Chapter 19 - I'll Be a Home for You

i have a shot of vodka, and my neurons die

(a retroactive note from jj: contrary to popular belief, alcohol does not kill brain cells)

(a retroactive note from aang: it sure as hell felt like it)

Aang

I lie on my bed, trying to find a Hong Kong claypot online. Ten dollars? That cannot be authentic enough.

One day, I’ll go to Hong Kong and buy one myself, even talk to the cashier in Cantonese. But for now, I’ll have to do with the wonders of online retail since I need one for Chinese New Year in February. I overheard Michael and the others making plans for CNY, and I decided this year I’m going to make my parents celebrate properly. No more Panda Express.

I’m scrolling through another website when JJ video calls me.

I scramble up and press the green icon. “Hi!”

“Why aren’t you in your costume yet?”

I groan and flop back down onto my back. “Do I have to go?”

“I won’t even entertain that question.” She rolls her eyes. Dark green eyeshadow sparkles on her eyelids.

“Well, what are you going as?”

“You’ll only find out when you show up to the party. Not if. When.”

“Is that Aang?” Bryn appears from behind JJ. She’s wearing a purple top and a seashell in her red hair. “Tell him that I simply have to see him at the party!” She bangs on the door in the background. “Monique, get out of the bathroom! How long can it take you to do a side braid?”

“Please come. If you don’t show up, I’ll be …” JJ searches for a word. “Wait a second, I learned a new adjective …” She closes her eyes and scrunches her nose.

I take a screenshot before I consider what this means.

“Despondent! I will be despondent.”

“And I don’t want to make you”—I hold in a laugh— “despondent?”

“No, you don’t.”

No, I don’t.

I cough to avoid saying that out loud. “Remy’s going to be here soon. He put himself in charge of my costume.”

“Oh, then there’s nothing to worry about.” JJ sighs in relief.

Another bang from the background.

“I have to go before Bryn commits a hate crime. I’ll see you at the party.” She hangs up.

Brad’s party is all I heard about at the last two partner-stunt trainings. Bryn went through the list of possible attendees. Apparently, people from other schools are coming. She wondered how many kegs Brad would supply. Talked about every song she needed played.

JJ kept getting quieter with every failed stunt attempt. All the enthusiasm from the first session was bleeding out of her.

I exit the claypot website and open the photo app. I knew throwing someone up and catching them standing would be challenging, but I hadn’t realized just how difficult it would be. Three sessions so far, and we’ve managed to hit it only a few times.

I scroll through the videos from the sessions. I pause on one clip and zoom in, studying my form. My hand was too far from my shoulder. That’s probably why—

My bedroom door slams open, and I drop my phone on my face.

Remy barges in with three plastic bags. “Get up! Get up! Get up!”

I get off the bed. “What’s this?”

“Your costume.” He hands me a green T-shirt, a green hoodie, and matching green track pants.

“That’s it? What am I supposed to be?”

“Just put it on. No complaining.”

I take off my T-shirt, and he checks me over. “Have you been going to the gym without me?” He pokes my stomach.

I double over, grunting in pain. “Why did you have to put so much force into that?”

“Just making sure it isn’t fake.”

I put on the green T-shirt. “No, I haven’t started going to the gym. With or without you.”

“It must be cheerleading, then. I’m impressed. You still have chicken legs, though.”

I throw the old T-shirt at him. “Aren’t Southern belles supposed to be polite?”

He shrugs. “Sometimes New England gets to me.”

After I change into the hoodie and pants, Remy puts a green headband with frog eyes on my head.

“I’m going as a frog?” I frown.

He attaches a small gold crown between the eyes. “You’re going as a frog prince.”

“Why?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.” He starts changing into his costume.

I don’t argue further. It could have been much worse. I could have been forced to dress as a pirate. Or a lifeguard. Or a firefighter. Or any of the above, but shirtless.

But a frog prince? It’s a well-known story, but there’s another memory I have of it …

Remy breaks my train of thought. “I’m ready.” He’s in one of his red football jerseys with black markings smeared under his eyes.

“That’s not a costume, that’s your Sunday attire—oh my god. Is this”—I can only get the next part out in a whisper—“because of Brad?”

“No! What an outlandish suggestion.” Remy turns red.

“What’s up with everyone I know and Brad? My best friend, my …” I search for the correct description.

The pause is a mistake, because Remy descends on it like a vulture.

“The girl you’ve been obsessed with since the first day of high school?”

I dart for the door. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“The girl you joined cheerleading for? Or—”

“Mom!” I shout as I open the door. “I think we’re ready to go!”

“Let me get my keys!” she squeals.

I don’t know who’s more excited. JJ, Remy, or her.

We arrive at Brad’s, and I cannot even attempt to estimate the number of people flowing into his two-story house. Maybe Mom should drive me home.

“Don’t make that face.” She shakes her head. “I’m not driving you home.”

“But—”

“It’s your first high school party! This is how it all starts. Today, a party, tomorrow, you’re dreaming of going to a liberal arts college, and in four months, you’re deciding to do a gap year.”

Blasphemous. You’d think my Chinese mother could at least endorse majoring in mathematics at Stanford. I bet JJ’s parents bought her a medical coat the second she was born.

I try a different method to get her to take me home. “But what if there’s alcohol?”

“You can drink it, but not too much. You don’t want a hangover tomorrow.”

“But what if …”

“Remy, you know what to do.”

Remy drags me out of the car.

“Have fun!” My mom waves. “Tell JJ to send me a photo of her costume!” The car tires screech, leaving marks on the asphalt.

I watch the car disappearing around the bend. “My mother is so irresponsible.”

“I know, we’re so lucky to have her.” Remy grabs my arm. “Now, party!” His cowboy boots make a clopping sound as he marches toward the entrance.

The inside of the house is precisely what I feared it would be. Popular music is blasting through speakers set around the living room. My ears will be ringing for hours after leaving this establishment. There are people everywhere, pushing past me with their red cups. A ping-pong ball hits me in the back of the head. This is a nightmare.

“This is so cool!” Remy pulls me into the kitchen. “Let’s get some beer.”

“I don’t want a beer.”

“But I do.” He grabs a can from a bowl filled with ice and looks around. “Where do you think Brad could be? We need to thank him for hosting us.”

Southern manners, my ass.

We push past people and, for a high school party, a surprising number of vases full of fresh flowers. The sickly sweet scent hits my nose. As if not enough of my senses have been assaulted so far.

We get some breathing room against the wall opposite the front door, where the floor is miraculously not sticky. I’m sure the situation will be rectified soon.

Remy stares at the living room’s crowd with wide eyes while I take my phone out to text JJ. What if she arrives super late and I’m left here on my own, my eyes abused by having to watch Remy flirt with Brad? Or what if she doesn’t come at all? Maybe she and her friends changed plans at the last minute. Or what if …

Remy sighs. “I’m a genius.”

I look up from my phone. “What are you talking about?”

He points to where three girls dressed in green, blue, and purple are striding through the door, and my knees buckle under me.

Her hair is in a bun, and a gold tiara rests on her head. She’s wearing a short green dress and white elbow-length gloves. Her gaze goes straight to me, and a smile spreads across her face. She says something to Bryn and Monique and walks toward us. She looks like a princess. She is a princess.

She is … a green princess.

The Princess and the Frog.

I’m dressed like a frog.

The ground wobbles below my feet.

“You.” I point a finger at snickering Remy. “How did you know?”

“It must be a lucky coincidence.”

“Remy …” I rasp out as she gets stopped by a group of people but waves them away and keeps moving in our direction.

“I might have one or two classes with Bryn. But she wouldn’t know anything about it either.”

JJ gives me a light tap on the shoulder. “You actually came!”

“Yeah! Hi!” My voice cracks like I’m thirteen again.

Remy buries his face in his hands.

JJ looks me up and down, and my heartbeat quickens. “So, your costume—”

“Remy chose it! I had nothing to do with it!”

“Oh …” Something flashes over her face. “Okay.” She turns to Remy. “Thanks for dressing Aang up and getting him here. I can’t imagine how hard it had to be with all the kicking and screaming.”

“Mrs. Lau and I planned on sedating him. But he wasn’t fighting it as much as we thought he would …” He strokes his chin. “I wonder why that is?”

“Brad!” I spit out. “Remy was really excited to talk about embroidery with Brad, so obviously we had to come.”

“I see.” JJ’s smile wavers, but she gets it back on. “Brad’s there.” She points to some people playing drunk Twister in the dining room.

Everybody’s so creative these days.

Remy springs to life even more than before. “Let’s go talk to him!”

“I’ll stay here.” I need to get a grip on my eloquence before attempting more conversations with JJ.

Remy ignores me, already walking away, dragging JJ along with him. She glances at me over her shoulder but keeps walking.

I lean against the wall, watching as they approach Brad. He hugs her, probably telling her how pretty she looks and referencing the time they watched The Princess and the Frog together when she was dating him.

Why didn’t I ever watch the movie with her? Oh right, I refused to watch Disney movies after seeing Mulan in elementary school for Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month. And having my teacher ask me about the accuracy of it, and me having to tell her I knew nothing about Chinese culture.

But Mulan is not The Princess and the Frog. So maybe we should watch it. I could say I haven’t watched a movie in a while, and if she was interested … We’re friends. Friends watch movies together.

“Wanna know why they broke up?”

I yelp, my heart breaking out of my body. I turn around, clutching my chest.

Bryn is standing in front of me with two shot glasses in her hands.

“What did you say?” I breathe out.

“Wanna know why they broke up?”

“Who?”

Bryn points to the Twister area. “Who you’ve been staring at like a stalker.”

My ears burn. “I’m not a stalker.”

“Don’t worry, I think it’s very romantic! Just like in Love & Basketball!” She hugs the glasses to her chest.

“I don’t know that book.”

Her smile falls. “Maybe I don’t want to help you.” She starts walking away.

“No, wait! How … why did they break up?”

“Sorry, I don’t volunteer information for free.” She wiggles her finger. “You have to pay.”

“I have one hundred in cash.”

“Not in money!” She hands me a glass. “In alcohol!”

“I don’t drink.”

She takes the shot away from me. “Then you’re not finding out from me.”

That’s fine. I don’t need to know. It’s private information concerning private individuals. Except … what if I accidentally reference their breakup and JJ gets upset? If I knew the details, I could avoid saying the wrong thing. Yes, that makes sense. That’s not complete gibberish.

I glance toward the Twister area, where JJ (and, I guess, Remy) is laughing at something Brad said.

I grab the shot.

“Fine, I’ll do it.” I smell the glass and gag. “Jesus. Are you planning on poisoning me?”

“That would be illegal.”

“So is drinking underage.”

“That’s less illegal.” She points to my glass. “If I were you, I’d drink it in one go.”

Oh, what the hell. My mother said to drink a little. I tip the shot into my mouth.

It takes everything in me to swallow the liquid instead of spitting it back into the glass. My throat is burning. My stomach stirs. My neurons are dying one by one. How many neurons die from one shot of alcohol? How many neurons are there to kill? JJ would know. I cough. And then I cough some more.

Bryn raises her eyebrows. “So, I take it you’ve never drunk vodka before.”

“No, I haven’t,” I rasp.

“The things we do for love.” Bryn drinks her shot without flinching.

“I have to sit down.” I slide down the wall. My mouth is scorched. Isn’t vodka the one where you need something to chase it with? Why didn’t she give me anything to chase it with?

Wait.

I did this for a reason.

Bryn slides down next to me. “She broke up with him.”

My head gets hotter. It’s probably the alcohol coursing through my poor brain. “The agreement was you tell me why.”

“Oh yeah! She told us she broke up with the hot quarterback because he didn’t get her flowers for International Women’s Day. Who gives flowers for Women’s Day? In high school? To be fair, Brad’s dad is a florist, so maybe it does make some sense …”

I keep my face impassive, but blood is pounding in my ears, and not all of it is due to the alcohol.

Bryn might not know what it means, but I do.