Page 32 of The Sweet Spot

But she’s as head over heels now as she was then, and apparently, so is he. The PDA is nonstop, so Saira and I keep to Janya’s real apartment while they stay at his.

Anyway, when Justin mentioned that Rasputin Music in Berkeley was having a special sale on original concert posters, I knew I had to go.

“No worries.” Janya twists in her seat as she reverses out of our parking spot. “I’m just glad you finally made it up for a visit, Wren. My apartment’s been going to waste.”

I reach up to squeeze her shoulder. “I’m glad I could come, too.”

“And whose fault is that?” Saira teases, rolling her eyes at me in the side mirror. “Seeing as you’re living with Justin? Such a tawdry situation.”

“Oh, shut up.” Janya laughs, shoving Saira. “You sound just like Auntie Aditi with that mess.”

Saira shoots her a suspicious glance. “She knows?”

“No, but that’s what she’d say if she did.” Janya’s lustrous black ponytail swings as we round a corner. “Seriously, though. You guys came all the time when you were younger.”

“That’s because we were in high school and had nothing else to do,” says Saira.

“Such a little bitch.” Janya laughs.

I laugh too, but I squeeze Saira’s hand. She’s been terribly homesick, andlately, really depressed. Something’s going on with her and that’s the real reason I came to Berkeley.

“And anyway, I’m like, right down the street,” continues Saira. “You could come see me, too, you know.”

“When are you coming home for Christmas?” I ask Janya.

“Two weeks. Justin’s going home to San Diego, but he promised he’d come to Santa Cruz to ride the holiday train with me.”

“Ahh, the holiday train! I can’t wait!” cries Saira, bouncing in her seat. She peeks back at me. “We’re gonna do it, right?”

“Are you kidding? It’s not even a question.” We’ve been riding the Santa Cruz Holiday Lights Train every December since elementary school. It’s tradition.

Janya’s phone bursts into a gooey, popular love song. She never texts and drives, so she tosses it onto Saira’s lap. “That’s Justin, see what he wants.”

“Something about a party in the weeds? And do we want to go?” Saira looks up, wrinkling her nose. “What?”

“The Weeds,” Janya says with a chuckle, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel as we pause at a stop sign. “Is what they call their friend’s place. He lives on the top floor of this building in downtown Berkeley that has a rooftop with a garden. A very overgrown garden.”

“Of weeds?”

“Of weeds and weed.” She snickers. “Among other types of flora.”

I clear my throat. “Sounds very Berkeley.”

Janya glances at me in the rearview mirror. “You want to go? We don’t have to; we can always order takeout and stay in, too. I know you two want to head back home in the morning.”

“Nah, sounds fun,” says Saira, glancing at me. “Right?”

“Sure.” I nod. “Let’s do it.”

“Hey, whatever happened with Arlo?” Janya asks suddenly. “You guys still in touch?”

“We’ve been emailing, yeah.”

“Have you told your mom yet?”

“No, not yet.” Guilt prickles through me. Keeping this from my mother is killing me.

“You should tell her. The longer you wait, the bigger this gets.”

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