Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

The next morning, I keep my chin up as I walk inside my classroom, steadfastly averting my gaze from Jonas’s corner. As I put my bag down on my chair and start unloading books and sliding them into the open mouth of my desk, I overhear Jonas talking to Tristan.

“…swear, that asshole was on me the whole night. It made the game unplayable.”

Tristan:“That sucks. Did you report him?”

Jonas:“Of course I did. Do you think I’m a moron? But of course the mods did nothing. They don’t care about these things.”

Tristan:“Well, I guess it’s hard because, technically, the opposing side is supposed to kill you, so…”

Jonas:“Yeah, but this was different. He wasn’t doing it to win the game. He was hunting me down and camping on the respawn point.”

Tristan:“Why didn’t you just kill him?”

There’s silence, then Jonas says, “Ugh, you just don’t get it. He was in freaking stealth mode the whole time! How the hell was I supposed to see him, never mind kill him?”

Heh-heh. Ah, this conversation is sparking such joy, as Marie Kondo would say. I imagine myself joining in and helpfully suggesting that Jonas use his warrior ability to strike around him in a whirlwind, which would render the shadow stance useless. Oh, to see the look on his face when he gets taught how to play better by a girl. But I need to focus on my goal, which is not to troll Jonas but to make myself a couple of friends. Right.

I look around. There’s ten minutes before the first period starts, and half my classmates have already arrived. Most of them are chatting with their friends, but a couple of them are sitting quietly at their desks, reading. Introverts! Yesss. Okay, that came out a lot more creepy than I intended. Better still, one of the quietly reading ones is none other than Peishan. Surely a girl with the bad luck of sitting next to Jonas would be sympathetic toward me.

Here goes. I take a deep breath and tap Peishan on the shoulder.

“Hi, Peishan.” Good. My voice comes out the perfect balance of chill and friendly.

She turns around and—get this—does what I swear is a tiny grimace. Gah! Not a good start. Still, I press on.

“Um, read anything good lately?” I say, nodding at her book. Oh god, that sounded so pathetic, like a pickup line some creep would try at a bar. Okay, maybe not at a bar. I wouldn’t know, I’ve never been inside a bar, but I imagine they’re full of creeps approaching women with stupid one-liners. Much like the one I’ve just approached Peishan with.

“No,” she says. She shows me the cover of the book she’s reading, and of course it’s one of our textbooks.

“Oh, right. Yeah, studying hard, huh?” Inside, something shrivels up and dies. I believe it was my soul. Because could I sound more dadlike?

Peishan narrows her eyes at me. “What do you want, Kiki? I’d rather not chat with you for too long.”

Wow, okay. That was very straightforward. “Uh, I just—I—” Eleanor Roosevelt’s little matchmaking project jumps to my mind, and I hurtle toward it. “A couple of friends and I are starting this really cool app.” That sentence is sort of, kind of misleading, I realize, because I’m not sure that Eleanor Roosevelt and Sarah Jessica count as “friends.” I mean, are you even allowed to be friends with people four years your junior? It’s definitely not going to help me rejuvenate my reputation, that’s for sure. But nobody needs to know that the friends in question are only thirteen. “Basically, it’s a matchmaking app for teens, and we were wondering if you’d be interested in joining?”

One side of Peishan’s upper lip curls up, and she looks at me with the amount of disdain one might reserve for a particularly fat, wriggly earthworm. “Uh, no? Dating? We don’t have time to date, Kiki.” She says this really slowly, like I’m hard of hearing. “We’ve got exams and college apps to prep for. And not to mention dating’s forbidden?”

“Right. Of course. Well, you know, if you wanted to be involved in the business side of things, it could be good on your college apps?” Why am I even still trying? Part of me is shouting at myself to retain what few shreds of dignity I have left and leave already. But the other part of me is panting with desperation.

“No,” she says simply, and returns her attention to her textbook.

Shot down, just like that.

Liam arrives then, plopping down on his seat and depositing his heavy backpack on the floor with a thump. He catches my eye and raises his chin. “ ’Sup?”

Ugh, did he catch the tragedy that was me trying to chat up Peishan? My face feels hot, so I turn away. I hope I’m not visibly blushing. I still haven’t quite figured Liam out yet. I mean, at first, I thought he was one of Jonas’s stooges, but yesterday he told Jonas to back off, so I don’t know what his deal is. Whatever it is, I am not in the mood to try to figure out the horrible mess that is my group mates. I need a fresh start, someone who’s completely new to me.

Okay. I look around. Thankfully, no one else has given us any attention. I want to thunk my head down on my desk until school is done for the day, but no! I’m not one to be so easily thwarted. I eye another student. A boy named…uh, I believe it’s Jeff, or it might be Tobin. Wildly different names, I know, but he has a very Jeff/Tobin vibe. I saunter over, pretending like I’m perusing the bulletin boards at the back of the classroom. Luckily, Jeff/Tobin sits in the very back row. When I’m a couple of steps away from him, I summon up a smile and say, “Hey.”

He looks up in surprise and smiles at me. “Oh, hey.” Okay, this is a good start.

“Hey, what’re you up to?”

He gives me a sheepish grin and leans back in his seat so I can see that he’s got a textbook open, but hidden inside the textbook is a graphic novel.

“Cool!” I smile back to show that I’m definitely not the kind to rat out someone reading a graphic novel in class. Unlike Peishan, who is definitely that type. “Yeah, I’m really into graphic novels myself.”

“Really? No way! Which ones have you read?”

“Well, my favorite is Saga. I know it’s kind of old, but—”

“Oh my god,” Jeff/Tobin says. “I loved that series. They weren’t available here for the longest time, so I had to order them from Amazon US. I spent all my allowance paying for international shipping, but it was worth every cent.”

I laugh. “Wow, that’s hardcore. I asked my cousins in Singapore to bring me back copies. What are you read—”

“Oooh,” someone hoots. Jonas. He’s waggling his eyebrows at us while wearing this smirk that he probably picked up from a shitty rom-com with a shitty alpha male who thinks he’s hot shit. “Is it just me, or is there something going on between you guys?” His smirk morphs into a grin, and he crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Nicky and Crazy Kiki. I like it. Has a nice ring to it.”

“Jonas,” Liam groans, but Jonas simply shrugs and gives this innocent smile before going back to his seat.

Okay, so my new friend’s name is nowhere near Jeff or Tobin.

Even as I’m digesting this fact, Nicky’s whole face turns red and he shakes his head jerkily. “No,” he snaps. “There’s nothing going on between me and Crazy Kiki.” With that, he turns his whole upper body away from me. I’ve literally been given the cold shoulder.

And it stings. Holy crap, does it ever sting. It’s not like I’ve developed feelings for Nicky or anything, but we were having an actual conversation. We were bonding. I thought he could be my first friend here, someone with whom I share a genuine interest, and we graphic novel nerds should stick together, right? There’s an unspoken rule of loyalty between graphic novel fans and gaming nerds to have each other’s backs in real life. But Nicky’s gone and stuck a knife deep in my gut to preserve himself. He didn’t even just say nothing’s going on between us. He went the extra mile and called me the name that Jonas christened me with.

From the corner of my eye, I see Liam stand up and walk toward me. I bet he’s going to tell me I’m being stupid or whatever.

Crazy Kiki.

God, I hate that name. Tears prick the back of my eyes. I can’t bear to look at anyone. I keep my eyes on my feet and stalk out the door just as the first period teacher walks in.

“Class is about to start,” Mr. Wong says.

I manage to choke out, “Toilet!” before hurrying away. No doubt I’ll get reprimanded for this—tardiness, lack of manners, and other transgressions they’ll come up with—but I don’t care. I run to the blessedly empty bathroom and sob. I hardly know myself anymore. I didn’t think that my confidence could be shattered this quickly, but then again, I’ve never been in a position where I’m the butt of an entire class’s joke.

I can’t wait to get home and give Jonas the thrashing he deserves on Warfront Heroes.

---

By the time the weekend arrives, my nerves are shot. I’ve never felt this way before, not even when I was in kindergarten. I’ve always been so confident, but my first week at Xingfa has left me feeling like I’ve been on the losing end of a fistfight. Normally, I would be half-excited, half-chill before a date—excited because I know I’m about to have a blast, chill because I know that even if we don’t hit it off, it’s all going to be okay. But now, before my first Lil’ Aunties–arranged date, I’m actually nervous as hell. I have no idea what to expect. My phone beeps as I’m getting ready, and I practically pounce on it.

Hey, you have a date today, right?

Cassie:She does!!

Sharlot:Aaah! Excuse me, we need PICS! Show us your outfit!

That makes me smile despite my nerves, and I oblige, taking a mirror selfie and sending it their way.

I LOVE

Sharlot:Yasss, I approve! The shorts say: I’m super casual, this is no biggie

Cassie:But the top says…wait, I don’t know what the top says

Sharlot:It says: But take me somewhere nice

Cassie:Yes, that

Kiki:You guys are dorks, you know that, right?

I love these two so much for making me smile. Another message pops up at the top of my screen, from the Lil’ Aunties group, and I tap on it.

Ci Kiki, did you receive the pdf we sent you yesterday?

Kiki:The 12-page pdf with over a hundred rules on dating? Yes, yes I did.

And boy, do I ever wish that I hadn’t. The rules that these girls have come up with range from sensible (“No posting pics on social media without everybody’s permission”) to random (“No going to Starbucks or Coffee Bean”) to ridiculous (“Family members may attend if it is the following: siblings okay on the second date, cousins okay on the third date, parents okay on the fourth date, grandparents and uncles/aunts only after the sixth date”). Okay, knowing the Chinese Indonesian culture, that last rule isn’t actually that ridiculous; I’ve heard of many a first date where one party took their parents along.

Here’s a link to a DocuSign. Pls sign it before you go on your date

Kiki:Ummmmm…dare I ask what it’s for?

SJP:We mentioned the NDA before—don’t worry, it’s very reasonable. You can talk about your date freely if you want, but you must leave Eleanor Roosevelt and me out of it. No one else can know of Lil’ Aunties

Kiki:So you’re like the Illuminati

Eleanor Roosevelt:But better, because we’re actually doing good. The DocuSign also includes a waiver so you can’t sue us if things go wrong :)

Kiki:UMMM, wait, just how wrong are you expecting things to go??

SJP:It’s just a formality

Eleanor Roosevelt:Yep, just a formality. But sign it before your date pls

Welp, this is the first-ever NDA and waiver I have ever had to sign. Feels right that it would be, of all things, for Eleanor Roosevelt’s questionable matchmaking service. I click on the link and sign where the program tells me to, then hit Send.

Got it

Eleanor Roosevelt:Thanks, Ci Kiki! Right, you’ve got sixteen minutes before Jeremiah picks you up for your date. Have fun!

Sixteen minutes is very precise timing, but I can picture Eleanor Roosevelt and Sarah Jessica holding an actual timer and watching it to mark the start time of my first date. I check my reflection in the mirror one last time before making my way downstairs.

I walk as quietly as I can past the living room, but Papi spots me and calls out, “Kiki, you off to see Cassie?”

I wipe the grimace off my face and plaster on a smile before turning to face him. “Just going out with a friend from school.”

Mami appears from the kitchen behind him, grinning. “From Xingfa?” she practically squeaks. “A new friend!”

Anger leaps up my gut. She is the last person who has the right to be happy about anything that has to do with Xingfa. I scowl at her. “Not a friend. Just—” I struggle for the right words. I don’t want to tell my parents that I have sunk so low that I had to enlist the help of two underaged matchmakers. But then I realize, why not? It’s their fault I’m in a school so ill-suited to me that I’m now friendless. “I don’t have any real friends at Xingfa.”

Mami’s and Papi’s faces crease into frowns. “That’s not possible,” Mami says with a snort. “Even when you were in kindergarten, you were always popular.”

It hurts because it’s true. I’ve never had a taste of being a pariah, and the reminder of how loved I was in the past suddenly drains me. I shake my head. “Whatever.”

Papi’s smile fades. “Kiki.” There’s a warning tone in his voice, which angers me.

“Well, you clearly have friends, because you’re going out now,” Mami says brightly.

It’s too much, all of it. Mami’s peppy, hopeful voice. Papi’s disappointment. I shrug and say, “Anyway, see you,” and before they can say anything else, I practically rush out the front door.

The last thing I want to do is have to walk back inside the house and be faced with more questions, so even though Jeremiah isn’t here yet, I walk down the driveway and wait outside our gate. I check my phone. It’s two minutes past the official start time of our date. I chew the inside of my cheek and scroll through TikTok for a bit. Five minutes pass, then ten. Technically, this isn’t a rarity; Indonesians are notorious for being late. We call it “Indo time.” But Eleanor Roosevelt and Sarah Jessica have been so insistent on punctuality, I really wasn’t expecting this. I’m about to send a WhatsApp message to the Lil’ Aunties group chat when I see a car trundling down the street.

It stops right in front of my house. My mouth goes dry, and I have to swallow to keep from coughing. This is it. My first-ever Lil’ Aunties date. The back door opens and out comes Jeremiah. Niiice. I make a mental note to commend Eleanor Roosevelt and Sarah Jessica for making a good choice: broad shoulders, firm jaw, a mop of curls that’s just begging for fingers to run through it. Jeremiah is totally a sight for sore eyes.

But apparently he doesn’t feel the same way about me, because when he sees me, his expression falls. It’s such a drastic change that it’s impossible to miss. His mouth actually drops open, and his eyes go dark, his brows slamming together. Good god, do I really look that terrible? Maybe I have a giant piece of spinach stuck to my teeth? No, the way he’s staring at me with such despair, I would have needed to have a whole bunch of spinach stuck to my face.

“Um, hi,” I somehow manage to say.

“No,” Jeremiah says.

“Sorry?”

“This is not happening. I am NOT going out with Crazy Kiki.”

It feels like he’s just kicked me in the stomach. The breath is knocked out of me, and I want to crumple to the ground.

Jeremiah is shaking his head. “Ugh, I should’ve known better than to trust those kids. No wonder they didn’t want to tell me who my date was. Jesus, what a waste of time.” Sneering, he climbs back inside his car. He doesn’t even bother speaking to me. Everything he’s said has been to some invisible audience. Before I know it, the car is reversing. My head is a screaming, scrambled mess. What is happening? He just got here! I didn’t even get to—

“Wait!” I shout, running toward the car. It halts, and the back window rolls down. Jeremiah peers out at me, still frowning.

“Sorry, but I’m not interested,” he says.

“I figured,” I snap. “I just—” What the hell was I going to say to him? What is there to say? It feels like my brain is hiccupping. “Do you play Warfront Heroes?” I blurt out.

“What?” The frown on his face deepens. “What’s that?”

“It’s ah—an online game?”

“Like I said,” Jeremiah says, enunciating every word like he’s talking to a toddler, “I’m not interested.” And with that, he presses a button and his window starts closing again. But before it closes all the way, he chuckles and says, “You really are Crazy Kiki.”

I stand there shaking, watching his car disappear around the corner, and no matter how many times I tell myself that it’s okay, it’s his loss, I don’t think I’ll ever believe it.