“You’re just a picture in the sky made up by ancient people,” Ash said to the constellation.
But he wasn’t grumpy at the stars or the ancients. He was annoyed at himself for half-believing—hoping—that the zodiacs were real, that despite his awkwardness around Cassidy, the stars would still find a way to bring them together.
Ash let his head flop to the side; his pillow partially obscured his face, but not enough that he couldn’t see the rest of his room. It was a perpetual mess, and no amount of his mom’s imploring could ever get him to tidy it up. One entire wall was a corkboard, covered with charcoal sketches, torn-out notebook pages with stream-of-consciousness brainstorms, and scraps of foil and ribbon and other materials Ash wanted to save for future projects. His desk was no better, buried in so much clutter that he actually had to do his homework on the floor. His closet had anOPEN AT YOUR OWN RISKsign taped to it, and the final wall was claimed by books stacked upon books stacked upon even more books. After all, a librarian’s son doesn’t fall far from the papyrus plant.
He pulled the covers over his head. Maybe he would just stay in here for the rest of the afternoon and evening. Onny would probably murder him for missing the party, but Ash wasn’t going to be good company anyway. Besides, he was bad luck for love. He probably shouldn’t be wandering around during a night when fate was trying to matchmake lovers. One glance from Ash would wilt their budding love on the vine.
Only ten minutes had passed, though, when Ash’s stomachbegan grumbling. He tried to ignore the hunger, but another ten minutes later, it was a full-on protest. He’d skipped lunch, and his stomach had no patience for self-pitying love sickness.
Ash hauled himself out of bed and back downstairs into the kitchen. He microwaved some leftovers—a bowl of braised-beef noodle soup and a couplegua bao,aka Taiwanese hamburgers, which were puffy steamed buns stuffed full of fatty pork belly, crushed peanuts, pickled mustard greens, cilantro, and hoisin sauce. It was a “small snack” by his standards. Ash didn’t want to eattoomuch, or else he’d grow to seven feet tall and really never be able to shake that “Yao Ming” nickname and questions about why he didn’t play basketball.
But as Ash wolfed down the noodle soup and thegua bao, he looked out the window into the backyard, and he started seeing Cassidy everywhere again. He’d sat with her right there on the lawn, explaining the murals on the three fences. The memory of taking her hand as he helped her onto Skeleton Shack’s back porch, and the giddy dizziness from her touch. And that moment when she first stepped into the courtyard and saw the secret beauty that such an ugly place could hold.…
Ash shoved away the remnants of his snack. He suddenly couldn’t eat.
He threw some plastic wrap over the leftovers and stuck the food back in the refrigerator. He was about to head back upstairs to wallow in his bed some more, when his phone rang.
Who calls people anymore?
“Um, hello?”
“Hello, Asher?” a man asked.
“Yes, this is he,” Ash said, because his mom had taught him impeccable phone etiquette, even though he’d protested that he would never have occasion to use it. Ash supposed this call proved him wrong.
“This is Mayor Grimjoy,” the man said, his voice containing more bounce and sunshine than ought to be humanly possible. “Mr. Brightside and I are in the neighborhood, just over on Ro-bocker Avenue. You know, at the park with the old willows and the kissing benches—”
Ash heard Mr. Brightside gasp and whisper frantically, “Don’t mention kissing benches! You’re talking to my student!”
“Oh, er…” Mayor Grimjoy said as he tried to figure out how to execute an awkward conversational pivot. “I mean, we’re having a Halloween picnic, and we were wondering if it would be a good time to swing by to pick up our masks soon?”
Oh no, the masks!Ash had gotten so distracted, he’d forgotten he still wasn’t done with the ones they’d commissioned.
“Um, yes, sir, I’m actually putting finishing touches on them right now. Do you think you could come by in, like, an hour? At fourP.M.?”
“Of course, young Asher.” Only Mayor Grimjoy could get away with using a phrase like “young Asher” and have it sound perfectly normal. “We’ll see you then!”
They hung up, and Ash whirled around and out the door to go back to his studio.
Two steps onto the lawn, though, and he could hear the boys’ and girls’ cross-country teams gathered in the backyard next door for their spaghetti carbo-load. Their noise filled the entire outdoors.Not just Ash’s yard, but probably all of humanity could hear their cheering.
“Who’s gonna sprint past ’em?”
“Moonbears!”
“Who’s gonna punish ’em?”
“Moonbears!”
“Trample the weak! Hurdle the stragglers!”
“Goooo, Moonbears!”
Ash tried not to peek as he crossed the lawn and passed the gaping hole in the fence. But Cassidy was there right in the center of them all, glowing under the sunset’s golden caress. Ash’s gaze was defenseless in her glory.
One of the girls lifted her up on her shoulders, elevating their captain. At the same time, the boys’ team hoisted up their captain, Logan Murray. In the background, someone turned on the speakers and started blasting the Olympic Anthem, and the teams marched Cassidy and Logan around the sport court like athletic royalty.
When they got to the side closest to Ash’s backyard, the boys started chanting, “Speech, speech, speech, speech!”
