“I don’t buy it.” She lifts a yellow mango. “The yellow ones are cheaper. Should we get them?”
Frowning now, I mutter, “I like the other ones better.”
“Well, if you’re treating,” Mom responds, an edge of cold now tightening her words.
My stomach squeezes in response, and I feel the exact moment she decides my tone is an affront. She’sjust trying to help, and I’mjust being difficult. The worst part is that she’s right. I am on edge and anxious. I don’t want to go to school tomorrow, a sensation I haven’t had since high school. I’m notfine, but I also know she can’thelp. At least not without my welcoming her into places that invite more pressure than I can bear.
After all, I’mbrilliant.
That word, I’ve come to know, means that I will always be doing too much and too little all at once. With no directions available. And no relief.
Confined to half-silence and brief exchanges, we make it through our shopping for the week and drift toward the art displays.
Mom’s voice remains distant as she asks, “Did you want to look through these stands, or were you ready to go?”
“I’m fine with whatever,” I offer. “If you’re tired, we can go.”
She tutts. “You love this part each year.I’m fine. Lead the way.”
I wince, and the twist of anxiety in my stomach flares to life anew as the whole of the crowded streets and the stands are all at once too overwhelming to process.Lead the way?Lead the wayto where?
Standing still, I try to make it look like I’m considering where I want to go, what I want to look at, but my mind feels blank and crowded at the same time.
Justwalk.
Taking a breath, I force my legs to move me to the nearest booth. It has little wooden sculptures. Tiny bears. Friendly squirrels with painted eyes. My heart pounds. I fix a smile on my face and point at the small form of a chipmunk. “Isn’t he cute?”
Mom brightens some, and I tell myself that’s my cue tocalm down, but my nerves don’t get the memo even as Mom points at two little swans snuggled together in a heart shape. “How sweet are they?”
“Calypso?”
My name breathes through the endless noise of the crowd, and my heart stops.
I look up, searching for the owner of the voice, and find Lex beside another tall boy with dark skin and a mop of curly hair. Realization flutters through the brown boy’s eyes, and he looksat Lex. “That’syour sugar glider?”
Sugar glider?
I blink at them, my stomach sloshing as panic swells.
“Oh?” My mother’s voice presses against my back, all sweet swans forgotten.
Lex elbows his friend in the side. “Ha ha. You’re a riot, Jason.” Clearing his throat, he says, “Calypso, Jason. Jason, Calypso.” Introductions effectively out of the way, he doesn’t even wait for us to greet each other before he stuffs his hands in his pockets and teases me. “What brings you to this neck of the woods, sugar?”
Mom is at my side in an instant, her dark head practically popping over my shoulder. She beams. “It’s shopping day, and we’re taking advantage of the fresh market.”
Lex looks between us, then something crosses through his eyes. His whole demeanor transitions, flawlessly. “Mrs. Kole…is it?” He extends a hand, standing somewhat straighter. “I’m Lex. Calypso’s classmate. I take it she hasn’t mentioned me.”
“No,” Mom hums, taking his hand and shaking it. “But is that any surprise?”
Their mutual laughter gnaws at something in my chest, and I find the tips of one of my braids already locked between my fingers before I know I’ve reached for it. If Lex saysanythingabout the play, I’ll be in for some lengthy explanations and cold shoulder. Likewise, if I try to secretly take him aside and tell him not to mention anything, I’ll look completely suspicious and I won’t hear the end of how I’m hiding things from her.
“So Calypso’s just as reserved at home as she is at school.” Lex glances at me, chuckling kindly. “I suppose that’s reassuring. I was almost inclined to take it personally.”
I let my eyes narrow on him, because he absolutelyshouldtake it personally.
His gentle expression doesn’t falter.
Mom nudges me. “Don’t be rude, Caly. It’s so rare I meet any of your friends.”
