Chapter Six

December 1998

Mandy sat on the floor in her bedroom, legs stretched out to her sides as far as they could go with her tape, scissors, and the special wrapping paper she picked out for one particular gift in a pile in front of her. The paper featured Santa with a soccer ball, playing with his reindeer—it wasn't baseball, but it was the thought that counted, right? After several attempts that ended with torn and crumpled balls scattered around her, she steadied her hands and tried again. It had to be just right. If it wasn't, how would Brandon know how much she liked him? She checked and double-checked before she cut and only used small pieces of tape. The bandage between her fingers from an early paper cut made it a little more difficult, but she couldn't get blood on it like her last failed attempt—that was just gross. Mandy folded and creased and tucked the corners in, and finally she had done it. Satisfied, she finished by sticking a big red bow right in the center.

Perfect.

Brandon was going to freak out when he saw the personalized jersey Mandy bought for him. She couldn't wait to see the look on his face. He was, after all, her first real boyfriend, and they had been dating for almost three whole months.

She kept a shoebox full of all the notes they'd exchanged, folded into little heart shapes. Brandon wasn't much of a writer, usually responding in a couple of sentences to Mandy's paragraphs, but she didn't mind.

Mandy's warm cheeks hurt from smiling so big looking down at his gift. Ever since Brandon started going to the ballpark with Mandy, she actually enjoyed herself—even if Brandon spent most of the time watching the game. It wasn't like she could get mad at him since Dad was the same way with football at home. Dad's time at the baseball game was spent between watching the field and "networking," which Mandy decided at the time was just a fancy way to say talking to other adults.

In other words, boring.

But watching Brandon get so excited when the Dodgers scored made it all worth it. Just like giving this gift would be worth emptying her piggy bank—all her saved birthday and tooth fairy money from years ago combined. Mom wasn't happy about Mandy's choice. Miss Heather—Mandy's therapist—suggested she might want to offer a smaller token. But Mandy had already drawn him more pictures than she could count. She imagined he had them all hanging on the wall in his bedroom—maybe one day he would invite her over so she could see for herself—so this had to be something extra special. It had to be the perfect gift.

"Mandy, we have to go," Mom called from downstairs. "We're going to be late."

"Coming," Mandy yelled back as she struggled to push the present under her bed. It was already pretty full with the ones for Mom, Dad, Isa, and Miss Heather. She would have to clean up the rest of the mess later before her mom saw it.

"Mandy!" Mom bellowed again. "Come on."

They were just going to her school's winter festival event, which meant they didn't have to be there at any certain time, but Mandy wasn't going to bring this up.

She ran to the stairs and slid down the banister so fast Mom didn't have time to yell at her not to.

"Amanda Elizabeth Dean. What have I told you about that?" Mom's hands were perched on her hips and her lips were pursed, but Mandy was pretty sure she was fighting not to laugh.

Dad chuckled. "I did it all the time when I was her age, and I turned out okay."

Mom gave Dad the look. "Not helping." Mom turned to grab her purse, and Dad winked at Mandy.

Mandy skipped along the driveway and hopped into the back seat of Mom's car as her parents got into the front. The Winter Carnival at GAT—more formally known as the School for the Gifted and Talented—was the most important fundraiser of the year, and everyone who went to school there, and a bunch of alumni that were still in the area, attended. Between the field and the parking lot there was enough room to set up rides and games where you could win prizes, and they even had cotton candy, fried Oreos, and all the fun fair food—as Dad liked to call it. Mandy liked all those things, and this year she was planning to ride the Ferris wheel with Brandon. They'd sit close—knees touching—and hold hands.

Would he want to kiss her?

She'd been dreaming about it. When they went to the ballpark, they were always with Mandy's parents, and no way would she do that in front of them. But on the Ferris wheel, they could be alone, and then when they got stuck at the top, no one would even see. It would be perfect, and oh so romantic. Just like a scene in a movie.

On the drive over, Mandy didn't even complain about Dad's music choice that had way too much drumming. All she could think about was Brandon, her Ferris wheel ride, and her (hopefully) first kiss.

Soon Mom parked, and the three of them walked past lines of cars. The sweet scent of sugar and salt of over-buttered popcorn wafted through the air. Screams of joy—or terror—from rides like the Gravitron and the Zipper could be heard blocks away.

"What do you want to do first?" Mom asked.

Mandy and Dad exchanged a look and together they responded, "Corn dogs."

"I don't even know why I asked." Mom started pulling prepaid food tickets from her purse. There wasn't a price of admission, but everything needed tickets. Food, rides, games—and they were all different.

It was already packed as Mandy entered with her parents and snaked through the masses of people. Her art teacher had a stand set up for drawing caricatures, and her PE teacher staffed a booth where you could kick a ball through a board where giant faces with their mouths wide open were painted. The whole kindergarten class was setting up on a stage getting ready to sing a few songs. Mandy had done that when she was their age. But so far, no Brandon.

Excitement bubbled in Mandy's chest as she entered the food tent and got in line with her parents, searching the crowd. Her friend Laura sat at a long table with the rest of her gigantic family. They were easy to spot since almost all of them had the same raven-black hair—some of them had straight hair and some curly, but it all was so black it looked almost blue, which stood out against their mostly cream-colored skin. Clay and José—Brandon's friends—were goofing around near the beverage stand. Mandy's other friend Sara stood waiting for chicken nuggets on the opposite side of the tent with her mom, who wore the most beautiful sari—that's what Sara had told Mandy the dresses her mom always wore were called. There were a bunch of other kids from her class too, but still no Brandon. He should've been with Clay—since they were as tight as Mandy and Isa—so maybe he didn't come? But that didn't make any sense. He had to be around there somewhere.

As soon as Mom handed Mandy her corn dog, Mandy asked, "Can I go look for people?"

Dad glanced at his watch. "Check back here in one hour."

Mandy raced off.

"One hour," Dad called after her.

"One hour," Mandy parroted to let her parents know she was listening.

Surely, she would be able to find Brandon and ride the Ferris wheel with him within the hour. Since he wasn't in the food tent, maybe he was in line to take pictures with his family in front of the school. That was another big draw for this event. The school hired a professional photographer, and most of the pictures taken ended up on Christmas cards that Mom would later put on display until the first weekend of January, when all the decor would be cleaned up and put away for next year—and the cards tossed in the garbage.

Mandy bobbed and wove her way through the crowd, past the kiddie rides where some toddlers screeched as they zoomed along in minicars on a small track, and others rode horses on the merry-go-round. When she came to the front of the school and didn't spot him—only his parents talking in a group of adults—Mandy pivoted and headed for the games. Of course he must be there. Probably trying to win the biggest stuffed bear for Mandy. Why hadn't she thought of that sooner?

People threw darts at balloons and balls at bottles; the crashes and squeals of excitement merged with ringing bells, but Mandy ignored them all. At one point someone—Sara maybe—yelled her name, but Mandy was on a mission. She ducked behind a group of high schoolers and kept hunting.

Her time was running out. She would have to check in with her parents soon, and then she'd have to stand in line for their picture to be taken, and by that time Isa would be there, and they always went on the Scrambler together, then spent the rest of their time alternating between snacking and more rides, always ending on the Tilt-a-Whirl with as many people as they could pack into one carriage without getting in trouble.

It didn't make any sense. Brandon's friends were here, his parents were here, so where the heck was he? Her pace slowed from a frantic rush until her feet stopped her right in front of the Ferris wheel. How close she was and yet so very far.

A rush of wind pushed her hair away from her face as the wheel spun, bringing with it the sound of a familiar voice.

Three baskets up were Brandon's signature Air Jordans, but those were not the feet of another boy sitting next to him. Mandy's heart started to race. She wanted so badly for it to be his sister, but she was only six, and this girl's legs were way too long. Mandy shifted through the crowd as the wheel came to a stop, her hands starting to shake. And there through the steel bars and flashing lights was Brandon—with Alison Dainton and a giant stuffed bear, forcing them to sit closer together, knees touching and holding hands. Alison was an eighth grader, on the swim team, and class president.

What was he doing with her ?

Mandy already knew the answer long before her brain asked the question. She knew the moment she spotted those fluorescent-orange-painted toes in sandals.

Everything around Mandy blurred. The lights. The shrieks of joy. The hordes of people. This wasn't supposed to be how it happened. It was supposed to be Mandy in that seat next to Brandon. Mandy's hand he was holding. Mandy's lips he was kissing.

This was like a movie. A horrible, terrible, awful movie. Before anyone could notice her, and before anyone could notice her noticing what Brandon and Alison were doing, Mandy sprinted away.

By the time the moon came out and stars filled an inky sky that night, Mandy's sadness had morphed into something else. Perhaps it was because of the way Isa responded to the news.

"That's messed up," she had said. "Brandon's a total pendejo."

Of course, Isa was right. Mandy was too good for Brandon—Isa's words—and now as Isa and Mandy walked down a suburban street full of single-family homes, wearing all black and carrying a bag full of rolls of toilet paper, Brandon was about to find out just how wrong he was to cheat on her.

Mandy checked behind them.

"Stop doing that." Isa swatted Mandy's arm.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"He didn't even break up with you first."

Mandy shrugged. "I know, but—"

"But nothing." Isa's voice held more conviction than Mandy's whole body. It had been her idea to raid Mandy's pantry of their mega-sized stash of toilet paper and, under the cover of night, leave Brandon a little message in sidewalk chalk on his driveway. "No one treats you that way. No one."

The crickets seemed to agree with Isa, getting louder the closer they got to Brandon's house. Like their own personal cheering squad. But Mandy's stomach clenched, and the fried Oreos she protested eating earlier threatened to make an appearance.

Sneaking out of Mandy's house would've been impossible, since every time a door or window opened, their alarm system would beep. And sneaking out of Isa's wasn't any easier. There were rosebushes outside her window, so they had to use the front door, and Abuela liked to fall asleep on the couch most nights. But the noise of the TV helped them escape, even though there was still the task of sneaking back inside ahead of them. They would both be in extra-big trouble if they were found out, but Isa had assured Mandy it would be worth it. Isa had never been so fired up before. Usually, she was the cautious one.

As the blocks went on, and the rows of smaller houses that characterized Isa's neighborhood gave way to larger and more spacious lots, with gates and gardens that hid the homes from view, Mandy wasn't so sure they made the right choice. Yes, she was hurt, and angry, but maybe it had been Mandy's fault. Maybe Mandy needed to be a better girlfriend. Maybe there was more Mandy could've done.

Amber streetlights cast an almost ominous glow along their journey. Somewhere in a tree nearby, an owl hooted. Or maybe he was saying, "Go home. Go home."

Mandy glanced back again.

"Stop doing—"

"Car." Mandy pulled Isa out of the road and behind some garbage cans, her heart ricocheting in her chest faster than a rogue pinball. "That was close."

"We aren't going to get caught."

Mandy didn't know how Isa could be so sure, but she also didn't question her when she got like this. When Isa was determined it was best to go along with it.

As soon as the passing car's taillights faded to black, Mandy and Isa emerged from their hiding spot and continued down the road. And before Mandy had the chance to second-guess herself again, they'd arrived.

Brandon's house looked exactly the same as it had the last time Mandy was there—except it was a lot darker out. Her parents had picked him up for an afternoon Dodgers game, so the porch light wasn't on and there had only been one car in the driveway, but the yellow paint looked just as sunshiny, and the bushes under the windows still had a few blooms. The grass was still neatly mowed, and the little sign alerting passersby that a dog was "on duty" still hung from the wooden gate that led to the backyard. Not that Mandy had ever been in the backyard, or inside the house for that matter, but she was pretty sure they didn't have a dog. She had never heard it bark when she came knocking to pick Brandon up, and wasn't that what dogs did?

"Come on." Isa's voice jarred Mandy from her thoughts. "You start over there, and I'll do this side." She shoved a roll into Mandy's hands.

The paper seemed heavier—just as soft, but heavier.

Isa launched her roll into the avocado tree, the paper snagging on a branch and then cascading to the ground. The white strip rippled in a passing breeze like the water in Mandy's backyard fountain when her mother turned it on. Isa mumbled something under her breath ending with "Alison" as she launched the roll back into the tree.

And that was all it took to snap Mandy into action. No, it wasn't Alison's fault. Mandy wasn't mad at her. Brandon probably didn't even tell her about Mandy. About all the games she brought him to because Mandy loved Brandon, and Brandon loved baseball. He loved it so much that it was all he ever talked about.

That was it, wasn't it?

Baseball, not Mandy.

It had never been about Mandy, had it?

Rage burned in Mandy's chest, and she launched her own roll and then another. Sweat dripped down her neck, soaking into the band of her black sweatpants as tentacles of white all fluttered in the wind, making the yard look more like a papier-maché project gone wrong than a place someone lived. Empty cardboard tubes littered the manicured lawn, and the bags that had been full what felt like moments before were practically empty.

"You know, this feels good." Mandy panted.

"Shhh…"

"You're right. He's a pendejo."

"SHHH…"

"A really, really—"

The porch light flipped on, and Mandy's heart turned off.

Oh no.

Mandy froze mid-throw—arm back, roll clenched in her hand.

Locks clicked. The door creaked as it started to open.

"Come on." Isa's fingers wrapped around Mandy's wrist and yanked.

Mandy's brain might not have been working, but her feet got the message as she took off with Isa.

"Hey!" someone yelled, but no way was Mandy checking behind them now. No. They had to get out of there. But what if someone raced after them? Was that the sound of a car door slamming? No way could they outrun Brandon's dad's pickup truck.

This wasn't good. They'd get caught, and they'd get in trouble. They needed to get out of sight and lie low for a while, and quick. Bright lights rounded the corner behind them. Now it was Mandy's turn to grab Isa and pull her off the main road.

Isa didn't resist. She followed Mandy just as Mandy had followed Isa before—without question. Gravel crunched under her feet as she tugged her friend along, through an open gate to an expansive backyard, and ducked under a trampoline.

Mandy lay on her stomach waiting, listening to the nothingness in the night. It was as though the air itself were holding its collective breath for them. Mandy couldn't even hear the rapid beat of her own heart. Then at last a vehicle drove past, and her pulse finally started to slow.

"That was close," Isa whispered as she panted by Mandy's side.

"Too close."

"But so worth it." Isa's wide grin made Mandy smile.

There under the taut material of the trampoline, the cool grass tickled Mandy's chin, and the crushing silence ended as a cacophony of crickets chirped. They had just TP'ed Brandon Martínez's house, turning it into a winter wonderland of sorts. Mandy couldn't help but imagine a toilet sitting on the lawn amid all the streams of toilet paper.

"I'm really sorry that happened to you." Isa's voice broke through the vision swirling in Mandy's head.

"It's not your fault."

"I know, but"—Isa paused—"you didn't deserve that. And one day you'll find someone who likes you for you, not for anything you can give them or do for them. Because you are amazing, Mandy. You are so caring, and loving, and creative, and talented, and loyal, and I…I love you for real," Isa said.

Mandy turned to her best friend. The girl who committed a misdemeanor and almost got caught with her and never blinked an eye. "I love you for real back."

Mandy reached over and pulled Isa into a side squeeze—which was an awkward way to hug, but it did the job—then she flopped onto her back. Isa lay next to her. And there in the darkness, in the damp grass with the crickets chirping, Mandy interlaced their fingers and tried to find the stars through the underside of the trampoline.