Chapter 10 - I'll Be a Home for You

bryn tries to make a new friend, and to no one’s shock, it goes obscenely badly

JJ

The next day, I’m in the cafeteria, scanning it for Bryn and Monique, but they’re nowhere to be seen.

I spot Emmy and Paige with the footballers. Brad has an arm draped over Paige’s chair and the other is on Emmy’s. I roll my eyes. He’s such a flirt. With everyone. The fact that it never bothered me when we were dating should have been my sign to break up with him sooner.

I could join them. Squeeze in next to Paige and eat my lunch, and no one would bat an eye at me sitting there. But the whole football team is there. I might technically know English, but there’s a world of difference between being in a small group and at a large table of overlapping chats and overcrowded screams. When I was with Brad, I used to spend the whole lunch period nodding and smiling, hoping no one asked me anything directly, praying they didn’t notice how hard my head was spinning as I tried to understand them.

My skin prickles at the mere idea of being there again. I sit down at the empty table.

You’re not eating lunch alone; you’re waiting for Bryn and Monique. You don’t eat lunch alone here.

I take my makeup and headphones out of my backpack. Two coats of my lip gloss work like medicine, reducing the prickling of my skin. I shove my headphones on and watch a recording of the last cheerleading practice.

And by that, I mean I hate-watch Aang. Every hurtful thing he’s said to me so far flashes in my head like the end credits of a depressing film. And yet, I cannot help but be impressed. He’s doing a much better job backspotting than I thought he would. His manic obsession with the tiniest details has translated well into cheerleading.

He looks like he’s calculating angles and weight distributions every time he’s involved in a stunt. I see how he changes the depth of his squat, whether he holds my calf or knee, and even the adjustments he makes to the way my foot is pointed in the air.

I zoom in on his stupid face.

That little piece of shit is making me a better flyer.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing!” I slam my phone, screen down, on the table. “Where’s Bryn?” I screech at frowning Monique.

She dusts off her cashmere sweater even though there’s not a speck of dirt on it. “I have no idea.”

I survey the cafeteria again, and when I spot Bryn’s ginger bob and her favorite green overalls, nausea spreads over me. A terribly familiar face with a scowl is sitting in front of her.

“We have to go over there.” I shoot to my feet, grab my stuff, and sprint to their table.

“JJ, Monique!” Bryn waves when we come closer. “Our new teammate isn’t very chatty yet, but his friend is delightful.”

“Hi!” Remy greets us. “Sit down!”

I shake my head. “That’s not necessa—”

Bryn snatches my backpack off my shoulder. She opens the bag and drops my lunchbox onto the table. “Eat! You need energy, or the wind will blow you away while you’re in extension.”

Monique sits next to Bryn. The stack of gold bracelets clangs on her wrist as she puts in her earphones.

Which leaves me with the chair next to Aang. Great. Just great. I pray quickly that they won’t talk over each other or involve Aang in the conversation, and then sit down.

“So we were just talking about Remy’s parents! Did you know they met at a football game?” Bryn clasps her fork between her hands. “How romantic! That is exactly the type of thing that should happen to me.” She giggles, her cherry earrings dangling back and forth. “Speaking of football …” She turns her gaze to Aang. “Are you excited for your first time cheerleading at a game?”

He shifts in his seat. No words come out. I tap my nails on my Tupperware, the noise filling the silence. One, three, five, seven.

“Of course he’s excited! It’s been his dream to be a cheerleader since he was a little boy!” Remy pinches Aang’s cheek. Aang swats Remy’s hand away.

“As it should have been!” Bryn beams. “Cheerleading at football games is so fun.”

Aang makes a sound somewhere between a grunt and a huff, his eyes fixed on his lunch.

I open my Tupperware with shaky hands, and the smell of garlic overwhelms even the baked tomatoes. Oh no. Dad put too much garlic in my jollof rice. He claims it’s anti-inflammatory and will help with my period cramps. But at what stinking cost? And why do I have to eat it even when I’m not on my period?

Monique surveys Aang, who’s moving his chopsticks robotically from the plate to his mouth. She mouths at me, Him, really?

Heat flares through my cheeks, and the garlic debacle takes a back seat. I glare back at her. Not anymore! Stop judging me!

Remy drops his fork into his mashed potatoes, turning to Aang. “You need to be more excited! My dad moved our hunting trip a whole week to make sure we’re at the game!”

Bryn’s jaw drops, a piece of tofu falling out of her mouth. “You hunt?”

“I do technically have a hunting license.” Remy attempts to fish the fork out of his food. “But mostly I walk behind my dad with an unloaded gun while he hunts.”

Monique takes one of her earphones out.

Remy shrugs. “It’s a guys’ trip.” He manages to rescue his fork. Aang hands him a napkin to clean the handle. “And he lets me push the boundaries of camo makeup. Last trip, I used a highlighter to bring out his cheeks. He did not like it.” He waves his now-clean fork around. “Said it scared off the wildlife, and I should have stuck to the bronzer.”

Bryn opens and closes her mouth. Monique takes out her second earphone. I grab my water bottle to relieve my dry throat.

“Either way, enough about hunting!” Remy puts down his fork, and it almost lands in the mashed potatoes again. “How’s Aang at cheerleading practices? Is he really popular?”

Bryn claps. “Yes, all the girls are obsessed with the fact that he’s on the team!”

Aang tries to disguise his snort as a cough, but no one is fooled.

“It’s true! The freshman said we’re so lucky to have a hot guy on the team.”

I choke on my water. “Which ones?” I croak out.

“Doesn’t matter. I told them to focus on boys their age.”

My metal bottle lands on the table with a loud thud, but Bryn is fully focused on Aang. “You’re on Mathletes with JJ?”

“Yeah, Aang’s the captain,” Remy says.

“Captain as a junior? You must be really good at math!”

“Not good enough to solve a logic question without my help,” I mumble.

Aang grips his chopsticks harder.

“Soon he’s going to be the best backspot at the school!” Remy says.

“He has an excellent flyer.” Bryn winks at me. “Makes stuff easier.”

Aang’s grimace transforms into a sweet smile. “You mean Addy?”

My foot twitches. “Addy kicked you in the face yesterday.”

“An honest mistake.” He shrugs. “But you wouldn’t know anything about honest mistakes, would you?” he hisses under his breath.

I kick him under the table. Or rather, attempt to. He moves his leg out of the way.

“Really, Józefina-Ibifubara?” He glares at me.

Bryn looks between us. “What did he call you?”

“Nothing,” I say quickly.

“Nothing?” Aang scoffs. “Let me tell you—”

I attempt to kick him again. He catches my leg with his, trapping it against my chair. “You tried to kick me twice?”

“Sorry.” I try to rip my leg out of his hold, but he’s not budging. “An honest mistake.”

His eyes blaze behind his glasses.

“So …” Remy coughs. “Does anyone want to see my embroidery?”

“Yes, please.” Bryn nods frantically. “I don’t know what it is, but I do.”

Aang lets go of my leg, and the absence of his grip makes my skin ten degrees cooler.

“Don’t judge too hard. I’m only halfway done.” Remy pulls out a square of white cotton stretched tight in a wooden hoop, tiny stitches blooming across its surface.

“That’s so pretty!” Bryn focuses on every detail of the work: the autumn trees, the seasonal harvest, the migratory birds. My shoulders relax. This is a safe conversation topic—no involving Aang, no disclosing my real name.

“These pink flowers!” Bryn follows the lines of the needlework, her finger hovering above the fabric. Recognition sparks on her face, and my heart stops as she points at Aang. “They look like what you brought JJ last ye—”

“Bryn.” Monique slices through her sentence.

Bryn clasps her hand over her mouth, and only the threat of losing my visa by murdering a US citizen stops me from strangling her.

“Huh?” Remy looks between Aang and me. “You brought her camellias last year?”

Aang closes his eyes and puts his chopsticks down. The table is deathly silent for five seconds until he opens them again. “I tried.” His voice is steel. “Too bad she denied knowing me and said I’m not her type to those two.”

“What?” Remy’s eyes snap to me, cracking with betrayal.

Shame settles on me like dust. “He kicked me out of Mathletes a week before that! He said our friendship was a waste of his time!”

Aang stands up, his chair scraping the floor. He looks at Remy. “Well, you wanted to know, so there you go. What a lovely lunch that was. Can’t wait to see you all at the game.” He marches away.