“Oh, cool,” he mumbles, shuffling his feet. “I was heading home.”
“Any fun plans for the day?”
“Hey, Calan, what’s up?” says one of the boys.
The three boys sprint over.
Malaika gives Calan a reassuring smile. She wants him to know she is on his side. He is a good cousin to Allegra: patient and kind. And the fact that he is gay only makes her like him more. Gay men don’t hit on women.
“Who’s this?” one of the boys asks. He has red hair and is wearing a too-tight green shirt. He looks older than the other two, possibly older than Malaika.
“This is Malaika, my, um, she’s—”
“His friend,” Malaika finishes. She turns to the three boys and shakes their hands. One of them, the one in the too-tight shirt, grins maniacally at her. “I’m Andy. Can I ask, where are you from?”
“Switzerland,” Malaika answers.
“That’s awesome. Geneva?”
“Basel.”
“Ah, the German side. I’m Ralph’s older brother.” Andy gestures to a shorter boy with reddish brown hair and nearly invisible eyebrows. Malaika can see the resemblance.
“Nice to meet you,” she says.
Ralph takes a step forward. “So how do you know Candy Flakes here?”
Malaika frowns.
“It’s what we call Calan,” Ralph explains, his face twisted in a smirk.
Malaika resists the urge to defend Calan. It will only hurt him to have a girl fight his battles. “We hang out sometimes.” She takes a step closer to Calan.
Andy swats Ralph on the head. “Do you go to school around here?”
“No,” Malaika answers plainly, although she isn’t sure what he means by here—in the United States? New York State? Alma?
“I go to Syracuse, I’m just visiting my parents,” Andy says, as if this should impress Malaika. He waits a beat and then continues, “You must miss Switzerland.”
Does she miss Switzerland? Malaika supposes she does, on occasion. She misses being able to hop on a train and be in an entirely different country in minutes. She misses being able to legally drink beer, something she has been able to do since the age of sixteen—although, at 12 Swiss francs a pint, it had been a rare indulgence. She misses the taste of cheese, real cheese, especially the ones sold in the summer at the Marketplatz.
Mostly, though, Malaika misses her mother. Verena had supported Malaika’s decision to come to New York—her mom was nothing if not supportive—but that didn’t lessen their longing for one another. They’d always been close.
Andy continues talking. “Europeans are so much more laid-back. I bet you miss that.”
“Not really.” Malaika much prefers the American go-getter attitude. What the country lacks in culture and historical charm, it more than makes up for in defiant personality.
“So are you here to become a model?” Ralph stuffs his hands in his pockets.
It’s a line she’s heard many times before, though never from someone so young. Ralph’s confidence would be admirable if it weren’t so annoying.
Malaika turns to Calan. “Walk me home?”
Calan’s face lights up with shock and delight.
The three boys look amusingly confused. That’ll show them.
Malaika links arms with Calan. They begin strolling to the Dewars’ house. Well, Malaika is strolling. Calan seems to be floating.
Thirteen
Calan
Thursday, September 12th
Calan can’t stop staring at Malaika as they walk toward his uncle’s house. He is probably embarrassing himself, but he can’t help it—not looking at her is like not looking at a shooting star.
“Thank you for walking me home,” she says, as they turn on Backer Street.
He’s sorry the walk home from school is such a short one. He wishes they could spend the whole day together.
“It’s practically right next door to me anyway.” He nearly kicks himself as soon as he hears his own words. Now Malaika is going to think that he is doing this because it is convenient. He needs to say something else, so he asks, “So, um, how do you like working for Aunt Alice?”
Calan notices Malaika bite her lip. She is close enough that he can smell her perfume. It’s sweet, like cotton candy or licorice. He feels an erection coming and stuffs his hands in his pockets. What will she do if she notices him getting aroused? Hit him? Run away? Or worse… will she laugh? Sometimes he hates his body.
“She’s nice,” Malaika answers.
Everyone had been shocked when, years ago, Uncle Nick announced that he was moving back to Alma as a married man. Calan was probably the only one who hadn’t paid much attention to the news (back then he didn’t really know his uncle). But when Uncle Nick finally arrived, he and Calan grew close in just a few short weeks, so close that Calan panicked about Aunt Alice’s then pregnancy—if they had twin boys then his uncle wouldn’t have time for him anymore. He was probably the only one in town who was happy to learn Aunt Alice was pregnant with a girl.
“She can be a little difficult sometimes,” he says to Malaika.
“No, no,” Malaika replies, but Calan catches her lips twitching.
Calan pictures Malaika as a heroine in one of his graphic novels. She’d have the power to hypnotize any human with her full, glossy lips. He decides that hers are the most beautiful lips in the world.
“Are you enjoying America?” It’s the question he had wanted to ask her last Friday, before he’d taken a fall like a tongue-tied idiot.
“Yes,” she answers, though Calan senses a slight hesitation.
“What made you want to come here?” Is he being too pushy? His mom is always saying that women like men who listen, so he reasons they must also like ones who ask questions.
“I wanted
