Achi sighs and puts down the form. “Nika, these interschool activities aren’t meant for you to flirt.”
“I’m not signing up to flirt,” I argue, feeling my face go hot at the baseless accusation. “Also, you literally sign off on my classmates so they can flirt at prom! My request is for a celebration ofmusic.”
She answers me with a scoff. “I heard what happened at the soiree.”
I stop short. Could Achi possibly be talking about Pa? Does she secretly see his ghost too?
Then she says, “Heard your classmates talking about you and Seph.”
Again, big fan of chismis—probably my favorite form of entertainment. However, gossip is always better whenI’mnot the topic of conversation. Are people seriously talking about the ice game between me and Seph? Are they talking about it over at Saint Francis too? I get that we go to Catholic schools, but surely, there must be more scandalous things happening.
“Ma was so happy that you were actually participating in something for once. What am I going to tell her if she finds out you were making out with Auntie Baby’s son in their living room?”
Excuse me?
“What?! All we did was play the ice game.”
Achi pauses. “You were making out with ice?”
“No!” I say, and have to explain yet again the mechanics of this ridiculous ice game.
Her mouth’s pinched when she inspects my face. “So… you and Seph aren’t MOMOL buddies?”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“Your other classmates use that term,” Achi says in defense, and her cheeks go pink. “They say it’s like friends with benefits. The benefits being making out—”
“No.” I shut her down before she explains further. “We’re not buddies, no friends with benefits. Absolutely no benefits to our friendship.
“You need to get better at gossiping,” I tell Achi.
She scoffs at this and goes back to reading my slip. Thankfully, clearing the air makes my sister more cooperative about my Battle of the Bands inquiry.
After she asks more logistical questions, she suddenly says, “If there is something going on with Seph, you can… talk to me about it.”
“Achi, for the last time, we didn’t make out in Auntie Baby’s living room.”
“No, not that,” she says, and corrects herself. “I mean, also that. But maybe not yet. You’re so young and there are more appropriate places than our aunties’ homes—”
“Are you okay?” I ask when her words stop making sense.
Achi sighs. “I’m your sister, so we’re supposed to share things.”
“We don’t share.”
“We share!” she insists.
“Okay.” I fold my arms. “Haveyouhad any MOMOL buddies lately?”
Her cheeks flush even harder at that. “Again, you’re too young.”
“Cool. Maybe when I’m thirty, we can try sharing then.”
Achi weighs my words and leans back on her desk chair. After a beat, she slides her phone toward me.
“Oh my god. Are you letting me read your messages?”
“Sira.” Achi rolls her eyes and makes sure I don’t scroll past the email on the screen.
