Flying Lessons & Other Stories(14)

“They should come clean it up,” I snap.

Papi shoots me a warning look. “Quiet, Merci.” His eyes slice through me in a way I’m not expecting. But why? I’m not the one who made this mess.

“But, Papi—”

“Sio—” he hisses.

When I drop my stare down at my shoes, he turns back to Mr. Falco and pastes on a smile. “It’s no problem, sir. They’re children, and accidents happen. We’ll clean it up.”

With those words, my father shrinks before my very eyes. My arms hurt, and I’m thirsty and hot. I feel ugly. My cheeks burn as I stand there, humiliated for all of us.

I will not clean this up, I tell myself. I slide my gaze to Roli. His jaw twitches as he rolls on a new coat of paint, but he won’t look at me.

“Thank you,” Mr. Falco says. He walks away and closes the glass door of the athletics office at the far end of the gym.

—

It doesn’t take that long to touch up the walls or to repaint the door, but I’m furious just the same. I don’t speak to Papi for the rest of the day, not even when he buys me an extra large chocolate shake. That afternoon, I let Roli sit in front and brood all the way home as I pick the dried red paint from under my nails. Every bump makes the springs in the seats squeak as we make one turn after another and head over the bridge again toward home. A million thoughts bang around inside my head, but I can’t seem to turn them into a single question. All I feel is a rotting feeling inside. It’s like I’m putrefying, just like Do?a Rosa.

Finally, Emerald Isle Condominiums comes into view.

“I’ll see if one of the guys from the team can help me finish up tomorrow,” Papi says as Roli and I climb out. He doesn’t look at me as he says it, which makes me feel satisfied. At least he knows I’m not speaking to him. He taps his horn before he pulls away, and Roli turns. “Make sure Merci works on her reading.” Then he’s off.

“I don’t need your help,” I hiss at Roli as the van disappears around the corner.

“Suit yourself,” he says.

I don’t follow Roli upstairs. Instead, I walk toward the pool. The old ladies who usually bob in the water aren’t here. They might have been scared away by the heat, or maybe they’re praying for Do?a Rosa at the funeral parlor in Lake Worth. I let myself in the gate and sit at the pool’s edge with my legs dangling in the water. Roli and I used to do handstands in here. We used to dive for pool sticks. But now all I see is an ugly pool. Leaves are floating on the surface, and I’m pretty sure there’s a dead frog in the deep end. The deck chairs are lopsided, and the scummy water is warm enough to poach you. I think of the pretty office at Seaward Pines, the fountain with cherubs spitting water, and feel mad all over again.

I don’t know how long I sit there, but finally, someone opens the gate behind me. “Mami says to come up.” Roli has changed into shorts, and he’s barefoot. “She wants you to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” I go back to watching lizards dart around the pool deck.

Roli stays quiet for a few seconds. Then he walks over to where I’m sitting and curls his toes over the edge.

“Hunger strike, huh?” he says. “How long you think you’ll hold out?”

I give him my darkest look.

Roli considers the water as a beetle paddles near our legs. He walks to the supply closet at the shallow end of the pool and finds the net. I watch him circle the perimeter, cleaning away the mess. He even scoops up the frog and hurls it like a lacrosse ball into the bushes. When he’s done, he walks back to me. I can feel a fight between us.

“Merci…,” he begins.

But I strike first, hard and fast. “Seaward Pines is a dumb school,” I blurt. “I’ll hate it. And I hate Papi, too.”

Roli sighs. He’s quiet for a long while, which makes me uncomfortable. My brother has always been strangely good at reading my mind. Can’t he see how awful it felt to be unimportant, to watch Papi stand there like a chump?

“What did you want Papi to do, Merci? Pitch a fit and blow your free ride?”

Without warning, tears spring to my eyes. He pretends not to notice. Instead, he cups my scalp with his enormous hand and gives a squeeze. “Try to let this idea into your thick cranium. Papi chose to be invisible today so you won’t ever have to be.”

I look up at him guiltily.

“That’s harder to do than shooting off your mouth, Merci.”

Without warning, he yanks off his shirt. He has Papi’s same shape, even if he’s a little skinnier. There are still tiny dots of paint in his hair, a smear at his elbow.

He cannonballs into the pool and makes a spray arc that soaks me to my underwear. For a second, I’m stunned. I want to shout at him, stay enemies, but instead, I take a deep breath and let the water offer what relief it will.

“Race?” He bobs back up to the surface, grinning. “Come on. Show me what you’re made of.”

I hesitate, my shame holding me still. But in the end, I stand up and shimmy out of my overalls until I’m just in a T-shirt and panties. I jump, arms wide, eyes open. Then I paddle after him, reaching and gasping into the deep end like mad.





Secret Samantha


TIM FEDERLE