I let my gaze wander until we passed a glass-walled home gym that looked bigger than the one at school. Kai and his dad were lifting weights inside the room with the same personal trainer I’d seen from the day before.
I watched through the long, windowed walls as Kai securely held dumbbells and lifted them in a mesmerizing pattern. Under his school uniform, I’d always thought of him as just thin. Lanky even. But dressed in his shorts and nothing else, I could see Kai’s strong muscles rippling with each move.
As if sensing me, he glanced in my direction, his gaze colliding with my own.
I froze, caught in his stare until he turned his head, said something to the trainer, and released me.
I quickly shifted my gaze down, catching up with Mom. My heart still beat quickly as I followed her. How many times could I embarrass myself in front of Kai Rush and still show my face?
“This is it,” Mom said, opening a door.
As I followed her inside, my jaw fell open. The “living area” up here was more like a full-blown, in-home theater three times the size of our apartment. Stepping into this colossal waste of money did nothing for my distaste of Kai and his father.
I grabbed a rag and began wiping down the leather chairs, growing angrier by the second. Did they think they were too good to grab a ticket and go to La La Pictures like everyone else? I bet the amount it cost to build this room could have knocked out Juana’s medical bills in one fell swoop. Half a fell swoop.
“Whoa, whoa,” Mom said. “What did that chair do to you?”
I eased up on the chair and finished wiping down the leather. “Sorry.” The word barely passed my clogged throat, and I swallowed, fighting the heat building in my eyes.
“Jordan...” She came to me, pausing for the first time since we’d been working on this job. It was too big for just the two of us, but she couldn’t afford help yet. “Honey, are you okay?”
I kept my eyes closed as I nodded, gathering myself. How could I tell her I was mad at the Rushes for living such an exorbitant lifestyle without making her feel worse about ours?
She sat on an unwiped leather chair and tugged me down beside her. “You’ve been working hard. Don’t you think I haven’t noticed that.”
“I’m happy to help,” I said. And it was true. I may not have been thrilled about the early mornings or her choice in clients, but I owed Mom for all she did for me.
Her arms encircled me, and she squeezed just like she used to when I was a little girl. I leaned into her warmth.
“I’m sorry for what I said about you dating yesterday,” she admitted, head down. “Lord knows I have no room to talk. Look at your father.”
“We all make mistakes.” I knew that already. Martín had been a mistake, especially judging by the happy photos of him and his new girlfriend he kept posting online. Still, that didn’t make the breakup any easier to bear.
She squeezed me tighter before releasing me. “We’ll get through this,” she said, rubbing my back. “A few more months of this, and I should be able to hire someone else.”
A few months? I could do that. Especially with the holiday breaks coming up that would give me opportunities for midday naps.
We worked our way through the media room, and I began helping Mom gather the rags and cleaning supplies so we could move on.
“Go ahead, Jordan,” she said. “I can get this.”
I nodded and left the room. Walking through the Rushes’ home by myself felt like being on the moon without a spacesuit. It was hard to breathe in the air Mr. Wallace had told me ran through a million-dollar filtration system. Even though it probably smelled like the rest of the air in the world, it seemed too clean to me. Too perfect. And I wanted no part of it.
My chest ached by the time I made it to the kitchen and grabbed my drawstring bag from the cart.
This time, I walked to the servants’ bathroom, which was still a million times nicer than the one in our apartment. I made sure to quickly change clothes, leaving little time for naked interruptions. As I got out my makeup, I heard male voices above me.
Glancing toward the ceiling, I saw a well-camouflaged ceiling vent. Who would be upstairs other than Kai and his father?
The voices sounded clearer now, almost like they were right next to me.
“Dad, I told you I don’t want to apply to MIT.”
“I still don’t understand why. Until I can make sense of why a bright, talented young man such as yourself wouldn’t want to attend a top-tier school, I expect you to submit an application or hire someone to do so.”
They fell silent for a moment, and Kai said, “Yes sir.”
“Be sure to list that you’re a violinist and to mention Rush+ on your essay.”
“I will,” Kai said.
“Where else have you applied?”
“Berkeley, Cal State—”
“State schools?” his dad asked. “Why would you bother?”
“I want more than a degree, Dad, I want—”
“To spend time goofing off and getting drunk with a bunch of college kids set on not living up to their potential? Because that’s what you’ll get there.”
My lips pressed together tightly. I had half a mind to get a broom and pound on the ceiling above me like someone would have done in the apartments. Not only was Mr. Rush rude, he was wrong. Students at state schools often out-performed private school students, and I was pretty sure they had just as much access to beer as anyone at a public college.
“Fine,” Kai said quietly. “I’ll apply to Stanford.”
“And Harvard, and Yale, and MIT.”
The voices stopped, and I realized I’d been listening in instead of getting ready. I hurried to finish my makeup and walked as fast as I could back to the kitchen. Mom saw me and said, “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, great.” Other than learning we were working for a complete elitist. But then again, I could have guessed that. I tugged the straps of my bag over my shoulders.
“Jordan?” a low, clear voice said from behind me. I’d only heard it once, but I immediately recognized it as Kai.
I spun to see him and his father, both dressed for the day.
I wished I had another word to describe Kai’s eyes other than dark, but they were. So dark. They blocked anything I might have been able to read in them as they scanned my body—from my JJ Cleaning polo to the grungy white sneakers Mom got me as a gift when she decided to start her own maid service. (They’d been pristine then.) I didn’t see a hint of disdain most kids from our school would have had, though. Maybe curiosity?
But then I realized I was staring at them, just as he was staring at me, and I cleared my throat. “Hi, Mr. Rush, Kai.”
Mr. Rush extended his hand, and I shook it with my own, even though mine was wrinkled from working with a wet rag all morning.
If he noticed, he didn’t let on. “You and your mom have been doing great work for us.”
Every part of me wanted to spout off about not living up to our potential, but I had to stay quiet for Mom.
Kai tilted his head, not quite nodding, as he studied me further. I felt just as naked as I had been yesterday morning, even fully clothed. I doubted adding a winter coat to my ensemble would make me feel any different.
My mom thanked him and nudged me with her arm around me as if to say something.