I wish. At least those kids get to have some fun. My parents used to say they wanted me to feel free, because my grandparents brought them to America from Iran to have the life they wouldn’t get under Islamic law. And I actually believed them. Until Saturday night, when my mom went totally apeshit over a minor slip of the tongue. So much for freedom of speech. Now it’s like I live with the SAVAK. They were the secret police in Iran who tortured and executed people. But I bet even they didn’t take their work home with them, especially once they were eating dinner with their kids.

The bell rings, and for once I miraculously make it out the door and across the quad without getting pummeled by classmates who don’t see me. I love going to school in California. Our common spaces and lockers are all outdoors—which, I suppose, isn’t so great for sensitive groups breathing in the unhealthy air quality. But, that aside, high schools on TV shows always look so claustrophobic, with their narrow hallways and fluorescent lighting.

It must feel suffocating to live someplace with actual winters. At least I get to soak in vitamin D while my self-esteem crumbles in the presence of girls who are far taller and prettier and sexier than me. I would easily put Gabriela in that category, too. Once, we were in the locker room at the same time as the cheer team, and the coach spotted her and told her she looked like a “young Jennifer Lopez”—which is the equivalent of saying that you look like a younger version of the most beautiful woman in the world. They practically begged her to try out for the team, but she rolled her eyes and refused. That’s just one of many examples of what makes her so cool.

When I finally make it to our usual spot, underneath a willow tree on the periphery of the quad, Gabriela and Wes are already there, sitting next to each other but not talking. The image of them stops me in my tracks for a minute. They look so good together. Sure, Wes is all limbs, but he’d fit right in on the runway at New York Fashion Week. Without Andrew there to round out our foursome, I feel like I’ve become the third wheel. If Gabriela and Wes ever dated, then I’d probably become a permanent afterthought for both of them. I take some comfort in the fact that Gabriela says she has no romantic interest in Wes. Or any guys at our school, really.

“Hey, guys,” I say, when I finally approach them.