His face was nearly glowing.
“Oh,” I said.
My stomach did a little flip.
I didn’t know what to say.
And I got this really ugly feeling.
Like Landon only wanted sex from me.
I knew that wasn’t fair. I knew he really cared about me. But I couldn’t help it.
That’s normal.
Right?
“Think about it,” Landon said, and kissed me on the shoulder. “Okay?”
“Okay.”
IN THE GOLDEN LIGHT
“Are you nervous about homecoming?” Mom asked as she pulled her car into a parking spot.
“Hmm?”
She turned off the car and looked at me. “Are people giving you a hard time at school?”
“Oh. No.”
I couldn’t tell Mom that I was worried Landon thought we were going to do stuff afterward.
Sex stuff.
I never wanted to talk about gay sex with Shirin Kellner.
“Hm,” Mom said, but I unbuckled my seat belt and opened the door before she could say more.
The Dragon & Phoenix Consignment Shop + Boutique (a name that sounded more suited to oolong than gently used fashion) was this huge store at the corner of a strip mall in Beaverton. The inside was practically glowing from the eclectic collection of ceiling lamps, and the scent of incense tickled my sinuses.
“Do you know what you’re looking for?”
“Not really.”
I showed her the picture Landon sent of his suit: a gray one with thin, slick lapels.
“Nice,” Mom said.
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Let’s see what they have.”
Mom wandered around, pulling nearly every suit off the rack to examine it, while I went straight for the big and tall section. I traced my fingers along the rows of hangers. Most of the suits were black, or brown, or too tall, or not big enough.
And then, as I turned a corner, I saw it.
The perfect suit.
Bright blue, not quite pastel but nearly. And it was shiny, like there was something metallic in the threads.
It was like nothing I had ever worn in my life.
“Oh,” Mom said. “What’ve you got there?”
I held it up. “I like it.”
“You do?” There was this thing in her voice. “You sure it’s okay for homecoming?”
“Yeah.” It was bright, and colorful, but I knew it would be okay.
Mom grabbed the wrist to look at the price.
“You sure you want to spend this much?”
“Yeah.” It would eat up most of my final paycheck, but still. “I can wear it again.”
Mom held the sleeve up to the light and watched it shine. “Can you, though?”
“Why?” I asked. “Is it too gay?”
Mom blinked at me.
“No.” She blinked again and let the sleeve fall. “No.”
I wondered what Shirin Kellner considered “too gay.”
I wondered why I thought that.
It was an ugly thought.
“You’ll look very handsome in it,” she said. “Come on. Let’s try it on and see if you need it altered.”
* * *
“Hey,” Chip said as we walked to our bikes after practice Wednesday. “What’re you doing now?”
“Headed home.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Landon’s busy. Plus I quit my job.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You were right. I need to find something that makes me happy. Hopefully soon.”
“Oh. Cool.” Chip ran a hand through his hair. “You wanna come over and study, then? My mom’s making empanadas.”
“Oh. Thanks. But I can’t. I’m watching Laleh.”
Chip let his hand fall. “Oh.”
I felt kind of bad, letting him down.
Especially since he hadn’t even mentioned Trent.
“Want to come to mine instead?”
He grinned.
“Yeah.”
We biked to my house as the crisp fall sun finally peeked out from behind the heavy clouds. The wet streets shone, and Chip laughed as he rode through a puddle.
I don’t know why, but it made me laugh too.
Cyprian Cusumano looked really beautiful in the golden light.
I did my best not to notice.
* * *
Laleh already had the kettle on the stove when we got home. She scooped some tea into the teapot.
“Hey, Laleh,” I said. “You remember Chip?”
“Hey,” said Chip.
Laleh glanced at Chip and blushed.
“Hi,” she murmured. Then she turned back to the counter. “Want to help me smash some hel?”
Chip looked at me.
“Cardamom. For the tea.”
“Oh. Sure.”
Laleh’s blush was spreading from her cheeks to her ears. But she arranged five cardamom pods on a paper towel and folded it over. “It’s easier if you use the bottom of the pot.”
“What do I do?”
“Smash them until they pop open. But you can do it as much as you want.”
Chip grinned, and Laleh gave him a gap-toothed smile.
“Hey.” I knelt and looked at Laleh’s smile. “Did you finally lose that tooth?”
“Yeah. At lunch.” She stuck her tongue through the gap where her canine used to be.
On Laleh’s other side, Chip rolled the bottom of the teapot over the cardamom.
“You have to hit them hard,” Laleh said. “Here.”
Chip handed her the pot. She banged it five times against the counter, whack whack whack whack whack! I winced at the sound.
I usually just pinched them open myself. But Laleh loved smashing hel.
Chip looked at me, his eyes wide.
I chuckled. “Want me to pour the hot water?”
“Sure,” Laleh said.
* * *
When our tea was made, we all sat at the table with our homework spread in front of us.
“What’re you working on?” I asked Laleh, who was frowning at her half-finished drawing.
“We’re doing a space unit.”
“Oh. Cool.”
We never did a space unit in regular classes.
I might’ve actually done okay at that, with all the Star Trek I watched.
“I loved that,” Chip said. He leaned over the table to look at her paper. “Where you make your own constellations?”
Laleh nodded.
Sure enough, the paper was covered with connect-the-dots figures of Laleh’s devising.
“These look great,” I said.
“We have to come up with a story for them.”
“What are you going to do?”
“It has to be about our family.”
“What about our trip to Iran?”
“I don’t know,” Laleh said. “What if they make fun of me?”
“For what?” Chip asked.
“For being Iranian,” I said, but then I turned to Laleh. “I bet Miss Shah won’t let them. Didn’t you say some of your classmates were Fractional Kids too?”
“I guess.”
Chip said, “Would people really make fun of her?”
“I mean . . . people made fun of me.”
I didn’t say it out loud. That Chip and Trent had been the ones making fun of me, the way Micah and Emily and other Proto-Soulless Minions of Orthodoxy had been making fun of Laleh.
But I think Chip understood what I was saying anyway.
He got this serious look on his face and nodded.
And then he turned to Laleh and said, “Your brother’s right. You should talk about Iran. So your classmates will understand you.” He swallowed. “That’s how you make friends.”
Laleh looked from Chip to me, and then back down at her paper.
“Okay.”
And then she said, “Will you help me?”
“Sure.” I scooted closer.
“You too,” she told Chip, though her cheeks reddened again as she said it.
He grinned. “All right.”
Laleh pointed to one of the stick-figure constellations she’d made, one that might’ve almost had a mustache. “This one is going to be Babou.”
FULL PERSIAN MOTHER
Saturday morning I tried Sohrab again.
He still didn’t answer.
I thought about calling Mamou again, but I couldn’t call her every time I couldn’t reach Sohrab.
That wasn’t cool.
So I wrote him yet another email.
When I first got back from Iran, we emailed each other all the time, until we figured out a schedule to call each other. And once we’d sorted that out, email felt so impersonal.
I couldn’t see his eyes squint up when he smiled. Or hear his laughter.
Even that was a pale illusion of the real Sohrab.
I missed being in Iran with him.
I missed sitting with him on our rooftop and watching the sun kiss our khaki kingdom.
I missed the way he would throw his arm over my shoulder, like that was a thing guys could do to each other.
But email was my only option.
So I asked him how he was doing, and said I hoped he was okay, and that he’d write back soon. I told him about my soccer games (we were ten and one now) and quitting my job. I told him about Laleh and my dad and my mom. I told him about Landon and homecoming.
Did they have homecoming in Iran?
And I told him I was doing okay, depression-wise. And I hoped he was doing okay too, because he was my best friend in the whole world and I wanted him to be happy and healthy.