Looking at Rin’s backpack pissed me off. It was slim and black and lumpy because he typed his notes onto his computer a week after jotting them down. The huge white check plastered across it set my blood boiling. Because as long as I walked behind Rin and looked at his Nike backpack, I couldn’t forget what Stephanie told me over lunch.

Which by the way, I also thought about when Rin wasn’t two steps ahead of me. Every answer on my chemical reaction worksheet was wrong because I spent all of chemistry trying to recall 11 years of friendship. Trying to see signs of a life that I was never told about. 

Maybe I should have been using my time to contemplate the fact that I was two attempts into my plan and failing miserably. But instead, a few words from Stephanie Huarez had sent me into an unstoppable spiral. 

“Elly?” Rin stopped, forcing me to side step around him to avoid a collision. “I should tell you that I’m-”

“ . . . not coming to the ice cream shop and hanging out with Stephanie instead,” I sighed, continuing past him. “It’s fine, I didn’t expect you to.”

I could feel his curious stare on my back, the sound of air leaving his open mouth because he had a question he was scared to ask. But I knew more sound would follow because Rin would feel the need to ask anyway.

“Is something wrong?”

Everything’s wrong! I wanted to scream.

Stephanie wasn’t just taking away Rin’s time and his energy and his attention. She was pulling out bits of him that I never got. Gaining stories he never told me. Why didn’t he tell me? 11 years wasn’t enough to gain his trust?

“El,” his hand closed around my wrist, pulling me to a stop. The way his dark eyes scanned my face, searching for the cause of my distress, made me more upset. Had he been upset one day, feeling different, but I hadn’t noticed? Hadn’t thought to ask?

I could shake off his concern, treat this 15 minute walk like any other and push these thoughts behind me. Or I could just ask.

“Stephanie said something today that I keep thinking about,” I started, struggling to keep eye contact when his gaze turned curious. “She said that you felt different growing up.”

“Everyone feels different growing up.”

“No, I mean-” 

My words fell over one another, distracted by Rin’s bright, easy energy. The way he smirked like he was funny made this hard. Whatever I said next would break the illusion that everything was fine. His pleased little smile would drop. 

“I know that racism and all that shit still exists but you’ve always seemed okay,” I explain, my face heating from embarrassment. Shame. I’m not sure. “She made it sound like there were times when you really weren’t okay. Is that true?”

Like I thought, his smile dimmed. A cloud settled across my best friend’s face, memories floating to the forefront of his mind. I could tell he was reliving something even when he casually shoved both hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, I guess.”

The cold suddenly nipped at the edge of my nose and arches of my ears. Like Rin’s smile had taken all the warmth with it, leaving behind sharp October weather. My next question, my real question, felt dangerous. I might not have had the right to ask it. But I remembered that we spent a decade side by side. That had to count for something. Like forgiveness after asking some stupid questions.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I knew you wouldn’t get it,” he shrugged. It was almost bold how plainly he said it. “And I didn’t think it really mattered how I felt but it’s nice dating someone who understands.”

I finally had the truth. But the truth swam in my stomach horribly. The truth brought more questions that seemed harder to answer. The truth tied Rin and Stephanie more tightly around each other, made my best friend more dependent on someone who wasn’t me.

Rin stood slightly in front of me, so I could see every time he looked back, biting his bottom lip with a concerned frown.

“Have you rethought your ban on dating?” he spoke up. “Steph has a lot of friends.”

“No thank you,” I huffed, rolling my eyes. “They’re practically sisters-in-law now that you’re with her.”

“Ew, don’t say that,” he whined, scrunching up his face. “Colby’s already planning his nuptials with that girl Jennie.”

I laughed even though I was confused. It didn’t make sense for him to be bringing this up as we turned the corner to head down my street. Except Rin was bumping into my shoulder with every other step and laughing harder than any comment deserved and oh my god he was trying to cheer me up. 

If this were a movie, we would have found a park bench to sit on while Rin explained one singular racist experience that was both traumatic and specific to garner sympathy while leaving room to clarify that not all white people do x y and z. Then I would have had to say the perfect response, solidifying myself as the perfect ally. 

But Rin didn’t care about all that. The moment of normalcy brought in a rush of air I didn’t know I missed. 

“Wait, isn’t Colby still single,” I blurted out, eyes growing wide.

“He is,” my best friend grinned. “That’s the point.”

Rin’s laugh was contagious, sending us both into a fit of giggles.

—————

Walking into the Hamada’s house was like stepping into an art gallery. Except instead of expensive paintings, the walls were covered in professional family photos. There were only 3 people in the Hamada family unit, Rin, Kazuko, and Hiroshi Hamada. But every six months, papa Hamada dragged his wife and son to a photographer to capture them in 3-5 different outfits at a thousand different angles.

Kazuko answered the door this time and after a brief exchange of pleasantries, disappeared to do mom stuff. With her out of sight and the faint sound of competitive shouting trailing from the stairs, I was alone to peruse the new additions. Kazuko liked to put the newest pictures in the living room so guests could oggle their most recent work. 

I kneeled down on the plush carpet, snickering at the sight of Rin posing with a football helmet and shoulder pads. Our school colors are blue and yellow so nothing about the red and black uniform matched Emmett high school’s logo but I didn’t expect it to since my best friend didn’t play football. I could imagine how miserable he must have been, being told to pose like he was ready to throw a ball he never used.

“I knew you’d be here,” Rin jogged into the room, his comfortably tousled hair matching his faded shirt and basketball shorts. “You love my misery.”

“I love how good you like in a football uniform,” I teased as he knelt by my side, frowning at his photos. “Maybe you should try out for the team.”

His eye roll looked painful. Consequence of being dramatic. My best bud didn’t even respond to that last comment, instead slipping his hand into mine and dragging me off the carpet.

“I’m taking Elliot upstairs!” he called to his mom as we ran past.

“Okay, have fun studying.”

Studying. Sure, Mrs Hamada, that’s what we were doing. I knew she could also hear Tyler’s cheers of victory but I guess pretending felt better. Getting together to play video games on a wednesday afternoon wasn’t something most parents would love. So the four of us made them feel better by claiming it was a study session.

It was never a study session.

Rin held my hand until I was seated on his wood tiled floors next to Colby. With my weeklong shifts I was bound to come last to these things. Meaning they must have been at this for an hour at least. I noticed Tyler’s backpack in the far corner. The zipper was wide open so his chemistry worksheet had slipped out and was on full display. Even from across the room I could see there wasn’t a single pen mark on that thing.

But that’s what these “study sessions” are for, to give our parents peace of mind while we slack off.

“You guys ready for 2v2?” Colby asked, switching over to local mode. The four of us would be in a lobby by ourselves, playing with no twitch streamers or twelve-year-olds around to mess with our stats.

“I’m on Elly’s team!” Rin plopped down on my other side, his bare knee pressing against mine. I expected as much. His room was already tiny while empty. So when he added a bed, a dresser, a computer and TV, there was almost no room for the four of us to sit on the ground. That’s why I scooted closer to him, my bent leg resting on top of his–to leave space for the others.

“You were on Elly’s team last time,” Colby remembered with a deep frown.

“And we won,” I shot back. “You afraid of a little competition?”

“Never,” Tyler breathed, baritone cutting like a knife.

There was a beat of silence, the scent of competition in the air. Or maybe that was Mrs Hamada with dinner. Who cares? Soon, we were wrapped up in a head to head battle. We played together so often, I actually was excited to see who won every time. The scores stayed close and when they didn’t, someone usually cheated to get things back to normal. Like how Colby stopped playing to tickle me so I couldn’t shoot back when Tyler’s character rounded the corner.

I spent the entire time it took for me to respawn tickling Colby back.

Perfecting my scoop measurements and struggling with mental math in front of judgy middle schoolers fell to the wayside while we played. It was almost like I hadn’t had an eleven year old tell me the correct change at work today when we played like this. This was my happy place. This was safe. This was hom-

Lin Manuel’s voice blocked out the noise of bullets and all four heads turned to Rin’s phone on the dresser.

“When did you change your ringtone to Hamilton?” I asked as Rin scampered up to the device.

“I watched it with Stephanie the other day,” he shrugged like a sudden interest in musicals wasn’t crazy. “It was pretty good.”

Rin answered the phone while Colby whispered “what the fuck” in my ear. Colby was pissed because he’d been trying to get us to watch Lin Manuels musicals for years but we never agreed. He insisted that watching reels of people mocking the writer using eyeliner for a beard didn’t count. Any reason to complain about Rin’s relationship worked for me so I listened attentively. Until my best friend’s voice got tight and he dropped his voice to a whisper.

This was the guy who nipped his girlfriend’s ear in front of us. (And no, I refuse to get over that). He was not the type to be private. Yet he’d turned away from us, staring blankly at the wall he faced, and his whispered words were growing annoyed.

They were totally fighting.

I glanced at Tyler. He looked back at me. We exchanged expressions of men thirsty for drama. Rin’s voice got louder so he couldn’t hear the three of us scooching in to try to hear Stephanie’s voice through the phone.

“ . . . but you haven’t called me all day.” she said. The girl was rainbows and sunshine 24/7 so the clipped words and loud volume sounded like a different person. “When I’m too busy to text back, I’m a bad girlfriend but you’ve ignored me for 12 hours and that’s supposed to be okay?”

“I texted you good morning,” Rin nearly yelled, frustration making his body tense up.

“You could have had Siri do that! I want to talk to you.”

“Well, I’m talking to you now,” he muttered, quite sassily I should add. “Maybe you should just call me next time.”

That started a new wave of sound from Stephanie that had all three of us cringing. She went on a tangent, making it nearly impossible for Rin to get a word in. But his room was so small I could see the vein pulse out the side of his neck every time he tried to speak but couldn’t. 

He rolled his eyes at most of the things she said but sometimes, her words hit a nerve. That’s when I’d see his left fist clenched tightly at his side, making his blank stare feel that much colder. 

Then, out of nowhere, the tone shifted. Her voice that was loud and sharp became soft and sweet. Rin’s body relaxed and his eyes turned warm. The call ended with him facing us again, body curling into his phone like Stephanie herself lived in it.

He apologized for communicating poorly. She apologized for exploding on him. She also apologized for interrupting bro time which made Colby aw like she was a puppy or something.

Rin finally got off of the phone and jumped back into the game like nothing happened.

Our team lost. Not because Rin was distracted over his fight. He looked fine, any remnant frustrations from the fight only made him play better. But my brain was being fed new information and couldn’t help but savor the meal.

I’d been going about this all the wrong way. Relationships weren’t about logic and graphs and pros and cons lists. They were about feelings. 

The COD round faded from my mind, the break up plan taking its place. I could see it so clearly, steps 1-5 written in black ink over the crumpled paper. Then, a new step appeared. 5 steps turned to 6 and my character died again but I was too happy to care.

Step 3 (The new Step 3): Cause a fight.

“El, I need some back up!”

“Don’t worry, Rin,” I murmured, grounded by the press of his leg. I adjusted my grip on the controller, leaning forward, and settling in for war. “I got this.”