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Me:Scream!!!

Zee:SCREAM!

Me:I KNOW! I can't believe I'm going to New York

Zee:Oh, I thought you were talking about Royce and you, K-I-S-S-I-N-G in the freaking Capitol Theatre!

Obviously, I told Zee literally seconds after I unlocked lips from Royce.

Me:That too! SCREAM!

"Shhhhh!" someone in the row in front of me hisses.

I am on the bus back to Malaysia with Vern, although we are seated three rows apart. It was a mutual decision, although there have been moments in the almost-six-hour journey that I missed having him next to me, and I think he did, too. I caught him checking up on me.

Royce:Have a safe journey home

Me (screenshots):Oh my gaaaaaaaawd Z look what he just texted me

Zee:OMG BOY HAS THE HOTS FOR YOU

Me:HE SO TOTALLY DOES!!

Zee: SQQQQQUUUEEEEEEEEEEE SO TELL ME, WAS THERE TOUNNG?

Me:what?

Zee: I didn't know how to spell

Me:NOT GOING TO TELL

Me:

Me:Aha ha. Ahahahahah! So much tongue. A tongue tsunami!

Zee:Ewww Agnes GROSS stop TMI I used to LIKE ROYCE

Me:!!! You're right, oh my gosh, that is so INAPPROPRIATE of me

Me:Apologies

Zee:Ahhaahahaha, as if! This barely registers on my gross-o-meter! Give me all the deets and GET IN THERE!

Me:

Zee:I love you

Me:You too

Up front, three rows away, I hear Vern say, "Agnes, please. I can hear you texting from over here."

"Shut up, Vern," I say.

I'm absolutely wired, and it's not just because I'm going to New York, it's because—it's because I can't stop replaying the moment of Royce's kiss.

The way his eyelashes fluttered down. The way every second grew taut with longing until our lips met at last, and then every fiber of my being flooded with light even as my eyes closed, as we met again and again, each kiss a caress. And as his kisses grew surer, he pulled me to him, deepening the pressure until our lips parted and—

I give out the world's tiniest, most silent squee.

~

The reckoning comes as soon as I arrive home late the next morning after a short nap at Zee's.

After I get home, I find my mother is waiting for me in the living room, Stanley having left for some conference. She holds up her phone, where an announcement of the winners of the semifinals have been announced in the local daily. I'm there, front and center onstage, with Vern next to me.

"Oh shit," I say. "I didn't know that old media could be so fast." I give her my best resting winner face even though I'm feeling anything but winnerly.

"Get some breakfast and we'll talk," she says.

After breakfast, she sits me down.

"So you weren't with Zee yesterday."

"No. And I'm sorry you found out this way." My poor heart has been through a lot these past twenty-four hours. I try to keep my answers light even as I scan her for signs of distress.

She purses her lips but seems remarkably calm. "Was this your first time? Using Zee as an excuse?"

I avert my eyes. "Urms…mayhap?"

She shakes her head, disappointment lacing her words. "I didn't like finding out you were in Singapore from the freaking national papers, and I certainly don't appreciate finding out about the times you lied to us about hanging out with her when you were performing stand-up. Why couldn't you tell me?"

I hesitate. This would be a good opportunity to tell my mother that I'd been keeping all kinds of things from her my entire adolescence, to preserve her sanity. It would be a good time to come clean, since she appears calm. But I have firsthand experience seeing her being calm and fine, until she wasn't. And with her on pregnancy meds, which I'd read online meant adjusted or lower doses of what she usually consumed or different drugs altogether, I just can't risk it.

I say, "I didn't want to jinx it by saying something—I wanted it to be a nice surprise when I won." I didn't tell her how stressed I had been. A few years ago, I'd made the decision to keep my mom out, to show her only the happy, thriving part of me, and now I find it hard to change the settings, to be vulnerable, unsure in front of her. I do this to preserve her. I find myself thinking of Vern in spite of all the messy things that have happened between us—he'd understand. He does this for his aunt. "I didn't want to tell you until I was sure."

My mother's eyes grow sad. "I would have liked to share in the journey with you, honey."

"What's my punishment?" I ask, eager to end the conversation. We just don't have that relationship.

"You're grounded for a week," she says. "I know what a social butterfly you are."

She really doesn't know me.

She hands me an envelope. "This came for you."

My stomach drops; I had forgotten about the letter that Rosie had been talking about.

"Do you need some privacy?" she asks.

I nod and she heads to the dining room.

The envelope is stamped with the blue logo of Rhode Island College of the Arts. I open it slowly and read the words with disbelief.

Rhode Island College of the Arts—one of the backup options Ms. Tina had asked me to consider—is offering me a generous partial scholarship covering more than half my college fees, a scholarship reserved for international students in leadership positions. I can't believe it. My emotions are jumbled, the news bittersweet. Rhode Island isn't a fancy Ivy League school or even a top state school like what I'd been set up to go to, but it's an NCAA Division II school in women's track, it's in New England, and they have a very highly regarded creative writing program, should I want to major in that one day.

It's perfect.

I sit down on the floor with a loud thud that brings everyone in.

"Are you okay?" Mom asks.

I wordlessly hand her the letter.

"Oh wow," she says, sitting down slowly with an even louder thud won the floor. Rosie flops down next to her theatrically. "Et tu, Agnes?" she says. "Will you betray me so?"

"Oh wow is right," I say.

"Creative writing?" my mother says.

"Drama queen," Rosie says.

"We can't afford to help out with the fees and living costs," my mother says, looking pained.

"I know," I say hurriedly. "I don't expect you to. I can always defer a year, start working toward the goal of saving enough for school."

"A whole year?"

"Makes sense—maybe my leg will miraculously revert to its original state and I can use that time to earn enough money to go to college. It's absolutely fine," I say. And should I place in the JOGGCo competition…

A small flame of hope kindles in my chest.

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