“Oh, um, thanks,” I say, relaxing the stink-eye.
She smiles and walks off to the parking lot without another word. I’m not used to people apologizing to me, so I don’t know how to feel. I guess I can be cool with Emily. I don’t need to be cool with Jenna and Karen, though.
I confirm some more jewelry orders before getting back to my homework. We sold two friendship bracelets, a beadwork necklace, and a pair of traditional gold earrings since the last time I checked. Before I get a chance to move on to my homework, someone else sits down next to me.
“Hey, you need a ride?” Bo asks. It’s three thirty, so Cesar should be out any second. I’m surprised Bo’s even still here.
“Trust me, you don’t want to give me a ride. I live far.”
“I don’t mind. I don’t feel like going home yet, anyway.”
“Really, it’s okay. I don’t have any gas money or anything.” I don’t want to take the light rail home, but I really don’t want to make Bo drive forty minutes out of her way and then make the drive back home.
“Don’t worry, my parents pay for my gas, so that’s not an issue.”
Someone squeezes between me and Bo and throws arms around both our shoulders.
“My sister is incapable of accepting acts of kindness. We would love a ride,” Cesar says.
“We’re fine taking the light rail, seriously.” It’s not that I don’t want Bo to know where we live. Or maybe it is.
Cesar glares at me so hard I can almost feel the daggers stabbing me.
“Okay, what if you just drop us off at the light rail?” That’s about all I’m comfortable with.
“Sure!” Bo seems happy for a field trip to the light rail.
“Shottie!” Cesar shouts. Dammit. I don’t usually care about sitting in the front seat, but I kind of wanted to sit next to Bo. I file into the back seat instead.
“Hey, since our mom works late on Wednesdays, you think you can drop us off at the light rail every week?” Cesar asks as soon as the door closes.
“？Sinvergüenza!” I whisper-yell, but I’m laughing. I reach forward to push him. He pushes me back. That boy has absolutely no shame.
“Yeah, of course.” Bo does her cute little eye-smile thing at me through the mirror, and I want to die.
Mom joins me filling jewelry orders in the living room when she gets home. We have a system going. Mom’s much faster, so I make the earrings first while she does the beadwork necklaces. I take my time beading an intricate flower design into a pair of earrings. Even considering how delicate and slow my hands are moving, my fingers are already starting to cramp. I push through the pain, because I’ll never reach my mom’s level if I don’t. By the time I finish beading one tiny set of earrings, she’s finished a whole necklace. We eventually meet in the middle and work on friendship bracelets together.
Her telenovela plays on the TV while we work. Instead of watching, I pay close attention to Mom’s hands. If I wasn’t seeing this in real time, I would think it was sped up. I don’t know how her fingers move so quick. She’s not even looking at what she’s doing. Somehow she’s going this fast without taking her eyes off her telenovela. I take a short video of her quick-working hands and post it to Instagram and TikTok to fish for more orders. Then I try to keep up with her speed making my own, but I keep messing up the patterns when I go too fast. Instead I have to take my time and thread my bracelets with love.
“？Cierra los ojos!” Mom gasps at the TV and throws a hand over my eyes, all dramatic.
“Ay, Mami, stop!” I push her hand away to see two women kissing on the screen. Something swirls in my stomach at the sight. I’d be happy if it wasn’t for the fact that my mom didn’t want me seeing it.