Promise? LOL. Wanna FaceTime?

Gabriela

YES. Calling you now. So glad you can’t smell me through your phone. Grocery store BO is TOUGH. Natty deodorant doesn’t cut it anymore.

Parisa

Embrace the stink.

Oooh. Maybe that should be our new motto in life.

SUMMER

From: Parisa Naficy ([email protected])

To: Gabriela Gonzales ([email protected])

Date: August 7, 2023

Subject: FW: Your Appointment Confirmation

IT’S ALL FINALLY HAPPENING!!!! MAKE OUT TIME, BABY!

Forwarded message

From: CA Dept of Health ([email protected])

To: Parisa Naficy ([email protected])

Date: August 7, 2023

Subject: Your Appointment Confirmation

Your appointment is confirmed!

Hello, Parisa, your Adema-22 vaccination appointment has been successfully scheduled.

Appointment number

b513wgk8s9

Patient

Parisa Naficy

Your appointment date and time

Tuesday, August 8, 2023 at 12:40PM

Cupertino – De Anza College (Drive Thru PUBLIC) – M&P 21250 Stevens Creek Blvd, Cupertino, CA 95014

PARISA

“If I’m stuck going with you, then you can drive,” Neda says, tight-lipped.

She dangles my dad’s car keys from her perfectly manicured fingers. Our mom decided that what Neda needed to get through the summer as a newly single girl was to pamper herself, weekly, with the help of a massage therapist, facialist, and manicurist. Meanwhile, my neck feels stiff, my cheeks are spotted with pimples, and my nail polish is chipped on every finger. And they say parents don’t have favorites.

“I’m not ready to drive,” I reply.

“Then I guess you’re not getting vaccinated.”

My sister is torturing me, and I deserve it. And I will take my punishment like a champ. Needless to say, our relationship has been strained since I told her about me and Gideon. They broke up, and then I guess we did, too. I grab the car keys from her, unlock the car door, take a moment to brace myself, and get into the driver’s seat. She smirks and sits shotgun. As the engine rumbles, I remind myself that I got a perfect score on my driving test. Who cares if I’m months out of practice. It’s like riding a bike, right?

If I don’t crash the car, in thirty minutes’ time, we will both be one step closer to being protected from severe illness or death… from Adema. Even when it’s finally over, the pandemic will leave a permanent mark on all of us. We’ll never be the same again. And maybe the same will be true for Gideon Kouvaris, and that voice that always sounded sleep-deprived, that messy head of curls that had a mind of their own, and the shit-eating grin that rarely left his face. Neda and I both hate him, but I also can’t help but wonder which one of us misses him more.

“Do you even remember how to do this?” she asks as I nervously fumble with my seat belt.