Page 34 of Goodbye Days

I put my finger to my lips to shush her, even though Mom’s in her bedroom. “I was totally kidding.”

Georgia hugs me gingerly, wincing.

“No I wasn’t,” I murmur midhug.

She pushes me away. “Don’t be such an actual, literal hog around Jesmyn.”

I contort my face into a cheery grin and speak in a robotic voice. “We here at Carver Industries value your feedback! Your comments are important to us! Unfortunately, we are not accepting personal criticisms at this time!”

“The cool thing about that joke is how it never gets old.”

“The cool thing about your face is how it never gets old.”

“Okay, well, this has been fun. Have a great first day, dingus.”

“I’ll try. Bye, Mom!” I call in the direction of my parents’ bedroom.

My dad’s already left for work at Belmont University. Today was his first day back too. My mom comes out of her bedroom, where she’s been preparing for work, and meets me at the front door as I’m leaving. She hugs me and kisses me on the cheek. She’s perfumed with the sort of no-nonsense lotion that smells like pleasant chemicals but works really well. “Have a good day, sweetie.” There’s a wistful tinge to her voice. It wouldn’t surprise me if she were remembering the two mothers and one grandmother who aren’t bidding their boys farewell today for school.

I take off my blazer on my way down my front walk, remembering that Jesmyn’s AC doesn’t work. I open the door and get in. It’s a lot cleaner than the last time I was in it. It looks like she vacuumed. I smell vanilla. Jesmyn is wearing tight black jeans and black ankle boots with a blue denim western shirt. Something about how immaculately she’s put together makes my gently seething nervousness roil. Oh, right. School really is starting today. Not that I’d forgotten, but…

“Miss Punctuality,” she says. “Go me. And now for that hug I owe you.” She leans over and we embrace for several seconds. It simultaneously takes the edge off my nervousness and hones it to a new sharpness.

“You look nice.” I sit back and buckle my seat belt. She drives off.

“Thanks. I’m surprised I even fit in these jeans right now. My mom made my favorite breakfast and I completely pigged out.”

“What was it?”

“Biscuits and gravy, grits, country ham. Fresh-squeezed orange juice.”

“That’s funny that’s your favorite breakfast.”

“Why?”

Oh, shit. Shoulda thought before speaking. “Because—”

“Because I’m of Asian descent and therefore it’s funny that I enjoy Southern food? I’m from Jackson, Tennessee, dude. Racist.”

My stupid mouth. “No, I’m sorry, I totally didn’t intend it that way. I mean, maybe I did a little, but I swear I wasn’t trying to be an asshole.”

She laughs. “I’m just giving you shit. That is racist, though.”

“I really didn’t mean any offense.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I say dumb stuff when I’m nervous.”

“At least it’s not your first day at a new school in a new city.” She pauses with a smirk. “Full of racists.”

“I deserve that.” I roll down my window the rest of the way and rest my elbow on the sill. “It’s because it’s not a new school that I’m nervous. Everybody knows what happened. Everyone’s going to be staring and whispering probably.” As I say it, the bubbling inside me begins to boil faster.

“Eli said people are generally pretty cool there.”

“They are. Mostly.” Mostly when Adair isn’t turning the screws on them, though. I angle a vent blowing tepid air toward my face. “Ever notice how every time we hang out, we’re both sweating our asses off?”

“We’ve always hung out in August.”