{"product_id":"darius-the-great-deserves-better-isbn-9780593108239","title":"Darius the Great Deserves Better","description":"\u003cb\u003eIn this companion to the award-winning \u003ci\u003eDarius the Great Is Not Okay\u003c\/i\u003e, Darius suddenly has it all: a boyfriend, an internship, a spot on the soccer team. It's everything he's ever wanted--but what if he deserves better?\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDarius Kellner is having a bit of a year. Since his trip to Iran, a lot has changed. He's getting along with his dad, and his best friend Sohrab is only a Skype call away. Between his first boyfriend, Landon, varsity soccer practices, and an internship at his favorite tea shop, things are falling into place.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThen, of course, everything changes. Darius's grandmothers are in town for a long visit, and Darius can't tell whether they even like him. The internship is not going according to plan, Sohrab isn't answering Darius's calls, and Dad is far away on business. And Darius is sure he really likes Landon . . . but he's also been hanging out with Chip Cusumano, former bully and current soccer teammate--and well, maybe he's not so sure about anything after all.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDarius was just starting to feel okay, like he finally knew what it meant to be Darius Kellner. But maybe okay isn't good enough. Maybe Darius deserves better. | \u003cb\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eDarius the Great Deserves Better\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003eStonewall Honor Book\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e★ \"This coming-of-age masterpiece packs a multitude of truth and heart. . . . A sequel that gets better and better the longer it steeps.\" —\u003ci\u003eKirkus\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e★ “Khorram again presents an artful tapestry of sci-fi fandom, Persian culture, soccer, racism, sexuality, depression, family crises, a love triangle, and endless amounts of global teas in Darius’s compelling story. . . . This is a seamless and profound YA novel with a memorable and endearing main character.”—\u003ci\u003eSchool Library Journal\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e★ “Delightful.” —\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Through intimate, conversational narration, Khorram provides moments of levity . . . as well as insight into insecurities. . . . and leaves readers curious and hopeful about where his journey will take him next.” —\u003ci\u003eThe Horn Book \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Khorram explores the intersection of Iranian and queer identity with aching tenderness and realism. This book is like a cup of tea that is as comforting as it is bold. I love it.\" \u003cbr\u003e —Abdi Nazemian, Stonewall Honor-winning author of \u003ci\u003eLike a Love Story\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Khorram manages the impossible: A stunning follow-up to \u003ci\u003eDarius the Great Is Not Okay\u003c\/i\u003e that stands alone as a masterful exploration of love, grief, and desire. This isn't just a book I needed as a teenager; it's one I need right now.\" \u003cbr\u003e —Mark Oshiro, award-winning author of \u003ci\u003eAnger Is a Gift\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I'm absolutely in love with this book. Adib Khorram has written another wise and charming tale that explores all the complexities of intersectional identities with heart and humor.\" \u003cbr\u003e —Jasmine Warga, Newbery Honor-winning author of \u003ci\u003eOther Words for Home\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"A perfect blend of affirmation, hope, and love. Adib Khorram is one of my favorite authors of today.\" \u003cbr\u003e —Kacen Callender, award-winning author of \u003ci\u003eFelix Ever After\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Adib Khorram has done it again. \u003ci\u003eDarius the Great Deserves Better\u003c\/i\u003e is a gift of a novel, hiting all the right notes like a perfectly balanced tea—heartwarming and hilarious and beautifully honest. Fans of Darius Kellner, rest assured: This is the sequel we deserve.\" \u003cbr\u003e —Arvin Ahmadi, author of \u003ci\u003eDown \u0026amp; Across\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eGirl Gone Viral\u003c\/i\u003e | Adib Khorram lives in Kansas City, Missouri. When he isn't writing, you can probably find him trying to get his hundred-yard freestyle under a minute, learning to do a Lutz jump, or steeping a cup of oolong. His debut novel, Darius the Great Is Not Okay, earned several awards, including the William C. Morris Debut Award, the Asian\/Pacific American Award for Young Adult Literature, and a Boston Globe-Horn Book Honor. | \u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eThe History of Creation\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe first cut is always the hardest.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“You ready?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI met Mikaela’s eyes in the mirror.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Yeah.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe clippers buzzed to life and growled in my ear as she pushed the teeth through the back of my hair. The curls tickled my neck as they fell to the floor.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt was tradition among the student athletes on Chapel Hill High School’s varsity men’s soccer team (Go Chargers!) to get their hair cut before the first game of the season. It was supposed to promote team unity.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eExcept I had my internship at Rose City Teas on Sunday when everyone else got their haircuts, so I had to make a separate appointment.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt was my first haircut in two years.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“How high do you want this fade?” Mikaela asked as she neared my ears.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI’d never met Mikaela before, but Landon recommended her. She was beautiful, with brown skin, impeccable box braids, and the brightest smile I’d ever seen.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI shrugged, but I wasn’t sure she could tell from under the plastic cover. “I don’t know,” I said. “What do you think would look best?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe turned off the clippers and looked at me in the mirror for a second. “Probably something higher for you. Show off these beautiful curls up top.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Okay.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI relaxed and let her turn my head this way and that as she worked, first with clippers and then with a pair of scissors. When she was done, Mikaela took me to the hair-washing station. I guess it wasn’t designed for tall people: I had to scoot my butt to the edge of the chair to fit my head in the basin. But she washed my hair and massaged my scalp (which was just about the nicest thing I had ever felt) and got all the itchy bits off, and then it was back to the chair for styling.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“You use product?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI shook my head.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe pulled at one of my curls—she hadn’t touched the top, except for a little trimming—and twisted it around her finger.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Landon said you’re . . . Indian?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Iranian. Half.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Sorry.” She let the curl fall. “Lucky boy.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMy cheeks warmed.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Thanks.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMikaela squeezed something that smelled like coconuts into her hands and massaged it into my hair. It made it a little shinier but kept it soft. She took one last lock from the very front and pulled it down into my forehead, so it dangled like a little question mark.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“All set.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI studied myself in the mirror. Instead of my usual messy halo, I had a huge pile of curls up top, but the sides and back of my head faded from super short black hair down to my skin.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI hadn’t seen the sides of my head in years.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI’d never noticed how much my ears stuck out.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“It looks great,” I said, even though I was kind of anxious about my ears. “Really.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Yeah it does,” Mikaela said. “Let’s go ring you up.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLandon was waiting for me up front. He got this big goofy smile on his face when he saw me.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Wow.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI smiled and looked down to open the Velcro on my wallet.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“You like it?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I really do.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLandon’s hand brushed mine, and I curled my thumb to trap it. He wove our fingers together and led me out the sliding glass doors.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt was one of Portland’s perfect fall days, where it was warm enough that you didn’t have to wear your hoodie, but cool enough that it was cozy if you did.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e(I had on my hoodie.)\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Isn’t Mikaela the best?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Yeah.” I pressed my ear flat against the side of my head with my left hand. “I didn’t realize I had such huge Ferengi ears.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Your ears are cute.” He pulled me to a stop and stood on his toes to give me a kiss on the cheek. “But what’s a Ferengi?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe first time Landon kissed me, we had eaten at Northwest Dumplings after closing up shop at Rose City, and I’d been nervous, because I’d never kissed anyone before. And at the time, we were still just hanging out. I didn’t go in expecting to kiss him, which is why I made the extremely unfortunate choice of having too many onions at dinner.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhen Landon leaned in close, I thought maybe I had something in my teeth. Because I never thought someone like him would want to kiss someone like me.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut then he took my hand. And he said, “Hey. Can I kiss you?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd I was kind of surprised and amazed, because I really liked Landon, and I really did want him to kiss me.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI wanted my first kiss to be with Landon Edwards.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHis lips were warm and soft, and he let them linger against mine. But then I made the mistake of sighing, which blew a noxious cloud of onion breath into his mouth.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe broke the kiss and giggled.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI panicked at first—I thought I had messed everything up—but he smiled at me. He squeezed my hand and said, “That was good. Even with the onions. Can we do it again?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSo we did, and the kissing got even better once we started using our tongues.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut my favorite part was the way Landon looked at me after and said, “You’re beautiful, you know.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eNo one had ever called me beautiful before.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“You’re beautiful too.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI’d gotten better about food choices since then. And keeping breath mints in my messenger bag.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Come on. The streetcar should be here.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut then, as we turned the corner, my stomach dropped.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eChip Cusumano and Trent Bolger were walking down the street, jostling each other and laughing about something.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eCyprian Cusumano was the strangest guy I knew. He used to be kind of mean to me, but ever since the end of sophomore year, he’d turned around and been nicer.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWe’d actually become friends.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI mean, it helped that we both played on the Chapel Hill High School varsity men’s soccer team (Go Chargers!). It was the first year on the team for both of us—Chip used to play football in the fall—but we’d both managed to get spots on the varsity squad.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTrent Bolger, on the other hand, was the meanest guy I knew. He’d been picking on me since elementary school.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd yet for some strange reason—some Byzantine logic that defied explanation—Chip and Trent were best friends.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLandon must have noticed it when my shoulders hunched up, because his step faltered. Which is exactly when Chip looked up from his phone and caught my eye.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe looked from me to Landon, and then down at our linked hands, and then back to me.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eChip already knew I was gay—the whole team knew, since I told them at one of our team-building things when training started over the summer—but I was pretty sure Trent did not.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIn fact, I was certain Trent did not, because when he saw me and Landon, he looked like Christmas had come early.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“You know those guys?” Landon asked.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Yeah. From school. I play with the taller one.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eChip had grown at least an inch over the summer. He was almost as tall as me now, and I had plateaued at six three over the summer.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI kind of hoped I would hit six four eventually.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Hey, Darius.” Chip grinned at me. Cyprian Cusumano was one of those guys who always seemed to be grinning. He wore a pair of black Adidas joggers—the same kind I wore, with the white stripes down the sides and the tapered calves—and a plain white V-neck T-shirt.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Hey, Chip.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Nice haircut.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Thanks. You too.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eChip always had nice haircuts. He was a Level Eight Influencer at Chapel Hill High School: Whatever haircut he got, about half the guys in our class ended up doing some variation of it. Now that he was doing the Standard Soccer Team Fade, though, I wasn’t sure what everyone else would do.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Oh. Chip, this is my—”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe thing is, Landon and I hadn’t talked about whether we were officially boyfriends. Even if it felt like we kind of were.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHow did you ask a guy if you were officially boyfriends?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“This is Landon. Landon, Chip. And that’s Trent.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTrent was hanging back, playing with his phone. He wore a crimson sweatshirt that read property of chhs varsity football—he’d finally made the varsity team this year, as a something-back—and a pair of black swishy shorts.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eChip was still grinning, but he looked Landon up and down. Almost like he was judging him. “Nice to meet you.” He held out his fist.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLandon blinked for a second and then bumped his own with Chip’s.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt was the most awkward fist bump in the history of creation.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Well,” I squeaked. I cleared my throat. “We’ve gotta catch the streetcar. See you later?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eChip bumped fists with me too. “Yeah. See you.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI stepped to the side so he and Trent could make it past us and tightened my grip on Landon’s hand.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Later, Dairy Queen,” Trent said.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGreat.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eZero Point Six Eight Seconds\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eRose City Teas was in the Northwest District, a couple stops down the streetcar line from Mikaela’s salon. It was a brick building with ivy growing up one side, and a little wooden sign hanging over the door. Big windows made up one wall, with the shades half-drawn against the afternoon sun. In the corner, shelves of tea tins lined one wall, and opposite it, the tasting bar was packed with afternoon customers.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eRose City Teas was a dream come true.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLandon’s dad waved from the door to the tasting room, wiped his hands on the towel he always kept over his shoulder, and came to greet us.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe squeezed Landon’s shoulder—he and Landon had never hugged each other in front of me, which I thought was kind of weird—and then squeezed mine too.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Hey, son. Looking sharp, Darius. How’re you doing?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Thanks, Mr. E. I’m okay. How about you?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“B-plus, A-minus,” he said with a wink.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eElliott Edwards had the same gray eyes as his son. And the same auburn hair, though his thick eyebrows and well-kept beard were more brownish. And I couldn’t say for sure, but I suspected that underneath his beard he had the same excellent cheekbones as Landon too.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLandon Edwards had television cheekbones. They were angular and beautiful and always looked like he was blushing. Just a tiny bit.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I thought you were going to Darius’s tonight?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I am,” Landon said.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWe were still holding hands.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI really liked holding Landon’s hand.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“We were close. Thought we might as well stop by.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Well, perfect timing. Come try this. Polli, can you handle things?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ePolli was one of the managers at Rose City. She was an older white lady—probably about my grandmothers’ age—who always wore all black except for her scarves, which were wildly colorful, and her glasses, which were huge neon-yellow squares.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe seemed like the kind of person who should have been a judge on some kind of reality show. Or owned an antique bookshop, where she catalogued and dispensed esoteric knowledge while sipping espressos from tiny cups.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ePolli waved at us and kept talking to a customer about the benefits of local honey.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMr. Edwards led us into the tasting room, a small room partitioned from the main dining room by a frosted glass wall with the Rose City logo etched into it. The table was set with a row of gaiwans, full of damp, bright green leaves; and in front of those, tasting cups full of steaming emerald liquor.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Here.” He handed us both ceramic spoons. I let Landon go first, dipping his spoon into each cup one by one and slurping up the tea. It was a robust, grassy green.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Oh, wow,” I said when I tasted the third one, which had this burst of something—maybe fruity?—on the finish.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMr. E’s eyebrows danced. “Right? Any guesses?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Hm.” I tasted number four, but number three was definitely the best. “Gyokuro?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGyokuro was a green tea from Japan, famous for being shaded for three weeks before plucking, which made it taste sweeter and smoother.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Close. It’s Kabusecha.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“What’s that?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“It’s like Gyokuro but with only a week of shading.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Oh.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI took another slurp of number three.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“It’s awesome.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMr. Edwards smiled. “I thought you’d like it.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Are you gonna get some?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe sighed and shook his head. “Too pricey to be worth it.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Oh.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOne of the things I’d learned from interning at Rose City was, sometimes the best teas weren’t the most practical for a business.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI guess I understood that.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“You want the rest?” He grabbed a paper pouch covered in Japanese writing.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“You sure?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Positive.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Thanks!”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“All right,” Landon said. “We’d better go. Pick me up at nine?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Sure. Have fun. Make smart choices. Be safe.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Don’t be weird.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMr. Edwards just laughed as Landon led me out.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDad’s car was gone when I punched in the code to the garage door.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI untied my black Sambas and stuck them in the shoe rack while the door rumbled shut behind us.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLandon kicked off his shoes and slotted them next to mine, then followed me into the living room.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Sorry it’s kind of a mess,” I said, even though I’d vacuumed over the weekend.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Don’t be.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI checked the fridge for a note or something.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Everything okay?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“My dad was supposed to be home.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI sent him a text to ask where he was.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLandon had come over before, but Mom or Dad had always been home.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe back of my neck prickled.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI checked all the counters, and the table too, but there was no sign of where Dad had gone, just a pile of dishes in the sink. As soon as Landon saw them, he rolled up his sleeves and started washing them.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I can do those,” I said.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I like doing them.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I’ll dry, then.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI stood next to Landon, taking plates and bowls and glasses and drying them with one of the blue-and-white tea towels Mom seemed to have an endless supply of.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOur dishwasher had broken over the summer, and with Mom and Dad’s savings depleted from our trip to Iran, we hadn’t been able to replace it.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWho knew Shirin Kellner’s tea towel collection would prove so useful?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAfter I dried the last plate, Landon took the towel from me and wiped up the sink and counters and backsplash. He looked up at me. “You okay?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Yeah.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhat did you do when you were home alone with the guy you were seeing, and there were no more chores to do?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI grabbed my messenger bag off the chair. “I guess I better put this away.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLandon followed me up the stairs. My pulse pounded against my eardrums.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“You sure?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Yeah. Why?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Your face is all red.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Oh.” I swallowed. “It’s just. Dad didn’t leave a note or anything. And we’ve never been alone like this before.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLandon sat on my bed. I hung my bag on the hook in my closet and turned to face him.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“And I feel like maybe we should be kissing or something.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLandon laughed at that. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to. We can just talk.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I like kissing you, though.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLandon smiled and bit his lip.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I like kissing you too.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe brought his hand up to my face, and then ran his fingers along the edges of my fade. I hadn’t had bare skin there in a long time, and it made me tingle all over.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI really liked that.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI also really liked how Landon was very slow and deliberate with his lips. He had the fullest lips I’d ever seen on a white guy.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI didn’t like it as much when Landon put his other hand on my stomach, because I had to suck in my gut, and that made it a little harder to breathe and still keep up with the kissing.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI did like how it felt when my tongue met his. How careful he was with it.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut then I didn’t like it when Landon moved his hand lower, and his fingertips brushed the skin beneath my waistband.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose or not, but I didn’t know how to stop him. Especially since, like I said, I really did like the kissing part a great deal, and to say something I would have had to stop.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd then, of course, I didn’t like it at all when Dad popped his head into my room.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Darius, can you come help me with Lal—oh.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLandon yelped as I accidentally bit down on his tongue. We sprang apart.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI covered my lap with my hands.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Oh.” Dad’s face was at Red Alert. He looked down the hall. His eyes flicked back to my face and then away again. “Sorry.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMy own face was at Red Alert too.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Your sister got sick at gymnastics. I had to pick her up early.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Oh.” Normally Laleh had gymnastics classes on Tuesday evenings, and got a ride home with one of her friends’ parents.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Can you come downstairs? When you’re, ah, decent?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMy face burned even hotter.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBeing caught making out by my father had deflated my indecency in zero point six eight seconds.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Yeah,” I croaked.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDad closed the door behind him.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Sorry,” I said. “Are you okay?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Yeah. But I didn’t know you were a biter.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI tried to smile. But then, I don’t know why, I wanted to cry a little bit.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI’d switched medications for my depression over the summer, and while I mostly liked the new prescription, and felt ten to twenty percent better on average, sometimes I got very overwhelmed and wanted to cry.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Hey. It’s okay.” Landon swiped a tear off my cheek.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I know.” I mean, obviously my parents already knew about Landon and me. They’d seen us kiss before.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut not \u003ci\u003ekiss \u003c\/i\u003ekiss.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I know.” I took another breath. “I’m gonna help my dad. You wanna stay here?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Nah, I’ll come help too.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Thanks.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOne of the best things about Landon Edwards was how good he was in the kitchen.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eNot just doing dishes: He was an awesome cook too.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhile Dad took Laleh upstairs to get changed, I washed and peeled vegetables for Landon, who chopped them to make chicken noodle soup.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“What’s this?” He pulled down an unlabeled mason jar of brown spice and unscrewed the lid.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Careful,” I said, but it was too late. Landon took a sniff, which led to a cascade sinus failure.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Bless you.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Thanks. Whew.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“It’s my mom’s advieh.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Advieh?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Like a family spice mix. For Persian cooking.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“It’s different.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe shook out a handful and tossed it in with the onions and carrots, then got to work chopping celery.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhile Landon cooked, I set the table and watched him work. He had become so comfortable in our kitchen, it was like he lived there. He had this soft smile, and he hummed as he pulled apart leftover chicken breast to add it to the pot.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAs Landon worked, Dad came down the stairs, his ears red.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Hey, boys,” he said. He leaned down to kiss my forehead. “Wow. Your hair looks great.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Thanks.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Hey, Stephen,” Landon said.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Sorry for surprising you.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“It’s all good.” Landon rummaged through the spice cabinet and pulled out the bag of bay leaves sitting in the back.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI didn’t know how he could be so cool about everything.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI couldn’t meet Dad’s eyes.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Is Laleh okay?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I hope it’s not strep again. Be sure to wash your hands plenty.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Okay.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“And thanks for making soup, Landon. It smells good.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Sure thing.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLaleh eventually made her way downstairs in her green pajamas and poured herself into her seat at the kitchen table.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI kissed her head. “Hey, Laleh.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe made the kind of dramatic groan I usually associated with adults who hadn’t had their coffee in the morning.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSometimes it was hard to tell if my sister was nine or thirty-nine.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Sorry you’re not feeling well.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Thanks,” she said. Her voice was hoarse and throaty.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Landon’s making soup for you.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Yum,” she said, but with none of her usual manic enthusiasm for Landon’s cooking.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBy eight o’clock, the soup was done, and Mom was finally home from work. She and Dad had been working a lot more hours since our trip to Iran.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMom looked so tired, it was hard to decide who needed soup more, her or Laleh. But as soon as she tasted it, she smiled.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“This is good, Landon,” she said. “You made it in an hour?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Yeah. Well, you had good chicken for it.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLike I said, Landon was a great cook. I think that’s the main reason he won Mom over.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt’s not like Shirin Kellner was mad or upset when I told her I was gay.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd it’s not like she was weird about me and Landon hanging out.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut sometimes there was this tension between us, some perturbation in the gravity of our orbits, that I couldn’t figure out.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAt least Landon could cook.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eEvery Persian mother wants her son to marry someone who can cook.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTo be clear, I was not considering marriage, to Landon or anyone else. But cooking skills are an absolute requirement in prospective partners as far as Iranian parents are concerned.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Landon found your advieh,” I said.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“It’s Mamou’s recipe. My mother,” she said to Landon. “She used to mix it up in a big mortar and pestle.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I miss Mamou,” Laleh said between slurps of noodle. “I wish we could go see her again.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe table got kind of quiet.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI think we all wished that.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe thing is, we only went to Iran last spring because Babou—my grandfather—had a brain tumor. He was dying. And Mom wanted us to meet him before it was too late.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I wish we could go again too,” Mom said at last.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe turned back to me and ran her finger along the edge of my fade, where it met the long curls up top.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I can’t believe you finally got a haircut.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eThe Grand Nagus\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI was finishing up my homework when Dad knocked on my open door frame.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“You got a minute?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Sure.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe closed the door behind him and sat on my bed.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“So.” He rubbed his palms on his knees. “I know we’ve talked some about dating. And sex. And consent. But I figured we had better revisit.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMy face burned.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Dad.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I know it’s awkward. But it’s important, Darius.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI spun my desk chair around and hunched over with my elbows on my knees.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“But, I mean.” I swallowed. “Nothing’s changed since the last time we talked.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThat was over the summer, right after Landon and I had our first onion-tinged kiss.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWe’d had talks before that too. Like when I was eight, and about to have a baby sister, and asked where babies came from. And again, after Sex Ed in middle school.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe worst was when I was thirteen and woke up with sticky sheets.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt was the most painfully awkward conversation in me and Dad’s catalogue of painfully awkward conversations, and before our trip to Iran that was pretty much all our conversations.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTo be honest, even after Iran—after there were no more walls between us—talking about sex was still awkward.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDad cleared his throat. “Landon didn’t have his hand under your pants when I walked in?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“No,” I said.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd then I said, “I mean, he hadn’t gotten very far.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd then I said, “And I don’t really know if I want to do that kind of stuff yet.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDad nodded. “Okay. You know it’s healthy and normal if you do. And healthy and normal if you don’t. Right?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI nodded and stared at my feet.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDad let out a slow breath. “Did you tell him?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI shook my head. “We were kissing.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Okay.” He stared out my window for a second. The curtains were open, and dusk was settling over the neighborhood like a blanket. “First, it’s okay to hit pause on kissing so you can communicate. Relationships, or even just casual, you know, whatevers, need communication. And second, if you don’t know what to say, you can use your hands to guide his. So if you don’t want them . . . uh . . . in your pants, you can gently guide him to somewhere better, like your back or your knee or whatever.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Okay.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDad gave me a shaky grin.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAs hard as it was to have conversations like this, he never made it seem like he didn’t want to do it.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Have you ever talked to Landon about his past relationships?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“A little,” I said.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Did you talk about how intimate they were?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThat made me feel a little sick to my stomach.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Some,” I said.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLandon told me he’d done more with girls than with guys. That he had his first kiss in sixth grade.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSometimes I wished I’d started dating sooner. Maybe then I would’ve had some practice at all this.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMaybe then I would’ve known what to do and what to say.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDad ran his hand through his hair.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Does it make you nervous, that Landon’s more experienced?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“No. Maybe. I don’t know.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I know this isn’t fun to talk about with your dad,” he said. “But I want you to be healthy and safe and happy. Okay?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I know,” I said.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Good. Okay. Good.” He took a deep breath. “Next time, just tell him you’d like things to go a little slower. Let him know you enjoy, uh, kissing and stuff, and you want to wait for the rest.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“All right.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDad patted his legs and stood up. He kissed me on top of my head and then rubbed the back of it. “I forgot you had skin back there,” he said.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Ears too. I look like the Grand Nagus.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDad snorted. The Grand Nagus was the leader of the Ferengi, this alien race with huge ears and an obsession with profit.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“You’re perfect just the way you are,” Dad said.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Thanks, Dad.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Now finish up your homework so we can watch some \u003ci\u003eDeep Space Nine\u003c\/i\u003e.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMost mornings I went for a run before my shower.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI don’t know that I actually liked running.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt wasn’t so bad when we ran at practice, and the guys were\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Dial Books","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":48338542067941,"sku":"NP9780593108239","price":17.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780593108239.jpg?v=1769572615","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/darius-the-great-deserves-better-isbn-9780593108239","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}