The repeated use of the word tail stoked my anxiety and I tried to clarify. “She is not—I’m not trying to—that’s . . . I just want to ask her out.” Todd shrugged, disappointed at my explanation.
“Hey!” Kaia’s impassioned voice rang out near the park entrance. I turned to find her scolding a middle-aged couple in Disneyland shirts as they walked past her. “That ticket you’re buying is supporting the slow death of a complex and intelligent life-form! You have blood on your hands!” They ignored her and Kaia jousted her sign in their direction for emphasis.
Oh my god. She was so perfect.
“You know what? Let’s call it,” Todd announced to the group. They must have been relieved because the marching immediately dispersed.
Crap. I wasn’t ready. I mean, I had been preparing all day. Actually, the whole school year. But . . . I wasn’t ready. Luckily, Kaia was still scowling at the middle-aged couple as they bought their tickets so I had, at least, another moment. I steadied myself, trying to catch a full breath before she turned around.
“Well, what are you waiting for? The world’s not getting any colder.” Todd nudged me toward her.
I took a few tentative steps. Was this the right moment? I examined the setting. Sure, there was a bird-poop-covered giant clam fountain, but the aqua park backed onto a wide bay and the soft crashing waves and seagulls’ cries that filled the air were as smooth and sweet as a Bon Iver song. The sun had nearly disappeared into the sea, deepening the sky to a royal blue with wisps of pink contrails. And Kaia was standing near a planter of flowers whose names I didn’t really know, but they smelled amazing. It was kind of magical. And she had liked my sign. And she had probably winked at me. And we were saving something together again, just like the wetlands.
But the more I urged myself forward, the more my body tightened as one huge, unanswerable question loomed, the same question that had crashed over me like a tidal wave every other time I’d almost asked her out: What if she said no? I tried to imagine a life after that, but all I came up with was a black endless void. Complete annihilation.
My stomach clenched. My legs braced. My chest seized. Breathing was going offline. I gritted my teeth. Sunset, flowers, seagulls—I wasn’t going to lose this moment. I would ask her. As soon as I remembered how to move my tongue.
Then she turned around.
“Oh, hey, Cam.”
Words. Say words. “Hey . . .” Okay, not the strongest start, but not unrecoverable.
“You know, your sign . . . I’ve been wanting to tell you all day . . .”
“Oh yeah?” That was two words. An improvement!
“. . . it has a misspelling.” Kaia smiled and motioned up. My eyes followed her gaze until I saw, for the first time, that the words “Save the Shark” had a smudge on them that made it appear to proclaim, “Save the Shart.” What was worse, the shark I had painstakingly drawn to look as harmless and sympathetic as possible now had a stain that, combined with the modified phrase, evoked a billowing, poopy fart!
Kaia stifled a laugh. “I don’t think anyone else noticed, but it was distracting me all day!” I pulled down the sign, wanting to hide it, destroy it, make it disappear. “It’s kinda funny.”
“Yeah. So funny.” I tried to play along as I furiously wiped at the smudge. I hoped it was some airborne pollutant that had landed during the march and not a freakin’ typo I had completely missed. But the more I scrubbed, the smudgier it got. And the smudgier it got, the further the moment I had waited for all day . . . all year . . . slipped away.
Kaia took a big chug from her water bottle and then sighed. “Well, I think I’m screamed out for the day.”
She was wrapping up the conversation. I had to redeem myself before she left. “Yeah, probably gonna need some honey tea tonight. For your throat.” Great one, Cam. Now you sound like her mom.
“Not sure they’ll have that at Steve Stevenson’s party. But you never know. Are you going?” she asked as she spun the cap closed on her water bottle.
“To Steve Stevenson’s? The guy who is incapable of passing a locker without drawing a penis on it? Yeah. I’m not super into alcohol poisoning and date rape.” I laughed and was sure she would, too.
But she didn’t.
Instead she just picked up her bag and continued, “Yeah. I know. Not your scene. But, um, you should come? It will give me someone to talk to.”
Hold on. Was she going to Steve Stevenson’s party? And was she . . . ? Did she . . . want me to go?
“Your sign . . .” Kaia warned. I looked down and saw that I’d absently let my sign go and a breeze had taken it into the air and right toward the bay.
“Oh my god. No. Stop!” I pleaded with the sign. But it was too late. It wafted into the chilly water, landing like a toxic shart-covered surfboard.
“Litterer!” a fellow protestor howled.
“You should go get that. That bay is already super polluted from runoff.” Kaia winced, clearly embarrassed for me.
Torn in two directions, I reassured her, “I know! I—Um—I’m going, but yes! I’ll be there . . .” And as I ran toward the bay, I clarified, “At the party! I’ll be at the party . . .”
On any other day, the thought of going to a party at Steve Stevenson’s house probably would have been as appealing as going to an NRA meeting at a strip club. While his parties were “legendary,” I was pretty certain they were just the usual mix of boring teenage rebellion and horny drunkenness. But with Kaia there, it might actually be the perfect spot for us to bond over feeling out of place and detached from normal high school stupidity. So I laid all my best T-shirt options on my bed and searched for the one that said just the right thing. One that might start a conversation or that she’d tease me about. Or maybe we would even be wearing the same one!
The obvious choice would be the “Save the Wetlands” shirt. It was our biggest success. We had camped out together. How could she forget? But when I saw that the shirt had a permanent sweat stain from the last time I’d almost asked Kaia out, I thought I should take a different tack.
I held up my Princess Leia “A Woman’s Place Is in the Resistance” shirt, but since I had never actually seen Star Wars, it might come off as a bit superficial. (My mom wasn’t really a fan of fantasy and sci-fi and steered me toward stories about kids with disabilities or minority voices.)
“Destroy the Patriarchy, Not the Planet” didn’t feel right for a party. I didn’t imagine we were going to dance on top of any tables, but I also didn’t want to seem like I was there to purposely bum everyone out.
“Books Not Guns” and my women’s World Cup soccer jersey didn’t feel quite right either.
I seriously considered my “No Human Is Illegal” shirt, but because Kaia was Latinx, I didn’t want to seem like I was pandering to her.
Finally, I held up the forest-green shirt with the graphic of a tree and the word “Hugger” underneath. That seemed like the right mix of fun and thoughtful I was looking for. And it also said “Hugger,” which couldn’t hurt.
Tonight was the night I would finally ask Kaia Gonzales out.
I’d seen a lot of horrible things in my life—oil spills, riverbeds choked with garbage, baby sea turtles trapped in nets—and I knew all those things were more upsetting than what I was seeing right now, but somehow I couldn’t make my brain accept it. This had to be worse.