Fiona and Jane(21)

Fiona began to nurse a crush. She thought his scar made him sexy and invented stories about how he got it, knife brawls and flying daggers shit.

“You think Sung would say yes if I asked him to our prom?” she said one night at the bar.

“You want him to find out we’re in high school?” I said.

“Not like there’s anyone else to go with,” she muttered.

Won blew out smoke in rings, one after another. Fiona reached up and broke them in the air.

“My turn,” I said. “I gotta puke.”

They got up to follow me outside to the dumpster. Fiona squatted next to me and patted my back a few times. Behind me Won’s steady voice murmured something reassuring. After, I headed for the bathroom alone to rinse out my mouth. I checked my reflection in the mirror above the sinks. Bloodshot, watery eyes, but my inch-thick black eyeliner was somehow still in place. My cheeks were a ghostly, almost bluish white.

Fiona was the pretty one, that much I accepted. She got her period first and went up a bra size from seventh to eighth grade. Freshman year she started growing her hair out, and now it was almost down to her waist. Her features were pronounced and striking—more than once, some old weirdo on Third Street Promenade had approached to ask if she was interested in modeling—but maybe my face could be considered pleasing, too. My eyes, though small, were very symmetrical. My nose didn’t come right out and announce itself, but it was a fine enough nose, straight and unassuming. All those times Mah reminded me to pinch on the bridge while I was watching TV—who knew if it made a difference. Whereas Fiona was outgoing and friendly to almost everyone, I cultivated mystery. It was hard to stay invisible, though, after I grew three inches last year. I knew people called me Fiona’s bodyguard, behind my back. Whatever, I didn’t care.

I dried my hands and shuffled back to the table.

“We’re going to a party,” Fiona said. She had the same excited look in her eyes as the first time we rolled up to the bar, except now she wasn’t trying to hide it.

Sung stood by our table. “It’s nothing big, just kicking back with a few homies,” he said. “You down?”

“What about your curfew?” I said to Fiona. “What time is it?”

She laughed, too loud, and turned her face up at Sung. “Where did you say it was again?”

He wrote down the directions and address on a napkin. Fiona tucked it inside her red nylon “Kate Spade” bag, a purchase from another vendor stall at the swap meet.

Sung said he was on the clock for another hour. “I’ll page my boy and tell him you’re coming.”

“Sweet of you,” Fiona replied. She wore a broad, eager grin on her face. Sung rapped on the table with his knuckles a couple times and walked away. Her eyes followed him, then swiveled dramatically back to me. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “We’re going to a college party.”

“You coming?” I asked Won.

“Sorry, Won. I don’t think it’s like that—”

“Hang on,” I said. “So we’re just showing up to some party? Who are these people?”

Fiona rolled her eyes. “Come on, Jane. Don’t be such a B-A-B—”

“I’m not being— I’m just asking—”

“He thinks we’re eighteen,” Fiona whispered. “College freshmen.”

“So you didn’t bring up the prom idea,” I said.

“She told him we go to UCLA,” Won said.

“Doesn’t matter,” Fiona said. She fixed me with her gaze. “You have to come, Jane. I need you.”

“I don’t think you know how dudes—if you two—”

“You stay out of it. Jane can make up her own mind.”

I felt the weight of their eyes on me.

“Fine,” I said finally. “But I have to be home by midnight.”

“Midnight. I promise,” Fiona said. “This is going to be so much fun,” she added.

I tried to exchange another look with Won, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes.



* * *



? ? ?

The car ride to drop off Won was completely silent, charged by anticipation. I felt bad, but I followed Fiona’s lead. In front of his apartment complex, I got out and folded the seat down. He didn’t say bye to Fiona or me. But when I got back into Shamu and shut the door, Won walked around the front and tapped the glass on Fiona’s side. She rolled her window down.

He pulled his wallet out of his jeans pocket and opened it. From one of its inner folds, he removed a square of light blue plastic. “If you’re going to hoe around, you should at least be prepared.”

Fiona stared at the condom wrapper. I grabbed it and threw it back at Won. It bounced off his chest and landed somewhere on the ground.

“What do you think is going to happen at the party?” he said.

“Fiona, drive. Let’s go.”

We peeled off, nearly hitting Won when Fiona angled Shamu away from the sloped driveway. I watched him grow smaller in my side mirror. After we’d passed at least four or five lights in silence, I asked Fiona if she was okay.

Her hands gripped the steering wheel. I waited for her to blink, say something.

“He shouldn’t have done all that,” I said. “But maybe we’re wrong, too,” I added slowly. “We only knew about the bar because of him—”