Not Anything by Carmen Rodrigues

come over at six fifteen. That’ll give you and Danny some time to hang out.” Mrs. Diaz nods her head. “What do you like to eat?”
    “Cuban food?” I take a shot in the dark.
    “Good answer”—Mrs. Diaz laughs—“because my father won’t have it any other way. So, we’ll see you next Sunday at six fifteen p.m.”
    “Six fifteen,” I repeat shakily.
    “Wonderful.” Mrs. Diaz claps her hands together in excitement. “I’ll look forward to hearing your version of homecoming. Dalia and Danny always have opposite views on school events. It’ll be nice to hear from a third party.” Mrs. Diaz squeezes Danny’s hand lovingly.
    “Actually,” I glance down at my feet. “I’m not going.”
    “Oh, I thought that—” She stops short and exchanges a look with Danny. “I mean”—she clears her throat—“I assumed that you would be going, too. Dalia made it seem like one of the biggest events of the year.”
    “So, you’re going to the dance?” I ask Danny
    “Um, yeah…” He seems embarrassed to admit it. “Dalia persuaded me. She’s a homecoming princess and all.”
    “Oh,” I say. I can hear the letdown in my voice, and I hate myself for it. Why am I so stupid? Why do I feel like somebody just slapped me with a huge disappointment stick?
    “Of course, Dalia and Danny bought their tickets ages ago,” Mrs. Diaz explains. “Dalia was worried the dance would sell out. She’s got the whole thing planned, down to a by-the-minute itinerary.”
    “Yeah,” Danny says. “It’s ridiculous.”
    They keep talking, but it’s not like I really hear them. I’m still being hit over and over again with the big, fat disappointment stick. I’m surprised I’m still standing, the beating I’m taking.
    “Is something wrong?” Mrs. Diaz places her hand on my arm. “Your eyes are all red.”
    Great.
    “Oh, no.” It’s a struggle, but I make my voice sound calm. “I’m…fine.” If fine means that I want to hurl. Why did I let myself feel so accepted in Danny’s home, when the truth is that I’ll never fit into his life?
    “I don’t know.” Mrs. Diaz places a hand on my forehead. “You look flushed. Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll bring you some aspirin and water.”
    I start to protest, but Mrs. Diaz shoves me on the sofa before I can finish my sentence. Then she rushes off, somewhere in the vicinity of her bedroom, leaving Danny and me sort of, kind of, alone.
    “Are you sure you’re okay?” Danny sits next to me on the sofa. He tries to put his hand on my forehead, but I dodge it, leaving his hand hanging awkwardly in the air before he slowly sets it down on the sofa.
    “Yeah.” My voice is terse. “I’m fine.”
    Why am I so transparent?
    Danny gives me a look, like he doesn’t believe me. But I guess he decides to change the subject, because then he says, “I like your pendant.”
    I look down. My pendant is resting on the outside of my shirt.
    “It’s cool.” He lifts it up. “That’s a crystal, right? What’s it for?”
    His hand brushes against my collarbone, and my heart does this crazy pitter-patter thing. “What do you mean?” I look away, angry at myself for not being able to control my reaction to him.
    “Well…” Danny stops, and then starts again. “I just mean, aren’t crystals supposed to, like, stand for something?”
    I shrug my shoulders and stare off into the kitchen. “Marisol gave it to me…so…” I mutter, rather lamely.
    He rubs it between his fingertips. “It’s nice.”
    “Yeah, thanks.” I breathe deeply. Even though I refuse to look at him, I can feel the heat escaping through the pores of his fingertips.
    “Susie?” He starts tugging on the chain, and doesn’t stop until I finally look back at him. He lets the necklace drop back onto my chest. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
    His face is sincere, and it melts my iciness a little.
    “Yeah,” I say a bit more subdued. “I’m fine. Really.”
    “Good.” He gives me a