I’ll handle it. Just…can we pretend to be friends for, like, five minutes for him?” I ask, acutely aware of the ticking clock hanging above my head.
“You got it, Noe,” she says brightly, relaxing back into her seat like she didn’t use my nickname to purposefully throw me off-balance.
I try not to let my face show how much it affects me. “I’ll be right back.” I slide the car fob off my carabiner, passing it to her while being careful not to let our fingers touch.
