Tell Me Again How a Crush Should Feel (16 page)

“I kind of can’t believe you like me,” I say. “I mean, I fart at inappropriate times, I never know what to do with my hair, I’m awkward . . . I just don’t get it.”

Lisa looks at our hands joined together. “You’re also beautiful and kind, and you know me better than anyone else. Plus, everyone farts.” Lisa gazes into my eyes.
Swoon.
“You need to stop questioning this. If you’re not into me, just tell me.”

“Of course I’m—I mean, I’d have to be crazy not to like you.”

“And you think I’d have to be crazy to like you? That’s kind of messed up, Lei. Where did your confidence go?”

I don’t know. Lisa and I just stare at each other for a while, her hand still holding mine. That’s when mom comes in with a tray of tea and chickpea sugar cookies. Lisa moves her hand away, but my mom catches it, and her eyes widen a little bit. I wait for her to kick Lisa out or start praying in the middle of the room, but instead she invites Lisa to stay for dinner. My mom is full of the best kind of surprises.

When Dad gets home, he’s actually really excited to have Lisa over for dinner. He loves company. It gives him an opportunity to show off. He makes jokes and tells stories that the family has heard a billion times, but with guests it’s usually only their fortieth. The stories and jokes are never all that funny, but the guests laugh right along with Dad. Tonight he reminisces about Lisa and me in elementary school, when we would complain and make fun of teachers we both kind of hated. Lisa is handling it all like a pro, while I’m just sweating, wondering if Dad is going to figure out that Lisa and I are Lady Gaga for each other. But he doesn’t. He shovels down basmati rice and eggplant stew, which my mom whipped up on short notice, having remembered it’s Lisa’s favorite.

Mom kind of sneaks sideways glances at us throughout the meal. I can’t really read her expression, but I guess she’s still trying to get her head around this whole “my daughter is gay” thing. And now this “my daughter has a girlfriend” thing. Of course, Dad eventually has to kill the whole evening by bringing up college.

“So, Lisa, where do you want to go to school?” Dad asks. He’s been asking me this since I was in fourth grade.

“I’m not sure. A Dartmouth scout talked to me last soccer season.”

“Dartmouth! That’s a good school! Leila should apply there.”

I know Dad didn’t go to college in this country, but even someone from Mars should know I don’t have the grades to get into Dartmouth.

Dad goes on asking questions about Lisa’s university prospects.

“So you’re going to play football in college?”

He means soccer, but Lisa catches on.

“No. I probably won’t have time. I want to be pre-med so—”

Dad slams his hand on the table, interrupting her, and smiles broadly.

“You see, Leila! One of your friends has sense! Lisa, can you please convince my daughter to follow in your footsteps?”

“I’m trying my best.” Lisa grins, and I feel like kicking her under the table. Mom gulps more water than I have ever seen her drink in one go. “Actually, Leila’s a really good director. The kids in her play adore her. I’m sure they’ve really missed her this week.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see my mom smile.

“Well, I’m sure Leila is feeling a lot better by now,” Mom says in a tone that clearly means: You’re going to school tomorrow, kiddo. “Right, Leila?”

“If Leila feels up to it, would it be okay if I drive her to school?” Lisa asks.

I look down at my lap, afraid of the answer.

“I think that’s a fine idea.” Mom says, and I lift my head in time to see her smile warmly at Lisa. Mom then looks over at me, and I see all the love she’s ever had for me and ever will in her eyes.

Maybe everything won’t be so bad.

Maybe.

When it’s time for Lisa to leave, I walk her to the door and she kisses me on the cheek. If my parents happened to see, they wouldn’t really think it was weird, since we always kiss fellow Persians on the cheek when we say hello or good-bye. Lisa can be an honorary Persian, especially since she wants to be a doctor.

After Lisa leaves, Mom is waiting for me in my room. I finally tell her what happened at the dance, and that Dad should probably know I’m gay, because I don’t want him to find out from someone else. She wipes a tear away before telling me she’ll try to find the right time to tell him.

The ride to school the next day makes me anxious, but Lisa holds my hand the whole way, even when merging onto the highway, which is pretty impressive. She put on a mix of songs we used to listen to when we were younger. “Part of Your World” from
The Little Mermaid
comes on, and I yell, “Oh my God, you loved that movie!”

Both of us start singing along, each trying to outdo the other. Lisa has a decent singing voice, of course, because she’s so perfect. I, on the other hand, squawk like that wisecracking seagull in the movie.

Lisa grabs my hand tighter. “I guess I was a little gay from the beginning. I had a huge crush on Ariel.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“We watched that movie, like, three times a day that one summer.”

“Yeah, but I thought it was because of the story. She wanted legs, couldn’t be with her love, that sort of thing. Plus, the sidekicks were funny.”

“Well, I didn’t really
know
I had a crush on Ariel. I just thought she was pretty. I thought the prince was pretty, too.”

“So you’re bi?”

“Can’t some things just
be
? I’m a Leilabian for all I know.” We pull into the school lot, and Lisa puts the car in park and turns to me, taking my other hand. “If anyone says anything to you today, just ignore them,” she begins. “Or come find me. Some people are douche bags. But some people can be really great. Just focus on the really great ones, okay?”

I can’t help but smile. “You’re very cute, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lisa says, waving me off, but a little blush creeps up those pale cheeks of hers.

As Lisa and I walk into the school together, we’re met with a lot of glances. There are boys grinning in our direction, giving us the thumbs-up in a perverted kind of way, and there are some younger kids that giggle and snicker. But when Ashley approaches us and gives them a sneer, they all flee.

“Hi, ladies. Did you screw before you got here?” she asks. At first I’m a little scared, but Lisa laughs.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Lisa says, and Ashley grins back.

“Yuck. TMI. Listen, Leila, if you’re going to hang out with us on occasion, we need to get you a sexier look. We can talk about it at lunch.” Wow. She’s even bitchy when she’s trying to be nice.

In first period I sit next to Tess, who smiles and offers to give me her notes for the classes I’ve missed.

So that’s why you’ve been so weird,
Tess writes on her notebook and, as stealthily as she can, slides it in my line of vision.

Sorry I didn’t tell you. I wasn’t really planning on letting you know like that.
I write back in my own notebook, edging it toward her and studying her face as she reads. She bites her lower lip, and I guess she’s trying to think of the right thing to say. At least she’s still talking to me. Or writing to me, anyway.

How are you feeling?

I feel anxious, a little scared, excited.
Free,
I write.

She takes in that last note for a moment and then smiles and scribbles.
So I could have gone after Greg this whole time?


I snort but remember where I am and quiet down. Tess slides her notebook back in front of herself and pats my shoulder before writing down the lecture verbatim.

After class I try to catch up with Greg. He’s sitting in the computer lab and doesn’t look up at me when I hover next to him. I wish he would acknowledge my existence, so I could try to get some words out. Nothing comes. When the bell rings he logs out of his e-mail and walks to class, pretending I was never there.

In science class Mr. Harris tells me I can have extra time for the paper that was due Monday. He’s actually being really sweet; I guess he’s not such a bad guy after all. I still don’t understand anything in his class.

In Ms. Taylor’s class Lisa and I sit next to each other. I can feel everyone staring at us. I wonder what they think is going to happen? That we’re just going to make out on the desks and tongue wrestle through the lecture on Camus? Ms. Taylor notices all the stares.

“Guys?
The Stranger
? Any thoughts or are you all just going to keep staring at your classmates?”

Everyone gets embarrassed and goes back to the reading. Ms. Taylor gives me a wink. Lisa writes me a note.
Are you okay?
I write her back.
I think so.
I also draw a smiley face. When I get a note back, she’s drawn a heart.

At play rehearsal the kids are all excited to see me back and I’m excited to see them. They tell me Tomas was a terror while I was gone, but I can tell they still adore him. A few of the kids ask if Lisa will be at more rehearsals since we’re girlfriends. I don’t know if that’s what we really are, but it’s looking that way, and boy, word travels at light speed if it’s gotten to the middle school already.

We run through a few scenes and remind the kids that dress rehearsal is next week. After rehearsal Tomas and I walk out of the auditorium together.

“God, you and Lisa are so sickeningly cute, Tomas says. “I’m jealous.”

“Yeah we are.” I grin.

When I get into Lisa’s car at the end of the day I take her hand and hold it firmly all the way home.

My mom and dad haven’t been talking to each other for a few days, and I know it’s because of me. They’re both trying to hide it, but dinner is a dead giveaway. Mom doesn’t say anything and just pretends that everything’s okay, even though she and Dad are not communicating. Dad is being sweet to me, but it looks like something’s on his mind, and it has to be because Mom told him about me.

Everything in the house feels very fragile. I’m certain I’m going to be the first thing to break, so I call the only person who knows them as well as I do.

I call her on my cell phone in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet with the lid down. “I think Mom told Dad about me,” I whisper. “They’re being really weird. They aren’t talking to each other, but are trying to be all friendly around me.”

“Really?” Nahal asks.

“Yeah. It’s weird. Dad especially. You’d think he wouldn’t be talking to
me
instead of shutting Mom out.”

“I guess he’s shooting the messenger. Or maybe he doesn’t believe her.”

“I feel awful. If they divorce because of me, you can totally hate me forever.”

“Stop being so dramatic, Leila. He’s probably just working it all out. It’s a lot for them, being from the
old
country,” Nahal says with sarcasm in her voice. “I think it’s a good sign he’s still talking to you, though. He’s not treating you any different. Besides, would he want to talk to you about boys, either? It weirds him out, talking to us like we may actually have love lives.” That’s true. I guess that’s why Nahal doesn’t bring around anyone she dates unless it’s serious.

“Can I come live with you if they kick me out?” I ask. I can’t tell if I’m joking or serious.

Nahal just sighs. “They both love you like crazy. Don’t worry.” I spot an ant walking across the tile floor of the bathroom and I think,
You lucky so-and-so. I bet you don’t have these sorts of issues at your colony.
“Leila?” Nahal asks. “You still there?”

Barely. “Yeah. I’m here.” We both don’t say anything for a while. We’ve never really done this sort of
comforting
each other before. It’s nice but it’s strange.

“You looking forward to Farzaneh’s wedding?” Nahal asks. It’s this weekend. I had completely forgotten about it.

“No. I’m not.” Since we’re in the spirit of honesty.

“Can you believe the bridesmaid dresses are beige? Gross. Sepideh is going to look so bad. I can’t wait!” Nahal makes a barfing noise, and I’m really glad she’s my sister, something I never thought I’d feel in a million years.

Some days our ride to school is the only real time Lisa and I have together. Ms. Taylor is running a tight ship lately, and until things stop being so weird at home, it seems best if Lisa doesn’t come to the house. This weekend I have the wedding and she has a squash tournament.

“Greg’s still avoiding me, I say on Friday as she pulls away from the curb in front of my house.

“I’m sorry.”

“I just don’t get it. He’s my friend. Or I thought he was.” I look out the window as we drive down the side streets. There’s fresh snow on the trees. Lisa reaches for my hand and laces our fingers together. I turn and look at Lisa, who still pays attention to the road and drives slower than your average teenager.

“Does your mom know?” I ask. She continues to focus on the road, not even batting an eye, but she nods. “So how is she treating you?”

“She said men are pigs and my father is a great example of that, so she understands why I am experimenting.” Lisa shakes her head and I flash back to moments when Lisa’s parents would argue when driving us to soccer camp. They never yelled, but each criticized almost everything the other person did. I slowly take my hand away.

“Are you ‘experimenting’?” I ask. Lisa doesn’t answer but instead turns on her blinker and pulls over to the side of the road. The cars behind us honk as they pass, which makes her flinch. She puts the car in park and turns to look at me.

“That girl really messed with your head, didn’t she?” I’m so happy Lisa doesn’t utter her name. Thinking about Saskia makes me sick. Lisa pushes a strand of my hair behind my ear and holds my cheek with her palm. “You’re not a phase, Leila. If anything, you’re the only thing in my life that makes sense these days.” I feel all the breath escape my chest. “I don’t tell you that because I don’t want to pressure you or scare you off. You make me happy, but I don’t want to rely on you solely for that happiness. Hence, I save the feelings and sharing for my oh-so-invasive therapist.” She kisses me lightly on my cheek and lingers there as if to say,
Believe me. Trust me.
When she lets go, she raises her eyebrows and looks me in the eye.

“I’m not a phase,” I whisper, and Lisa nods.

“If you need me to be gushy, I can be. It’s just not what I’m used to. But if you need me to reassure you that you’re my love nugget, or whatever the hell it is people say these days, I can try.” Lisa’s brown eyes don’t waver at all, and my heart is pounding so hard it might burst out of my chest.

“Love nugget, huh?” I say as I watch Lisa concentrate on the road again and put the car into drive.

“As long as we never serenade one another and scare off people with our horrible singing, I think we’ll be okay,” my girlfriend says as she looks over her shoulder to merge onto the road. Of course we haven’t had the official “girlfriend” talk, but after that little display, I think it’s safe to say the girl is mine.

“Want to make out after school in your car?” I ask, finally taking some kind of ownership of my desires, and Lisa beams at me.

“Duh.”

“He just needs time,” Tess says of her new chum when I complain to her about the distance between Greg and me. Tess used to be the one asking
me
about Greg. I can’t believe the tables have turned like this. “He’s, I don’t know, angry you didn’t tell him.” What am I supposed to do? Apologize for being outted by his ex? Tess and I walk down a crowded hallway, dodging the students calling out to their friends and rushing to their next classes. I have a free period now and Tess doesn’t.

“Yeah, well, when you do speak to him, can you tell him none of this is about
him
and his ego
.
I need my friend back.” Tess splits off to get to class, and I walk to a place where I know I won’t be judged.

In the tech loft, Simone is knitting what I think is a tea cozy while Taryn lounges on a couch. Christina, sketching in her notebook, looks up at me as I enter. “Hey,” she says. She shows me what she’s been drawing. It’s the castle for the middle school play. “It’s going to be a giant backdrop painting behind your kids.” I gawk at the design. I had no idea Christina was so talented. She grins happily and pretends to dust her shoulder off.

I drop next to Taryn on the couch. She puts her arm around my shoulders and I lean my head on her shoulder in return.

“Would you be interested in signing up for the Day of Silence?” Simone asks, eyes still focused on her tea cozy.

“What is that?” I ask. Taryn takes her phone from her pocket and looks up the website. She hands me her phone, where I read that it’s a day for students to protest the harassment of LGBT people and their allies.

“I’m trying to get a bunch of signatures for support before we ask the headmaster if we can do it,” Simone explains. “I think it will be kind of cool.”

“Sign me up,” I say, exhausted. Taryn squeezes my shoulders and gives me a noogie.