What would happen if I just stayed in bed and sabotaged myself by not showing up in front of my friends today?
Today is basically the best possible chance I have, to meet Decker Pasaribu for real, and if I mess it up, that means I’m wasting the opportunity for nothing. So, what are you waiting for, Petra? I asked myself. The ticket is already paid for, the friends already invited. Yet here I am, so nervous. I’m still wrapped in my blanket and hiding in bed. I’m torn between skipping the Union II meet-and-greet, while on the other hand, being so excited for it (like, want it so bad).
The event will start at 11:30 a.m., and it’s already 10:36 a.m., and I’m still in pajamas. I feel all the classic stage fright symptoms: heart racing, cold sweat, tongue-tied. Even though I’ve never cared about my image before.
Morning sunlight shines through part of my messy bedroom window. My room is a disaster; books, makeup, skincare, piles of clothes, and some sports gear scattered around. I try to close my eyes again, but my phone keeps buzzing.
Elle: climberellaaa, tobey and i are outside your house. don’t tell me you’re still asleep?
Ryleigh: hey, don’t joke, you dragged me into this and now you’re the one who’s late
Nana: petra … ryleigh’s getting impatient. where are you?
Unknown number: hey, i’m tobey, elle’s friend who’s going with you to subaru park. i’m outside your house.
The unknown number called me, “Holy moly,” I muttered as I got up and headed to the bathroom.
Four of my friends are apparently in front of my house. Mom opened the door. “Oh? Petra’s friends? Come in, come in. Let her little brother call her,” she said.
“What are your names?” my mom asked.
They introduced themselves one by one: Ryleigh Ashton, Nana Simmons, Tobias “Tobey” Sweeney.
“And you, Elle, I already know you. You’re Petra’s middle school friend,” she said.
“Haha, yeah, ma’am. Petra and I have been a YOLO duo,” Elle replied.
“How is Petra at home, ma’am?” Nana asked.
“Oh, I don’t really know her well,” Mom said. “Normally kids love studying, but I think she prefers partying at nightclubs.”
“She’s crushing on someone right now,” Ryleigh suddenly blurted.
“Hey? I’m not getting involved in this, you tell Petra’s mom,” Tobey said quickly.
Mom laughs.
Grover came back and whispered something in Mom’s ear.
“Cute,” Nana said quietly.
“That her little brother?” Tobey whispered to the group.
“His hair looks like their mom’s. Petra’s got black hair, who’s that from?” Ryleigh wondered.
“Her dad, duh. What, you think the neighbor?” Tobey replied.
“Oh … okay. Kids, wait here a bit. Petra’s redoing her makeup. He says she cried so she has to start over her makeup,” Mom explained as she heads to my room.
*
I’m glad because Tobey said I smell nice. I smell like bergamot layered with white musk. Bergamot is like a fresh, citrusy lime smell and white musk is soft and clean. That scents matches how I always try to look put together, even when I’m originally clumsy.
The fan meet-and-greet is held inside Subaru Park, on its wide green pitch. Long tables draped in white clothes is lined on one side. There’s where the Union II members sit and greeting fans.
Even before we enter Subaru Gate, we are already giggling because the wind keeps blowing up my skirts. I wear a pastel pink T-shirt tucked into a navy tennis skirt, white crew socks with chunky white sneakers, and a colorful friendship bracelet. My brother’s jersey is folded neatly inside my white canvas tote bag. When the breeze lifted my skirt, I quickly pressed it down with one hand while laughing and giving my friends fake glance.
We step up to the bleachers. I sit between Nana and Ryleigh, while Tobey and Elle are sitting in front of us, with their faces turned into us.
The air is warm, and the sky is bright but not too hot.
I lean forward, grinning. “Okay, listen. Yesterday I watched this YouTube Short about IShowSpeed approaching a baby in a stroller,” I stifle a laugh in my mouth, acting out my words with expressive hand gestures. “Oh my god …, it was so dumb. He asks, ‘English or Spanish? Whoever moves is gay.’ I’m already laughing before I reach the punchline. “The baby just turns its head, then Speed suddenly screams like a shocked chicken: HAAAAH! right in its face. The baby starts bawling so loud.”
“HAHAHAHA.”
“That’s messed up,” Nana commented.
“It hits different when you’re the one telling it, Clim,” Tobey grinned. Clim is short for Climberella.
"That baby’s gonna need therapy until college," I said, covering my mouth in mock horror, then breaking into laughter again.
“HAHAHAHA.”
“Hey, guys, isn’t that our cue? Let’s go down there now!” Elle insisted suddenly, spotting that the fan-signing line had only one person left.
“Wait, for real?” I bargained. My face became tense.
“Relax …” Tobey demanded, both palms aimed at me before lowering them so that I am not overreacting. “We’re doing this together. I also want to know anyway how Pasaribu managed to be soccer player at such a young age.”
“Do I look good?” I asked.
“You are amazing, Petraaa … Just stay your bold, carefree, and unapologetic self, right, Elle?” Ryleigh inquired, leaning towards Elle.
“RIGHT,” Elle exclaimed.
“But I’m not someone worth noticing,” I muttered.
“Oh … don’t say that. This is such a cool first step, Climbey,” Ryleigh affirmed.
“Come on, come on—they’re about to leave!” Elle boomed.
“Get the jersey ready,” Tobey insisted.
We ran down together from the bleachers to the pitch. Although I shudder because of the excitement, I believe falling in love won’t make hide my true self. I will stay this bold, carefree, and unapologetic, like what Ryleigh has said.
We are already standing on the grass, but still about five meters from the white draped tables and chairs where the Union II members sit. We are still busy in chaos, arguing like little kids.
“It’s your fault, Tob.” Nana blames Tobey.
“No way, it’s Elle.” Tobey blames Elle.
“The ones who want the signature, hurry up, open the book,” Ryleigh cut in.
“Here’s the marker,” Elle responded, pulling a silver one from her bag.
“Just use black, right?” Tobey corrected.
“Black?” Elle repeated, then put the silver marker back into her bag.
“No, we use silver. The T-shirt is navy,” I stated, annoyed by Tobey. “Oh, come on …” I said quietly. “Give me back that silver one.”
Elle hands me the silver marker. Jersey number 6 on my left hand, marker on my right.
A tall, dark-skinned soccer player walks toward us. He’s older than the others. “Come over. Whose signature do you want? Don’t be shy, guys.”
We move forward together. I am at the very front after him.
“There’s Elliot, there’s Pasaribu,” he pointed out.
I look up because he is so much taller than me, “Pasaribu,” I answered innocently.
And then I see him.
Decker Pasaribu is sitting with his phone, focused on a mobile game. He looks up at me while still playing, smiling with lips that are not too thin nor too full, warm and naturally pink. We get close enough for me to hear mining dirt blocks from his phone. When he stands and puts the phone into his shorts pocket, I catch a glimpse of green and brown pixel blocks, like LEGO on a screen. I turn to Elle and whisper, “Wait … was that Minecraft?”
Decker is lean and thin but strong, with quick energy, the perfect mix of athletic and boyish. He wears navy jersey, black shorts, and black Balenciaga Triple S shoes.
Still smiling, he extends his hands to accept the jersey I gave.
My friends push me toward him until I can smell something fruity and cool like blueberry perfume from him.
“Tobey,” I hissed, turned my face to my friend who pushed me. Their faces are like telling me: talk to him, talk.
“Hi,” I said with a big smile, hands behind my back, body swaying nervously.