The cart I grabbed for my mom squeaks incessantly, like a dying mouse. She doesn't say anything about it, and we just ignore it, continuing on. We have to make this quick, because my step father is only gonna be home for about forty five minutes before he needs to speed to work and we're worried to leave the cat alone for too long, so we're walking real fast.

We look at the cat food—we aren't sure how old the cat is or anything, but I think their young. We grab a decent sized bag of slightly cheaper than average cat food, after debating on whether or not this would be a good food for the cat, but it looks promising. We also grab a small, squeaky mouse toy, one of those pole toys that has a bell and feather connected to it on a string, and a collar. "I don't know why I agreed to this," my mom says.

"Sorry, mom, you're right—I am a sap for animals."

She sighs. "It's fine, honey—honestly, me and your stepfather got... a bit carried away when we shopped for some of your presents." She pauses and adds, "We bought you a coach purse and we really, really shouldn't have, I think. “ I look at her. “It was on sale—sixty percent off! We'll return it, you have other, better gifts."

"Okay!" I agree. "You don't have to spend like, a thousand dollars on a purse for me. The one I have is working just fine right now."

"It also doesn't zip, is a decade old, and was made for a child."

"It doesn't look like it was made for a child."

She smiles—we stop to grab a brush. "Have I ever told you about Jen?"

I look over at her. "Who's Jen?" I ask.

"A cat," she says. "That we had when you were just a baby, back when it was you and me and your father."

"...I don't remember any cat," I say.

"Of course you don't. You were too young. But boy, did that cat like you." She picks up a small, two piece set of silver looked bowls, rising the all together cost of everything we're buying by five dollars. "It's so weird," she murmurs. "That feels like a lifetime ago... Back with your father...when you were a boy."

I nod—and it does feel like a lifetime ago. Nothing but a distant memory, the family we used to be.

"The one thing," my mother starts, as we continue walking. The wheels seem to squeak louder and a child is wailing in an aisle for a reason we don't know, like all the noises in the store are trying to talk right over her. "That seems to have remained the same is Deming." I nod. "The two of you have always been friends—boy or girl."

"Yeah," I say.

"Real nice, having friends like that..." I rub my nose. "Honey, do you know why he left early today? He looked upset."

I sigh. "I wish I did." Deming's like a brother to me—I can't stress how important it is to me that's he okay, and not knowing if he's really okay makes me feel... anxious, I guess is the word.

She squeezes my shoulder. "Oh, to be a teenager in today's world—so glad those days are behind me."

"That is not the optimistic take on my youth I was hoping to receive from my mother," I say, flatly.

She laughs—a genuine, loud laugh, and my mother, even though I love her to death, has a really obnoxious laugh. "Sorry," she says. "I'll have you know that being young is great and all, but, personally, I think my life's only gotten better as I've aged. Immigrated to America after getting a degree in dance, met your father, had you..." The screaming wheel gets stuck on something and it takes her a minute to free it. "And now I have a daughter. And a cat." She strokes my hair once and smiles as we slowly approach the cash register. "It's some full circle shit, for sure."

I'm just about to nod off in bed—with Irma the cat beside me, who's just barely started to relax in my bedroom when my phone vibrates.

It's Deming, because of course who else would text me at ten thirty on a Sunday night. "You up?"

My response is a "sure."

For a few minutes, I get no response. I sit there, only really half awake and petting the cat who likes me alright (in comparison to my stepfather, who she hissed at and ate the shoelaces of). A palm slams onto the window and I start with a quiet, "Holyfuckingfuck."

My cat hisses. I take a deep breath while my heart slows down and go and open the window for Deming. "What the fuck?" I ask him.

He laughs, quietly and steps in. My cat glares at him, but softens when Deming pets her. "Did I wake you?" He asks.

"You did," I say. "You definitely did and then my heart nearly stopped, way to fucking go."

He grins. "Sorry, Rozhan," he says and I've already forgiven him. I can't stay mad at Deming—and even though he scared the shit out of me, I'm already starting to relax around him.

He collapses on my bed and I curl up next to him. "I was kind of a dick earlier, huh?" He asks.

"Just a smidge," I respond.

He yawns. "Sorry, Rozhan..." He turns over on his side so we're looking at each other. The fact that, as my life is apparently a romance novel, this would definitely be a scene in which the main character falls in love with their best friend occurs to me, but Deming is basically my brother and I already love him, so I'm not worried about that cliche. "I know you were only asking because you're a good friend. I just..." He goes quiet.

"It's fine," I say. "Maybe I shouldn't have pressed on." I yawn too. "But when you're ready to talk, I'm here."

He sighs. "Kohl said the same thing." He's clearly deep in thought, but I'm too tired to ask what's on his mind.

But then I think of something. "...You and Kohl didn't fight, did you?"

Deming is quiet still and he's not meeting my eyes. "Deming?"

He looks at me. "Tā mā de dìyù, I'm a terrible person, Rozhan."

"You're not a terrible person," I sigh. "You're great. What happened?"

He sighs. "I told him about this morning and the he expressed some concern over the same thing and I just snapped at him and we started to fight. Girl, we've never fought before."

I don't know what to do or what to say. "Deming..."

"Just forget it, I'm tired. I'll apologize to him in the morning." I manage to reach over and squeeze his shoulder—and because I'm half asleep, I manage to also slap him gently across the face in my reaching over, but he doesn't comment on it.

Irma gets up and walks in between me and Deming, trying to get comfortable. She cannot. "Goddamnit," Deming says—the cat settles on top of his legs. "This cat."

"They like you," I say.

Irma claws at his jeans. "They like your legs."

"Your mom seemed pretty sure they were a boy."

"Yeah, but..." I smile. "She also thought I was a boy."

That Monday is a little weird for me—Akila and Deming walk with me to school, like we've been doing, and Deming and I just start our podcast when Lada comes running up, giggling and grinning, blonde hair in bouncy curls. "Rozhan, Rozhan, Rozhan! It worked!"

I take out my earphone. Deming pauses the podcast. "What did?"

"The plan!" She chirps and I finally see the envelope she's holding. "Well, sort of. I mean—you didn't hook up with anyone, and they didn't tell you who they were or anything, but, I think we're a step closer!"

"...What?"

She hands me the envelope. "So, this...other student came up and handed this envelope to me, and said that they knew I knew you and we were friends and knew that I knew you were getting letters from them." I nod and start to open it. "I know them."

I look at Lada, my fingers slowing. "So, who is it?"

She laughs. "Come on, Rozhan, that wouldn't be any fun!"

I pause. "...What?" I ask again.

"They told me to give you this letter—and they also said they that, if you want to, you can write a letter to them, give it to me and I can give it to them!"

I pause again. "...What?"

"I don't what part of this doesn't make sense."

I look down at the envelope—my name is still on the front. "Oh, wow. What do I write to them?"

Lada shrugs. "Just respond to what they wrote you," she says. "And then, you can give it to me and I'll give it to them."

I'm not sure what to do—I'm still kind of surprised. "I won't read it or anything," Lada says. "But it sounds Ike so much fun, this romance novel is just getting better and better!"

I tear it open all the way. "I'm not too sure about that."

Slowly, I slip the letter out of the envelope and read it.

Deming is grinning—like a Cheshire Cat, or a skeleton or something else that's known for crazy grins like the one he's giving to me. "What does it say?" He asks.

I feel my face heat up. "They, uh... saw me at the party, said I looked good, and hoped they weren't creeping me out too much with their notes." I clear my throat and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "This is...kind of cool."

"Kind of?" Deming asks. "The hell do you mean 'kind of?'"

I bat at his arm and tuck the note into my binder again. "Thanks, Lada."

She's still grinning—like she's victorious. "I gotta go, I promised this new student I share a bunch of classes with I'd show her around the school. It was nice talking to you two!" She runs away quickly and Deming turns to me.

"She's a total Genki Girl," Deming says.

"...What?"

"Genki Gi—You still need to get into TVTropes, Rozhan."

"But what's a..."

"It's just...an energetic girl, you know? Talks fast, moves fast... just energetic?" I look at him. "Have you noticed, she can't seem to stop moving?" I actually have noticed—even during that pretty sober moment in her bedroom, she had been viscously twirling her hair around her finger. I hadn't thought it worth mentioning. ...Actually, now that I stop to think and write about it, I have to say—Lada's only ever really, really stood still when something's happened that she doesn't know how to react to, when there's a conflict of some sort. Like Minni at her party, or the Karen when we went shopping. I wonder, very briefly, if she's a rough sleeper or has an addiction to caffeine.

"Have you found Kohl yet?" I ask him.

I can tell by the expression on his face he hasn't. "Deming," I say, but my tone is only mildly scolding.

"I'm kinda worried," he says. "Like...aggressively worried. What if he hates me?"

"Deming, he loves you to death, this spat you got into won't be enough for him to break up with you."

"Tā mā de, I didn't even think about him breaking up with me! Shit!" Shit indeed. I shouldn't have said that. "Like, I know I'm being weird about this—but I genuinely don't trust myself to apologize to him without bursting into tears, Rozhan."

"Deming, you'll be fine." He doesn't look like he believes me in the slightest. "Deming."

"I-I'll... I'll talk to him at lunch." Deming nods vigorously. "I'll talk to him at lunch."

When I get to English, we still have a sub. We're getting a rest of the year long sub tomorrow. I sit down at my desk and look at the letter.

There's something that's been confusing me about these notes, but I decide to brush that aside. Lada saw the person—I don't think she's in on this. This seems a bit too far to be a joke. I open up one of my notebooks and try to think of what to write.

¿,

And that's all I can think of.

Out of nowhere, the chair next to me moves and Zane—did he get taller? He towers over me as he sits—plops down in it. "What's cracking?"

I look up at him. "People still say that?"

"Oh no—sorry, my bad." He clears his throat. "What's the tea, sis?"

I laugh. "Nothing really." I look over at him, shyly. I don't think it's as cute on me as it is on other girls, if I'm being honest. "And you?"

He shrugs. "Planning on going to Green Eats for lunch—and I'm weirdly excited about it, dunno why, but I love that place."

"What's Green Eats?"

"You know those weirdos who buy salads at fast food places?" I nod. "This is like a fast food place, but they're a local business and they sell more healthy food—with like, sports stuff in mind. So, instead of a plastic tub of wilted lettuce, ranch dressing and ice cold, shredded cheese, it's like, good salads. I get their steak, strawberry salad, it's amazing and relatively healthy."

"But...why would you mix steak and strawberries?"

"Because it tastes amazing."

"It does?"

"It does." Well, if it does, then I guess I understand. I like honey on popcorn, and I think that's weird. At least, I've been told it's weird.

But, regardless, my love for popcorn has nothing to do with anything. "Was a cool party," I say. "At Lada's."

"Oh, totally," he says. He pulls a bag of jelly beans out of his pocket and pops one in his mouth—I can't tell if the bag consists mostly of coffee flavored or black licorice, but there is a handful of purple and teal colored ones. "Except for like... whatever that was, the thing that happened."

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I doubted my blush was visible, but I could feel the warmth in my face. "Oh. You saw that?"

He awkwardly picks another jelly bean out. "Yeah," he says, awkwardly. "Was a great party. Even if a handful of people weren't so great. I don't even know what it was about."

"Just some drama," I respond. "It was nothing."

He nods. "You looked stellar, though," he says.

I smile. "I did?"

He nods. "You make a cute Red Riding Hood," he says. "...I mean, in general, I tend to find most girls cute—but you were cool." He grins. "Gotta be honest though—I almost totally didn't recognize you without your glasses."

I laugh. "Ha, yeah." I push my glasses up my nose. "I accidentally left them at home. I was kind of rushing and panicking, you know? Wanted to get to Lada's, didn't want to be late, and it just slipped my mind. I thought I saw you later at the party, but I couldn't tell, you were too far away."

"I ran into six people with the same hat as me," Zane says. "Six."

"Pirates are hot," I say.

"Really?" He grins. "Did you think I was hot?"

"Did you think I was hot?" I say it smoothly, all cool like—it really surprises me!

We both drop the conversation topic, but I think we both admit to ourselves that we find the other hot. "Want a jelly bean?" He asks. "...I've a few grape flavored ones."

"I'd love one."