As much as I wanted to tell Jonathon that it was over, that I didn’t need his help, I couldn’t face the disappointment in Uhmma’s eyes. The way she would look at me afterward, knowing that all she had worked for, sacrificed, all of it for nothing.
I knew I had to meet Jonathon before he left. I needed the program for the report cards and then it would be over. He would be gone and I would have all of my senior year to save up more money. After that? Maybe when I was finally away from her, I would tell her the truth. Maybe when I did not have to live with her frustration every day, see it settle into her body in angry, resentful folds, the way it did with Suna and Apa. Maybe then.
Someone coughed behind me. I whipped around. Ysrael held up a pressed shirt, a rush job that I had asked him to do just an hour before. For once, his eyes weren’t cast down, but up at me.
“Oh, yeah,” I muttered, unable to meet his eyes. Though I knew he couldn’t have read my mind, the thought that he had been watching me made my toes curl in embarrassment. I tried to remember what exactly I had been doing, how I had been standing. I tried to look busy by pushing the key on the cash register that displayed the time. I could feel him just standing there. Behind me. Waiting. What did he want?
Sometimes there are these moments that linger in the mind. They are never explainable. Why that time and not others. Why that look and not others. They just exist. I turned around and there he was. Standing perfectly still. The sunlight slanting across his lips, his chin, his scar. Illuminating all that was flawed. His dark brown eyes studying my hair. He waited so patiently, without judgment, without anger, just stood there with that white shirt held out in front of him like a flag. And in that moment, in that terrible heat, I wanted to tell him everything. Let the weight of my lies slide off my shoulders. But all I could do was take the shirt and whisper, “Thank you.”
• • •
The free SAT sessions at the library started at 7:00 p.m., but Uhmma made sure we were out the door of the apartment by 6:30 even though we lived five minutes from the library. She handed me Suna’s heavy backpack full of books to return.
Make sure you get a seat up front, Uhmma said to me.
I nodded and waited for Suna to finish tying her laces. I dreaded sitting there while we practiced drill after drill. At least Suna would have time to wander around and get some reading done.
We parked around the side of the brick building because the lot in front was completely full. The central library was almost always teeming with people. And with the heat so bad, the inside nice and air-conditioned, it was busier than normal. A large group of kids sat on the cement steps, talking. Suna and I walked wordlessly by them. Most were from the middle school that Suna would be attending this fall and I could tell that Suna was studying them closely, staring at their faces, the girls’ thin-strapped tank tops and tight hip-hugging jeans. One of the smoking girls caught Suna’s look and asked, “What you looking at?”
Suna bit her lip.
“Come on,” I said and gently pushed her toward the glass doors.
Once inside, Suna moved quickly toward the children’s room, not even glancing over to the teen center where most of the kids her age were sitting on top of tables, in front of computers, whispering to each other.
I stopped by the front desk to ask the librarian what time the prep session would be over and then made my way to the children’s room to tell Suna.
The children’s section was empty. The puppet and story time corner deserted except for a few stray hand puppets carelessly tossed on the rug. I knew Suna was probably sitting on the floor somewhere, her head turned sideways so that she could read the titles. She was rereading all the C. S. Lewis books again. I saw a shadow sitting on the floor and turned to head down the aisle.
He was on the floor, reading a book. I froze when I realized who it was. Ysrael glanced up to see who was approaching. His voice was pitched high with surprise. “Hey.”
I clutched my SAT books to my chest and waved awkwardly. What was he doing at the library? In the children’s section?
“You finding what you’re looking for?” he asked, sounding like a librarian.
I pointed to my notebook. “I have an SAT prep class.”
Ysrael raised one eyebrow.
I took a deep breath. “They have it here Mondays and Wednesdays.”
He nodded and smiled. “Your mom makes you study pretty hard, huh?”
It was my turn to nod.
We searched for other things to say, and when the moment grew long and tense with anticipation, we turned to study the books on the shelves.
“I better get to my—”
“Why don’t you sit—”
We tried not to smile at each other.
Ysrael pointed to the books. “I used to come here all the time when I was a kid. I remembered how quiet it was. I don’t really read these books anymore.”
I laughed, my voice echoing through the empty room. “You mean The Little Princess isn’t your favorite book?”
He shrugged. “Well, just my second
