Sitting in the back row made my life easier. If you’re in the back, no one can gawk at you, not bothering to keep their voice to a whisper because they know you won’t turn around and shut them up. Being in the back made studying him easier, too. I could watch him laugh and joke and tease his friends as the hour ticked by without notice. No one ever turned around. Especially not to see me.
But maybe he had.
“You taking AP Spanish this year?” he continued.
I nodded quickly, worried my voice might crack.
“Guess I’ll see you there,” he said with a wink I was sure I’d imagined before turning back to Mrs. Thompson’s iPad.
I brushed it off as good manners. A boy raised right by his grandma—who played nice, even with girls like me. A girl the world doesn’t owe any kindness.
Summer came and went and that moment with Kai startedto feel more and more like a daydream the closer we got to the school year. The first day of junior year, I kept my expectations low and head down. The way I have since the trial, and even before, if I’m honest.
But then he sat down beside me.
“Qué pensaste?” he asked, gesturing to the weathered copy ofDon Quixotewe had to read half of over break, following the “Spanish Only” rule written on the board.
My heart hammered so loud I was sure he could hear it. Glancing over my shoulder, I double-checked that he wasn’t talking to someone else. When I turned back to face him, his eyes were bright as stars, a smile tugging at his lips.
“Estaba bien,” I replied, using what little confidence I had in me to keep my voice from trembling. “Un poco aburrido.”
“Muy aburrido,” he replied, rolling his eyes and slapping his own copy onto his desk with athunk.
His accent was stilted, but it had that natural lilt only people who spoke the language at home—heard it from native tongues—could capture. So much like my own that it felt impossible. Spanish had always felt like such a private thing in our family. Reserved for when Mami whispered warnings under her breath at the grocery store, the post office, the mall—the few public spaces we can’t avoid—to stay close or look the other way. A language spoken by billions, that somehow felt like it was made just for us.
And now, him.
Every morning after, I braced myself for him not to turn around. But every day he did, offering a smile or a bite of his breakfast sandwich or a story about how he fell off his longboard that morning, with the scrapes and bruises to prove it. He came around Sunny Hills more often, too. Spent more timewith Mrs. Thompson, wheeling her around the facility as if he were a Formula One driver, ignoring her protests as he whizzed her down the hall to the cafeteria. Soon he was coming to visit her every Tuesday and Sunday—the same days I was volunteering.
The Thompsons may have moved to town three months after Papi’s trial was over, but ours isn’t the kind of story a town this small forgets. He would have learned about me within weeks, if not days. Who my family is. What my dad did. Most people avoided us, and in the few forced interactions I’ve had since the trial, disgust and distrust simmer just beneath the surface. But that’s never been the case with Kai. He’s the only person I can talk to who doesn’t feel like they’re just waiting to run away. The only person who actually seems interested inme.
Still, every day I wait for him to turn his back on me like the rest of the world has.
Hopefully today isn’t that day.
“Dina!” Arlene, resident director of Sunny Hills, barks at me as soon as I step out of the bathroom. Out of the corner of my eye I spot Kai bent beside his grandma, helping her pull open the tab on her pudding cup. “Are you bringing that gauze over or not?”
One reason I would’ve left by now if it weren’t for Kai and the sweeter residents: Arlene, who acts like I should be grateful to her for showing me basic human decency and not totally shunning me. I almost wish she’d treat me like the rest of the world does. At least then I wouldn’t have to deal with her.
I pry my attention away from Kai and grab a packet of gauze from the supply closet down the hall, then rush back. The last thing I need is Arlene more pissed than she usually is.
“Did you mop the cafeteria?” she asks once I’ve handed off the gauze.
“Not yet,” I reply, already grabbing the mop and bucket beside her before she can scold me for not finishing the job sooner.
I stick to the corners, mopping the faded beige tile until my reflection slowly comes into view. It feels pointless, polishing something so worn with years of baked-in grime, but that doesn’t matter to Arlene. Half the tasks she gives me are just to keep me busy. The other half are things she doesn’t want to bother doing herself.
“New dress?” a voice calls out from behind me.
The rapidbadum badum badumof my heart echoes in my ears as I whip around to face Kai, my hair smacking me in the face and clinging to the clear gloss I’d applied in the bathroom.
“Birthday gift from my mom,” I say, because I can’t tell him the truth, and the lie comes out as smooth as it had to Mami.
“When’s your birthday?” Kai asks with a smile, leaning up against the pillar beside him.
I duck my head sheepishly, cheeks warm as I mumble, “Today.”
Kai’s eyes widen. “Why didn’t you say anything?” he teases, knocking his fist against my shoulder—goose bumps blooming along my bare arm. “The cafeteria’s still open for a few more minutes. Let me buy you a cupcake.”
