“Not this time. We finally get to try the best Mexican food in town for ourselves.” Dad clapped his hands together. He seemed cheerful—way too cheerful, really, unless he’d had a serious jones for Mexican food the last couple of months and was now more excited about empanadas than any other man on Earth. Nadia felt like he’d been in a weird mood all day, or at least since she got home from school, but probably it was just work crap. Lawyers seemed to deal with that a lot.
Across the room, she finally caught sight of Mateo at the same moment he saw her. Even though he had platters of fajitas in his hands and balanced on his forearms, he grinned at her through the steam.
That was all it took. It was as though the world was in black and white until she saw Mateo, and then it was in color—all the vibrant gold, red, and turquoise of La Catrina coming alive around her, like Dorothy stepping into Oz. As though she’d only listened to the noise of knives on plates and dull conversations and now she could hear the music, Mateo showed her how vivid the world around her really was, how beautiful, if she’d only see.
When he came to their table, he was wearing a smile so broad it almost made her laugh—though probably she looked just as stupid. He only glanced away to slide some crayons and a kids’ place mat to Cole. “Glad you guys stopped by.”
“The hero himself,” Dad said, and held out his hand to shake.
Mateo shrugged as if it had been no big deal, when in fact he’d helped her dad pull Cole out of their wrecked car, then rescued Nadia himself. That was the first time his visions had led him to her, the night they’d met. “Good to see you, Mr. Caldani. Now, do you guys want to hear tonight’s special?”
Nadia ordered her usual without even thinking about it, the better to concentrate on how Mateo looked in his black T-shirt.
Her dad finished, “. . . and a margarita. Could definitely use a margarita. Nadia can drive home, can’t you, honey?”
“Sure thing.” That, too, was surprising. Dad rarely drank around her and Cole.
“Okay, coming right back with your drinks.” Mateo finished writing on his notepad, ducked down to kiss Nadia on the cheek, then hurried to check on yet another new table nearby . . . Kendall Bender, in fact, though instead of her usual troop of loyal Plastics, she was with her family. There seemed to be about a dozen of them, from grandparents to an older sister in a college sweatshirt; they’d be keeping Mateo busy.
Dad raised his eyebrows. “Wait a second. I thought Mateo Perez had a girlfriend.”
“Oh. Well—he didn’t, actually. There was a girl he was hanging around with, but it wasn’t, I mean—” Nadia didn’t even know how to explain the whole Elizabeth situation in a way her father could understand. So she just shrugged and grinned. “Well, he has a girlfriend now.”
“Uh-huh. This is major news. When were you going to tell me?”
Nadia laughed. “When I thought you wouldn’t freak out about it the way you’re doing right this second?”
“Aw, come on. This isn’t freaking out. This is—normal dad curiosity. You know it’s okay with me that you’re dating, right?” Her dad leaned forward, suddenly way more intense than the situation called for. “Mateo’s a great guy. You couldn’t have done any better. And besides, a normal, healthy love life is . . . healthy. And normal.”
She was beginning to think that her dad might be talking about more than her love life now, which wasn’t something she wanted to add to her list of worries. “Yeah. Sure.”
Cole looked up from his coloring. “When you kiss him, does he put his tongue inside your mouth?”
Dad pointed a finger. “You think you’re pulling the innocent-little-kid routine, but we can see right through you. Right through to your bones, just like one of the skeletons on the wall! Want me to get a sombrero for you? Then we can put you on the wall, too.” This made Cole start giggling, and saved Nadia from having to answer that question.
“Be right back,” she said as she scooted out of the booth. Her dad, now coloring with Cole, just nodded.
In the bathroom, Nadia ran her fingers through her hair, checked her outfit, straightened up. It wasn’t like Mateo cared—he’d seen her covered with soot, soaked with seawater, you name it—but still. The more a guy thought you were beautiful no matter what, the more you wanted to be beautiful for him. If you liked me all grimy with cobwebs, you won’t even be able to handle me now.
“Oh, hey,” Kendall said, managing to reapply her lipstick and talk at the same time. “You sure do come here a lot. Like, all the time. I would’ve thought you guys would want Italian food sometimes.”
Even by Kendall standards, this made no sense. Nadia frowned. “Why?”
“You’re Italian, right? Caldani?”
“Actually, no.” Dad usually said the name was Persian. That was an old habit, going back to when he was a little boy in the 1970s and his family had to deal with a lot of prejudice; the fact that his family had actually fled the Ayatollah Khomeini didn’t stop people from blaming them for his rule. Nadia preferred the direct approach. “We’re Iranian.”
Mom’s half was part Scottish, part Greek, but Nadia didn’t bother mentioning that. It was too much fun watching Kendall’s eyes get wider. “I thought you were American.”
“We are American. You didn’t think I was actually from Italy before, did you?” Nadia took another look at herself in the mirror. Gray T-shirt tucked into jeans, sari-print scarf knotted around her neck just so, earrings dangling instead of caught: Everything looked right.
Across the room, she finally caught sight of Mateo at the same moment he saw her. Even though he had platters of fajitas in his hands and balanced on his forearms, he grinned at her through the steam.
That was all it took. It was as though the world was in black and white until she saw Mateo, and then it was in color—all the vibrant gold, red, and turquoise of La Catrina coming alive around her, like Dorothy stepping into Oz. As though she’d only listened to the noise of knives on plates and dull conversations and now she could hear the music, Mateo showed her how vivid the world around her really was, how beautiful, if she’d only see.
When he came to their table, he was wearing a smile so broad it almost made her laugh—though probably she looked just as stupid. He only glanced away to slide some crayons and a kids’ place mat to Cole. “Glad you guys stopped by.”
“The hero himself,” Dad said, and held out his hand to shake.
Mateo shrugged as if it had been no big deal, when in fact he’d helped her dad pull Cole out of their wrecked car, then rescued Nadia himself. That was the first time his visions had led him to her, the night they’d met. “Good to see you, Mr. Caldani. Now, do you guys want to hear tonight’s special?”
Nadia ordered her usual without even thinking about it, the better to concentrate on how Mateo looked in his black T-shirt.
Her dad finished, “. . . and a margarita. Could definitely use a margarita. Nadia can drive home, can’t you, honey?”
“Sure thing.” That, too, was surprising. Dad rarely drank around her and Cole.
“Okay, coming right back with your drinks.” Mateo finished writing on his notepad, ducked down to kiss Nadia on the cheek, then hurried to check on yet another new table nearby . . . Kendall Bender, in fact, though instead of her usual troop of loyal Plastics, she was with her family. There seemed to be about a dozen of them, from grandparents to an older sister in a college sweatshirt; they’d be keeping Mateo busy.
Dad raised his eyebrows. “Wait a second. I thought Mateo Perez had a girlfriend.”
“Oh. Well—he didn’t, actually. There was a girl he was hanging around with, but it wasn’t, I mean—” Nadia didn’t even know how to explain the whole Elizabeth situation in a way her father could understand. So she just shrugged and grinned. “Well, he has a girlfriend now.”
“Uh-huh. This is major news. When were you going to tell me?”
Nadia laughed. “When I thought you wouldn’t freak out about it the way you’re doing right this second?”
“Aw, come on. This isn’t freaking out. This is—normal dad curiosity. You know it’s okay with me that you’re dating, right?” Her dad leaned forward, suddenly way more intense than the situation called for. “Mateo’s a great guy. You couldn’t have done any better. And besides, a normal, healthy love life is . . . healthy. And normal.”
She was beginning to think that her dad might be talking about more than her love life now, which wasn’t something she wanted to add to her list of worries. “Yeah. Sure.”
Cole looked up from his coloring. “When you kiss him, does he put his tongue inside your mouth?”
Dad pointed a finger. “You think you’re pulling the innocent-little-kid routine, but we can see right through you. Right through to your bones, just like one of the skeletons on the wall! Want me to get a sombrero for you? Then we can put you on the wall, too.” This made Cole start giggling, and saved Nadia from having to answer that question.
“Be right back,” she said as she scooted out of the booth. Her dad, now coloring with Cole, just nodded.
In the bathroom, Nadia ran her fingers through her hair, checked her outfit, straightened up. It wasn’t like Mateo cared—he’d seen her covered with soot, soaked with seawater, you name it—but still. The more a guy thought you were beautiful no matter what, the more you wanted to be beautiful for him. If you liked me all grimy with cobwebs, you won’t even be able to handle me now.
“Oh, hey,” Kendall said, managing to reapply her lipstick and talk at the same time. “You sure do come here a lot. Like, all the time. I would’ve thought you guys would want Italian food sometimes.”
Even by Kendall standards, this made no sense. Nadia frowned. “Why?”
“You’re Italian, right? Caldani?”
“Actually, no.” Dad usually said the name was Persian. That was an old habit, going back to when he was a little boy in the 1970s and his family had to deal with a lot of prejudice; the fact that his family had actually fled the Ayatollah Khomeini didn’t stop people from blaming them for his rule. Nadia preferred the direct approach. “We’re Iranian.”
Mom’s half was part Scottish, part Greek, but Nadia didn’t bother mentioning that. It was too much fun watching Kendall’s eyes get wider. “I thought you were American.”
“We are American. You didn’t think I was actually from Italy before, did you?” Nadia took another look at herself in the mirror. Gray T-shirt tucked into jeans, sari-print scarf knotted around her neck just so, earrings dangling instead of caught: Everything looked right.
