1
Today was the day I would finally ask Kaia Gonzales out.
I watched as she decorated her freshly painted locker with a sticker to “Save the Wetlands.” It was the first day of our junior year. And that was our sticker.
Saving the Santa Clara wetlands had been our thing this summer. Along with a bunch of other local activists (most of them much older), we had held vigil on the edge of the nature preserve where a new condominium complex was going to be built. Kaia was always a little late, but she usually brought us Popsicles or spray bottles and was by far the loudest chanter. Watching her scream into a bullhorn at passing traffic was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. Together we had endured the blazing sun, melted peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and a whole lot of indifference. But we never got much of a chance to talk until that one night. We were chosen along with a small group of adults to squat at the site, in order to prevent a bulldozer from sneaking in while the protest rested. Under the shimmering night sky, mosquitoes ate us alive while we tried to keep each other awake reading The Uninhabitable Earth: Life After Warming. One by one, everyone drifted off to sleep. By midnight, it was just Kaia and me. We finished the book together. Side by side we watched the sun rise over the marsh, wondering how many more humankind would see. I should have asked her out right then. It would have been the perfect moment. But the police showed up and we were all arrested. After, I’d had a bad reaction from all the mosquito bites and had to stay home for a week. By then the courts had stepped in and the condominium project was stopped. Which was great, except that I hadn’t seen Kaia since.
Until right now. As I’d walked down the hall searching for my new locker, she had spotted me first and run over, her long brown hair brushing the tips of the words on her “March for Our Lives” T-shirt. I’d managed a mumbled “Hi” and she not only returned the greeting but had given me a high five. A freakin’ high five!
And now our sticker was the first thing Kaia was putting up on her brand-spanking-new locker door. It was proof that it meant as much to her as it had to me. Right? The problem was, she was so active in everything. Another cause might soon eclipse ours. Today was the perfect day to ask her out. And now all I had to do was find the perfect moment.
2
Today was the day I would finally ask Kaia Gonzales out.
She stood at the front of Ms. Hahn’s government classroom, leading the first meeting of the Diversity Alliance. It had been a month since I first chickened out by her locker. The right moment never came.
I had thought about doing it at the Gay-Straight Alliance meeting, but it felt too heterocentric.
Then I’d almost asked her at the School Safety Committee, but all that talk about school shootings was hardly romantic.
I shouldn’t have been surprised when she arrived at the diversity meeting, but still, watching her stride up to the front of the room and call everyone to order sent shivers through me. She saw me in the back (I hadn’t wanted to assert too much privilege) and she gave me a thumbs-up and told me she liked my “White People for Black Lives” shirt. Now she was railing the group about its own lack of inclusion. I could feel the radiant heat of her anger wash over me like a warm Santa Ana breeze.
That was it. After the meeting, I would tell her how much she inspired me. Then I would find out if she’d seen that new Ava DuVernay documentary. And then I would ask her out. It would be the right moment. The perfect moment.
3
Today was the day I would finally ask Kaia Gonzales out.
I opened a box of posters and taped one to the cinder-block wall in the junior quad. Taking a step back, I admired my design and slogan for a Straw-Free San Buenaventura High—a guilty-looking kid drinking a milkshake through a big plastic straw with the words “Don’t Suck!” It had been selected by the Committee to Reduce Plastics after a grueling competition and would finally be posted all over the school. I set one aside and signed it (ironically, of course). After I gave it to Kaia, she would appreciate my mix of humor and environmentalism and then I would definitely ask her out. All those other times hadn’t quite been right. But winter break was coming, and what could be better than getting to know each other over tamales and eggnog?
4
Today was the day I would finally ask Kaia Gonzales out.
I stood behind her in line at the Earth First Coffee Company. I couldn’t believe my luck running into her over the holiday. We’d just had a three-minute conversation about shade-grown, fair-trade coffee. Once I ordered my iced-blended mochaccino, I would definitely ask her out. It was the perfect moment.
Though this place was kind of loud. And she seemed like she might be in a little bit of a rush, and . . .
5
Today was the day I would finally ask Kaia Gonzales out.
It was Wednesday. We both liked Wednesdays.
6
Today was the day I would finally ask Kaia Gonzales out.
We were marching in lazy circles to protest the new great white shark exhibit at the Channel Islands Aqua Park. It was like Ventura’s local version of SeaWorld, except smaller and with a worse reputation.
I watched Kaia’s ponytail swing back and forth hypnotically each time she screamed “Save! The! Shark!” I didn’t think she could get any more beautiful, but the ocean breeze had pulled her curls loose and the sweat from our three-hour-plus protest made her skin glisten. We’d started three chants together (“Liberty, not captivity,” “Hey hey, ho ho, this shark jail has got to go!” “What do we want? Free the shark! When do we want it? Before it gets dark!”). She’d clearly seen the protest sign I had spent all night crafting and I was pretty sure she was impressed. She kept looking at it and then giving me a grin. Was she flirting with me?
She passed by me again. Wait. Had she just winked? Maybe it was allergies? Did allergies make people close just one eye? No. She winked. She totally winked at me. That had to be a sign that she wanted me to ask her out. Oh god. What if she’d been waiting for me to say something for months? Was it getting weird between us because now there was this huge unsaid thing that, for some reason, I just could not seem to say? I would definitely ask her today. She obviously wanted me to.
“Hey, Cam, keep moving!” said a voice, and I realized that I had become lost in thought and had forgotten to walk. The group collapsed behind me like an accordion. Todd Moon, a ponytailed aging surfer guy and leader of the Non-Human Rights Group that had organized this event, kindly motioned for me to continue. He was always extra nice to any high schoolers who showed up. He said we gave the protest “an edgy vibe.” No one has ever described me as “edgy,” but I still appreciated it.
“Sorry,” I apologized, and hurried forward, this time not daring to look up at Kaia. I clearly needed to just focus on marching. “Save! The! Shark!” I sang, and let the winter air cool me down.
“Dude. Go for it.” Todd gestured to Kaia. “You’ve been checking out that chick for hours. Nothing like protest tail.”
“‘Tail,’ Todd?” chided Patrice, flipping her braids over her shoulder and glaring. “Really? You’re still using ‘tail’?” Patrice Woodson was the co-chair of the group and put up with zero shit from Todd, or anyone actually.