“It sounds creepy,” Maliah says.
“—but it was amazing. I thought Mrs. Avakian was going to lose her mind that a student was that good.”
“Look at her.” Brooke points to me. “She’s beaming with pride.”
“Get it?” Zoe laughs. “Gay pride.”
“You guys are so stupid,” I say, but we’re all laughing. Even with Maliah being such a drag lately, I realize I’m so lucky to have the friends I do. And when I arrive later to pick up Jordi, right away I feel how little it matters that I’m not in a car.
“This is exciting,” Jordi says as I point the way down the street. “Do I get a hint?”
“No way.”
“Damn.” She grins at me, and it’s hard maintaining my composure. She’s wearing a very Jordi outfit today, of course—black jeans and a sort of shimmery black tank and black high tops—and how we look together is something I realize I’m starting to like.
“What did you do today?” I ask. “Exciting stuff?”
“Actually … I sent some info a while back, and it looks like I’m going to have a photography show at Pehrspace in August.”
“Oh my god, Jordi, that’s huge! I didn’t know you were trying to get a show.”
“I didn’t want people to know,” she says. “In case it didn’t work out or go anywhere. But, yeah. It’s happening.”
“I’m so proud of you,” I say, and I worry it’s too much for someone I’ve only been going out with for a couple of weeks. But Jordi focuses her grin on me and leans in to kiss me.
“Thank you, Abby,” she says. “You have to be my date, and you have to wear something extra awesome.”
“It’s a deal,” I say. We’re making plans for August.
“Are we going to Mixto?” Jordi asks as the sign comes into focus. “I love Mixto.”
“Yes, and, good,” I say. “I just realized maybe it was weird to plan to take you to a Mexican place, because you’re … Mexican?”
“Well, my grandparents were all born there, but I’ve been here my whole life, and so have my parents,” she says. “So don’t worry. I love hipster Mexican food.”
“Here’s my secret about this place,” I say. “I’m sort of obsessed with their kale Caesar salad. But please, please, never tell my mom. It would make her way too happy.”
We end up getting the salad, a selection of tacos, and horchata and settle in the back corner of the outdoor dining area. We’re only about a mile from our neighborhood, but being in Silver Lake is just inherently cooler than Atwater Village.
“Hey, Abby,” someone says from behind me. I turn around, and it’s Lyndsey Malone. “Oh, hi, Jordi.”
“Hey,” we say, sort of at the same time.
“Oh, hello, ladies.” Blake Jorgensen walks up to her. “I see you’re enjoying some horchata.” He pronounces it with what I guess he thinks is an authentic accent, and I notice that Jordi is suddenly staring at the table and blinking. I look away because if we make eye contact right now, there’s no chance of not laughing.
“How’s your summer been?” Lyndsey asks.
“Um,” I say, testing my restraint by smiling at Jordi. Neither of us laughs. “Really good.”
“I think our food’s ready,” Lyndsey says. “See you guys around.”
We say good-bye and wait until they’re fully around the corner to laugh. It’s funny how mere weeks ago, this would have killed me. They were holding hands and Blake was making his I’m Very Serious And Never Smile face and Lyndsey looked happy.
But I don’t care. Well, I might care a little. I can still see that Lyndsey is crush-worthy, and no one nice should have to date Blake. But none of it seems like my failing now, and I guess that’s because it never was.
After we’ve finished eating, I direct Jordi across Hyperion Boulevard and a few blocks down to West Silver Lake.
“You don’t mind walking, right? Maybe I should have asked sooner.”
“Not at all.” Jordi lets go of my hand, but since it’s to take out her camera, it doesn’t bother me. “I should have taken a photo of Blake. It would’ve come in handy if I ever needed something to throw darts at.”
“Oh my god,” I say. “That guy’s the worst. How does Lyndsey stand him?”
“He seems smart,” Jordi says. “He either fakes it or is also smart under his layer of …”
“Douchiness?”
“Exactly. She wanted someone smart, and he was close enough.”
“I used to have such a crush on her,” I admit.
“Me too,” Jordi says, which makes me laugh. I don’t even stop when I realize Jordi’s camera’s lens is pointed right at me. The camera has stopped feeling like something separate; it’s an extension of Jordi.
“Where are we going?” she asks me.
“It’s also a surprise,” I say. “Everything’s a surprise. You can’t get any more info out of me than that.”
“You’d be a good spy,” she says.
“What are you talking about? I’d be terrible! I always say way too much. You’d be amazing at it, especially because you’re usually in all-black.”
“You should hear my mom since she met you,” Jordi says. “‘Jordi, see how nice Abby looks because she isn’t afraid to embrace color?’”
I laugh as we turn the corner and Silver Lake Reservoir comes into view. It looks like a lake from far away, but once you’re close, you can see that it’s concrete-lined. When we were younger, it was a regular thing for Dad to take Rachel and me around it at night. About midway through, you can see the Silver Lake Dog Park, and since Mom’s allergies prevented us from having our own dog, it was heaven to spend a little time watching through the fence.
Not that I plan to watch dogs
