Page 13 of Next Time Will Be Our Turn
We walked down the street, and before long, I was a few paces behind her. I had to do this weird little hop-jog to catch up with her. I should have told her to slow down, but of course I didn’t. She glanced over her shoulder and stopped short.
“Sorry, am I walking too fast?”
“No.” Yes.
“I’ll walk slower so your stumpy legs can keep up.”
“Stumpy legs? You mean so my normal-length legs can keep up with your freakishly long ones?” Holy shit. Where did that come from?
She cracked up. “Exactly. Yeah, you put me in my place, short stuff.”
I was still grinning by the time we got to the bookstore. It was filled with people—probably students like me—all of them shouting to be heard above the din.
Ellery called out, “Follow me!” and plunged into the crowd.
I did as she said, but it wasn’t long before we got separated in the throng of warm bodies. Something came over me; it was the Ellery effect. Iris was like a snowstorm, raging and sharp. When I was around her, my body folded in on itself, curling up as tiny as it could go. But Ellery was the sun, and her light made meunfurl. It felt as though anything was okay with her. Even then, on that first day, I somehow knew she wouldn’t get frustrated at me the way Iris would.
So I reached out and caught hold of the sleeve of her shirt. She turned for a second. Our eyes met and she smiled, then she dived deeper into the crowd, my fingers still curled around her shirtsleeve, tugging me forward. Though she hadn’t said a word about it, I got the sense that she was okay with me clinging to her. The noise around us faded, everything focused on this one spot, my fingers on her sleeve. No skin-on-skin contact, and yet still somehow unbearably intimate. I never wanted this to end.
It lasted about five seconds. Then we were at the counter and Ellery waved at someone. The spell broke, and I let go.
“Dahlia, hey. Wow, it’s madness in here.”
“No shit.” Dahlia grabbed a book from behind the counter, barely sparing Ellery a glance. “What do you need?”
“Give me your course schedule,” Ellery said to me.
I did so, and she handed it to Dahlia.
“Okay. Wait here.” Dahlia ducked underneath the counter and disappeared into the crowd.
“Did we just cut in line?” I said to Ellery.
Ellery looked shocked. “I would never!” Then she winked. “Don’t feel bad about it, it’s kind of a bookstore workers’ code, you know? If Dahlia ever came to the school bookstore, I would do the same for her.”
Somehow, that made Ellery seem even cooler to me. Even though I knew it was bullshit, and technically we were very much cutting in line, which was very wrong and totally not something I would do on my own. That’s love, isn’t it? It not only blinds us to the little imperfections but actively turns flawsinto something beautiful. But you know what? Even now, decades later, looking back with a clearer head, I’d still tell you the same thing I thought then—that despite all the little imperfections, like her cutting in line, I don’t know a better person than Ellery O’Shea.
Chapter 6
MAGNOLIA
1998
Minutes later, we were out of the din and back in the Californian sun. “Phew,” Ellery said. “First day of school’s always like that. Hey, we’re making really good time. Wanna grab lunch before we head back?”
Like I would ever say no to that. Still, kudos to me, I managed not to scream, “Yes!” I said, “Sure,” in a way that (I hope) conveyed that grabbing lunch with people I just met was something that happened to me all the time.
She took me to a taco truck.
I’d never had tacos, or any other Mexican food before. I know there are plenty of wonderful Mexican options now all over Indonesia, but back then, not a single taco could be found in the entire country.
I’d never been to a food truck before. We have plenty of street food in Indonesia, obviously, but nothing out of a truck.
