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“It’s not studying time, though,” I reply.

Now Isabel sounds like she’s dying of pneumonia.

“Will you knock it off?” I yell out.

“We don’t mean to pressure you, hija,” Mami says. “We love your friends, all of them. And we don’t mind that Maggie comes over here so much. She’s like one of the family. We know what she’s going through. But between her and Brendan … well, I just want to be sure you have enough time for Amalia.”

“In a few weeks the summer will be here,” Papi says. “And you’ll have all the free time in the world.”

“I know that!” I reply. “A whole, free, boring summer.”

They’re just staring at me, wondering why I said that.

When Maggie emerges, I disappear upstairs.

They don’t need to know what’s on my mind.

I can’t even figure it out.

Tuesday, 6/1

Lunch

Maggie comes over after school. Around dinnertime, we’re trying to do hwork on the front porch, but mainly just talking.

Brendan rides by on his bike. Like, oh, I just happened to turn down Royal Lane, what a surprise.

We chat. He says, “Hey, maybe we can all go out Friday.”

Maggie tells him that Tyler has to be in L.A. for an interview.

But I say yes.

I wasn’t going to study Friday night anyway.

Wednesday, 6/2

Study hall

Depressing Item #1: Today Ms. Fong assigns us a report on 1984. She assumes we’ve all read it, since it’s on our reading list.

Wrong.

Plus, she announces the final is going to be all essay questions — chosen at random from any of the topics we’ve studied all year. But she won’t say exactly which topics or which books. So we have to know everything.

Depressing Item #2: I skip lunch to meet with Ms. Sevekow about math. She explains everything. Patiently. At least three times.

I am starting to understand stuff that confused me in September.

Only eight more months to go.

Depressing Item #3: On the way to study hall, I turn the corner and see Amanda Janson talking to Dawn.

Home

Taking a break from 1984.

Got 2 write fast. Isabel & I taking turns on phone. Right now she’s dealing w/ rental car probl.

I’m supposed to call Robinsons’. The nite b4 big anniv. party, Robnsns r taking Mami & Papi to M’s college reunion in San Diego. Will stay overnite & return in time for party.

* * *

Sunny’s furious about Amanda’s big mouth. Says we HAVE to change our plans. And if Dawn suspects anything, DENY, DENY, DENY.

Ducky’s cool. Says we can plan something else.

So S & D are coming over tonight.

So’s Maggie. Again.

Says she wants to do homework. (Which is what she said yesterday.) Anyway, now she’ll help with party plans.

Then she can give me a summary of 1984.

Her dad probably worked on the movie.

Maggie stays for dinner. Leaves at 9:30. Saint Isabel says, “Things must be bad at her house.

These days, it feels like she lives her.”

You know what? I hate to say this (and don’t you dare tell anyone I did), but she has a point. It does feel like Maggie lives here.

I love Maggie, Nbook. I understand her problems. As far as I’m concerned, mi casa es su casa.

(Plus, she did help me with 1984 and math.)

But let’s face it, Maggie does have a casa of her own. Running away from her problems isn’t going to help. Sooner or later she has to face up to them.

I sure learned that the hard way. If I hadn’t faced up to James, he’d still be harassing me.

Oh, well. Must be hard for her. I mean, she’s been working so hard on her eating disorder with Dr. Fuentes. I guess a person can only handle one major crisis at a time, huh, Nbook?

Anyway, as we’re getting ready for bed, I casually mention to Mami and Papi that Brendan asked me to go out with him on Friday.

Papi says, “It’s almost the week of finals.”

I say, “It’s the Friday before the week before finals.”

Mami and Papi agree to think about the date — if I promise I’ll study all weekend long.

Oh. P.S.

1. Isabel talked to Mr. Robinson. He said everything’s cool with the San Diego trip.

2. All the relatives have confirmed.

3. You’ll never guess what Ducky and Sunny decided on for Dawn’s party. Bowling.

Maybe this time Tyler will wear a disguise.

Can’t. Sleep.

Thursday, 6/3

Social Studies

Finals begin a week from Monday. 11 days.

On the way to school today I’m thinking about this and freaking out. Suddenly the Winslows’

car zooms by. Going 60, at least. Stops in front of school. Sunny jumps out and slams the door.

Car zooms off with a squeal of tires.

I jog over to her and ask what’s up.

“Dad’s mad at Mom,” she says.

“Mad? But — she’s …”

“Dead? I know that. That’s even more reason for him to be mad. She can’t talk back. Dad likes a one-sided fight.”

(Sometimes, Nbook, talking to Sunny is like being splashed with very cold water.)

I just nod.

“He’s mad at me for not being her,” she goes on. “He’s mad that I’m not old enough to run his bookstore. He’s mad at the bookstore for not doing better business. He’s mad at just about everyone in Palo City for not reading more books. Any other questions?”

Actually, yes.

“Does he want to hire me?” I ask.

Sunny does a double take. “Are you serious?”

“If Ducky can do it — ”

“Ducky’s 16.”

“So I’ll work fewer hours. Whatever is legal. Or I’ll volunteer. It’d give me something to do. I can read books about art.”

Sunny smiles. “Or travel. There are lots of books about Massachusetts. …”

I can go.

On the date tomorrow, that is.

If I study like crazy tonight. And after school tomorrow before the date. And over the weekend.

‘Bye, Nbook. No offense.

Time to

Friday, 6/4

I’m on a roll, Nbook.

I do all the math section reviews up until February.

I call Marina, who faxes me a bunch of notes from English class.

I start The Good Earth, the book, which I should have read but never did because I rented the movie. (The book’s better.)

Now I’m waiting for Isabel. She’s painting her face for her date with SBTLB. (Mami made her promise to drive me and Brendan to the movie theater, which may explain the huffing and puffing noises in the bathroom.)

No matte. I feel so much better, Nbook.

This all may work out.

OK, I think I see him down the block.

Later.

Friday

Or Saturday

Not sure

I

I wasn’t

I want to

WHO DO THEY THINK

Can’t

write

My face is corroding.

That’s what it feels like, Nbook. I know it’s not true and I’ve washed it ten times BUT THAT’S

WHAT IT FEELS LIKE. Right at that spot on the left cheek where she spit at me.

Why?

WHY?

What did I do, Nbook? WHAT DID I DO?

Got to think straight. My head is splitting apart.

OK, slow down.

Start at the beginning.

It hurts to think about the beginning — because it was so wonderful, Nbook. We walk into Café Con Leche, and André makes me feel like his favorite customer. Romantic booth. Free appetizers. Treats Brendan like a son. Doggie bag full of pastries, on the house.

At the cineplex [sic], the usher knows we have food but doesn’t stop us. The movie’s much better than I expect it to be. And Brendan is so nice. He puts his arm around my shoulder — the right way too. Doesn’t keep it there for two hours like a cement drainpipe, the way Danny Cruz did in San Diego. And he doesn’t wait for me to laugh before he laughs (which Danny also did).

Anyway, I feel us kind of melting together. Like a couple, Nbook. Like I finally, really want us to be a couple — because I trust him.

Toward the end of the movie he leans over toward me — gently, easily — and I can tell he wants to kiss me, but it doesn’t feel awkward or pressured, and I know that if I just keep looking at the screen he’ll turn away and it’ll be OK, he’ll understand. But I don’t want to run away — he’s so tender and handsome, and our kiss lasts just the right amount of time — and when it’s over I feel thrilled. Afterward, he doesn’t act all weird, like now our faces should be welded together at the lips for the rest of the movie. We sit back, arms around each other, relaxed and happy.

We leave the cineplex [sic], arm in arm. Isabel’s not there yet, but that’s OK because the night is clear and cool. I know nothing bad is going to happen. I’m safe with him. He’s no James.

People are flowing out of the theater, splitting off in various directions, until we’re the only ones left standing in front. Soon the usher starts to lock the door, but Brendan runs to her and convinces her to let him use the rest room.

As he goes inside, the usher asks if I want to wait in the lobby. I say no thanks. I want to smell the blossoms, not stale popcorn.

So I stay outside, breathing the sweet air, looking up the street for Isabel’s car. I figure she’s probably having a great time too, which means she’ll be late and maybe Brendan and I can hang out at the ice-cream shop.