Down and Across by Arvin Ahmadi

Author:Arvin Ahmadi
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2018-02-06T00:00:00+00:00

I ARRIVED AT Café Saint-Ex a few minutes early. I power walked the whole way over, because fast walking is the moving equivalent of nervous fidgeting. I didn’t want to wait outside the bar by myself, so I did a loop around the block. The second time I arrived at Café Saint-Ex, Fiora was there.

“So where’s Pencil Skirt?” she said. “I thought of all of us, she’d be the most punctual.”

“No clue. Maybe she panicked and changed her mind,” I said.

Fiora shrugged. She was wearing a black tank top and baggy parachute pants, an outfit that reassured me Saint-Ex was not a fancy-pants establishment. I wore the same polo and corduroys I’d been wearing all week. Turns out there were washing machines in my hostel, so instead of spending money on new clothes, I spent some quarters washing the ones I had.

A few minutes passed.

“Are any of your other friends showing up?” I asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Fiora muttered.

She bit her lower lip, and I stared at the ground. It was going to be uncomfortable for both of us if Jeanette flaked. But she didn’t.

“Hey, Scott!” Jeanette said, coming in for a firm hug. Her boobs pressed into my chest forcefully, which made me flinch. Then she turned to Fiora. “Hi. I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Jeanette.” She extended her arm. “Scott and I met today at, well—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the story.” Fiora shook Jeanette’s hand skeptically, fishlike. “Pleasure to meet you.”

You know that expression . . . two worlds collide? That. Handshake. By normal standards, I shouldn’t have been invested in either of their worlds. I’d only known Fiora for a few days and Jeanette for a few hours. But here I was, orbiting aimlessly within a universe of girls.

“Shall we go inside?” Jeanette proposed.

“We have to wait for Trent,” I said.

“Trent’s going to be late,” Fiora said. “He can meet us inside.”

“Yeah, but remember Trent has that thing that I need . . . ?” I was trying to be discreet.

“Riiiight,” Fiora said. “Your fake ID. I forgot you’re, like, a baby.”

I gave Fiora the quickest death glare. Jeanette giggled. “Freshman problems,” she said sympathetically, fumbling through her wallet to show off her own fake ID. “It’s my older sister Frankie’s license. She’s the wild one in the family—left Virginia, lives in Brooklyn now . . . Frankie says I should have fun this summer.”

Technically we were all underage, but Jeanette had no idea just how “under” my age was. She didn’t need to know.

Trent arrived what felt like an hour later with a lost expression on his face. He seemed focused on something else, muttering an excuse about how he’d gotten held up with his coworker Carlos. He hugged Fiora absently, and then he snapped on, introducing himself like a gentleman to Jeanette, who practically gawked in his presence. (She must have been thinking, Am I really with Scott when I just met this hunk?!)

Trent handed me Carlos’s ID. “Memorize everything,” he said. “In case the bouncer gives you shit ’cuz you don’t have a five o’clock shadow like Carlos.

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