He’s already walking backward toward the food counter, pointing his thumb over his shoulder, and it takes more strength than I anticipated to shake my head. I’m already on thin ice with Arlene—blowing off her orders to go eat dessert with Kai won’t do me any favors. “It’s okay,” I reassure him.
His smile drops into a dramatic pout. “You sure?” He sighswhen I nod, letting his arms fall limply at his sides. He walks back over to me slowly, digging his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“Well, your mom has good taste,” he says, eyeing the bodice of my dress with a smile. “Green’s your color. Makes your eyes pop.”
When Kai’s gaze meets mine, all sounds fall away—the distant hum of the TV, the clack of the receptionist’s keyboard, the scratch of canes and walkers on the cracked tile. There’s nothing left in the world but him, his smile, and the way I look in the reflection of his eyes. Soft and sweet and beautiful—a version of myself I never thought I could be. I resist the urge to lean in, to pull him by the collar of his jacket and do all the things I’ve been told I shouldn’t want. Press my lips to his, run my fingers down the smooth plane of his arms, hold him tight until he can feel the rhythm of my heartbeat—a song written for him.
I swear he leans in closer, not afraid to cross that line. The smell of him—soap and spiced cologne—surrounds me like fog. I’m not sure what he’ll do but I’m ready for all of it, bracing myself for something I know I should regret but won’t.
“Kai!” Mrs. Thompson shouts, popping our bubble. “Quit flirtin’ and help me back to my room.”
The pounding in my ears is so loud I don’t hear what Kai shouts back, my limbs heavy as I sink back down to the ground, not realizing that I’d leaned up onto my tiptoes. I’m not as good at resisting as I thought.
“Sorry, Good Grandson Duty calls,” Kai says, rubbing the back of his neck with a shy smile. He heads back toward his grandma while I collapse onto the column he’d been leaning against. I whip back to attention when he turns around, tryingto wipe the lovestruck grin off my face as he calls out, “Were you planning on going to the Halloween dance next Friday? I can make it up to you then. Buy you a belated spooky birthday cookie or something.”
“O-oh.” My fingers curl into fists, nails digging into the smooth flesh of my palms. “I’m not sure yet. I’ll…” I trail off, unsure what I’m willing to promise.
Deep in my gut, I know the answer is no—that Mami won’t let me. The only reason I’m able to volunteer at Sunny Hills is because I convinced her it would give my college applications a boost, even though we both know college is the kind of expense we’d never be able to afford. Still, we like to hold on to some of our old dreams. All the things that once felt possible.
I’d have a job if anyone was willing to hire me. We’ve never said it out loud, but I know we’re all praying that by the time I graduate next year people will have forgotten about us. About Papi. That businesses will be willing to have a Soto at their register or stocking their back room without attracting the wrong kind of attention. We’re lucky Mami was able to find a job bagging groceries at a Costco two towns over, but we know we can’t count on lightning to strike twice.
Until things change, Mami insists we stay close to home. She’s always been protective, even before Papi’s trial. Even before we lost my older brother, Joel. What was once just her holding us close now felt like a vise grip—harsh and suffocating. I’m lucky to have Sunny Hills. If I didn’t, I’d only ever be allowed to leave for the essentials. Groceries. School. Doctors’ appointments.
A Halloween dance is not essential.
“I’ll find out tonight,” I manage to choke out, wondering if I’ve made a mistake.
But I know I haven’t when he gives me that radiant smile again, so bright it feels like the best kind of blinding. He backs away slowly, eyes fixed on mine as he holds up his linked fingers. “Fingers crossed.”
I whip around, hoping to catch a glimpse of him wheeling Mrs. Thompson toward the elevator in the mirror mounted on the wall behind me, but he’s already out of view. All I can see is a girl in an olive-green dress patterned with daisies. Rosy cheeks and soft brown curls. Glossy lips tugged into a smile she didn’t think she still had in her. A girl I wouldn’t have recognized.
I run my hand along the neckline of the dress again, down the hollow of my throat until my heartbeat thrums beneath my fingertips. Finally, I feel something close to happiness. Finally, I feel beautiful. Finally, I feel hopeful for something sweet and good and pure. Finally, I have a shot at something that I don’t have to steal for it to be mine.
And I don’t regret a thing.
Exhibit B: Excerpt from theMillcreek Sun
Beloved High School Soccer Coach Sentenced to Life in Prison
The “trial of the year,” as declared by social media, has come to a shocking and abrupt end this afternoon. Following a bombshell confession midway through his trial for the murders of students Jose Perez and Danny Bauer, former Millcreek High soccer coach David Soto has been sentenced to life in prison.
The trial took the country by storm after popular true crime content creatorCrime and Dine with Hailey Wintersposted a video covering the case. At the time of this publication, Winters’s video has garnered over five million views. Livestreams of the court proceedings amassed audiences of over a hundred thousand viewers per day, the comments flooded with debates over whether Soto was guilty. But with his Friday-night confession, Soto put an end to any and all speculation, much to the shock of not just viewers following along, but the victims’ families as well.
“If there’s one good thing to come out of all of this, it’s that that monster is where he belongs,” Jose Perez’s mother, Sonia Perez, said exclusively to theMillcreek Sunfollowing the sentencing. Her son, a Millcreek High senior, had been coached by Soto since he first joined the team his freshman year. “I hope that man never sees the light of day again. It’s the least my son deserves.”
Soto’s family had been outspoken about his presumed innocence but were singing a different tune at the sentencing Tuesday morning. “We pray for his soul every night,” Soto’s wife, stay-at-home mother Emilia Diaz Soto, said in a statement on behalf of the family. “All we can ask for is peace and privacy as we try to move forward.”
David Soto will be eligible for parole in 2058, when he’s 72 years old.
2
Daydreams carry me through the rest of my volunteer shift. Add bounce to my step as I walk to the bus stop. Keep my grin in place the entire forty-five-minute ride home. I don’t need music when I can lose myself in dreams of a night with Kai. Dancing and laughing and maybe more. A night like the ones on the telenovelas Joel and I used to watch after dinner every night. The type of night I didn’t think was possible outside of a screen.
But my dream shatters when I see our garage.
MONSTER, painted in the color of the devil himself. Paint drips down from each letter, staining our driveway like a pool of blood. There’s a halfhearted swipe through theM. Either Mami or my younger brother, Mikey, must’ve seen it and tried cleaning it off before giving up and heading inside.
It’s not the first time something like this has happened, or even the worst. The first few weeks after Papi was arrested, it was constant. Words painted on every surface of our house. Sometimes the car. LIAR, DEVIL, MURDERER. Notes slipped beneath the front door, calling us even worse. Rotten fruit and bricks lobbed at our windows as we told ourselves to be grateful they never aimed for our heads. It didn’t matterthat their real target—Papi—wasn’t home and would never be coming back. We were still the faces on the news, holding back tears as we stood alone on his side of the courtroom. We had his last name. Me and Mikey had his face—his deep brown eyes and thick, boxy brows. That was enough.