The Badboy, the Catfish & Me

One

I'm going to be Maxwell High School's next valedictorian. InshaAllah. Mama said to add that word whenever you intended to do something. 

"Hey, Inaya!"

My spine zapped anytime Valentino said my name. And this early in the morning?

I looked over my locker door and smiled. Behind him, our classmates trickled through the peeling wooden door into homeroom before school started.

"Still haven't made an account?" he asked, stopping to stand at my side. He was in his soccer captain jersey and a matching pair of shorts.

A wave of his fresh-smelling cologne enveloped me, and I noted his dark blond hair was damp from a morning shower to beat the early May heat.

"Oh, uh, no," I said and then looked away, too conscious of how good he looked. "My mom doesn't really let me play video games."

I paused. I wanted to tell him more—I wanted to tell him he could scrape the tan off my skin and not see any other part of my Bengali mother. That her moods flipped harder than derivatives, and all my white dad ever did about it was tell me it was no one's fault.

"That sucks. They just released a second arc, too," Valentino went on, moving to open his locker two doors from mine. He tilted his head and grinned at me. "They even released an update that allows us to create our own custom armor. It's sick!"

I always noticed a light in his eyes whenever he talked about CrusadEon Online to me. I wondered if he ever had the same glint when he spoke about a girl he liked.

"You know what? You want me to show you after class?" He leaned a little closer, but his open locker door separated us. "I know you'd like the game if you tried it. I just know it. Your parents are way too strict."

The word strict hit me sideways, and I shuffled the notebooks in my locker to make space for my art class supplies. I remembered why I didn't tell him anything—I didn't want him to pity me.

"They prioritize studying and all that, y'know?" I said, staring at the super glue stuck in the corner. I wanted him to crush on me as hard as I have been since the start of the school year. "I am trying to be number one."

"Oh, right. What you've got going there is incredible," Valentino said, leaning forward and tapping his temple. "Nothing but 100s."

I hoped the heat I was feeling on my face wasn't visible to him. Because there was a butterfly fluttering in my ribcage, and if I said the wrong thing, I was sure it would fly out with a confession of how hot he looked right now.

"I guess we can tomorrow," I managed to say. "Reminds me, did you do the homework?"

"Um...," he drawled. His brown-green eyes shifted. "For which class?"

"Math. Textbook page one hundred eighty-nine," I recited. "Answer questions—"

"Inaya! Look, there was this huge tournament last night, and basically, half of the world was competing. So, I completely forgot!" He glanced over his shoulder at where our homeroom teacher's desk was and fished for a notebook to flip open. "You've got it, though?"

For a moment, I couldn't think. Those bright hazel eyes, that scent, the closeness...focus!

"This isn't your first offense," I reminded him, pretending to give him a hard time.

"I promise you I forgot—I would've done it if it hadn't been for the tournament," he added.

I faked a sigh and handed him the homework. Our fingers didn't brush against each other like they would have in a movie, but the head tilt as Valentino turned and smiled in thanks was worth it.

As he walked away, I watched his Fan Club from the other side of the classroom—Clara, Jamie, and Elsa—approach him. They shepherded him to their desks and struck up a conversation.

The rush of excitement of being near him faded, and my shoulders fell. Right now, the most important thing is distracting our teacher from catching Valentino copying my homework.

"Morning, Mrs. Asaka," I said, drawing the petite woman's gaze away from her grade book. My mind fumbled for something to busy her with. "Do you think I should apply for research programs for college or something more general?"

"Well," Mrs. Asaka said, leaning away from her work. "It's definitely worth going to a specific field if you're already doing well and interested in it. But you might want to look at tuition."

"What do you mean?" I went on, relieved that her attention was entirely on me now. I also felt a twinge of guilt, knowing I was taking advantage of Mrs. Asaka's favoritism for me, her straight-A student.

"You might want to consider that the debt from tuition can follow you after you graduate. And then you have to consider grad school or med school."

Out of the corner of my eye, I observed that Valentino was done copying my homework. "I'll keep that in mind when I submit college applications."

Mrs. Asaka must've thought I was looking at the clock on the wall because she picked up her red pen, her eyebrows raised.

"Is homeroom over? You should go to your desk. I'll be taking attendance soon."

I nodded and did as I was told, sitting on my stool on the left-hand side of the desk I shared with Valentino. The black paint over the wood had some wear and tear, but otherwise was smooth.

Some days, I'd sit on the right-hand side, but I'd gotten into the habit of sitting on the left to look out of the window with Valentino next to me, like I was in some high school drama. If we were married, he'd carry my bags while we traveled the world to fill my scrapbooks. He'd take my pictures for Aunt Naomi to see, catch me if I tripped on a hiking trail, and our kids would take after his love of soccer.

A girl could dream, even a hopeless Muslim like me.

I noticed that Valentino had placed our notebooks together, but he remained sitting with his fan club on the other side of the classroom.

I'd forgotten about that. I didn't always get to have Valentino when the Fan Club was in full force. Dream shattered.