Forever for a Year(11)

My dad has a younger brother, my uncle Ernesto (he’s trying to be an actor), who just had his ten-year high school reunion. He told me there was a girl nobody paid attention to back in high school, even though everyone knew there was something special about her. Well, he said, when she showed up at the reunion, nobody could look at anyone else, even the married guys. My uncle Ernesto told me to look out for that girl, because every high school has at least one, and the guy smart enough to find her will be the one guy the girl could fall for.

When health class began, I planned to talk to Carolina again. Just to show her that I didn’t care that my cousin Henry said she was a loser. (She didn’t know Henry said that, but that’s not the point.) But after staring at her the whole period, fixated on who she was every second, I started to think that Carolina was the most beautiful girl in the world, not just the school—the world—and that she was my soul mate and insane things like that, so then I couldn’t say anything to her because it was too damn important to say just anything.

She sorta turned my way as she walked out of class, but I looked the other direction. I hoped she thought I was ignoring her. I wanted her to feel insecure and unstable, like I felt. But there’s just no way she did. She was perfect, wasn’t she? I wanted to be above all these petty teenage social games, but I wasn’t. I was a total fake. Weak. Listening to Henry like a brainless follower. But Carolina was above it for real. Didn’t care what she wore, didn’t care what people thought.

Then, out of nowhere, I got mad at her. Carolina had everything figured out and never had a moment of doubt about who she was or what she wanted in her life. Screw her.

*

My last period of the day was gym class. The teacher, Mr. Pasquini, said that the scheduling office must have screwed up because only kids who were on sports teams should have gym for eighth period. (My gut says my dad marked that I’d be in a sport when he registered me.) Mr. Pasquini said I could go to the office and try to switch my classes around so I could take gym earlier in the day or I could join a sports team. Most teams were already set, as tryouts took place before classes started. There were only two teams that let everyone join: football and cross-country running. Mr. Pasquini told me I could go talk to Coach Pollina about joining football or I could join the cross-country team. Part of me wanted to join football to shove it in Henry’s face, not just since he said I wouldn’t be able to join but also to show the other guys I was pretty good. But then that sounded like so much effort, and so petty. And clichéd.

Cross-country was for losers. So no way was I doing that. Not losers. I don’t want to label like that. But let’s just say it’s not for me.

So I went to the front office and said I needed to change my schedule around. The lady rolled her eyes. Whatever. Adults always take their crap out on kids.

When she came back and showed me the new schedule, gym was where history was, history moved to biology’s spot, biology to health’s, and now health was last period. I stared at the schedule a long time. The lady even asked me if everything was okay.

I didn’t tell her yes. I didn’t say no either. What was going through my mind was that I would now have no classes with Carolina Fisher. None. If I had gotten this schedule before today, I would have never met her and it would have been no big deal. But now to move everything … to not have any classes with her … I don’t know. I didn’t like it.

Crap.

Life is pointless. I’ve said this, but even I have to delude myself once in a while into believing it’s not one hundred percent pointless one hundred percent of the time or I would just melt away. So maybe one of those few times where life had a point (or at least I wanted it to have a point) was when I was put in Carolina Fisher’s biology class, on the first day of school, with no backpack, and she slid two sheets of paper to me without me even asking.

I don’t know. I don’t even know what I’m talking about anymore. Who cares? I should just switch the classes. Right? She’s a snob, thinks she’s too good for me, all that. Right?

“Mr. Santos, is the new schedule okay?” the front-office lady asked again.





7

Carolina gets a request

“Carolina,” my mom said as she stopped the car on the side of the road even though we were still a block away from our house.

Before she even said another word, I started crying. Why would I start crying? I didn’t even know what she was going to say! Maybe my first day was more stressful than I realized, but THEN I realized I knew exactly what she was going to say. I just did.

“I’ve told your dad he can move back in.”

“But, Mommy,” I started. Mommy? I never call her that anymore! Wake up and grow up, Carolina! “Mom, he hurt you so much. He doesn’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that. He’s been a very good dad to you. He loves you and your brother so much. He’s just made some mistakes. We all make mistakes.”

“But some mistakes shouldn’t be forgiven!” I screamed this, without meaning to, but I really needed my mom to understand.

“Calm down,” she said, “calm down, okay? If he ever hurt you in any way, I wouldn’t forgive him. But—”

“He did hurt me!” Then my crying just exploded. I didn’t even know who I was—it was like I was a tiny monster baby who couldn’t speak, only scream and cry. But I could speak, so I did, but I couldn’t stop crying. “He hurt me because he hurt you! And I know he’ll do it again and you’ll be even sadder and I’ll have to take care of you again and who will take care of me?”