You Asked for Perfect(42)

My mind drifts to my to-do list as Sook and Malka pause to discuss song order. In my rush to make up points in English, I forgot I have to read a thirty-page short story for Spanish lit and also take an online quiz for AP Psychology. Weirdly, calculus is now one of the few classes I’m not worried about. Studying with Amir has set me on the right track with the material, and I’ve gotten used to Mr. Eller’s haphazard teaching style.

Practice continues. This session is supposed to have us ready for the gig. But even though I play each note right, we don’t fit together yet. As much as I plan and prepare, nothing seems to go right.

*

The next morning, I climb out of the shower yawning. I rub the fogged-up mirror to see red eyes. “Crap,” I mutter and then move around stuff in my junk drawer until I find my Visine. I squeeze two drops in each eye and blink.

Yesterday, my alarm buzzed at six, and I told the girls I had to leave, but our sound still wasn’t right. I reasoned it was better to get the practice over with than have Sook asking me to come back again, so I stuck with it until we blended together seamlessly.

But then I didn’t get home until nine and stayed up until five in the morning finishing that damn book. My sleep after that was short and fitful, body still buzzing from caffeine.

I’ve got to get some sleep before school tomorrow. Maybe even sneak in time for a run. At least there’s no zero period this year. Last year, Sook picked me up during pitch-black winter mornings to make it to school on time for zero period health class. The year before that, Mom drove me in early for AP Latin.

I crack another giant yawn and force myself out of the bathroom. Rachel’s soccer game starts soon, and no matter my workload, I can’t miss it.

Twenty minutes later, I’m parked and walking down to the field. I scroll through my phone, looking at popular twenty-first-century novels and trying to find a short one that will work. But not so short that Mrs. Rainer will suspect I’m cutting corners.

“Ariel.”

“Hmm?” I didn’t realize I’d gotten so close to where everyone is standing. Amir is right in front of me. It’s been days since I’ve seen him outside of school. It’s like my brain put him in this other compartment, but now I’m inhaling spearmint and basil, and I’m so damn tired, I just want to put my head on his shoulder and have him wrap his arms around me.

Instead, I yawn. “Hey.”

“Hey, sleepy.” He smiles, and my stomach flip-flops. “I missed you.”

I’m too tired to subdue my unruly grin. “Missed you too. Sorry I’m so busy.”

“It’s okay. You warned me. How’s English going?”

I shrug. “Getting there. It’s a ridiculous amount of extra work. Between that and Spanish lit, I never want to read another book again.”

“Except Harry Potter,” Amir says.

I laugh. “Except Harry Potter.” I glance at our families, talking and gathered around the food as always. “I should probably go say hi to everyone.”

Amir tsks. “You’re probably right.”

We chat with our parents and Rasha as the game starts. It’s kind of nice. As we get into the first half, my phone buzzes, reminding me to go to the bookstore after the game. I need to pick out a novel now so I can be in and out when I get to the store.

Amir is talking with Rasha, so I head down the sideline and scroll through books again. The sun beats down through scattered clouds. I sit in the grass and hunch over my phone, tapping my calendar. The Harvard application date looms closer. I click my screen off and try to force away the thought. Then before I know it, my eyes dip shut. I don’t fall asleep, but I’m in some half state, the sounds of the game in the far background.

“You okay?” Amir asks.

My eyes are slow to open. I focus on him, having to squint. “Hmm, yeah. A little tired.” I pat the grass next to me. “Come sit. It’s so nice out.”

Amir hesitates, like he wants to say something else, but then he sits close enough that his shoulder presses against mine. His touch steadies me. I lean into him, and my eyes blink closed. “You missed a goal,” Amir says.

“Rachel or Sara?”

“The other team.”

I wince. “Bummer. They’ll get it back.” I pick up a piece of grass and shred it with my fingers. Amir does the same. “So what’s going on with you?” I ask. “How was the rest of your week?”

“Well…”

I glance over, and Amir is smiling one of the biggest smiles I’ve ever seen from him. It’s an Ariel-sized smile, but he doesn’t try to hide it. I perk up a bit and lean forward. “Tell me.”

“You know that art show I was applying to? The one with the scholarship?” I nod. “I got in!”

“Holy shit, Amir. That’s amazing. Congrats!”

Without thinking, I lean forward and kiss him quick across the lips. He kisses me back, softer and longer, and I melt against his touch. God, I missed him.

“Thank you,” he says, nudging into my shoulder. “For the congrats and the kiss. It’s this Friday. Will you come?”

I stay smiling, but beneath the surface, my pulse races. Of course, I want to go, but will I have caught up on enough work by then? I can’t keep adding things to my schedule and expect to get it all done. The gig Saturday night is already going to devour a large part of next weekend. This is why I never date during the school year.