I didn’t do it. But there was no convincing Robi of that, so he accepted a change of clothes and went home. The rest of the day sucked after that. Everybody scarfed down Mami’s Key lime pie but me. Andrew’s mom’s was okay. Coach said he’d done enough damage and would call me later.
But I still haven’t heard from him, and it’s 9:30 at night. So I open Outlook and find another e-mail from Robi.
From: Roberto Puertas
To: Isa Díaz
Subject: Nice party, Isa
Thanks for the push. Just what I needed after seeing you with that guy. Your brother told me you work with him. Maybe it’s not such a good idea to be the youngest teacher at that camp, huh? Whatever, not like it’s any of my business anymore. Have a nice summer.
Robi
Exactly what does he mean by “not such a good idea”? That Susy and Andrew are too old to be my friends? What would he rather I do, hang out with high school freshmen? Oh yes, that would keep me safely away from harm, now wouldn’t it. Why can’t he just leave me alone for a while like I asked?
As I’m logging off, Mom comes into my room to drop off a laundry basket. She leans on the doorframe and picks at her nails. “¿Isa, qué pasó hoy?”
I swivel around in my desk chair. “What do you mean?”
“Today. What happened? Did you push Robi, mi hija?”
Oh, Lord. “You’re not serious. You seriously think I would push Robi in the pool, Mami?”
Of course, she answers with a question. “Why are you doing this to him, Isa?”
“Doing what? I’m not doing anything! It’s time for me to move on, that’s all. If you love Robi so much, rent my room out to him once I’m gone! Jeez.”
Uh-oh, she’s going to snap at me, here it comes…
She doesn’t. She just stands there, straightening the stack of books on my dresser. “¿Mi hija, qué te pasa últimamente?”
I don’t believe this. “Mami, nothing is wrong with me lately. You’re the one who’s been acting all strange, getting into my business more than usual, and going off crying when Robi says he likes someone else’s Key lime pie. What’s with that?”
“Isa, no sabes lo que estás hablando.”
“Oh, no? Well, maybe if you talked to me more, I would know what I’m talking about. But instead, you just argue, pick fights, and invite my ex-boyfriend over without asking me!”
“Ah, so now he’s the ex-boyfrrrien, cuando hace dos años, no había ni día ni noche sin Robi?”
When did I ever say the world revolved around Robi? “Yes, Mom, it happens, okay? People go their separate ways. I’m sorry you’re having such a hard time with it.”
She’s quiet again, probably shocked at hearing me talk this way, I think. She would expect this from Carmen but not from me. “¿Quién era ese niño que vino?”
“I tried telling you, but you didn’t want to hear it. His name’s Andrew, like he told you. He’s the guy I had coffee with. He’s nice; I like him. So I invited him over. What’s the big deal?”
“How old is he?”
I don’t even know. That should probably be the first question to ask anybody on a date, but we had such a good time, it never occurred to me. “I’m not sure, Mom. I guess around twenty.”
I can tell she’s trying real hard to stay out of my business, but she can’t. Number one, because she’s a mom, and number two, because she’s a Cuban mom. If she doesn’t pester me to death about my life, they just might revoke her Cuban Mother License to Drive Daughters Away.
“Isa, no es buena idea. Listen to me…he’s older than you, mi vida, he’s in college, things are different for him. ¿Tú me entiendes?”
“No, I don’t understand. What are you saying? That because he’s older, I can’t handle him? Do I not use my best judgment? Did you not teach me about life properly?”
Why is she staring at me? She’s wondering if I’ve been talking to Carmen. Damn, I really sounded like Carmen just now, didn’t I? She has to know what’s coming next.
“Don’t you trust me?” I ask for the four hundredth time in my life.
She sighs. “No es eso, hija.”
“Well, if that’s not it, then what is it?”
She doesn’t answer. Again. Just spaces out. “No sé,” she says finally. “Hablamos mañana, I’m tired.”
And she leaves. Just like that. Really weird.
I know that Mom freaked out the summer before Carmen left for college too, so this is probably the same thing. She’s scared because I’m leaving and doesn’t know how to say it, so she’s looking for other reasons to argue. Weird way of saying I love you, please don’t leave, isn’t it?
Monday is a day off, but Andrew ends up calling late at night. My parents are outside talking, which is good, so I don’t have to explain such a late phone call.
“Hey, there!” Cheery, cheery.
“Hi, Coach. How are you?”
“Good. Sorry I didn’t call last night. I went fishing with Iggy and his dad, and we got back early this morning. Then I slept pretty much all day. Killer hangover.”
Attractive thought. Andrew sleeping off a buzz, like Stefan does sometimes, when Mom thinks he’s coming down with something. I guess that’s college life for you. I’ll be seeing it soon enough, so it’s good that I get a preview now. “That’s okay. You don’t have to explain.”
Why do I care that he didn’t call sooner? He’s not my boyfriend or anything. “I thought maybe you got scared, after watching me throw my ex into the pool.”
“Oh, that? Nah. That was me actually. I used my super mental powers to trip him, and down he went.”
I crack up, but suddenly feel stupid for doing so. “Andrew?” I ask, my laughter lulling. “You know, I know I haven’t asked you this, but how old are you?”
He chuckles softly. “Hmmm, don’t know. My real parents left me on someone’s doorstep when I was just a baby, so no one knows for sure.”
I giggle some more. By now he probably thinks I’m a fool who laughs at anything, but this is nice for a change. Robi never made me laugh. It was always me amusing him.
“Seriously, how old do you think I am?” he asks.
“Um, twenty? Twenty-one?”
“Warm.”
Okay. “Nineteen?” If he graduated at seventeen like I did, I guess he could be starting his third year of coursework and be nineteen.
He laughs. “Nope. Cold.”
Uh-oh. I tug on my earlobe. “How old are you then?”
He lets out a heavy sigh. “Twenty-three, señorita.”
I’m sorry, but it sounded like he said TWENTY-THREE? What?! No way! That’s older than Stefan! The oldest person I ever kissed was Robi! I could’ve sworn Andrew was no more than twenty. But twenty-three? That’s like…like…out of my league. Awesome!
Awesome? Isa! Does he even know how old you are?
“Hello?” His voice seems deeper to me now for some reason. “Anybody there?”
“Yeah, I’m here,” I breathe. “Sorry, I just—” My stomach’s working those butterflies again. “But you said you were a junior.”
“I am. After my first year my grades weren’t all that, too much partying, I guess. So my parents made me go home and work for the money I’d lost them. UM’s expensive, you know.”
“I know.” Silence.
“Is something wrong?” He sounds way older now. You know, maybe I’m liking this age thing.
“No, it’s just that…well, Andrew, how old do you think I am?”
“You just graduated high school, right? So…eighteen?”
Oh, brother. Here we go. I hope I’m not dropping a bomb here. “Seventeen actually.”
“Oh.”
“But my birthday’s next month, August twelfth. Look, it doesn’t bother me, if it doesn’t bother you. I mean, we can still go out again if you want.”
I hate these painful silences. What’s he thinking? Great, I bet now he doesn’t want to go out again. Let’s just stay happy coworkers, eh? Maybe he’ll move on to Susy now. But that kiss! So incredible. I definitely want more.
His voice is lower now, sexy. “Are you asking me out?” I can just see that wide smile of his. Oh, Jesus.
“I guess I am.” And using my notes on classic Susy flirting, I add, “Come by my room tomorrow for another art demonstration.”
“Hmmm,” he muses softly. “I’ll be there after the bell, señorita.”