You Asked for Perfect(24)
He’s still on his phone. I think he’s on Tumblr. I spy a GIF of Hermione punching Malfoy.
“I just joined one,” I tell Rasha. “Dizzy Daisies. You know my friend Sook? You’ve met at my house, I’m sure. Oh, and Malka! She’s a freshman now at your college.”
“Malka Rothberg! Love that girl. I’ve seen her on campus a few times. I forgot they had a band.” She nods, excited. “Yeah, I think I listened to them a year ago. They were pretty great. They’re still together? You joined them?”
“Yeah, they needed some violin, so I’m going to play with them a bit.”
“That’s awesome. We only feature students of the school, but as long as one of them is in the band, you’re good to go. Oh my god, let’s set this up! Such a great idea.”
“Really? Cool.” I smile. “I’ll give you their info so you guys can coordinate.”
“I can’t wait to pitch this. Maybe they’ll even let me produce it!”
Twenty minutes later, Rasha excuses herself with a squeal, saying she’s got to shower. I pack my bag as she leaves. Sook will be psyched. This kind of exposure could help them get an agent.
“So…” I say. My bag is packed, and Amir is still looking at his phone. “I’m gonna head out. I’m sorry Rasha doesn’t get the photography thing.”
Amir gives the world’s tiniest shrug. “It’s fine.”
I bite back a suggestion. I’m sure he knows how to handle his family best, and it’s not my place to step in. “Okay, have fun at your show.”
“Thanks.” He doesn’t look up. I pick at my nail. Maybe those feelings were a figment of my imagination, or a side effect of learning calculus.
I grab my bag, then pause. “I think you’ll make an awesome doctor.”
This time he looks up, a smile warming his eyes. “Thanks, Ariel.”
“No problem.” My grin is too wide, but I can’t help it.
Oy gevalt.
Seven
“I love this class,” Pari whispers as she passes me the popcorn.
I grab a handful and offer her some of my candy. “Sour gummy worms?”
“Yes, please!”
Our teacher Mrs. Chen is playing an episode of West Wing for class today, and we were all allowed to bring snacks. AP Gov is always a welcome stress relief to wind down the day.
My phone buzzes. It’s another excitement GIF from Sook. I told her Rasha wants the band on the podcast, and she is beyond thrilled. Best best friend ever, she typed with a string of emojis.
Mrs. Chen sits at her desk grading papers while we watch. If only all my classes could be like this. Reasonable workload. Straightforward assignments. TV in class.
“This semester is dragging by, isn’t it?” Pari asks. “Can’t we graduate already?”
“Yeah,” I say. Really, time is slipping away too quickly. My Harvard application is due November first, and I still haven’t started it. “Have you started your apps yet?”
She picks at her chipped purple polish. “Yeah, I already sent a bunch off.”
I swallow a piece of popcorn too fast. It sticks in my throat, and I cough loud enough the guys in front of me glance back.
“Here,” Pari says, passing her water.
I unscrew the cap and sip. “Thanks.” Another sip. “So you already got yours in?”
Logically, I know colleges don’t weigh early applications any more favorably than those sent in a day before the deadline.
Less logically, I’m freaked out. What if Harvard falls in love with Pari before they even get a chance to meet me?
“I still have a few left because I can’t apply early everywhere. But most of them are done. They took forever.” She grabs the water from me and takes a sip. “I kind of panicked last year when you, well, you know, with the computer science course. It was hard dealing with that, knowing I wouldn’t be valedictorian. So I figured it was best to get those applications in and be done with it. I keep telling myself I can relax now, but I guess it’s not actually going to happen until I’m walking across that stage.”
She pauses. “There aren’t many people who get what we’re going through. I mean, Isaac works hard, but it’s different.”
I nod, shoulders tense. “Yeah.”
There was a time when we were all in this together. As freshman, there was only one AP class we could take. I remember we felt like the cool kids—important because we had extra work. There were, like, a hundred of us taking the class, and on weekends a dozen of us would meet up at Whole Foods. We’d make a big deal of it, pushing tables together and spreading out all our textbooks and papers, but then we’d mess around talking and eating all afternoon.
But the more AP classes I took, the smaller that peer group became, and the less time I had to pretend to study because there was so much actual work to get done.
I want to open up to Pari, but part of me wonders if she’s trying to get me to put my guard down. Maybe she knows about the failed quiz and wants me to slip further.
Like she said, I won’t relax until I’m across that stage.
Laughing classmates draw our attention back to West Wing. Pari giggles. “I love this show. It’s my favorite binge.”