You Asked for Perfect(31)

An hour later, I’m finished washing all the dogs, but I’m not at all tired. My lips are still buzzing from kissing Amir last night. I could’ve stayed like that, back pressed against the car, all evening. But our friends probably would’ve noticed if we never picked them up.

It’s only been fourteen hours since I saw him, but it already feels like too long. I’ll be at services instead of school Monday and Tuesday, so what if I don’t get to see him until Wednesday? When will I get to kiss him again? Will I get to kiss him again?

I’m assuming it wasn’t a one-off.

It definitely didn’t feel like a one-off.

I went straight to bed when I got home last night, a crash after all the adrenaline, and slept for eight hours before waking up for shul. Maybe I can see Amir tomorrow. Rachel doesn’t have a soccer game because of the upcoming high holidays, so tomorrow my only commitment is practice with Dizzy Daisies.

I grab Ezekiel from his cage and head to the front room. “Want to go play with him outside?” I ask Rachel.

She’s on the couch, reading from a folder, brow furrowed. Her backpack is stuffed in her lap, and she’s hugging it like a pillow.

“What are you working on?” I ask. “Pirates? Capitals?”

“Reading sheets.” Rachel flips a page. She nibbles one of her sweatshirt drawstrings.

“Want to take a break? Play with the dogs?”

“I’m gonna keep working,” she says, not looking up at me.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

“I’m working, Ariel. I don’t want to get behind.”

I guess even fifth graders have catch-up work for missing two days of class. Still, I hesitate. But then Ezekiel yaps at my heels, little tail wagging.

“Okay,” I say. “We’ll be out there if you want to join us.”

I grab my phone and take Ezekiel out into the yard.

*

“That’s a lot of sheet music,” I say when Sook hands me a stack of papers. It’s Sunday afternoon, and we’re in her basement for our first practice together. This morning Amir texted, and we made plans to study tonight at my place. I keep glancing at my phone, watching the minutes tick by until evening.

“Well, obviously,” Sook says. “This isn’t one of your jam bands. I wasn’t going to let you make up the notes.”

I leaf through the pages. “But this is a lot of sheet music.”

“I figured I’d add you into a few of the songs. You know, just in case. If you like playing with us.”

It looks like she’s written me parts for at least half their repertoire. “Sook,” I warn.

Malka scrambles down the stairs. She’s holding a bagel in her mouth while she throws her hair up into a messy bun.

“Oh, good,” Sook says. “I was about to text you.”

“Sorry I’m late,” Malka responds. “My roommate dragged me to my first frat party last night, so you know, hangover. Getting out of bed today was basically the worst thing to ever happen to me.”

“Are you good now? Maybe go chug some water?” Sook taps her fingers against her keyboard.

“How was the party?” I ask. “Did you have fun?”

Malka scrunches up her face. “It was kind of disgusting. The house was gross, all sticky and dark. And they made some kind of punch in a giant trash can, I’m not even kidding you. All the guys were loud and wasted. So not cute. Not my scene.”

“Gross,” I say. “So none of it was fun?”

“Well, my friends and I found a corner and an unopened bottle of flavored vodka, so we drank that. And after we were quite drunk, we all went to Waffle House together, and that was fun. Awesome waffles. Life-changing waffles.”

“So in college, we should only ever get drunk so we get to drunk-eat?”

Malka laughs. “Yeah, basically.”

“So…get that water?” Sook cuts in. “So we can start practice?”

Malka gives her a look, then tightly says, “Yep. Be right back.”

“Thank you!” Sook replies. As Malka ascends the stairs, Sook shoves her face in her hands and groans.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

She drags her hands down so I can see her eyes. “I know I’m being annoying. I can hear myself being annoying.” She pauses. “This deal my parents gave me…I know I sound ridiculous, complaining about having to go to an Ivy League school. It’s spoiled and privileged and absurd.” She bites her lip. “But this is my dream and my chance to pursue it. I don’t want to be the person nagging everyone all the time, but if we don’t practice, we won’t get better, and then we won’t find an agent, and my music career will be over before it even starts.” Her voice cracks on the last word, and she tears up. “It’s ridiculous. I’m ridiculous.”

“Hey,” I say, walking over to her. I sit on the stool next to hers and pat her back.

Sook gives me a wry grin. “What am I? One of the dogs at your shelter?”

“Want me to scratch behind your ear?”

She laughs and shoves me off. “Oh my god, no.”

I laugh back and knock into her shoulder. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You aren’t ridiculous. You know what you want. But maybe”—I pause—“maybe you’re being a bit harsh with Malka. Let her know what’s going on with you. See if she wants the same things.”