“Listen,” Amir shouted over the music on the dance floor. “I brought some chia seeds with me. What if we put them in the punch, then tell everyone it’s contaminated? I know how much you like pranks.”
My face lit up. This was a good prank. “We could tell everyone it’s frog spawn from the bio department. They’ll be so grossed out!”
“Exactly!” Amir cried. A lot of Iranian iced drinks have chia, which is a little black seed the size of a sesame that makes all the liquid surrounding it plump up into a jelly. It’s supposed to be really good for you, but it definitely looks like frog spawn.
I watched as Amir “ladled” himself a cup of punch at the soda table while secretly adding the seeds. He gave me a covert thumbs-up as he dropped them in. I swooned. Even though Wesley and I had done a dozen pranks before, in that moment, I realized I’d been the one to come up with them all. I’d never had someone else suggest their own scheme. Amir was even more wonderful than I’d realized.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had this much fun. I thought it would be weird, each of us all paired off with a different person, but when Amir and I had joined the group, it felt like our crew was finally complete. Just then, someone approached the punch bowl. Amir winked at me from across the gym.
“What’s he doing?” Ruth asked. We watched as Amir pointed frantically at the punch bowl, planting the frog-spawn rumor with some sophomore. The sophomore looked horrified at the bright pink drink that was now plumping up with chia seeds.
“He’s pulling a pretty good prank.”
“Oh, Parvin.” Ruth shook her head, but she smiled. “Wanna dance?”
But Naomi cut in. “Nice try, Ruth, it’s my turn to dance with Parvin.”
Ruth beamed at Naomi, her eyes about to pop out of her head with little hearts. Naomi took me onto the dance floor right as another fast song came on, and we jumped like crazy, our hair bouncing up and down as we sang every word. I peeked over Naomi’s shoulder and saw Fabián dancing with Amir, and Ruth dancing with Matty. I was smiling so hard my face hurt.
“Come on,” Naomi said during the chorus, and she led us over to the rest of the gang where we formed a circle, all of us shouting the lyrics.
This was what I had hoped Homecoming would be like. This was what I had dreamed of.
After that song, the DJ switched to a slower one, probably to make sure nobody fainted from jumping up and down so much.
Amir walked over, suddenly looking shy, and I could see everyone coupling up around us. I squinted past a balloon tower and even saw Yessenia López dancing with Emerson Cheng, who had some sparklers in his back pocket.
That made sense.
“May I?” Amir asked. I nodded, and he put his arm around my waist. We shuffled back and forth.
“Did you finish your Farsi homework?” he asked, trying to make small talk.
“Yeah, I did, actually.” I had finished it earlier this week instead of leaving it to the last minute, for once.
I rested my head against his chest. What was I doing? I thought I hadn’t wanted to date Amir, but here we were, dancing together. The truth was, I had no idea what I wanted. I thought I had, like wanting Matty Fumero to like me, or for Wesley to be my boyfriend. But right now, I had no clue.
Amir placed his chin on the top of my head, and I smiled to myself.
Sorry, Principal Saulk, but maybe it was okay that I didn’t know what I wanted.
Maybe that was the best place to start.
Before I could get too thoughtful, though, the fire alarm went off.
“CHENG!” Fabián roared.
Sunday FARSI SCHOOL 11:00 A.M.
Hanna looked at the pictures I took from last night before the fire department came. “See how your dress complements your skin’s undertones?” She pointed to the photo. “It’s supposed to make you look warm, not wash you out. That’s how you know it’s working.”
I think Hanna was proud of the look she’d made for me.
“Next week I’ll teach you how to deal with oily skin, okay?” she offered.
“Yes, please.” I nodded gratefully. My face had gotten shiny from dancing so much last night.
Just then, Amir walked into the Farsi classroom, his hair still styled from Homecoming. Hanna raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at me and turned back to her poem.
“Hey,” Amir said, sitting down next to me. I was glad he wanted to stay Farsi partners, after all.
“Hey,” I said, and smiled.
“All right! Today we will be reading our poems,” Aghayeh Khosrowshahi announced from the front of the class. He had a thermos of black tea sitting next to him, and I could tell from the way he bounced on his toes that it was probably already empty.
“Who wants to go first?” he asked, his eyes roving the classroom. For the first time in Farsi class, I raised my hand.
“Parvin joon!” he exclaimed. “Befarmain,” he said, gesturing. I stood up at my desk and cleared my throat, the words in Farsi tumbling out.
The classroom clapped, whether out of pity for what had happened last week or in support of my poem, it was hard to tell. But I think everyone was glad to see me actually volunteering in class for once.
I sat back down. Hanna mouthed, Good job, to me. Amir gave my hand a squeeze.
Even though I wasn’t wearing makeup, I knew I was glowing.
I looked down at my desk, where I had the translated version of my poem to hand in to Aghayeh Khosrowshahi. I was so amazed by those little sentences. After everything that had happened, after all the ups and downs I’d had this school year, it felt like a talisman that would keep me strong.
I was proud of how hard I’d worked on it.
