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“That was . . .” It was so many things, but I don’t have the right vocabulary to describe any of them. “Good. So good.”
“This between us is going to be good.” His thumbs skate along my cheekbones. “Your blood vessels are so dilated. Beneath all the paint, I mean.”
I press my lips back to his, suddenly starving for him. I wrap my legs around him and pull him closer, until his body is up against mine. We kiss harder now, until all of a sudden he laughs against my mouth.
“What is it?” I ask, worried I’ve done something wrong, like used too much tongue or not enough, and how are you supposed to know what the proper amount of tongue is? My pulse is positively manic, and already I miss his closeness.
“Your face,” he says. “I’m so sorry. You looked so beautiful tonight, and I ruined it.”
My heart thrills at the word “beautiful.” “We’re even. I ruined yours, too.”
“You never did tell me what this means.” He gestures to the canvas.
“Chai. It means ‘life.’?”
“Chai. Right. I like it.” He exhales, a happy, satisfied little sound. “Can you imagine going back to the gym after this?”
“We’re not going back to the gym. We’re living in here from now on. We’ll use the kiln for warmth, and we’ll eat chalk and we’ll sleep wrapped in butcher paper.”
He wraps his arms around me and kisses my hair. “Mm. Sounds perfect.”
If this is what I’ve been waiting for four years to do, maybe it was worth it. Everything else in my life has veered off course: Lindsay, college, my family. Right now my mind has one solitary thought, and it is Zack, Zack, Zack, humming from my fingerprints to the tips of my toes. My body can, in fact, do some incredible things. This is me not planning, not stressing, not obsessing about getting everything right. This is me doing something entirely because I want it. Because it feels fucking fantastic.
It brings me more relief than I’ve felt in months.
Twenty-one
Adina
RELIEF. I HAVE NEVER FELT anything like it. It sings through me, replacing my blood with liquid gold. It skips across the strings of my viola during my hours-long practice sessions, at Arjun’s apartment and in my room and at the symphony. It drums next to my heart, pound-pound-pounding a new rhythm. Re-LIEF, re-LIEF, re-LIEF.
This new life begins with figuring out what I have missed out on.
While the carnival is not my usual scene, I am curious about it. My sister will be here, and as vicious as we’ve been to each other, part of me aches to reconcile with her. I cannot fathom the idea of living out the rest of my life, however much of it I have left, with a sister who cannot stand the sight of me. The way I lashed out at her after she was deferred from Johns Hopkins—that cannot happen again. I miss our sleepovers and bus stories. I miss the person who once knew me better than anyone else.
If I am going to have any peace, I need my family to be whole. I am a sister learning to forgive, to forget.
The gym is packed with sweaty teenage bodies, filled with so much noise that I’d think this was a group of little kids, not people who are nearly adults. A guy on the football team or basketball team elbows me as he aims a rubber ball at a stack of cans. He does not apologize. Rubbing my arm, I disappear farther into the crowd.
Tovah’s friend Lindsay is sitting on the gym bleachers, splitting an entire cake with her boyfriend. I hold up my hand in a half wave. “Hey.” They don’t look up. I clear my throat and project: “Hey, have you seen Tovah?”
Lindsay’s face crinkles when she sees me. Of course Tovah would have told her both of our results. Still, it makes me feel exposed.
“I haven’t seen her in hour or so. She disappeared somewhere with Zack.”
“Oh. Well, thanks,” I say.
“Do you—” Lindsay breaks off, as though reconsidering what she’s about to say. “Do you, um, want to hang out with us? We have cake. Troy’s really good at the cake walk.”
With a mouthful of frosting, Troy adds, “I won three cakes.”
It’s a pity invitation. “I’m waiting for a friend,” I lie, and the relief on her face is palpable.
Relief. Relief. Relief.
Why, exactly, did I think this was a good idea? No one goes to a school carnival alone. I am not a school carnival kind of person.
I press through the crowd, my stomach tangled like one of Ima’s never-finished projects. I don’t want a balloon animal. I don’t want to throw a thing at another thing. I don’t want to win any of these meaningless prizes.
