Free Me You Us by Aaron Karo Page A

fair. “What are you doing here?” I ask Jak.
    â€œI had to get a present.”
    â€œOh?” I say. “For whom ?”
    â€œAh, nice call!” Jak says. “For my mom. Birthday comingup. I was—” Jak stops to sniff the air. “What’s that horrible smell?”
    I look around. “I think that’s me,” I say. “We might have gone a little overboard on the cologne shopping.”
    Jak covers her nose. “It smells like sandalwood and sorrow.”
    I snicker. She always has a way with words.
    â€œI think he smells nice,” Tristen says.
    Jak doesn’t agree, but she lets it go.
    â€œJak,” I say, “did you know that there actually are endangered dolphins in the Congo?”
    â€œYeah, right.”
    â€œIt’s true. Tristen was just telling me about it.”
    â€œAtlantic humpback dolphins,” Tristen explains. “They live off the west coast of Congo and Gabon, but they’re being hunted to extinction. I’ve been trying to raise money for an organization that supports them.”
    â€œYou learn something new every day, I guess,” Jak says.
    â€œI like your sneakers, by the way,” Tristen adds. “Are they vintage?”
    We all look at Jak’s beat-up white Chucks.
    â€œNo,” Jak says, a bit offended. “Just dirty.”
    I grimace. Then I try to get this show on the road. “So, we were just gonna get some food . . .”
    â€œYou should join us!” Tristen says to Jak.
    Jak looks at me and we communicate through best friend telepathy. She gets my message: No.
    â€œThat’s okay, I already ate,” she says.
    â€œAre you sure?” I ask, although I’m just being polite.
    â€œYeah, I’m good. You guys have fun.”
    â€œOkay,” Tristen says. “It was super to finally meet you.”
    â€œYou too,” Jak says. “Shane, text me later. Have a sweat-tastic day.”
    I grin. “Will do.”
    â€œBye!” adds Tristen.
    Jak exits.
    That was a nice, albeit slightly awkward surprise.
    Tristen turns to me. “What’s a sweat-tastic day?”
    â€œJust some stupid joke.”
    I appreciate the fact that Tristen doesn’t ask for further explanation, and we continue to the food court. Stinking of sandalwood and sorrow, I begin to plan how to convert this second date into a third one.

15
    TACO TUESDAY IN THE CHAMBLISS household is an intense experience. For much of the week everyone eats on a different schedule, but on Tuesdays my family has an unspoken agreement to be at the kitchen table by seven o’clock. Since I’m an only child, sometimes having this spotlight feels like being on stage, and other times it feels like being on trial.
    I can already smell dinner when I get home at six forty-five. I’ve lived here since I was born, though the house seems to be in a constant state of remodeling. It’s an open secret that my bedroom is next. I just know my parents are biding their time until my first day of college, when they can send me off into the world to become my own man and promptly turn my room into a walk-in shoe closet.
    My dad has always done the bulk of the cooking, andwhen I enter the kitchen, he is preparing ground beef on the stove with his shirt off. It gets hot in here, and he claims that cooking shirtless is the most efficient way to cool down. My dad is an engineer and makes even the most outlandish statements seem true and logical. People say we look alike and share the same hazel eyes, but I’m taller and can’t match his grisly beard.
    Fixins are my mom’s responsibility. She’s chopping onions and tomatoes, humming as she goes. She was a singer before becoming a music lawyer. Jak thinks her short blond hair makes her look like Ivan Drago’s wife from Rocky IV.
    â€œMeat’s up!” Dad announces. He pours the ground beef into a bowl and my mom arranges the fixins as I