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“Watch where you’re going,” she says, each word sharp. Upon a closer look at her lanyard, I see her name printed in bold block letters. Eliza.
I wasn’t even moving, but I probably should’ve been looking anyway. “I’m sorry,” I mumble.
Eliza whips back around and marches down the hallway. I feel tears about to rise, so I tilt my head back and pretend to look at the ceiling lights. It’s just three months, I tell myself.
Grace passes by me, another nurse by her side. The other nurse, a woman with her hair tied in a ponytail, glances at me, then whispers to Grace, “She’s Aprilette’s sister?”
“Apparently,” Grace replies, sounding disbelieved that I’m related to the Aprilette Padilla.
My shoulders slouch, and I feel ashamed that I don’t live up to my Atè. When it’s break time, I step outside, and the sun strikes my eyes. I text Nora a row of crying emojis.
She replies immediately: Tostadas?
Me: Please!
I sit on the front step and wait for Nora to arrive. The cement feels smooth and hot beneath my legs. The white sun dots the sky, glowing so brightly I have to squint my eyes. Lampposts tower between parking spot rows. Cars zip through the parking lot and veer into empty spaces. Flocks of families step out, slam their doors shut, then walk towards the hospital.
This week’s theme—friendship, written in yellow chalk on the board at Blossoms—dangles in my mind. It’s an easy one. Nora and I have been best friends since kindergarten, so I have plenty of ideas for what to capture. Maybe I can take a photo after I finish some AP English homework. But I might be too tired by then, and I need enough energy to work through AP Bio. I could take one after I’m done with everything for the day. Then again, by the time I finish, it’ll already be nighttime. Or I can—
“Boo!”
A yelp squeaks out of me. I flop back against the ground, my back slamming onto the concrete.
Nora cackles like a villain. Today, she’s a female Luigi—green cap tucked around her head, a matching t-shirt, and denim shorts. Her black waves are tied in a low ponytail that hangs down her back. She’s holding an airtight container of two tostadas, the lettuce and beef clear through the glass.
“Nora,” I grumble.
She shrugs. “You were totally off in La La Land.”
Nora returns my glare with a grin. She plops down beside me and uncaps the lid from the container. The tostadas lie next to each other like a pair of colorful camera lenses. All kinds of food are heaped on both tortilla wraps. Shredded iceberg lettuce is crowned around chunks of beef. Chopped tomatoes, wedged avocados, and grated Monterrey Jack cheese are piled on top of the meat. One whiff and my nose is blessed with the smell of avocados, tomatoes, and fresh lettuce.
“Sometimes I wonder why I’m still your friend, then I remember that you make awesome tostadas.” For a second, I pause, pretending to think things over. “That’s about it.”
“Screw you,” Nora says, laughing. She bites into her tostada, and cheese sticks against her mouth.
I hold mine with both hands, keep it flat, and take a bite. As I chew, my teeth crunch into the iceberg lettuce, and tomato juice moistens my tongue. The corn tortilla wrap, avocado, cheese, and beef tumble through my mouth.
“Guess what?”
“Jungkook’s finally replied to one of your comments,” she says in a tone that suggests she already knows that’ll never happen.
How dare she remind me that one of my favorite people has yet to acknowledge my existence. “Has Jimin replied to yours?”
She sticks her tongue out at me.
I tell her about the competition, and her eyes nearly pop out hearing her best friend of twelve years has summer plans. For once, they involve more than just studying, fangirling over BTS, and taking photographs.
“Finally!” Nora hoots loud enough that a woman glances at her before walking into the building. “It’s about time you have a life!”
“What a concept.” I sigh and shake my head, taking another bite of my tostada and letting the spice tingle my tongue. “I don’t know what I’m getting myself into.”
“You’re getting yourself into a true summer vacay like a teenager should.”
“If having a true summer vacay means making a fool out of myself for five weeks, then sure.”
“You’re not going to make a fool out of yourself.”
“We’ll see.” Though, at the back of my mind, something that tells me I didn’t sign up for this competition just to win a full-ride scholarship to Jansen School of Arts. I can’t, however, figure out what other reasons I could have for entering a contest that requires public speaking. “Guess I’m trying to step out of my comfort zone.”
