Just Be Cool, Jenna Sakai Read online

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral.

  “That’s what I was asking.” Mom’s voice, on the other hand, was sharp.

  I wanted to stop her from saying more, but I had learned that nothing could keep my parents from fighting. Then Mom saw my face, and I was surprised when she dropped her arms and her angry scowl.

  “I’m here on business,” Dad said, giving Mom a pointed look. “It was last minute, so I didn’t get a chance to let you know earlier. And I’m heading back first thing tomorrow morning, so I wanted to see if you were free for dinner right now.”

  “Like I said, it’s a school night.” Mom’s voice had lost its sharp edge.

  “I’ve already done all my homework.” I said a silent thanks to Rin for not showing up at the diner after all.

  I watched Mom’s face play out her internal struggle. She had no good reason to keep me home other than to annoy Dad. I geared myself up to argue but didn’t need to.

  “I want her home by eight,” Mom said. She picked up her coffee mug and left the kitchen without another word. I knew she wasn’t mad at me, but I couldn’t help the guilt that bubbled up inside me. Like I’d chosen sides.

  “Where to?” Dad asked, following me to the front door.

  I retrieved my shoe from across the room. “Our usual?”

  “Las Barcas it is!”

  The Mexican restaurant was over in Huntington Beach, but it was our go-to place back when Dad still lived here.

  “How was your birthday?” Dad asked.

  “Good.” It had been one of my better birthdays, until the fallout with Rin. “Thanks for the birthday check,” I said as Dad maneuvered his rental car onto the 405. Of course, we hit traffic right away.

  “I hope you bought yourself something nice.” Dad’s car inched forward.

  I shook my head. That two hundred dollars went right into the bank.

  Dad glanced at me and wrinkled his forehead. “No? Jenna, it’s a gift. Spend it.”

  A gift with strings. Mom had huffed with annoyance when she’d seen the check. “He’s trying to buy your love,” she’d said. I hadn’t understood. I mean, I already loved him—why would he need to buy it? But yeah, now I got it. He hoped I’d choose sides. He hoped I’d choose him. Why would I when he so obviously didn’t choose me?

  “I put it in my savings account,” I said.

  Dad honked his horn as someone tried to pull into our lane. They swerved back, barely missing us. “Are you saving for something big? A car? We can talk about getting you one when you turn sixteen.”

  “A car?” I almost scoffed. “Um, no. I’m saving for college!”

  Dad changed lanes. “Why? Didn’t your mom tell you I’m paying for it?”

  “Wait. What?”

  We took the exit and pulled out of traffic.

  “Hang on, kiddo. Let’s finish this conversation at dinner.”

  I jiggled my leg nervously as Dad pulled into the crowded Las Barcas parking lot and found a spot right by the entrance. We hopped out of the car, walked into the small restaurant, and got in line. I glanced at the menu board even though I always got the fish tacos.

  After Dad put in our orders, I grabbed the paper tray of tortilla chips and went to get a table while he scooped our favorite green salsa into little plastic cups. When he sat down, I jumped back into the conversation where we’d left off.

  “Dad? College?”

  He scooped salsa with a chip and crunched. “Mmm. I have missed this place.” He gave me a teasing grin. “And you. I’ve missed you, kid.”

  “I miss you, too, Dad. Now stop deflecting.”

  “Always the hard-hitting reporter, never discouraged.” He sighed. “I don’t want to get in the middle of whatever you think you know.”

  “Dad!” I was exasperated. Parents were exhausting!

  “I already told your mom I’d pay for college.”

  “But Mom was complaining about how she couldn’t afford it. She told me I needed to get scholarships and financial aid. She said you weren’t paying for any of it and that it wasn’t part of the divorce agreement.”

  Dad narrowed his eyes, looking as angry as I’d ever seen him. “Your mom told you that? Why is she discussing the divorce agreement with you?”

  “She wasn’t! I overheard her talking to Auntie Kelley.”

  I was relieved when Dad’s face relaxed. Still, he closed his eyes for a long moment before speaking again. “Look, Jenna, she’s right. It’s not in the agreement, but I promise you, I’m paying for college. I don’t need any legal document to enforce my responsibility to you as your dad. You can get scholarships if you want—you certainly are smart enough—but you don’t need to worry about this.”

  “I don’t understand.” Why had Mom made such a big deal about it? “Maybe she didn’t hear you or something?”

  “She heard me. It’s just the way your mom is. Too proud.” Dad frowned. “She doesn’t want my money. She thinks if I pay for things then somehow it makes her inferior. It’s the thing we’ve fought about our entire marriage. But it has nothing to do with you. Trust me, Jenna. I’ve got college covered.”

  Just then our number boomed over the loudspeaker, and Dad got up to get our dinner. Emotions swirled in me, making me feel dizzy. Mom didn’t want Dad to pay for my college. She wanted me to get scholarships and go into debt just to prove something to him. It was fine if she didn’t want to take his money, but why couldn’t I? I was his kid, too. And worse, why make me feel like Dad had bailed on me even more than I already did?

  “Okay, wipe that frown off your face,” Dad said, sitting down with our tray. “It’s taco time!”

  I smiled. He was right. I didn’t want to waste this precious time with Dad being upset with Mom.

  While we ate, Dad asked me about school. I caught him up on almost everything. But I didn’t want to tell him about the scholarship. Even though he said he supported my getting scholarships, he’d probably just remind me that he’d come through for college, and it didn’t matter if I won or lost. But I didn’t only care about the prize money. I mean, I agreed with Mom. Independence was a good thing. It would be nice if I could fund part of my own college education. But I also wanted to prove that I had what it took to be a great reporter. And maybe, just maybe, that I was better than Elliot.

  After dinner, we walked back to the car. “We still have some time,” Dad said. “Want to take a walk on the pier?”

  “Sure.”

  Dad drove the short distance to the pier parking lot, but he stopped me before I got out of the car. He reached into the back seat and handed me a brown paper bag.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “I never did mail your gifts to you when I got back from Japan.”

  I opened the bag and pulled out two elegantly wrapped packages. I’d heard that in Japan every purchase was gift wrapped. I opened the flat package and found three reporter notepads with black leather covers. My heart leapt with joy.

  “Oh, Dad! These are awesome!”

  “I thought you’d like them. Open the other one!” he said, pointing to a narrow box.

  I tore off the paper and flipped open the lid. Nestled inside was a fancy black-and-gold pen. I pulled it out and held it reverently.

  “I got it engraved,” Dad said.

  I checked out the pen and found Sakai in Japanese.

  “Dad! This must have been expensive.”

  He shook his head. “Not really. But it is a nice pen, so don’t lose it or give it away.”

  “Ha!” As if I’d ever lost anything. And I would never give anything away Dad gave me. I still had the teddy bear and his Hamilton T-shirt that he didn’t know about. “Thanks, Dad,” I said. My heart squeezed so tight that I felt it in my throat. “I love these. They’re perfect.”

  He smiled. “I’m glad you like them. Okay, let’s go walk on the pier before I have to get you back home.”

  Just like that, the happiness I felt was washed aw
ay by sadness.

  If only it were still Dad’s home, too.

  It took some doing, but by Thursday, I finally figured out where Rin’s new pickup spot was.

  I’d asked a few kids that I knew ate lunch in the music room and learned that Rin had a driver. Of course. Being rich and all. And if his parents worried about his safety enough to have him picked up, they probably wouldn’t want him walking far from school to catch his ride. So far, I’d tried every spot that fit that description with no luck. There was only one place left to look: the parking lot of a burger joint across the street from the gym.

  And my deductions paid off. The silver Lexus was waiting there! But I’d already missed my chance. I watched Rin cross the street, approach the car, and slide inside.

  It doesn’t matter, I thought, smiling a secret smile. No more waiting. Tomorrow I’m going to finally talk to him.

  The next day after school, the sky opened up just as the last bell rang. It hardly ever rained! And I hardly ever checked the weather. Fortunately, I had a rain jacket stuffed in my locker. I wrapped it around Rin’s sketchbook and jogged across campus, keeping to the covered walkways until I got to the baseball field. I hugged the wrapped sketchbook to my chest and ran. My messenger bag and I got thoroughly soaked.

  By the time I made it to the burger parking lot, my shoes squished and rain dripped from my hair as if I’d just gotten out of the shower. I spied Rin’s car immediately and felt relieved I’d beaten him … and hadn’t gotten drenched for nothing.

  I walked up to the driver’s side, where a man with short blond hair sat reading a book propped up on the steering wheel. I knocked on the window, and he jumped, nearly dropping it. He was younger than I’d envisioned a driver. He looked like a college student. He smiled sheepishly and rolled the window down a crack.

  “Hey,” he said. “Everything okay?”

  “Hi. I’m Jenna Sakai. I have something to return to Rin.”

  He nodded. “Oh yeah, I remember you.”

  Despite being wet with rain, I felt my ears burn. The only time he would have seen me was when I tried to return Rin’s notebook the last time and he’d snubbed my offer, leaving me standing there looking stupid.

  “I’m Tate.” The driver unlocked the doors with a click. “Get in out of the rain while we wait for Rin. He should be here any minute.”

  “Thanks.” I was pretty sure Mom would have a complete meltdown if she knew I was getting into a car with a man I didn’t know, but if Rin’s parents trusted Tate with their only son, then I was pretty sure I was okay. All the same, I kept my hand on the door handle and was relieved when Tate didn’t lock it.

  “So you’re Rin’s driver?” I asked.

  Tate smiled. “That sounds fancy. I just take him where he needs to go after school since his parents are busy. It’s a sweet gig and helps me pay for college.”

  The back door opened, and I got whacked by Rin’s heavy, wet backpack. He climbed in after it, and when he saw me, his mouth dropped open. He glared. “What are you doing here?”

  “I need to talk to you,” I said.

  “I don’t want to talk to you. Get out of my car.”

  “It’s pouring out there!”

  “The weather is not my fault.” Rin took in my dripping-wet-dog look. He was wearing a very nice rain jacket with an oversize hood that kept both his hair and glasses dry. “And you not having rain gear is also not my fault.”

  “I have a raincoat!”

  “You’re supposed to wear it!” Rin snapped.

  I lifted my packet. “It’s protecting your sketchbook!”

  Rin stared at me.

  Tate remained quiet in the front seat, neither starting the car nor reading his book. I could see in the rearview mirror his eyes ping-ponging between me and Rin. He didn’t look alarmed. In fact, he looked amused.

  “You got drenched because you were keeping my stupid sketchbook dry?” Rin asked. “I told you I didn’t want it, especially if you’re holding it hostage!”

  “I’m not! And I’m not leaving!”

  “Fine!” Rin grabbed his backpack. “Then I will!”

  “Nope!” Tate finally spoke up. “That’s not allowed, Rin, and you know it. Come on, man, don’t make my job hard.”

  “Rin,” I said. His name felt odd on my tongue. “Please. Can we go to the diner?”

  “Fine.” Rin put on his seat belt, and I did the same.

  Tate started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

  “Sorry about getting the seat all wet,” I said softly.

  Rin blew out a breath and leaned over the back seat. He tossed a towel at me. “It’s clean.”

  I wiped my face. The towel smelled like dryer sheets. I wrung out my hair and patted my clothes, but it was no use. They were drenched. I peeled off my sweatshirt. At least my T-shirt underneath was only damp. Rin grumbled under his breath and leaned back over the seat again. This time he tossed a jacket at me. I gratefully pulled it on. It was soft, fleecy, mint green, and not really Rin’s style.

  “It’s my sister’s,” he said.

  When we arrived at the diner a few short minutes later, the rain had tapered off to a misty drizzle.

  Rin unbuckled his seat belt, grabbed his backpack, and flung open the door. I quickly followed him into the diner. I knew I could have given back his sketchbook in the car, but I had an apology to deliver. I dreaded having to say I was sorry and worried he’d refuse to accept it, but yet, here I was, back in the diner, feeling lighter than I had in days.

  “Jenna! Rin!” Leigh called out with glee, rushing over to us. “Welcome back, you two!”

  Rin smiled as we dropped into our usual seats. A real smile.

  “I’ve been worried,” Leigh said to Rin. “Everything okay?”

  “It’s fine. Just got busy.”

  “The booth wasn’t the same without you both. Rin, Hamilton shake for you and for Jenna the Waitress shake?”

  “Sounds good,” I said. “Thanks.”

  Rin and I were quiet as we waited for Leigh to return with our shakes. She sang a new song about how it only takes one taste to know something is good. It had to be from Waitress since I knew the entire Hamilton soundtrack.

  Rin applauded, and I quickly joined in.

  “On the house,” Leigh said with a bow. “A welcome-back treat.”

  We sipped our shakes, and the silence drew out longer and longer.

  “Why’s it okay for Leigh to treat you, but not okay when I offer?” Rin asked suddenly.

  That was none of his business. But I was here to try to apologize, and snapping at him wasn’t a good way to start. “She’s not trying to prove something. She’s just being generous.”

  Rin raised his eyebrows. “And what am I trying to prove when I offer to treat?”

  “That you’re rich! And that the booth really belongs to you!” Oops. That came out before I could stop it.

  “Wow, Sakai. You have issues.”

  We both got quiet again. I didn’t know what it was about Rin that made me lose my cool. It was maddening. We both drank our shakes in silence.

  Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I swallowed the last of my milkshake along with my pride.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  Rin leaned back. “For?”

  “For keeping your sketchbook.”

  Rin wiped his hands on his napkin, one finger at a time. He crumpled the paper and tossed it onto the table next to his empty shake glass. The longer he took to respond, the more annoyed I got. I clenched my hands into fists under the table and pressed them against my legs. I clamped my lips so that I wouldn’t say anything I’d regret.

  “That’s it?” he said finally.

  “What do you mean?”

  “That was your apology? You’re only sorry for keeping my book?”

  “Yes. I mean I’m sorry for snapping at you, too.”

  Rin said nothing, but his eyes stayed on me.

  “What?” I asked. If he was waitin
g for me to say more, he’d be sorely disappointed.

  He shrugged, and I assumed that meant he accepted my apology. I unwrapped his sketchbook, leaving my wet rain jacket on the bench, and nudged it across the table to him.

  Rin didn’t reach for it, but I didn’t miss how his eyes locked onto the cover.

  “I told you I didn’t want it back.”

  “Why not? It’s really good.”

  “You looked at it?” His voice rose, but it sounded more like surprise than anger.

  “You said you didn’t want it.”

  “That didn’t mean it was yours.”

  “What did you want me to do with it? Throw it away?”

  He shrugged.

  “Rin.”

  He startled, and I blushed. For some reason, saying his name felt too personal. I cleared my throat and tried again. If I said his name more often, maybe it wouldn’t seem so strange.

  “Rin, your drawings are really good.”

  “Thanks,” he said, finally reaching for his sketchbook. He flipped through the pages backward. The fingers on his left hand twitched like he was itching to hold his pen and draw.

  He paused when he got to the sketches he’d done of me in the diner. His eyes flit to me, and he looked embarrassed. But he kept turning pages until he found the drawing of his family dinner.

  I moved over to him so that we were looking at it together. Our arms touched, and I drew back slightly, even though a part of me felt comforted by the contact. “I love this one,” I said quietly. “You’re lucky.”

  “Lucky?”

  “Just that you have your whole family there at the dinner table.”

  Rin stared at me for so long that I squirmed. I’d revealed way more than I had intended with those few words. I wanted to smack myself for dropping my guard. It was time to pivot and get some answers.

  “Does your sister come home to visit often? And does she help out with the family business at all? Do you?”

  He shot me a simmering glare and slammed the book shut. I took the hint and moved back to my side of the booth. Once again, silence descended. It wasn’t like we’d chatted away in the past, but this silence was different from all the others. It was full of unsaid things and pressed against me, heavy and dark. It made it hard to breathe.