You Asked for Perfect(21)

“C’mon,” Sook says. “Just for a couple songs.”

“Sook…”

“You don’t have to commit forever! If it sounds good, we can always find another violinist down the road. Please, Ariel. I think this could really help us get an agent. A couple songs. C’mon.”

Sook stares me down, eyes pleading. I know how badly she wants this. And it would be fun to play with them. And maybe if it goes well, I can even include it on my college application. This could be the passion I’m lacking.

“Please,” she says.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Okay. Fine.”

“Really?” Malka asks, eyebrow raised.

I shrug. “Yep. Really.”

“Ah! Yes!” Sook squeals. “You’re the best. Truly the best. I love you.”

“Mm-hmm,” I say. “Love you too.”

Sook and Malka launch into another song that could use some violin. I stare at my phone, nervous. Then I turn it over quick, like ripping off a Band-Aid. No response from Amir.

My stomach drops. But then, as I’m about to put the phone back down, a text comes in. Amir: I think you can apologize better than that

I quickly text back: Will you let me apologize in person? Is your family home? I can bring textbooks and snacks

My heart thumps as I wait for an answer, watching the three gray dots start and stop. Finally: Empty house for the next couple hours. If you bring Publix Bakery sugar cookies, I’ll let you in

I grin and text back: Done and done





Six


“I should never eat sweets again,” I say.

Then I pick up a second sugar cookie and bite into it.

“I must give Sook credit,” Amir says, pulling apart one of her cookies and popping a piece in his mouth. “These are incredible. Almost as good as Publix.”

I snagged some extra cookies from Sook’s house and then ran to Publix to buy sugar cookies and chocolate milk. When Amir opened the door, he peered into the bag like he didn’t trust I’d brought the goods, then nodded and said, “You may come in.”

“So.” Amir picks up a sugar cookie next and nibbles on it. My eyes flicker to his lips, and the back of my neck burns. “What happened yesterday? I thought we were working well together. And then, well, you were kind of rude.”

“Yeah.” I nod. “I, uh…”

“If something’s going on, you can talk to me.”

His unguarded gaze fixes on me, and I feel like I’m under a hundred spotlights. How does Amir know something is up when my own parents and best friend don’t suspect a thing? Maybe when you aren’t as close with someone, they have the distance to see you clearly.

Amir watches me, not with pressure, but patience. Still, my pulse races. I pick up my napkin and shred a corner of it. “Yeah, well it’s…”

No lie comes.

Maybe that’s a good thing.

“Um, the truth is—” I take a short breath, my left leg shaking up and down. I’m too wound up, shoulders too tense, heartbeat too fast. It’s like I physically can’t keep this all to myself.

So I meet Amir’s eyes. They’re dark and warm, and they steady me. “If I fail calculus, I won’t be valedictorian.”

Amir waits. He knows there’s more.

I keep shredding the napkin. “And worse than that, Harvard might find out. Why would Harvard accept someone failing—” Harvard. I could be rejected from Harvard. Years of stress and sleep deprivation for nothing. I suddenly feel ill from the sugar coursing through my system. “I’ve spent years working toward this one goal. It’s all I am. I’m not Ariel, the one with the band, or Ariel, the one with the camera. I’m Ariel, the one with the highest GPA. That’s it.” My voice cracks with the next words. “If I don’t have perfect grades, then who am I?”

Amir’s eyes flicker with sympathy, and I can tell whatever he says next will be too much for me, so I continue, “I’m sorry I snapped yesterday. Really. I shouldn’t have put any of this on you. It’s my own crap to deal with. And I know other people have real problems, like affording college, or even affording college applications. I’m just feeling sorry for myself.”

I take a short breath. Okay, Ariel. Enough talking.

“Hmm,” Amir says. He studies his spiral notebook, hands clasped in front of him. After a moment, he nods and looks up. My shoulders relax when our eyes connect. The sympathy is mostly gone, though I’m nervous he’ll want to pry further. “You know, people do have more difficult problems. But your anxieties are still real. They still count, yeah?”

A catch forms in my throat. “Yeah.”

“Do you want to talk about it more?” Amir asks.

I draw lines in my notebook, scratching until my pencil almost rips through the page. “Maybe we can just study?” I ask. “If that’s okay.”

“Sure.”

I nod and meet his gaze again. “Thanks, Amir.”

“Hey.” He smiles. “Thanks for the cookies.”

*

Two hours later, I’m leading us through my fifth consecutive problem when Amir says, “Crap.”

My pencil pauses. “What’d I do wrong?”