The Lesbiana's Guide to Catholic School(48)

“?Oye, maricón!”

Cesar clenches his fists but keeps walking. I want to turn around and fight them for him, but I don’t have the alcohol to give me the courage like I did at the party. Besides, there’s too many. Even Cesar has to know he can’t take all six, with or without me and Jamal helping. I secretly hope it doesn’t come to that, because I don’t know if I’d have the guts.

“Look, he’s running away again!” They erupt in laughter.

I’m ready to hold Cesar back and convince him to drop it, but he doesn’t turn to fight. He runs. Jamal and I take off with him. The secret code also states that when one of us runs, we’re all gone. I chose the worst day to leave the house in chanclas. The Rover boys get into their truck, a couple of them hopping into the bed, and drive after us.

I’m not as fast as Cesar or Jamal, so the distance between us grows a little with every stride. Still, I run as fast as I can in freaking chanclas. The truck pulls one wheel onto the sidewalk, like they’re trying to run us over. My feet can’t move any faster than they already are, but it doesn’t stop me from trying. I pump my legs so hard my calves burn, but I’m still trailing behind Cesar and Jamal. There’s an alley we can turn into up ahead, but I don’t know how quickly I can get there. The truck gains on me. The fence on the other side of the sidewalk is impossible to avoid without running into the street. The horn honks less than a few yards behind me, pulling a sharp scream out of my throat. I almost fall forward, but I keep running. Cesar turns at the noise.

“Yami!” His eyes widen when he sees how close I am to getting run over. He stumbles and changes directions.

“Cesar, no!” Jamal turns around when Cesar does. Cesar runs back and pushes me into the fence hard enough so the truck is heading for him instead of me.

Just when my brother is about to be roadkill, the truck pulls back on the road and drives off. The laughter is almost as loud as the blasting music.

I yank off one of my chanclas and take a running start. I let out a strangled war screech and throw it at the truck. It hits the back window, but it doesn’t give me the satisfaction I want. They laugh and drive away, and my chancla gets run over by another car. They could have just killed me. If Cesar hadn’t pushed me out of the way . . .

“You okay, Yami?” Cesar asks, panting. I spin around and redirect my anger.

“Why would you do that?” I yell. He could have died.

He shrugs like it’s no big deal. But it is a big deal. He didn’t even think about risking his life for me. I want to push him into the fence. Instead, I hug him. He laughs an uncomfortable laugh.

“You’re so dramatic.”

I hold on tighter before letting go. When we turn to walk back home, Do?a Violeta is standing at the edge of her house, like she’s ready to rush over. On the other side of the street, Bianca is staring at us with wide eyes while her friends keep walking. I almost think she’s going to come check on us, but she turns around to catch up with her friends. After we calm down Do?a Violeta and make her promise not to tell Mami, none of us talk about what happened the rest of the way home, or ever again.





13


Thou Shalt Confess Thy Sins—Selectively


I made the mistake of posting a bunch of friendship bracelet pictures on Insta for Black Friday, so now we have a backlog of orders to catch up on. I can’t complain, though. Even though I like the beadwork best as far as aesthetics go, the woven bracelets are my favorite to work on. I get into this rhythm when I make them. It’s repetitive and predictable, and something about that is soothing, almost like braiding hair.

While I weave, I strategize about job hunting to keep from thinking about my dad. Am I starting to freak out over his lack of response? Yes. Yes, I am. But if I replace those thoughts with thoughts of job hunting, I won’t have to deal with it, right? We’ll go with that.

Finding a job is a lot harder than I thought it would be, and it seems like I’ve already exhausted all my options for work anywhere near our house. I’ve dropped off résumés for fast food, coffee shop, retail, and receptionist jobs and still nothing. Maybe I’ll have better luck if I try closer to Slayton.

There’s an apartment I have my eye on just in case. It only requires a one-month security deposit, and the rent is way cheaper than anything else in the area. If I can get a minimum-wage job, I can make it work. Granted, it’s not the nicest apartment in the world—which explains why there are so many available units—but it’ll do. Cesar and I could get a bunk bed or something. But we can’t get the apartment if I can’t get a job.

I can’t stress too much if I stay focused. The winter mercado is in town soon, like it is every year on the second and third Saturdays of December. I’m hoping to catch up on orders so I can make extras to sell there. It’ll be held at the plaza on Central for the next couple of Saturdays, and Mom said if I set it up on my own, I can keep all the money I make minus expenses for materials. At the rate I’m going, I’ll catch up on all our existing orders by the weekend, and then I can go to the mercado the next two weekends to sell everything extra I’ve made.

Jamal walks into the living room. He sits next to me and watches my hands, like he’s trying to figure out how it works. Cesar is helping my mom make dinner, so it’s just the two of us here right now.