We took our separate vehicles to the bakery, and this time Mom wrote You are worthy of everything good on my cup. As I turned it in my hand, examining her neat cursive, my chest tightened. Why did I have such a visceral reaction to that message?
I couldn’t find an answer even as we drove to the Rushes’ and brought our cleaning supplies inside. We worked our way through their guest rooms, dusting and mopping already spotless floors.
It struck me that it had clearly been some time since anyone stayed in these rooms. I knew why none of Mom’s family from Mexico visited us—we lived in a one-bedroom and they had a country to cross—but why were Kai and his father so isolated behind their layer of help? And where was his mom? Why didn’t his dad date if she wasn’t in the picture? My mom didn’t want to become reliant on a man after what Dad had done to us, but that wasn’t an excuse for Kai’s father, who had all the resources in the world.
The bigger mystery, though, was why had Kai taken an interest in me. He had seen my body, and while I did have a nice chest, I had extra cushion elsewhere as well. He could have taken his pick of any number of girls with small waists, decent bra sizes, and even bigger bank accounts. Why would he want to go on a date with the hired hand? This called for expert advice.
Jordan: SOS
Jordan: Can we hang out tonight?
Zara: It’s too early to be awake.
Zara: Besides, you know my house is your house whenever you need it – micassa’s sucassa. Right?
I laughed at her garbled Spanish and sent back a text.
Jordan: Close enough. See you in school.
My shoulders lightened now that I knew I’d at least have Zara in my corner. We’d see what the other girls said as they woke up.
Mom leaned on her broom, watching me. “You have friends awake this early?”
I laughed. “Kind of. I was going to ask—is it okay if I stay with Zara tonight?”
“Of course. She’s the one with the rich dad, right?”
“I mean, to be fair, they all have rich dads.” I chuckled.
“True.” She shook her head. “Just be safe. I can take care of the job tomorrow.”
I put my palm to my forehead. “I’m sorry, Mom, I completely forgot. I can call her and cancel.”
“No, no, no. You be a kid, enjoy your Saturday. I’ve got it.” She took my rag and spray bottle from me. “Now, go change for school.”
“I can help a little more.”
She held the bottle out with her hand on the nozzle. “Don’t make me spray you.”
Laughing, I raised my hands in defense and started walking away.
She misted the air behind me. “And don’t come back, ya hear?”
I still had a smile on my face as I walked down the hallway toward the stairwell at the far end of the house.
“You’re in a good mood this morning,” Kai said.
I nearly jumped out of my skin as my head jerked to the left. He stood in a doorway, a towel hanging over his neck and down his bare chest.
Now my heart was beating fast for completely different reasons. “You scared the crap out of me!” I accused.
His mouth quirked in a slight smile. “Do you like your phone?”
“Actually...” I reached in my drawstring bag and extended the box to him. “I need to give it back to you.”
He pushed it back. “No way. It’s yours.”
“I already have a phone,” I said, pushing it back in a weird game of tug of war. “I don’t need handouts.”
“Whoa.” He lifted his hands. “Who said anything about handouts?”
“Hmm.” I tapped my chin. “Maybe the delivery guy with the thousand-dollar phone?”
He shook his head. “You know, it’s not a crime to accept a gift.”
“It is when there are strings attached.”
“What strings?”
I mimicked his voice. “Go on a date with me, Jordan.”
Instead of looking annoyed, he seemed conflicted. “I just needed a way to ask you out. Mission accomplished.”
“So you could just blow a thousand dollars instead of asking me here?” I shook my head, set the phone on the ground in front of him, and continued toward the stairs. I didn’t have time for games.
“I’m not giving up,” he called after me.
“Look up the definition of insanity,” I replied and continued down the stairs. I needed to stay as far away from Kai as possible.
Eight
I walked into the school's conference room for our FMP meeting. Pixie Adler, the president of the club, sat at the head of the table next to Tinsley, our secretary, and Poppy, the social chair. The four of us made a strange group, but with only eleven people in the club and half of them underclassmen, we didn’t have much of a choice.
As the vice president, I took the chair next to Pixie. She called the meeting to order, and everyone straightened up and began paying attention.
“Today we are discussing the blood drive and deciding who gets to be in charge of what,” Pixie said. “Jordan, will you begin dividing responsibilities?”
I looked down at my notebook where I had taken notes from the meeting before. (Tinsley definitely wasn't the best secretary the school had ever seen.) “The first thing I have written down is that we need someone to meet the Emerson Blood Institute reps at the loading dock when they arrive. There will be a lot of equipment to bring in, and we want to make it as simple as possible.
Pixie raised the pencil she held with the feather topper. “I can do that.”
“Great.” I checked it off the list. “We’ll also need someone to set up the gym—get chairs for the sign-up area, a waiting area, and a recovery area.”
A couple of sophomores down the table agreed to take care of that.
“Thanks,” I said, “and then we need to make sure there’s food for donors to eat afterward. I can pass around a signup sheet if everyone wants to say what they’ll bring.” I began ripping out a page from my spiral notebook.
Poppy shrugged. “I can have my mom order in catering.”
I stifled my reaction to the fact that she could volunteer her parents and their money so quickly for catering and crossed it off my list. At my old school, we would have each brought a dish or a pan of brownies made out of a box. Emerson Academy was a whole new world.
Tinsley lifted her phone in its diamond-studded case. “I can work on promotion and making sure that each of the slots is filled.”
That wasn't something I had on my list, but I went ahead and pretended to cross it off anyway. “Check.”
A couple of seniors agreed to do teardown afterward, and we were almost to the end. “Great, that means that Pixie and I can take turns running the check-in desk. Does that sound good?”
Pixie nodded emphatically. “I think we should all agree to wear our blood drop pins that we got at the last blood drive.”
“I'm sure they'll have some there,” I said.
“Either way,” Pixie replied, “we need to show solidarity with Emerson Blood Institute. They do so much good work for the area.”
I nodded. “Should we move on to the fundraiser?”
“Yes.” She folded her hand and leaned forward. “Last year we raised money for the hospital, but I’m open to ideas.”