Page 30 of Okay, Cupid

“Do you think that’s a possibility?” I ask.

“No idea. I guess we’ll see. The last thing my parents need is to be proven right.”

“They don’t like you to play soccer?”

“They think it’s too dangerous, that I’ll hurt myself.”

“You don’t have to listen to them.”

He huffs. “Yeah, try being Vietnamese and not listening to your parents. See how well that goes.”

It’s easy for me to forget that other kids actually have relationships with their parents. It’s a part of the community aspect, for us to be raised by other Cupids. Besides, most of the time, the Cupids who give birth are too busy to give up eighteen years of their lives to raise and train a child. That’s why we’re given to people like Richard and Leah, who have the time and the skill to teach.

“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” I try to reassure him. “You love doing it, so that has to mean something.”

“Right, yeah.” I can tell that I’m sinking Huy’s mood. “Hey,” he says, “what time are you hanging out with Alice on Saturday?”

“No idea, probably the afternoon, why?”

“My family is going to be at the farmers’ market in the Sunset. You should come by.”

“Why are you at a farmers’ market?”

“Our donut shop. We have a trailer we set up.” He turns to me. “I’ll even hook you up with free donuts.”

“Oh, well … sure!”

“It starts at eight, so you’ll have plenty of time to stop by before you head downtown.”

“One question before I say yes.”

“Hmm?”

“Will there be chocolate?”

Huy smiles, his teeth bright and pearly, showing off dimples as he laughs. “I’ll save a chocolate just for you, Jude.”

“Then it’s a deal.”

“And what are we doing here again?” Cal asks as I lead him off the bus on Saturday morning.

“Farmers’ market,” I remind him for about the thousandth time. I think he’s just cranky over being pulled out of bed so early in the morning. Last night, we decided to have one of our sleepovers because Leah had to go down to Santa Cruz for a “work event.”

We ordered pizzas, did face masks, watched movies. I even did Cal’s nails. It took all of five seconds for him to chip his left pinkie.

“It’s cold,” he whines, bundling into his hoodie.

The farmers’ market is deep in the Sunset, just a few precious blocks away from the beach. Anywhere else in California, that might mean a nice breeze and some good sun to keep you warm, but here in the Bay, it means you can’t see more than a mile past the shoreline, and the wind being carried by the ocean will chill you right to the bone.

Which is only made worse during the tail end of January.

The last few days have been uneventful. Alice missed a whole day because of a dentist appointment, but when she returned, I caught Huy staring at her from across the algebra classroom. Then, during culinary arts, he asked if she was okay.

Alice, on the other hand, seems totally unbothered by the potential of Huy. I want to urge her into talking about him more, but I don’t want to press my luck. All my relationships to these kids are still new, and expecting them to unpack all their trauma over the course of a single week would be overkill.

“Come on, you agreed to help me.” I take Cal’s hand. “We’ll get you coffee.”

The farmers’ market is split into two camps that each take up about a block. On one side, there’s the homegrown and homemade goods. A candle company, fresh veggies and fruit, a woodworking stall, and a pottery studio showing off handmade ceramics. The other side is all food, the smell of coffee and sizzling bacon going right to my stomach.