Under The Bali Moon. Grace Octavia

at her front door? He’d been past her house. He’d walked her home on some nights when she’d been at his house until it was too dark for her to walk home alone. But he’d never rung the front door. He’d certainly never been inside. Did he want to come inside? Everything around Zena seemed to be in complete disarray. Messy. Too messy. Zola’s stupid Oreo crumbs on the secondhand couch. Their dirty sneakers lined up beside the front door. Her mother’s work clothes on the chair. Zena looked into the dining room. They didn’t even have a set in there yet. No chairs. No table. Just a bright light and an empty room.

      “Zena?” Adan called from outside as if he sensed that he’d been forgotten.

      “Yes.”

      “You going to open the door?”

      Zena exhaled and walked to the entrance, where she forced a casual smile before opening the door only a few inches.

      Adan was standing on the steps with his hands in his pockets. He looked confused. Maybe sad.

      “You okay?” he asked.

      “Yeah. Why?” Zena said.

      “Because you weren’t at the skating rink. I figured something was wrong.” Adan tried to peek into the house, but Zena shifted her head to block him.

      “Oh, that,” Zena said vaguely. “I forgot.”

      “Forgot? But you seemed so excited.”

      “I was but, you know how it is. I just got busy.”

      “Oh.” Adan’s face went from maybe confused and maybe sad to definitely hurt.

      Zena’s heart sank. She hated her world for making her say what she’d said. She didn’t want to hurt Adan. She was saying what she was saying because she wanted him to like her. Well, she didn’t want him to not like her because her family was struggling and her mother wasn’t a nurse and had to work overtime and she had to take care of her baby sister.

      “Adan—”

      “Zena—”

      The two teenagers said each other’s names at the same time as they tried to stumble out their feelings.

      “You first,” Adan said.

      “No, you first,” Zena countered.

      “I’ll just say this,” Adan started with his voice cracking from its usual cool. “It’s fine if you don’t want to hang out and, like, be friends. I know school is starting soon and you’ll make other friends. Okay? I know that. But I want to be your friend. I like you and I want to be your friend.” He looked into Zena’s eyes. “I really like you.”

      “Like, I like you, too,” Zena blurted out clumsily.

      The words were innocent enough, but the intentions had deep meaning behind them. What the two of them knew was their relationship had strengthened and left so much heightened emotional residue that they both laughed to lighten the moment.

      “Hey, can I come in for a little while?” Adan asked.

      “In here?”

      “Yes. Into your house.”

      “Ohh.” Zena looked over her shoulder as if maybe there was a circus breaking out in the living room behind her. She turned back to Adan. “You sure?” she asked him.

      “Yes. I’m sure.”

      “Look, Adan. We don’t have anything. I don’t have a Nintendo like you do. Our television is on the floor,” Zena said.

      “That’s fine,” Adan answered in his cool tone. “I’m not here to play Nintendo or watch television. I’m here to see you.”

      “Ohh,” Zena repeated. She stepped back and let Adan in. He kept her company and left right before her mother was to be home from work. That became their nightly ritual when her mother worked doubles. They swore Zola to secrecy and bribed her with Twix candy bars.

      Zena was sure all of this would change when school started and all of the best friends Adan had, who frequently stopped by the house, got his attention before her. While she hadn’t met any of the girls in the neighborhood, she imagined they’d all be prettier than her and have nicer bikes and already know all of the lyrics to the popular songs Adan played incessantly.