interesting watching Amanda become angrier. Even when she’s been moody in the past, it seems a little too dramatic, as though she’s putting on a show that doesn’t quite reflect what she’s really feeling. But this time, I see bits of her personality that I never quite noticed. Her face is set in a firm line, and her cheeks are flushed. She looks healthy in her anger. She looks as if she cares deeply about what she’s saying. For an instant I wonder if she truly loves Sam as I do. I had not thought it was possible before. I thought for her it was something different. The desire to win, to have. Now she is stomping away from him, and he is shaking his head, looking furious. I wonder about his reaction, because don’t these kinds of quarrels look different? Shouldn’t one person look penitent, or desperate to ease the other? But what do I know of it? I hear Amanda stomping closer, so I jump off the chair and hastily push it back to its spot by Sam’s desk.
I leap onto the bed and grab my sketch pad and pretend as though I’ve been sketching this whole time. They both storm in a few seconds later. Sam looks as though he’s swallowed something nasty, and Amanda looks a mixture of angry and frightened and confused. I wish I knew what happened. Amanda lies on her bed and turns her back to us. Sam comes over to me, and I am immediately glad. He is finally choosing me over her. Finally coming back to me, where he belongs. I sense that this is the end of Sam and Amanda, and my heart is leaping around inside in the utmost ecstasy. He sits at the foot of the bed, starting at my toes and kissing his way up the rest of me until his body is aligned with mine.
But something is wrong. I look at Amanda’s back and see that it is shaking with sobs. My delightful feeling is muted by her pain.
What happened?
I say to Sam.
Don’t worry,
mija, he whispers, but I can tell he’s shaken up.
It’s just Amanda being Amanda. It’ll be fine.
Then what is that note of fear in his voice?
Sammy,
I say,
please tell me if something is wrong.
Nothing’s wrong,
mija.
Now he looks as if he is thinking hard. He pauses, then whispers hesitantly into my ear, low so Amanda can’t hear:
I want you to come out with me tomorrow, Abby. I want you to meet Sid.
You want me to meet your friend?
I ask.
Yes, baby.
When, Sam? When do we go?
I am so delighted, I am practically jumping out of my skin. This must mean that Sam
has
made a decision. He has chosen me. He is bringing me closer to him, letting me be a part of his life.
Shhh, baby.
He motions his head toward Amanda. He must not want to hurt her feelings. Suddenly, I have no regard for Amanda at all. It’s clear why she’s crying; it’s because I have won. She is no longer close to Sam’s heart. My own heart is so warm and full of Sam; it is the happiest I’ve been in so long. I am so happy that his creased brow doesn’t bother me at all. His worry for Amanda, because that is what it must be, can’t affect me anymore.
Seven at night,
he says.
We’ll go at seven.
I fall asleep after several hours of tossing and turning, like a child. And for once, my sleep is dreamless.
We’re going to Sid’s so I can meet him for the first time, and also for Sam’s medicine. Sam asked me to dress up, to look pretty, and I am so excited for this and all it means for us that I am eager to please him. I want to look extra beautiful tonight. Being here with Sam is a cause to celebrate. Sam put on his nicer jeans, too — the ones without the holes, and the button-down shirt the man at the deli gave him as a present last month. He looks handsome, although a little nervous. I wonder if he’s worried about whether Sid will approve of me. I am wearing a pink-and-white striped sundress that Sam brought me this morning. I don’t know how he bought it; it still has the tags on it. It fits me perfectly, except in the chest. I think for my age I should have a bigger chest than I do, and it is my only big
I leap onto the bed and grab my sketch pad and pretend as though I’ve been sketching this whole time. They both storm in a few seconds later. Sam looks as though he’s swallowed something nasty, and Amanda looks a mixture of angry and frightened and confused. I wish I knew what happened. Amanda lies on her bed and turns her back to us. Sam comes over to me, and I am immediately glad. He is finally choosing me over her. Finally coming back to me, where he belongs. I sense that this is the end of Sam and Amanda, and my heart is leaping around inside in the utmost ecstasy. He sits at the foot of the bed, starting at my toes and kissing his way up the rest of me until his body is aligned with mine.
But something is wrong. I look at Amanda’s back and see that it is shaking with sobs. My delightful feeling is muted by her pain.
What happened?
I say to Sam.
Don’t worry,
mija, he whispers, but I can tell he’s shaken up.
It’s just Amanda being Amanda. It’ll be fine.
Then what is that note of fear in his voice?
Sammy,
I say,
please tell me if something is wrong.
Nothing’s wrong,
mija.
Now he looks as if he is thinking hard. He pauses, then whispers hesitantly into my ear, low so Amanda can’t hear:
I want you to come out with me tomorrow, Abby. I want you to meet Sid.
You want me to meet your friend?
I ask.
Yes, baby.
When, Sam? When do we go?
I am so delighted, I am practically jumping out of my skin. This must mean that Sam
has
made a decision. He has chosen me. He is bringing me closer to him, letting me be a part of his life.
Shhh, baby.
He motions his head toward Amanda. He must not want to hurt her feelings. Suddenly, I have no regard for Amanda at all. It’s clear why she’s crying; it’s because I have won. She is no longer close to Sam’s heart. My own heart is so warm and full of Sam; it is the happiest I’ve been in so long. I am so happy that his creased brow doesn’t bother me at all. His worry for Amanda, because that is what it must be, can’t affect me anymore.
Seven at night,
he says.
We’ll go at seven.
I fall asleep after several hours of tossing and turning, like a child. And for once, my sleep is dreamless.
We’re going to Sid’s so I can meet him for the first time, and also for Sam’s medicine. Sam asked me to dress up, to look pretty, and I am so excited for this and all it means for us that I am eager to please him. I want to look extra beautiful tonight. Being here with Sam is a cause to celebrate. Sam put on his nicer jeans, too — the ones without the holes, and the button-down shirt the man at the deli gave him as a present last month. He looks handsome, although a little nervous. I wonder if he’s worried about whether Sid will approve of me. I am wearing a pink-and-white striped sundress that Sam brought me this morning. I don’t know how he bought it; it still has the tags on it. It fits me perfectly, except in the chest. I think for my age I should have a bigger chest than I do, and it is my only big
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