We don’t speak. I walk briskly toward my car, and PJ follows. When we arrive in the parking lot and I locate Tom, my insecurity sets in. I love Tom, but he is old and rusty. I look around the parking lot and notice all the newer, fancier cars the other seniors brought to school.
I’m about to make up some excuse about Tom when PJ asks, “Is this your car?”
I nod slowly.
“Awesome. Totally awesome. My parents won’t let me have my own car. But sometimes, on weekends, they let me drive one of theirs. Unfortunately, they don’t let me drive the Saab, but if I’m lucky they let me take the Toyota. I’m so jealous. Wow, you have your own car! You are so lucky, Simon.”
PJ’s exuberance puts a smile on my face, and I begin to relax. We get into the car and put on our seatbelts. I tell him how my friend Mags named the car Tom, and he agrees that Tom is the perfect name. He keeps grinning and repeating how lucky I am to have my own car and how jealous he is.
As I pull the car out of the parking lot, he asks, “Where are we going?”
I have to think about it for a moment. Where to go? My first thought is Starbucks for more of that delicious iced green tea. But I don’t want to run into Hector and have to explain who he is to PJ. Even worse, what if Hector asks why I abruptly stopped texting him last night? Starbucks is a hard no, but the thought of tea gives me an idea.
“Have you ever had bubble tea before?” I ask.
“Can you eat it?”
“Sort of, but mostly it’s a drink.”
“Because I thought you were starving.”
“Well, I’m not as hungry as I thought.”
“I didn’t think you were,” he says slyly.
We look each other right in the eye and burst out laughing.
“My friend Mags turned me and Neel on to bubble tea, and now we’re obsessed! As soon as I told Mags I was moving to Rockville, she was on her phone searching for a local bubble tea shop where we could all go hang out when they visit.”
“Where do they live?” PJ asks.
“Oh, I moved from Columbia. Neel, Mags, and I have been BFFs since grade school. We grew up together. We’re like the three amigos—a quirky, nerdy trio. They’re my best friends.”
“Ah,” PJ says with a nod. He shares that he once had a close-knit group of friends, but they don’t talk to him anymore. His face clouds over, and it’s clear he doesn’t want to talk about it. I don’t press him with any questions. I can appreciate wanting to keep painful memories to yourself.
We walk into the shop, and PJ looks around in awe. He admires the teapots, the endless shelves of golden, urn-shaped tins, and the neatly stacked boxes of tea. He seems especially fascinated by the gnarled ginseng roots in a glass case by the register. I’m so lucky to have diverse friends who teach me so much about their culture and heritage.
“This shop is called Ten Ren. Mags told me it means heavenly love. Fitting, don’t you think?
“That’s beautiful, just like this shop,” he says. My grin goes from ear to ear.
We look over the drink menu, and I point out my favorite—sour apple bubble tea. He scrunches up his face at the mention of sour.
“Your first bubble tea is on me so pick any flavor you like,” I say. “That way if you hate it, you won’t be out any money.”
He holds a fist to his heart and blushes. “I’ll have mango.”
We take our drinks outside and walk around the shopping center while we sip them. He loves the mango-flavored tea but is weirded out by the bubbles floating in it.
“What are these made out of again?” he asks.
“Tapioca. They’re called boba.”
“Why are they translucent? They’re freaking me out.” I laugh out loud as I watch him sip the tea while trying to avoid sucking the boba up the straw.
“Give them a try. You might like them.”
PJ spits a boba in my direction, and we fall into a fit of laughter. We take another loop around the shopping center.
