There was a beat of silence. For a moment, the only sound in the car was my panting. The guy’s face scrunched up. “Who are you?”
Enraged, I shoved all my stupid T-shirts off the bed.
“Gaaaaah!!!!” I stood in the middle of the rainbow of fabric and a terrible realization flickered to life. Steve had probably told Kaia everything. Why wouldn’t he? It was too easy to imagine him leaning over with his stupid smirk, telling her how I was obsessed with her. That I was some sort of stalker who’d wandered around the whole party looking for her. I was so stupid. So fucking stupid! I deserved it. I’d waited so long. Why had I waited so long? I crashed onto the bed and screamed into my pillow.
I had to get back at Steve. Somehow.
I chucked my pillow across the room and brainstormed the worst thing I could do to him. Get a nationwide ban on Solo cups? Crash the Grand Theft Auto server? Block all porn?
“End his party.” The idea was so good I’d said it out loud. I sat up, inspired. “I should call the police. There’s underage drinking, weed . . . They would shut down his stupid party in a second! Even with his dad there.”
I grabbed my phone and pulled up Ventura PD.
“Not afraid of anything, huh? I bet you’re afraid of the cops showing up at your door.”
But as I was about to hit call, my signed photo of Michelle Obama caught my eye. On the top she’d written the words, When they go low, we go high, Cam. Her warm, smiling visage stared back at me, asking if this was who I really was. Was I going to be just like Steve? Petty? Cruel? Selfish?
Was this where I went low?
“Goddamn it, Michelle!” I clicked off the phone and flopped back on my bed. I could only imagine Steve’s giddy laughter if he ever saw her photo on my dresser. But screw him.
This wasn’t the first time Michelle had stopped me from doing something stupid. That photo had watched over me since the day my mother and I had waited four hours to get it. That day I was one of the only teenage boys in the entire line, which was pretty common for us. I was also one of the only teenage boys at the Ventura Women’s March and the local Planned Parenthood fundraiser. My mom and I always joked about it. Actually, I was pretty proud of it, even if my mom would always find a time to proclaim to the crowd, “I’ve got the best boy in the whole damn world!” I shouldn’t have been surprised that when we finally reached Mrs. Obama, she had clearly heard my mother’s unsubtle brag. “So, this is the best boy in the whole damn world?” she asked with a mischievous smile. I blushed and made a lame joke. And she laughed. Michelle Obama freakin’ laughed at my joke! Then she signed my photo and told us how heartened she was to see me. When Michelle Obama looks at you with those deep thoughtful eyes and tells you she is heartened to see you, that shit stays with you.
“Okay, I can rise above it. I can go high,” I assured Michelle.
Though now I felt even worse because I saw how weak I was. How quickly I was willing to ignore my own values because of some moronic proto frat boy with a shit-eating grin.
“I’m so stuuuuppiiidd! I’m the worst!” I screamed.
Knock. Knock.
I shouldn’t have screamed.
“Cam?” My mom, her worry evident even through the closed door.
“Sorry, Mom.”
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
But she opened the door anyway and peeked in. “You sure?”
“I’m fine.”
She tilted her head, confused, and motioned to the crumpled pillow on the floor. “Oh, okay. Because your pillow called and wanted to file an assault charge.”
“Very funny.”
She smiled and walked over to my bed. “What’s wrong?” she asked, looking down on me like I was a wounded baby bird.
The last thing I wanted to do was tell my mom I went to some generic high school drinking party. It’s not like she would have any sympathy for that. She’d tell me it served me right for even wasting my time on something so pointless. Instead, I covered with a different truth. One she could get behind.
“The protest didn’t go as well as I hoped. People have a hard time understanding that Channel Islands Aqua Park isn’t an aquarium. It’s a theme park. They don’t care about conservation. Sure, they may say the shark’s living in an open water sea pen. But it’s really a cage. Sharks need to swim forty-five miles a day.”
“Hey, Superman, you can’t change the world in a day, okay?”
“I know. I think we raised awareness, though. The organizers are planning to get a petition started to ban the shark tank. Realistically, the city council’s our best option, even though it may take a while. I signed up for a couple signature shifts.”
My mom sat on the side of my bed. “Hey, did you hear the news?”
“What?” I knew the answer, but didn’t want to rob her of saying it.
“I’ve got the best boy in the whole damn world.” She mussed my hair.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
“And I don’t have to share credit with any other dickwad, because I did it all by myself. I get full credit, right?”
“Sort of.”
She frowned. “Hey, your asshole father doesn’t get squat for those seven bullshit years he was barely here!”
“I was talking about Michelle.” I smiled and motioned to the photo.
My mom laughed. She then took a deep breath, a little embarrassed at her outburst, and leaned next to me. “Fine. Me and Michelle Obama. I can live with that.”
God, I hope Michelle never tells her what goes on in here.
7
The first week after the party, I spent most of my time on anxious lookout for Steve. I was certain he was going to burst from behind every corner like a deranged fun-house clown and scream out, “Where’s Kaia?” Then he’d cackle, fake punch me, explode into hysterics after I flinched, do a chest bump with one of his friends, pop open a Rockstar, chug it, crush it, and saunter away as cheerleaders danced behind him, chanting, “Steve! Steve! Steve!”
As for Kaia, whenever I saw her, I panic-ducked behind a trophy case or into freshman algebra. I couldn’t bear seeing a look on her face that would confirm Steve had blabbed everything to her. My current plan was to stay invisible until next summer. Steve would have broken up with her by then, since his girlfriends never lasted longer than a month or two, and Kaia and I could bond over what a jerk he was. Then maybe I could start to paint over the shitty caricature he’d drawn of me in her mind. I’d have to do something amazing, like save a dozen sharks. But it would be worth it.
The final bell had rung and school was clearing out. I walked with my hoodie up, earbuds in, and eyes down, trying to be as invisible as possible while debating what new cause I could join. Saving the shark would mean running into Kaia, so that had to go. I was pretty sure I would melt into a humiliated puddle if I got within five feet of her. I hoped I could find something on the school’s Wall of Service bulletin board that would be a good replacement.
WHAM! Suddenly I was much, much closer than five feet. I wasn’t even five inches. I was on top of Kaia. I leaped back.
“Kaia! Sorry, I didn’t see you,” I mumbled, ready to run for the bathroom and hide in it until morning if necessary, when she spoke.