“I have that date tonight,” I said.
Sara squealed. She and Ruth were going to get along really well. “With who? That Amir boy?”
“With Matty Fumero! The boy I had a crush on, from that party.” I tried not to think about Amir and how he and Ameh Sara would get along really well, too.
Sara’s eyes went wide. “Wow, that’s so exciting!” She leaned toward me. “Why do you not look excited?”
“I’m excited,” I said. “I’m just really nervous.”
Sara nodded. “Parvin joon, it’s okay to be nervous. Just be yourself, right?”
“That’s the plan.” And for once, it was. Instead of scheming or writing things on my hand so I could make sure I wasn’t “loud” or “too much,” I was going to throw all my little steps out the window. Wesley hadn’t really wanted me to change; he’d wanted to change himself. Better to be who I was instead of pretending to be someone else for other people’s sake.
“Don’t worry, khanoum, once I’m there I can help you get ready for your next date, and the dance,” she said. “You should wear your purple eyeshadow tonight. That one looks very nice.”
“Actually, Ameh, do you think you could help Ruth and Fabián with their Homecoming makeup, too?”
Sara beamed. “Of course, joonam, I am honored!”
Yes! Homecoming was going to be awesome. Just then, my thigh gave a painful twinge.
“Er . . . Ameh, do you know how to get rid of ingrown hairs?” I asked suddenly.
Sara nodded. “Can you show it to me? It depends on where it is, and how deep it’s in your skin.”
I tilted my laptop screen toward the front of my thigh. There was the angry red ingrown hair, pulsing. It was tender to the touch.
“Oh, wow,” Sara said, sucking in air. “Parvin, that looks infected.”
“Infected?” I wailed. “What do you mean infected?” I couldn’t go on my date with a gaping thigh infection. How could my own body hair infect me?
“It’s okay, it’s okay! I’m going to run to the store and get a lotion we have here for you, all right? When I arrive tomorrow I can help you get it out.”
I took a deep breath. Having a plan always made me feel better.
“Okay, that would be great. Thank you, Ameh,” I said.
Sara shook her head. “Of course, Parvin joon, just don’t touch it until I get there, okay? It just looks like you picked at it too much.”
I looked down at my thigh. The circle around the follicle had turned a weird purplish color.
“I can’t wait to see you, Ameh!” I cheered up at the thought of having someone in this house who knew how my body worked.
“Me too, joonam. Now I have to finish packing, all right? I’ll see you tomorrow!”
“Bye, Ameh. I love you.” I blew a kiss through the screen.
“Manam hamintor,” Sara replied. Me too.
■ ■ ■ MATTY’S IMPROV SHOW 6:00 P.M.
I met Matty at the community center where his improv group was setting up. I had tried to wear my most theatrical outfit, which really just translated into wearing all black. Black jeans. A black turtleneck. I almost wore a black beret, but Mom told me it was overkill. My eyeliner, though, was silver, paired with the shimmery purple eyeshadow that Ameh Sara had recommended. It was my most ambitious makeup look to date, even better than the gold eyeshadow I’d worn for Yessenia’s quince. I wasn’t going to pretend to be someone I wasn’t tonight. I hadn’t even written NT for “No Talking” on my hand. There was no holding back.
“Hey!” Matty said, waving me over to the stage where his troupe was doing weird mouth exercises and stretching. Did improv require stretching?
“Hey!”
“Thanks for coming,” he said. “It’s really cool that you’re here.”
“Thanks for inviting me.” I looked down at his outfit. Matty was also wearing all black. I couldn’t believe I accidentally matched with my date.
Just then, the lights in the small auditorium dimmed, and Matty’s troupe took their places onstage as everyone else went to go find their seats.
“I’ll see you after the show, okay?”
I nodded. “Cool.”
I found a seat a couple rows in as the group got started. Matty, I noticed, was the youngest performer there by far. The leader of the group got up and started talking about how improvisation was all about “Yes, and . . .” It meant that whenever someone started doing something new onstage, it was your job as a performer to go along with it and add to it, saying something like “Yes, and what a mighty fine gown you are wearing, O Queen of England.” Which meant the person you were performing with was now the Queen of England. Which was exactly what happened to Matty when his partner called him a queen.
The whole auditorium laughed, and I felt a surge of pride when Matty took the curveball in stride and switched to a British accent. But that was the only time I genuinely chuckled the whole night. From that point on, I just felt awkward for the people onstage as they tried to come up with jokes.
The troupe switched gears and started bringing in props and costumes, but my mind had already begun to wander. Matty Fumero, the most desired sophomore at James K. Polk High (at least to me), was here with me. I was on a date! It was the first real date of my life. I’d gone from nobody crushing on me to an actual dinner date. After everything that had happened, that was a pretty big deal.
One of the actors asked for audience participation. Nearly everyone around me raised their hand. But I just sank lower into my seat. Needless to say, the theater was not for me.
6:25 PM FABIÁN: how’s improv night?
6:28 PM PARVIN: It’s cool.
6:29 PM FABIÁN: translation=it’s boring as hell
6:30 PM PARVIN: I can’t hear you over the sound of me being on an amazing date with a cute boy.
I turned my phone off, determined to have a good time. I
