Chapter Twenty-One: Always a Gamble

It surprised no one that Quentin received two months of detention for baring his chest. "Public indecency, disturbing the peace, performing an act of lewdness, encouraging unruly behavior from the student body, and breaking the Code of Honor," or so Dean Schlosser had phrased it. And by the time Devon had gotten home, her mother had already heard about it, thanks to the other Korean kids who attended River Valley High.

Instead of the slapping and lecturing Devon had half-expected, her mother did something worse: she pulled a classic Asian-mother guilt trip.

"You selfish girl," Mrs. Kim said in Korean, hands on her hips. "We work so hard to get a better life for you and your brother, and now that sexual pig of an American boy parades around with your name on his chest!"

She pretended not to notice Devon's efforts to explain. "Oh, how can we hold up our heads in church? What will your grandmother say?" she said. "To think that my daughter, my own blood and flesh, could betray her parents like this! Consorting with that filthy boy. What did I do to deserve this? Surely God is punishing me."

Guilt and exasperation warred in Devon's heart. "Mother..."

"Look at my hands!" Mrs. Kim said tragically. "Me, I was once pretty, but now I am ugly because I worked myself to the bone for you and your brother. Me, I washed your clothes, cooked you breakfast, lunch, and dinner, put a roof over your head... all we ask is that you study and do us proud. Is that so hard? So little we ask of you."

She paced around the family room, a small figure a few inches shorter than Devon. "Harvard! Yale! Princeton!" she moaned. "We had such great hopes for you. We spent all of that money, buying you a fancy car, a fancy computer, a fancy laptop... Hah! Only a community college will take you now. Oh God!"

The prospect seemed to be too much for her heart, and she collapsed on the couch. "I bragged to my friends about what a good girl you were. Always so obedient, so helpful. Now you're running around with that sexual predator. Before I know it, you'll be pregnant and dropping out of high school. Your father and I will have to move away from this town, to hide our eternal shame-"

"Mother!"

"Now you speak?" Mrs. Kim said. "Mother, you say? You don't seem to have thought of your father and me! Your little brother! You know what Aunt Daisy said? She thinks it's ha-ha funny, that boy flaunting his naked body in school. Other friends say they be so sorry for me. People laugh in the Korean grocery store today. What could I do? Mother, you say?"

"Please listen to me-"

Her mother sprang off the couch. "Hah! Did you listen to your parents? Did you? God takes two of my babies, and now a debaucher steals another of my babies. Now I only have your little brother. Pray to God he is not taken too."

Zach had been eavesdropping shamelessly, hanging around the corner, poking his head out, his eyes bright with interest, but now he spoke. "Quentin's very nice," he volunteered in English. "He's funny."

Mrs. Kim moaned again. "Look! Look! Oh, what did I do to deserve this? I should have stayed home more, handcuffed myself to your wrists. We should have stayed in Korea! This is what happens when we move to a white country. Look at what those Americans are doing - that stupid war in Iraq, boys kissing other boys, girls getting pregnant before marriage, moral depravity everywhere-"

"Mom!" Devon said.

It was too late, however, since her mother was on a roll. She extolled the virtues of the Korean race, sadly proposing that Devon had clearly lost all of her Korean identity (but Devon could get it back, if she somehow renounced Quentin and received an acceptance letter from Harvard), and dwelled on the subject of Quentin's character with some considerable displeasure.

"He's a godless infidel," Mrs. Kim said a wearying hour later. She hadn't yet reached for a cup of water, and Devon didn't even think she needed it. "What religion does he have? Sex? That boy must be crawling with a dozen diseases."

By then, Zach was huddling with Devon on the couch, both of them cowering under the maternal gaze, as she paced back and forth, slower now, as if to suggest they had made her motherhood duties an intolerable burden.

"I will have to tell people I am your stepmother," Mrs. Kim moaned. "Stepmother! No, no. I must summon the necessary strength to carry this toil of trouble you have brought on my poor graying head. Me, I am so ashamed to be your mother, but I must not abandon you. Even if I die from this dishonor, so be it."

Tears filled her eyes, as she lifted a hand to her cheek. "How your great-grandparents must be happy they could not see this day, see their ungrateful descendants betray the family name and all it stands for. The Kim surname used to mean something. Honor, family, duty, respect - all gone now. Pfft!"

She clasped her hands and extended them towards Devon in a beseeching gesture. "How could I have failed so badly with you? Look at Sam. What a proper boy he is, all straight A's, making his mother proud. He's never given Aunt Daisy a moment of trouble. Never! No dirty white girlfriends, no babies. You could have had him! Given me proper grandchildren after college. But no, you had to spurn him and break his heart, all for a diseased playboy with an ill-gained fortune and no brains."

Devon bit her tongue. It throbbed, as it had for the last hour, but she knew if she interrupted her mother again, it would only make things worse.

"Even a rat-faced Japanese boy would be better!" Mrs. Kim said. "At least he would be Asian, with a rudimentary understanding of our culture. A Taiwanese boy! China has a billion people, you couldn't find someone from there?"

Things might have deteriorated past that point, if Devon's father hadn't arrived home from work. He strolled into the family room, surely having overheard some of the one-sided conversation, but his voice was mild.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Our daughter has been consorting with the lowest of the low," Mrs. Kim informed him. It took her some time to explain, and when she'd finished, he was sitting in his armchair with a thoughtful look on his face.

Devon watched him fearfully. He was trim, a byproduct of his days in the mandatory Korean army training, but with his square glasses and a slender height of five feet and nine inches, he'd always been more soft-spoken and calm than her mother. He stepped in, only when the situation was dire.

"Quentin Maxwell? That white boy who never stops talking?" Dr. Kim said in English. "Well, at least he's always prompt about paying his dental bills. I suppose we can invite him for dinner and ask him what his intentions are."

It ended that battle, but when Mrs. Kim's eyes narrowed, Devon knew she was strategically retreating and biding her time.

"Could have been worse," Sam said after he heard the full version, but then he ruined that half-reassuring note. "Now you've just jumped from the frying pan into the fire."

"Thank you so much for your support," Devon said, slumping low in the booth. She'd managed to escape her house, using dinner with Sam as an excuse, but she didn't have any appetite.

He grimaced. "You think I didn't get the same lecture from my mother? Apparently I should have taken Maxwell outside and beaten him to death with my fists, rather than have him dishonor you in front of the entire school."

She sighed. You just couldn't win with Asian mothers.

Sam flagged down one of the diner's waitresses. The small restaurant was popular with River Valley High kids because of the good food and the affordable prices, so on this Friday night, the place was crowded.

"I need a refill!" Sam called out, raising his voice above the din. He turned back to Devon who still hadn't touched her hamburger. "I gotta tell you, Dev. This is one of the craziest things you've ever done."

"Me voluntarily sticking my neck out for the chopping block?"

"There's that," he agreed. "Philippa and Abdullah probably are carrying their personal Maxwell voodoo dolls."

It drew out a reluctant laugh from Devon. It wouldn't even surprise her if it was true. "I wish there was a way..." She shook her head, knowing it was futile. Philippa had a one-track mind, and that was that.

"Maxwell's here."

Devon twisted around in her seat. She lifted her hand in a wave when she saw Quentin in the doorway, but a party of seven had gotten up from their table and was heading for the exit, temporarily blocking his view.

Still, what she'd seen for a brief second had made her stomach do pleasant flip-flops. He'd changed out of the clothes he'd worn for school earlier in the day - now he had a buttoned-down shirt and a pair of pants that said 'casual' but if she wasn't mistaken, they'd cost him some serious money.

"Aw, he dressed up," she said to no one in particular. "Isn't that cute?"

"You're sick, Dev," Sam muttered. "Sick."

She knew the instant Quentin saw her because his face lit up with an infectious grin that could have easily blinded a person. He threaded his way through the place, responding to the inevitable greetings of "hey man" and "good to see ya" before he reached her table.

"Maxwell," Sam said evenly.

"Love you too." Quentin slipped into the seat next to Devon. She caught a whiff of his aftershave, even with the overwhelming aroma of hamburgers and fries. "You might want to look away, Choi," he suggested, as he drew Devon closer. "You won't like this part. Or you could watch. I don't mind either way."

It was crazy, even illogical, but Devon blushed anyway. She'd publicly kissed Quentin in the school cafeteria with at least three hundred students and cafeteria workers watching, but somehow that had been different.

There was a twinkle in Quentin's eyes that said he knew exactly what she was thinking and that he didn't care.

"We gotta work on your inhibitions," he said, as his lips grazed her cheekbone.

"I didn't think you knew what 'inhibition' meant," she whispered back. She repressed a shiver when his mouth traveled to hers.

His arm stole around her waist. "Baby, you haven't even scratched the surface of what I do know."

Someone coughed from what seemed like a distance. It took Devon's fogged mind to realize that it was Sam who was sitting across from her and Quentin. "You do realize that I can hear every word you guys are saying?" Sam said.

"You're temporarily deaf," Quentin said. "Temporarily blind too."

Laughing, Devon buried her flushed face against his shoulder. "Stop it," she told him. "I wanted you to meet me here because my parents are inviting you for dinner tomorrow at my house-"

"Which is not good news, by the way," Sam interjected. He shot Quentin a cool smile across the table. "You up for it, Maxwell?"

Quentin tilted his head. The challenge in Sam's voice evidently hadn't gotten past him, and even before he opened his mouth, Devon just knew he was going to say something nasty. She stepped on his foot. Hard.

"Could you be any more obvious with your jealousy?" Quentin flashed a killer smile. "It's kinda cute."

Devon mentally shook her head. She reached for the melting ice-cubes inside her drinking glass and crunched on one. Quentin's charismatic demeanor was one of the things she loved about him, but it paradoxically was a reason why she wanted to kick his ass.

His brimming confidence would be his death warrant tomorrow. She could visualize it so clearly: him showing up at her house, then trying to charm her mother (a tactic that was guaranteed to fail). Five minutes after he tried his charm, he'd be run out of the house with his tail tucked between his legs.

"I'm not gonna interfere with your testosterone contest," she said. Sam clearly wanted to spew his dislike, and Quentin was equally determined to match him. Strangely enough, it reminded her of her conversation with Alex. "Just wrap it up fast."

Sam didn't even bother hiding the fact that he was sizing Quentin up like a prospective fighter looking for any weakness. "You just don't get it, do you?" he said to Quentin. "I'm not in love with Devon. I don't want to date her. I don't want your money or anything that belongs to you."

"But you do want one thing," Quentin corrected him. "You want her to get away from me."

"Yeah." Sam studied him with narrowed eyes. "I'll never know what she sees in you, Maxwell. She didn't like you before this semester. Now you're parading around the school, claiming that you're in love. Bull." He glanced at Devon. "Sorry, but yeah, it's bullshit."

She crunched on another ice-cube. Sam didn't know how it annoyed her to have to defend Quentin constantly to her friends, but she kept her voice even.

"We've covered that already, Sammy."

"Yeah, I know." He nodded at Quentin. "I just want you to know that I'm onto you. That's all."

Devon couldn't help herself this time. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Meaning that the minute he breaks your heart, I have a best friend's contractual right to slam his head against a wall."

Quentin shrugged. "You'd have to deal with Alex first. As my best friend, he has a contractual right to defend me." The image seemed to amuse him because then he grinned. "How about a bet, Choi?"

Sam sounded suspicious. "What bet?"

"I say Devon and I will make it past graduation. If we do, you pay up. If we don't, I pay up."

That roused her out of her determination not to interfere. "Hey! Wait a minute!"

Sam snorted. "You're gambling on your relationship?" He eased back from the table. "Have I mentioned you're fucking nuts, Maxwell?"

Quentin was now in fine form. He spread his hands expansively wide. "Relationships are always a gamble," he said. "I've never been in a serious relationship before, so she can hurt me more than I can hurt her. So I'm actually taking the bigger leap here."

There was a brief pause as Devon and Sam both chewed over what he'd said. It even made a convoluted kind of sense, come to think about it, but as far as Devon was concerned, she was risking a lot more because her parents (most certainly her mother) and friends wholly disapproved of Quentin.

"What are the terms?" Sam said finally.

Devon's mouth fell open. "You're not encouraging him!"

Quentin winked at her. "Now, now, my gumdrop. This is just a friendly bet. But for your sake, I'll just have Choi wear a huge sign saying, 'I-Was-Wrong.' Or maybe I'll have him tell his parents that he's decided he doesn't want to go to college. That'll be fun."

"No," she said firmly. If anything, Aunt Daisy was even worse than her own mother.

"Can't I have him wear a hula skirt? Oh all right. A hundred bucks. Don't look at me like that. I'm giving him a discount."

Sam held his hand out. "You're on."

They sealed the deal with a handshake, much to Devon's dismay, and Sam got up from the table to join a few friends at another table. He'd only come to the diner, so Devon could legitimately tell her mother that she was eating with him. Her mother would never have let her out of the house, if she'd said she was meeting Quentin.

"Have you lost your mind?" she said, once Sam was out of earshot.

Quentin draped his arm around her shoulders. "No, just my heart." The inherent cheesiness of that line - and yes, it was a line he'd deliberately used, Devon knew - was mitigated by his suggestive squeeze. "I kinda thought I was being poetic there. About the relationship thing, I mean."

She moved around a little in the booth, so she could look at him directly. The vinyl seat squeaked, as she hooked her foot under her leg. "You made a bet with my best friend about how long we'd last," she said. "That's not exactly romantic."

"The way I see it," he said, "it's more like a show of faith that we're good enough to last."

"You always have an answer for everything."

"Not always. You cut me open and left me bleeding."

He said it quietly enough that she almost didn't hear him, but he had his eyes fixed on the salt and pepper shakers.

She knew what he was talking about; of course, how could she not? Their fight had been so destructive that it had literally redefined their relationship to the point that they could either stay estranged or go on together as a couple. Even though they'd made up, there were things that you didn't quite forget. Forgive, yes, but not forget.

"Quentin..."

"You just walked out of the cafeteria. I don't think I've ever hated someone as much as I hated you at that minute."

"Then why did you make the Lego flowers for me?"

His smile was crooked. "Kind of obvious, don't you think?"

"No, seriously. What changed your mind?"

"Oh, the tiny fact that I blamed you without checking first? Or the fact that I missed you like crazy? Or the fact I was afraid you'd end up as Choi's girlfriend and leave me alone in the dust? But personally, I'd go with the 'I-couldn't-stop-missing-you' option." He glanced at her sideways. "You did miss me, right?"

The answer was so obvious that Devon almost didn't bother saying it aloud, but she'd caught the slight trace of uncertainty in his voice. She'd needed that reminder that Quentin had doubts just like everyone else.

"I missed you," she said, "so much that it hurt."

His mouth curved into a satisfied smile. "Now that's more like it."

"What if I hadn't missed you?" she couldn't resist asking.

"Then I'd have kept chasing after you, trying to change your mind."

She had to smile because she couldn't not. "And I suppose you think I'm letting you off the hook for betting on our relationship."

"You already did, my sugar plum."

Because he was utterly correct, she glossed over that part. "Anyway," she said, ignoring his smirk, "I have to prep you for the dinner tomorrow."

The waitress stopped by their table and took his order: a bacon-and-cheese hamburger, two large fries, and a chocolate milkshake. Quentin glanced at Devon's untouched plate and requested a strawberry milkshake for her.

"We have more important things to talk about," he said.

She frowned at him. "What could be more important than your survival? Because that's what it is - your survival is at stake here. My mother is going to rip you apart with her tiny claws, and then she'll laugh and spit at your entrails and dance in your blood."

"Stop turning me on, baby. It's very arousing."

"I'm being serious here."

"Ditto. I want to take you out on a real date." He wagged a finger before she could object. "And no, this one doesn't count."

She put a hand on his arm. "Listen, I want you to concentrate on the dinner first. You have to make a good impression on my mother. Because if things don't go well..."

Quentin didn't shake off her touch. "You worry too much, Devon. The way I figure it, I already have a few strikes against me. I'm not Korean, I'm not a straight-A student, I've got a reputation, that kind of thing." He reached over and squeezed her hand. "So it actually works for me."

"Not really seeing your point."

"I'm already at bottom. Things can only get better, right?"

Devon didn't know whether to laugh or groan aloud. "Why do I have to get saddled with a freaking optimist?" she muttered in Korean. As always, his twisted perspective made sense, if you considered it from his viewpoint.

She eyed him accusingly. Some of his food had arrived, so he was drizzling his fries with a generous dollop of ketchup. "I hope you know you've turned my life upside down," she said.

"Yep. And you love every minute of it."

She decided to change tactics. "Yes, so that's why I want my mother to think highly of you." She wondered if she should bat her eyelashes, but she decided against it. She scooted closer to him and snuggled with him, a distractingly easy feat. "You can't blame me, if I want her to like my boyfriend, can you?"

He grinned at her. "Aww, that's cute. Look, my grades aren't that good. We both know you're smarter than me-" He shook his head when she tried to interrupt. "It's true, Devon. You're flat-out smarter, and I can live with it. Anyway, your mother's gonna know about my grades, my reputation, whatever. So... there's not really a lot I can do to change her mind."

Devon acknowledged that truth. "But you still can talk about your parents and the influential job positions they have. Charitable donations that your family make. Something like that."

"I don't really want to talk about my parents." Quentin set his milkshake down on the tabletop, cutting her off before she could speak. "You met them, Devon. You saw what they're like."

"They seem like nice people," she offered lamely. Quentin so seldom spoke about his parents that she sometimes even forgot there was a Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell.

"Yeah, that's my point. They are nice. We live in the same house half of the time, and when they see me in passing, they ask me how I'm doing. They never scream at me, they never push me." He snorted. "Eighteen years, and we're still strangers."

What he'd just described was literally incomprehensible. Devon's mother couldn't even let a hour elapse without butting into her life or hovering in the background. Even though her father was much quieter about it, he was still a force to be reckoned with. The weight of her parents' expectations had always been a burden - although a burden that Devon railed against, but ultimately accepted because, well, that was the culture.

"It's not easy living with my parents," she said finally. "They... expect so much. I'm the oldest, so I have to be a good example for Zach. But sometimes he gets preferential treatment because he's a boy. He gets sick so easily."

"But you know they care."

"Yeah, I do."

"It'll be fine," Quentin said. He flashed a smile, casting off the serious mood that he'd slipped into. "She's your mother. I'll keep that in mind when she tries to fillet me."

Devon had to smile. "Well, you'll have me and Zach. He wants you to take him on another Wal-Mart trip soon."

"Done."

They bantered about their friends and school gossip over their milkshakes. Quentin said Alex was largely ignoring him for the most part, and Devon gave him the latest update about Philippa and Abdullah. Justin had found a new girl, one who went to another school, and apparently it was heating up between them.

"Good," Devon said. "I always liked him."

The diner was open until eleven o'clock on Fridays and Saturdays, so she lingered until the closing time, reluctant to leave. Who knew what would happen tomorrow? Despite Quentin's assurances, Devon knew her mother.

"So how about that date?" Quentin said, walking her out to her car in the parking lot. "I say we should have it on Sunday. Celebrate the fact I survived meeting your parents."

"I've got church."

He looked bemused, then laughed. "After church, then? It'll give me more time to set up things anyway."

Devon tilted her head. With unlimited funds and a peerless imagination, Quentin could whip up something unique for their first real date. For all she knew, he would rent an entire zoo or a movie theater, just so they could have the whole place to themselves. She wouldn't put it past him, and that was the problem.

"You've got a fifty-dollar budget," she said. "Think you can do it?"

"Please. I can do a date on five bucks."

"Hmm." She wrapped her arms around his waist. "Come up with a date that you've never had in the past. It has to be different from anything you've ever done with other girls."

She saw him grin. "Baby, you're on. By the end, I'll have you thanking your lucky stars that you have me as your boyfriend."

"Do you even have an idea of what you're going to do?"

"No, but I'll think of something. I always do."

As she pulled away from the parking lot, her lips tingling from the toe-curling kiss, she thought about what he'd said. It had underscored his optimistic resilience, such a natural part of his personality, but damned if Quentin hadn't made her believe in him. Maybe they would get out of tomorrow's dinner alive. Maybe he would win her parents' unconditional approval. Unlike her, Quentin saw possibilities and set out to make them come true. His greatest strengths were often his greatest weaknesses, and vice versa. Maybe these were things she still had to learn.

AUTHOR NOTE: No, this is not a mirage! I decided this chapter had to be rewritten, so there will be more chapters to come. We'll see how it goes :)

morbidpoet - The "their" in that sentence was a reference to Quentin and Devon, so that's why I used it.

(Anonymous) - Ral used her bet with Ryan as an excuse not to think about her feelings for him, so I couldn't really have them say "I love you" in AAO. Additionally, Ral is a year younger than Devon, and less mature. I couldn't have Logan and Noelle say it because Logan had so much angst in his life, and they're both guarded people. Likewise, Dominic in MHPP was carrying a lot of pain. The timing was right for Quentin and Devon, however.

non de plume - Thank you! I really do like to imagine cliches and then how to invest them with life and characters, if that makes sense. If I did indeed write another River Valley story, it would be chronologically set after this one.

Boo - No, Grant and Nicky aren't together, but Nicky does have a crush on him.

steph - I did place a picture of Jason before, but I removed it. I had imagined Kerr Smith for him. But yes, Quentin does have some insecurity.

jennifer - Oh, it's just one of the usual quarrels between Alex and Adrian. They're still together.