You Asked for Perfect(40)

Tomorrow I’ll be behind on the work I have to push aside tonight. My brain spins. There’s too much to do. “I can’t. I’m—” I glance between the two of them. “I have a lot of catch-up work from the holiday. I might be a little MIA for a few days.”

“Unfortunate.” Amir clicks the lens into place. He snaps a picture of Sook and me. “But if you must. I’ll still see you at dinner.” He steps forward and kisses me softly on the lips, but my thoughts are on all the work I have.

I lean back and bite my nail. “And I’ll still see you at school.”

“Yes, you will.” He waves at Sook. “All right. Bye, guys. Have a good practice.”

“Thank you!” Sook says, as he walks away. Then she turns to me. “He’s quite cute.”

I run a hand through my hair. “Yes, I agree.”

“You will be at practice tonight, right?”

A sharp headache presses against my right temple. “Of course.”

*

“Ocean’s Eight!” Rasha shouts, then waves her hands. “No, wait! Finding Dory?”

“Yes!” Rachel squeals. She jumps forward and gives her a high-ten.

“They’re competitive,” I whisper to Amir. We’re sitting on the love seat together as our family plays charades after dinner. I needed to leave five minutes ago for Dizzy Daisies practice, but it’s rude to come to a Naeem family dinner and only stay for the food.

“I was going to say annoying,” he responds.

We laugh. His eyes spark when they meet mine. In an alternate reality, it’s been the perfect night. Mr. Naeem made my favorite, chicken karahi, a Pakistani curry dish that somehow tastes even better than it smells. Our parents didn’t embarrass us at dinner; well, with the exception of Mrs. Naeem saying, “Ariel, will you pass the water to your boyfriend?”

Amir and I both blushed, but neither of us denied it, either, and that made me blush again, but in a nice way.

But now it’s after dinner, and we’re playing charades, and my mind is swimming with the to-do list in my phone, and I can’t even begin to touch the work until after band practice.

“Amir, your turn!” my dad says. “Come on—the guys need redemption!”

Amir nudges me and raises his eyebrows. “Here we go.”

“Good luck!” I say.

He gets up and pulls a scrap of paper from the bowl. His eyes flicker with recognition, and his shoulders relax. Good, it’ll be a fast one, and since everyone will have gone once, I can make my exit after.

“And go!” Mrs. Naeem says. She leans back onto the couch, crossing one leg over the other. Her black motorcycle boots match Rasha’s.

Amir boxes his hands together. “TV show!” I say.

He nods. Dad and Mr. Naeem lean forward. Next, Amir marches in place. “An army show,” Mr. Naeem says. “What are some army shows?”

“What about—” Dad begins.

Amir shakes his head. Nope, not an army show. Next he stretches, reaching one arm over the top of his head at a time. His shirt lifts up, and I avert my eyes, because I don’t need the embarrassment of my parents watching me watch Amir.

“Something with athletics?” Dad asks. “Sports television…”

Mrs. Naeem must have written the clue because she cups her hands together and whisper-shouts. “Try jumping jacks!”

Amir, distracted, pauses what he’s doing. He shakes his head, trying to decide his next move. Mrs. Naeem leans over to Rasha and whispers something to her. Rasha laughs, then says, “Amir, next clue! They won’t get it with that.”

“What is it?” Mr. Naeem asks them. “Give us a hint!”

“No cheating!” Sara says.

“They started it!” her dad responds.

The timer buzzes. Amir’s lips set into a firm line.

Mrs. Naeem winces. “Oh, I’m sorry, beta.” She picks up her phone. “Here—you want more time? We won’t talk.”

Amir shakes his head and sits down next to me, sinking into the couch. “It’s fine,” he says. “Who’s next?”

Mrs. Naeem looks truly sorry, and I want Amir to let her off the hook. But he’s already staring at his phone, scrolling through a photo blog. Then, my alarm goes off.

“Crap,” I mutter. “I need to head out.”

Amir is quiet, retreated into himself. I don’t want to leave him like this. But Sook needs me at practice. This gig is huge for her, and we have to prepare.

“Talk later tonight, okay?” I ask Amir.

He nods, still looking at his phone. So, I pull mine out and send him a message. A second later, his phone chimes. He looks at it and smiles, then nudges my side. I smile and nudge back.

As I get up to leave, my phone buzzes: I ship us more than I ship Harry and Cedric too.





Twelve


By the end of the week, I’m exhausted, but I actually feel good, in control. Buckling down the last couple of days has been nice. Familiar. I get this weird high when I’m hyperproductive and always checking something off my list. And I have a lot on my list.

I planned out all of my classwork by the hour. So if I pull an all-nighter tonight and only sleep for five hours a night going forward, I’ll be back on track within a week. Maybe four hours a night. But it’ll be fine. I can sleep when I graduate.