Footsteps click down the hall. Alex slides out of the seat next to me and hands me my packet. Then, quietly, he walks over to his desk. I bend over my worksheet and pretend to work.
Mrs. Donaldson returns with a stack of papers in her hand. She sets them down on the desk and says, “Packets, please.”
We hand them to her. She glances over them briefly before saying, “Thank you. You’re free to go.”
The two of us gather our things and head out the door without a word. When we’re a few feet down the hall Alex says, “How much do you want to bet she’ll look over our work tonight as a bit of late night pleasure reading?”
The corners of my mouth lift into a smile. Somehow we’ve fallen in step together as we make our way to the parking lot. “She probably dreams of polynomials and parabolas.”
“Instead of counting backwards to fall asleep, she counts backwards from the square root of fifty.”
I laugh. It feels nice, talking and joking around like we used to. Alex holds the door for me and I step outside. Our cars are some of the few left in the junior/senior lot. Everyone else has gone home.
Alex turns to me. “Here.” He pulls a piece of candy from his jeans pocket. “For the ride home.”
I don’t recognize the bright-yellow wrapper, but I accept it anyway. “Pulparindo?” I say, reading the label.
He raises his eyebrows. “It’s very good.”
I curl the packet into my hand. “Thanks,” I tell him. “For… everything.”
From the way he smiles at me, I can tell he understands.
I think about confronting him about the text to complete at least one of my steps, but my nerves stop me. We walk our separate ways to our cars. Once I’m inside, I unwrap the packaging and tear off a bite. And—it’s not what I expect. The texture is like sandpaper, but the flavors are a mixed medley of sweet, spicy, and tangy.
I send off a quick text.
ME: starbursts still hold the #1 place in my heart
His reply comes quickly. I look over to see if he’s left the parking lot. He hasn’t. His truck is still sitting there.
ALEX: blasphemy.
Then:
ALEX: glad you liked the pan dulce :)
I slide my phone into the cup holder and put my key in the ignition. I find myself enjoying the spicy, sticky sweet taste that lingers on my tongue the rest of the drive home.
THIRTEEN
VOICES ECHO DOWN THE HALLas soon as I step through the door. I wander into the kitchen and find Peach placing something in the oven while my dad chops vegetables beside her. He must have said something funny because she’s laughing, and then he’s laughing. Their heads lean close. It’s all so natural, like they’ve known each other for years.
I wonder justhowclose they became at the ranch.
It wasn’t completely out of the ordinary for my dad to date sporadically when I was younger, but he never committed to anyone. I was always his first priority, he said. No one was around long enough for me to wonder what it’d be like if our family expanded, and that’s not what I want now. Peach seems nice, but shouldn’t he be focused on fixingourrelationship?
Another burst of laughter erupts from the kitchen. I can’t remember the last time I heard my dad laugh like that. It might have been when Grams would use words wrong and call e-mails “computer letters” or maybe when he’d pranked me into drinking pickle juice on April Fools’—which I spit outeverywhere. Watching their moment, I feel strangely left out.
My dad spots me standing there. “Hey, Goose!”
Peach smiles at me. “You’re right on time. We’re making homemade pizza for dinner.”
I stare at them. Surely they can’t expect me to play along while they slowly take over my normal life.
My dad sets down his knife and looks up at me. “How was Earth Club?”
“Good.” I’m surprised at how easily the lie comes out. I’d texted Lin earlier to apologize for ghosting on the meeting, and she said it was fine as long as I showed for the cleanup on Friday.
