Far from the Tree(17)

It turned out she wasn’t the only gay kid at school, and she was never harassed or teased—but she found she didn’t know how to be affectionate with friends. Would they think she was hitting on them if she just hugged them hello? Would she make it weird just by being herself? It hadn’t mattered with Lauren, but at her new school, Maya found herself holding back, using sarcasm as affection until it became habit, until it became who she was.

“Are you always like this?” Grace said, interrupting her thoughts. “Seriously, are you? Because I swear I’m going to pull over and put you in the trunk if that’s the case.”

Maya just sipped at her drink. If Grace thought she was the first person who had threatened to put her in the trunk for being a brat on a car trip, she had another think coming. “Am I like what?”

“Annoying,” Grace said.

Maya shrugged, turning her face toward the passenger window. “Yes.”

“Maybe you should cut back on the caffeine.”

“You’re just not used to having a sister,” Maya told her, then sat back in her seat and put her feet up on the dashboard. Grace swatted them down.

“Did you hear yourself?” she said. “You just called me your sister.”

Maya pretended to sigh happily. “Next thing you know, we’ll be going to Sephora and talking about boys—well, you will, at least—and sharing clothes. It’ll be like a movie.” She sipped at her drink again. It was getting to the perfect stage of meltiness, where the sugar and caffeine came together in a glorious adrenaline spiral. Another five minutes and Maya could probably launch herself to the moon.

“Are you serious?” Grace said.

“About the clothes sharing? No, I was just exaggerating.” Her eyes moved from Grace’s shoes (flip-flops from Target; Maya had the same pair, but in blue) to her jeans (way too big, what the hell?) to her sweater (the beigest color of beige that Maya had ever seen). “But if you ever want to go clothes shopping, I can help you. I helped Lauren. Changed her life.”

“You need to stop talking.”

“I’m just saying—”

“In. The. Trunk.”

Maya held up her hands. “Okay, okay. I’ll just sit here. Quietly. Not talking. At all. Maybe I’ll even learn something from NPR. Oh, wait—”

“Five minutes!” Grace cried. “That’s all I ask!”

“But—”

“Maya, I swear to God—”

Maya pointed out the window. “That’s our exit.”

“What? Oh, shit!” Grace immediately pulled the car across four lanes of traffic, swerving past two cars and exactly zero cops. Maya just grabbed onto the handle over the passenger door, hanging on as they zoomed onto the off-ramp, but when she saw herself in the side mirror, she had a wild grin on her face.

“That’s more like it!” she cried. “Those were some straight-up Fast and Furious moves!”

Grace looked at her.

“Shutting up now,” she said, then pretended to lock her lips and throw away the key.

The beach was crowded for a Saturday, and their pace slowed to a crawl as they got closer to the arts center. “Ugh, traffic,” Maya said, but Grace shot her a look and she immediately went quiet again. No one had ever really locked her in the trunk before, and she didn’t quite know Grace’s limits well enough to push them yet. Silence was definitely golden.

It was almost one p.m. by the time they parked, and Maya groaned as they crawled out of the car. “It wasn’t even an hour and a half,” Grace said, squinting into the sun. Maya had no idea why she didn’t just get some sunglasses.

“Whatever, I’m young, I’m still growing. I hope.” Maya was sort of sensitive about being short. (Well, shorter.) She looked around. “Yep. Lots of art.”

“So the fact that it’s called an arts center isn’t just a clever disguise.”

“Hey, sarcasm is my job,” Maya said, tossing her bag over her shoulder as Grace slammed her door shut and checked to make sure that the car was locked.

“What sarcasm? I’m just—” Grace started to say.

Maya lowered her sunglasses long enough to look at her.

Grace sighed. “I’m just stressed.”

“I kind of figured that out when you threatened to lock me in the trunk,” Maya scoffed.

“It’s . . .” Grace took a deep breath and shook out her arms. “You’re seriously not even a little nervous to meet him?”

Maya shrugged, tossing her empty Starbucks cup into a recycling bin. She wasn’t sure what she felt, but it was bright orange, like a warning, like a question. “Not really. The way I see it, if he’s a big weirdo or a psycho killer or something, then we can just be like, ‘Oops, sorry, the lab screwed up the DNA results, later gator,’ and then we just block his calls and emails. Oh, look, they made a whale out of gum wrappers! That’s pretty cool.”

Grace followed Maya’s gaze to see that yes, someone had in fact made a whale out of gum wrappers. “So you’re ready to just bounce on our biological brother. Were you going to do the same thing with me?”

“Well, yeah, but only if you were a weirdo who drove alternately like a grandma and a Fast and Furious extra and listened to NPR.” Grace’s face stayed the same and Maya wondered if Grace’s interest in her sense of humor had been a one-time thing. “Just kidding!” she finally said. “C’mon, let the family bonding begin!”