M I M O S A

[acacia dealbata] ➳ sensitivity.

ISAAC AND I AGREED not to look through Jackie's phone.

She was just another kid at school, after all. We didn't want to uncover anything potentially embarrassing about her. Plus, she was much less evil than her dad, and we had nothing to gain from hacking into her social media accounts.

So the phone sat at the bottom of my backpack throughout fourth period. Isaac couldn't seem to help himself and nudged it with his foot a few times during the lesson, but I reeled him back with a death glare. 

"Can you not? If Mr. Davis tries to confiscate it..."

A tiny smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth as he switched to kicking the leg of his desk instead. "Don't worry. I got you."

I snorted. "That's exactly what I'm worried about."

At the end of the day, I returned the phone to the school office and told the receptionist I had found it in a gym locker. Never mind that I wasn't even taking P.E. this semester — my lie slipped through the elderly woman's mental detectors unnoticed. 

She tucked the phone into her Lost and Found drawer, and as I left, a heavy weight lifted off my chest. I couldn't believe it had been so easy to discard the evidence of my first and only major theft. It was almost too good to be true.

Nonetheless, my relief was short-lived.

As I left the office, I spotted the counsellor's door out of the corner of my eye. It reminded me that I had yet to talk to my parents about attending Isaac's stepbrother's party, and that they had yet to sign the permission slip authorizing the school to give me an earlier exam.

I had a feeling they wouldn't be too enthused about my plans.

My intuition proved correct after dinner. After scarfing down a healthy amount of rice and beans to avoid all conversation, I knew I had to say something before Mom left for her night shift. When I breached into their bedroom, she was packing a clean pair of scrubs into her work bag, and Dad was reading the news on his laptop.

He waved at me absentmindedly. I teetered by the doorway, then decided I'd just cut to the chase. "I need you to sign a form to tell the school counsellor I'm allowed to take my math final three days early." Dad gave me a funny look, so I added, "Por favor."

"I've been a teacher for fifteen years," he said. "I know a well-hidden excuse to skip school when I hear one."

"Papai," I complained, even though he was right. He accepted the piece of paper from me and frowned at it, wearing his reading glasses and an awfully serious expression.

"Do you want to explain this to us while your father reads the fine print?" Mom asked. "You said you were doing fine in school."

"I am. This has nothing to do with my grades." Even as I said it, I couldn't help but cringe. But I could tell by the looks on both of their faces that I was meant to start talking. So I did.

Speaking carefully, I gave them every detail I knew about Isaac's stepbrother's engagement party — which basically amounted to the place, date and time, and the fact that Isaac and I would be splitting a cab along with his grandmother. 

I emphasized the last point, hoping the presence of an elderly lady would convince my parents that there were no shenanigans involved here.

Once I finished, Mom wiggled her eyebrows, sending dual waves of first- and second-hand embarrassment crashing over me. She picked up her purse, ready to go. "That's cute, Victor, isn't it? Ren's been to weddings, but never an engagement party. Should be fun."

Dad was more skeptical. I waited for him to ask the million-dollar question — are you by any chance dating this boy, this Isaac? — but he didn't. Instead, he rubbed his chin and stared out the window. "I don't think you should be jeopardizing your grades for some guy's engagement, Renata."

"I don't care about the guy getting engaged," I said, annoyed. "I'm doing this for Isaac. He's estranged from his family; this is the first time he'll be seeing his dad in a year."

My father's face softened slightly, and I knew I'd played my cards right. After abandoning most of our extended family in Kitchener, my parents became huge proponents of reunions and bonding time. A moment later, though, his expression hardened again.

"Look," he said. "I'm glad you're making friends here, Ren. But — Isaac? This is very sudden. We don't know much about him. If we were as familiar with him as we used to be with, say, Anthony—"

My stomach dropped, and bile rose into my throat.

"Victor," my mother admonished. "Not now."

"I'm sorry," Dad said. He was being sincere, but it was the wrong kind of apology; it was sorry for bringing up your ex-boyfriend, rather than sorry for bringing up the worst person you've ever met, the boy who deceived and destroyed you. 

Of course, it wasn't his fault for not knowing.

"But do you understand what I'm saying, Ren? Even Jackie Merritt I know a little better than Isaac. She's a nice girl. Have you been hanging out with her?"

"No," I admitted, though I couldn't see Jackie's relevance to this conversation at all.

"You've stopped going to her greenhouse visits, yes?" Mom stood next to me, leaning against the doorway. "Because you've been going to the animal shelter with Isaac instead."

"Yes." I crossed my arms over my chest. "Why are you guys changing the topic?"

My parents exchanged a look. Their laser-beam stares tied knots in my stomach. The weighty silence that followed tested the strength of those knots.

"I don't know what's going on with the Merritts," Dad said eventually, "but there's definitely something. They've been more guarded than usual. If you're going to keep an eye on and support anybody," he paused, glancing at my mother for verification, "I think it should be Jackie."

"Something's wrong with that family," Mom summarized, just in case I wasn't already on the verge of sinking into the floor. "They're usually big gossips, but these past few weeks, they've only talked mindlessly about sports and TV."

"They're big gossips?" I echoed, feigning obliviousness. "Really?"

"Good Lord," Dad said, and the same time Mom said, "Oh, Ren."

I almost laughed, completely incredulous. "What have you heard from them?" Please, I thought. Nothing about Isaac.

"Awful, terrible things." Dad shook his head. "They've been very, very kind to us, but they fail to draw the line. Your good friend, Leonardo?" 

He waited for me to nod, even though it had been a long time since Leo and I had truly been good friends. This whole conversation was starting to feel like one long guilt trip. "His mother committed suicide when he was young. Recently, their family's been trying to sell the house, and Doug..."

"Doug keeps bringing up the fact that she died in it," Mom supplied, when it became clear that Dad was too disgusted to continue. "Probably because the Núñezes hired a rival real estate agent and he wants to decrease the possibility of a sale."

"What?" I blurted out. "No."

"Yes," Mom said adamantly. "It's cruel. And we have to listen to him brag about it over coffee."

I turned this new knowledge over and over in my head, trying to find a crack in its surface so I could pry its pieces apart and get a grip on its core. I wasn't surprised that Jackie's parents didn't try to hide their awfulness; there was only so much one could do to disguise heartless, sycophantic personalities, after all.

But where did Jackie fit into the equation? She was socially inhibited and passive-aggressive, but she seemed like a well-intentioned person. Despite that she was annoying, she was practically a saint compared to her parents, who had always seemed to bog her down. It was obvious she needed a friend.

She was no worse than Isaac, really. In fact, she was no different from him at all, except for the fact that Isaac put butterflies in my tummy and Jackie was a fifteen-year-old girl.

"Let's make a deal," I said, trying to consolidate all of this information into something useful. I had entered this room with a purpose and I intended to fulfil it. "If I start going to the greenhouse with Jackie again, will you give me permission to go to Isaac's family thing?"

Neither of them responded right away. Dad glanced at his laptop, and Mom busied herself answering a text on her work phone. I could tell we were holding her up and that she didn't want to be late, but none of us were going to leave before they gave me an answer.

"Maybe," my father relented.

"Okay," I said, biting my lip. "How do I make that 'maybe' a 'yes'?"

"I don't know," he admitted. Mom waved to us on her way down the stairs. "Invite him over for dinner sometime? Convince me he's not a habitual thief? Commit a random act of kindness, maybe two?"

Judging by the look on his face, he had no idea that I was already working on two out of three. I couldn't imagine Isaac saying no to dinner, either.

"Come on, Dad," I said with a smile. "At least try to make this hard."