A New Reflection

5. Gorgeous

"Do you mind if Jazmín spends the night here this weekend?" I ask Mom, loudly crunching tortilla chips. She has just whipped up a batch of homemade salsa in the food processor, throwing in an extra jalapeno for me without removing the seeds. It's perfect, and I suck in air to cool off my mouth as I reach for more chips.

"Of course not. Call her after dinner."

The only people I usually invite over to the house are my cousins. Jazmin is two years younger than I am, but we've grown up together as best friends. Throughout the summer months, we spend more days together than apart, and during the school year, we get together at least every other weekend. She's my safe haven, one of the only people with whom I can really let loose.

"Nati, I was voted in as president for the community Equity Committee, but we're meeting now on Friday evenings. It's downtown, so I won't be able to pick you up from volleyball. Do you think one of your teammates can give you a ride on those days?"

"Congratulations, Mom! Yeah, I'm sure I can get a ride with someone."

"Is that your phone?" Dad asks me.

After a beat, I register the buzzing sound coming from the living room, where I dumped my backpack next to the couch earlier. Compared to most teenagers, I barely pay attention to my cell phone.

I rush over and dig it out of the front zipper of my backpack, not intending to actually answer the call. Speaking on the phone is a horrifying proposition.

It's Kelsey, our volleyball team captain. Why doesn't she just send a text? I mutter to myself rhetorically, irritated.

"Hello?" My voice is immediately three octaves higher than it was twelve seconds ago when chatting with my mother.

"Hey, Nati!" Kelsey's voice exudes rainbows and confidence. "Tomorrow we're all wearing skirts to school for game day." Moment of silence. "So wear a skirt," she adds, just to be crystal clear.

"I don't think I have any skirts," I venture, without thinking.

"You don't own any skirts?" she replies, incredulous.

"I don't think so," I answer, feeling my face burning up. It's not that I've never owned or worn a skirt; it's just that I don't happen to have any currently in my wardrobe. I wear mostly jeans to school.

"Okay, well, it doesn't matter. I was just letting you know most of the girls are going to be dressing up," Kelsey explains in a nonjudgmental voice. She wraps up the phone call, and I return to the kitchen table as Mom is serving dinner, my freshly-showered armpits drenched in sweat.

I briefly summarize the phone call, shrugging at the minor discomfort of the situation. After we eat, I assist Dad with the dishes, practice the piano for thirty minutes and hop in bed early to finish reading the novel I've selected for my Advanced English book club: The Hate U Give.

After I've let my extremely compartmentalized brain detach from its rigid routine, the myriad squares of daily duties melt into one singular image that repeats itself over and over until I fall asleep: Alex, hands in his pockets, his head nonchalantly twisting back towards me. Gorgeous. I'm sure he didn't really say that. In fact, now that I think about it, he probably said "genius." I chuckle at myself. Gorgeous... It would be cool if someone called me that, though. Gorgeous...

* * *

When I wake up the next morning, there's a single ray of spring sunshine casting a golden shadow into my bedroom. Opening my eyes all the way, the first thing I see are two unfamiliar garments of clothing placed over my desk chair, the labels still attached. I leap out of bed and snatch them up. Oh my God.