With the Fire on High(61)

I look at his ear.

He groans. “At me, Santi, not behind me.”

“I was looking at you. At your ear,” I mumble, and finally stare into his eyes. I open mine real big so he can tell I see him.

“You’re such a smart-ass.” He laughs and the fist in my chest curls open its fingers. I take a breath.

“Listen, I don’t know what other guys thought. And if you point them out to me when we get back, I’ll make sure they never think it again.” His voice is dead serious and I believe him. Malachi would fight people for me. I know that already.

“But I’m not those guys. I wanted to talk to you before I knew you had a kid. Wanted to talk to you after you did all your hair flipping, ‘we ain’t friends,’ finger waving—”

“I never waved my finger!”

“—teeth sucking, eye rolling, hip switching, lip pursing, locker-door slamming. All of that was like a damn beautiful dance and I was drawn all the way in. And cool, you don’t want to have sex. You’ve told me you want to take it slow and I get it. But, I been wanting to talk to you since the beginning.”

“Just talk?” I raise an eyebrow, and flip my hair, and wave my finger.

Malachi grins and ducks his head. “I mean, you know you fine! At first, I wouldn’t have been mad at you if you wanted to do more than talk,” he says. “But now, I know my day is better because you are in it and I want to keep you there. I hope I make your day better, too.”





Ugly Leslie


Before I can answer, Richard and Amanda come over, Pretty Leslie trailing like a little ducky behind them. I remember she was on her way home when Malachi and I left for ice cream, but she must have gotten bored by herself. She’s loosely holding a drink in her right hand.

“Malachi,” Richard says, slightly slurring his words. “Why haven’t you got Emoni a drink? You can drink at sixteen here, did you know that? We’re celebrating college admissions. I got into Penn!”

“Or rejections,” Pretty Leslie says, and takes a big gulp of her drink. Ouch. Maybe Pretty Leslie cared more about admissions than I thought. I try to catch her eyes, see if she’s okay, but she won’t look at me.

“Oh, Richard! That’s wassup! I’m so proud of you.” I give Richard’s arm a quick squeeze and he instantly ducks his head shyly until a loud burp erupts from his mouth.

“You sure figured out the drinking age quick, huh?” Malachi says, standing up. He stretches and his sweater rises, showing off a bit of skin and muscle. “Congrats on the admission. We should definitely drink to that.”

“Yeah, Malachi, get your girlfriend a drink, why don’t you?” Pretty Leslie sits down in the seat across from me, and Richard and Amanda fill in the chairs on either side of the table.

“Just some juice?” I say, catching Malachi’s eye. The last thing in the world I need is to get in trouble while on a school trip abroad. I remember clearly the waiver we signed, and while I don’t mind taking sips of ’Buela’s rum or holiday wine, I’ll be damned if I get tipsy in another country where I don’t know the area or people.

Pretty Leslie shakes her head. “Something with alcohol, Emoni. We’re in fucking Spain. It’s legal here.” She takes another big drink from her cup.

I shake my head at Malachi before he walks away. I don’t care if it is legal. We signed permission slips and I’m not getting in trouble with only two months till graduation.

I lean toward Pretty Leslie. “You feeling all right?”

“I’m fucking dandy, Emoni. How about you? You look like you’re having a good ole time.”

Pretty Leslie always curses a lot, but usually not with so much bite to her words. The warm fuzzies from the kissing and cuddling with Malachi begin wearing off. I turn to Amanda.

She hands me her cup and whispers in my ear, “Just water; the bakery assignment is different than everyone else’s and means I have to be up at, like, four a.m. Have a sip.”

I smell it first to make sure. And then take a small drink. It’s nice and cold. I smile a thanks at Amanda.

Malachi walks back with two drinks in his hands. One is a dark liquid and has a lime and a cherry. He hands that one to me. From the other one he takes a sip.

I give Amanda back her water and hold the glass Malachi brought me to my lips: Ginger ale, some kind of syrup, a hint of Coke. No liquor, and I know the cherry and lime are just for appearances.

“So what are you two doing here?” Amanda asks, smiling between me and Malachi. She has to know this is awkward because Pretty Leslie definitely likes him, but Amanda can be so oblivious to things, I can’t even get angry with her.

“We were just hanging out. We walked around for a bit after dinner and then decided to stop by here,” I say.

Pretty Leslie keeps sipping her drink, then downs the whole thing in one gulp. Before I know it, she reaches for my cup and takes a big gulp of that.

“You always gotta be so fucking good.” She turns to Richard. “It doesn’t even have liquor in it. Look, taste it.”

She passes the cup to him and he takes a sip. “Nope. No liquor. I think. I can’t even taste things anymore.” He puts his head on the wet table and closes his eyes. Amanda rubs his back.

“What’s the problem, Santi?” Pretty Leslie sings Malachi’s nickname for me, and from her lips it sounds distorted. “You don’t want to get in trouble with Chef? Don’t worry. We won’t tell him. We won’t tell him you’re fucking Malachi, either.”