The Badboy, the Catfish & Me

Twenty-One

The next morning, I couldn't get my mom's words out of my mind, and I was worried about the possibility of crossing paths with Valentino at school. Mama was right—but how could I even begin to tell him the truth? And when? His soccer game was going to happen tomorrow. I didn't want to distract Valentino from his big match when he already said he was struggling with something else.

Now that I thought about it, I felt terrible that I didn't explain myself more to him last night. If I kept talking, I could've at least lent an ear and shoulder to help him feel better, and maybe that could've bought me some time to figure out a way to confess.

I was relieved that final exams and handing in my payment slip for prom made it impossible for me to avoid talking with Valentino during lunch break and homeroom.

But once I went home, I threw off my backpack and didn't bother to take off my hijab, hunching over my desk to log into CrusadEon. Tireya could talk to him easier than I ever could.

Valentino wasn't online and hadn't replied to my in-game mail. He was probably on the field, preparing for the big match.

I sank to the floor next to my chair and shut my eyes. The only thing I could do now was to show up to the game. Baba had convinced Mama for us to go, though I wasn't sure if he had confessed to his addiction yet. I got back up with a sigh. I needed to get ready.

It was a little before six.

"Mama! Where's my pink blazer!"

"I think it's still in the hamper! I haven't gotten around to washing!"

I puffed my cheeks and returned to my closet, grabbing a deep green cardigan to throw over a white maxi dress with mini black hearts printed all over it. I chose a handbag to toss my Polaroid camera, phone, wallet, and extra hijab pins into. To finish the look, I put on a solid black hijab.

Baba was already ready, sitting slouched on the sofa in a plaid shirt and jeans. He rubbed his bearded chin, looked up at me, and blinked a few times.

"When did you get so tall?" he muttered.

I shrugged. "I got it from you."

Mama appeared not long after, wearing a dusty pink abaya with black patterns on its sleeves, waist, and hemline.

"So many pretty girls in this house," Baba said, opening the door for us.

I smiled at the compliment, while Mama ignored it, rifling through her bag for a bottle of sunscreen.

"Put this on first," she told us.

"I also get that from you," I told Baba as we accepted the protective lotion before heading out. Despite my tan, my melanin wasn't as strong as Mama's.

We all got in the car, said the travel prayer, and turned on the radio. Love Storm was playing again, and it made me sick to my stomach. If Valentino still listened to it, I knew he'd be thinking about Tireya when he heard the lyrics Now every time I cross the open sea/ The sky whispers a desperate plea:/Bring back the ocean,/And bring back the winds;/But you were the sun who broke up our clouds,/The anchor that kept me a-ground/Why can't we love like a storm again?

The outdoor field behind the school was packed with friends and family from both high school teams. I motioned for my parents to sit at a spot in the middle of the bleachers. It was somewhere not too far away to see the action but not too close, either. We garnered a few looks from the other audience members, but I was more bitter that some of the parents here had tried to swindle Valentino.

I took two pictures of the field—the first with my phone to send to my group chat and the second with my Polaroid for my senior year scrapbook. My heart was going a mile a minute, and I clung to the edge of my seat as my gaze searched the faces of the Maxwell High soccer team, looking for Valentino. I saw Elsa and Jamie standing with smiles plastered on their faces with the rest of Maxwell High's cheerleading squad.