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MOM HAD BEEN AWAKE all night obsessively organizing Selena’s office, banging the wall adjoining our rooms, and mumbling to herself. I leaned against the partition wall dividing the hall and the kitchen, watching her hunched over the opened refrigerator.
“The butter goes here,” she said softly, returning the rectangular box to its place. “The eggs go here.” Mom slid the carton onto the second shelf, closed the refrigerator door, and carted the bucket of soapy water to the bathroom, passing sleepy Selena on her way.
Her big eyes grew larger with concern to hear Mom mumbling to herself. Clearing her throat to get my attention, Selena nodded in Mom’s direction while I peeled my jacket off the hanger. I slipped into my green jacket and exhaled. “I know.”
Mom had that look again, that if-I-only-had-a-brain look. It worried me too.
“I bought some bagels this morning,” Mom hollered from the bathroom.
The paper bag stood tall on the counter. Selena and I hurried toward it at once.
“Ha! I win,” I said, holding the bag hostage.
“Who cares?” Selena retorted, leaning against the counter with her arms folded.
Opening the bag, I gave her the first pick. “Go ahead. You look like you need it more than me.”
“Well, your mom kept me up two nights in a row.” Selena peered into the bag and made her selection.
Water streamed through the pipes behind the wall from Mom’s shower. The bathroom acoustics carried her ramblings into the kitchen while she recited the recipe for hair washing.
Glancing around the living room, Selena’s shoulders fell. “At least she didn’t rearrange anything this time. Would you leave some of your coloring stuff out for her? I’m sure I’ve got a coloring book lying around here somewhere.” Selena separated the freshly baked bagel into halves, popped them into the toaster oven, and released another monster yawn.
Poor Selena gave so much of herself to help us. Sleep deprivation and drama were always her only rewards.
The constant worrying and not sleeping triggered what Selena called Mom’s shadow twin to appear. She looked like Mom and talked like Mom, but she was not Mom. It had been years since the obsessive compulsions and zoning out were an issue. Since she refused to seek medical help, Selena investigated some therapeutic alternatives on her own to help keep Mom’s restlessness at bay: scrapbooking, crocheting, puzzles, and adult coloring books, anything to distract her from rearranging Selena’s furniture, drawers, and cabinets. Because Mom’s zombie mode had zero memory, it would take me and Selena weeks to find misplaced items—more stress we could always do without.
“You wanna call her outta work, or do you want me to?” Selena asked.
“Can you do it? They act funny every time I call.”
Selena nodded and prepped her coffee. “Your mom’s makin’ me gray, ya know.”
“Yeah. Well, she’s makin’ me bald.” I picked a fallen hair off the front of my shirt to prove it.
Selena cracked a mournful smile. I hoped for her sake that this would be the last time our troubles would interrupt her life. Knowing our family, the chances of that were slim, though.
As I spread a generous schmear of cream cheese onto my sesame seed bagel, a glimpse of white caught my eye—the tag on her silky, red blouse. “Uh, Selena, your shirt is inside out.”
She paused in mid-sip of her coffee and slouched. “Great. It’s gonna be one of those days.” Selena scooted her mug across the counter and tried to shimmy out of the shirt. When her shoulders got stuck in the armholes, I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Don’t just stand there,” she whined. “Help me.”
Gripping the hem, I tugged the shirt upward and freed her just as a gentle knock sounded.
“It’s probably my friend from school.” I grabbed my bag and crammed a bite of bagel into my mouth.
“The coloring stuff,” Selena reminded me before I could reach the door. She slipped into the blouse again.
I dug through the front pocket of my bookbag, set a tin of colored pencils for Mom to play with onto the table, and raced to the door.
GIOVANNI OBSERVED ME cautiously on our descent to the ground floor. “Are you okay?”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked with my mouth half-full.
“You did not sleep well.”
I swallowed my food and took the first step into the lobby. “I look that crappy?”
“No. You look sad,” he said, chasing my eyes.
Why couldn’t he have lied? What did he hope to achieve in pointing it out?
I opened the door and followed him outside when the lady with her Boxer jogged past us. I lost my appetite for the rest of the bagel with that secondary reminder of my sorrow and chucked it into the bushes in front of the building for the birds.
“I miss my dog,” I said, purposefully keeping Mom’s mental issues out of the conversation. “Storm, she–she used to help me.” The longer I thought about her, the broader and darker the shadow hovering over me grew.
“Will you get another dog?”
“I don’t know.” I brushed away a wayward tear with my shoulder. “I’d feel guilty about it,” I said, stepping off the curb onto the street.
Giovanni gripped the hood of my jacket and nearly snapped my neck when he jerked me back away from the street. I crashed into his long torso with my back. My hands flew toward the sky, grazing the wind from a speeding car. The oblivious driver—a man in his late thirties—sang and danced to his favorite song on the radio while I glared at him in shock. He had a stop sign, not a Go sign!
I swallowed and trembled, fighting the urge to hyperventilate.
Giovanni turned me to him. I stared blankly at the bottom buttons of his white collared shirt. Gripping my shoulders, he leveled his eyes on mine. “Are you okay?”
I nodded despite my quivering chin. He held me firmly while I blinked the tears away.
“You will be okay,” he said, stroking my hair. But the warmth of his body and mine overheated me. I freed myself and wiped the sweat and tears from my face.
“We’ve gotta hurry before we miss the bus.” Shoving everything out of my mind, I focused on not becoming roadkill and power-walked across the street.
“Joy, wait.”
I knew what he wanted to say, but I couldn’t handle it now. I didn’t wanna stop and reflect on how close I’d come to joining Storm or the adrenaline flooding my system.
I turned right onto 89th Avenue.
“Joy.”
I hurried away, desperate to escape his pity stares, and walked off the surge of energy pumping through my veins. Traffic paused at the light up ahead.
Finally, the bus terminal came into view. I counted each step to distract my mind from my body being stuck in fight-or-flight mode when Giovanni forced me to a stop. He embraced me, stiff at first, then gradually melted against my body. I gulped loudly, wishing he would let me go.
I could look out for myself, I wanted to say, but a part of me craved to be held, and an even bigger part needed it.
His arms quivered around me as they failed to rein in my shaking. Not even he held that power.
I closed my eyes and drowned out the traffic sounds to tune-in to the desperate pounding of my heart when Giovanni pulled away. My eyes popped open in time to watch his silvery gaze trace my features.
I looked toward the bus terminal. Our bus was pulling into the lot. “We’ve gotta go.”
Giovanni’s eyes fell to my still trembling hands, fanning the fire of my embarrassment with the reminder. His pouty lips parted to speak, but I cut him off. “I’m fine. Really.” I hid them in my pants pockets and bypassed him with my chin low. “It’s just the adrenaline.”
Once onboard, I swiped my card and found a window seat in the middle section. The bag on my lap made the perfect cover for the shakiness. I stared out of the window when the warmth of Giovanni’s hand topped mine underneath my bag. Before I could turn to reassure him that my body had a mind of its own when it came to danger, I spotted a man in a hat loitering in front of the newsstand—one of many stores along the strip bordering the bus terminal. Our eyes met. My mouth dried like a sponge in the desert. The shakiness in my hands worsened.
“No,” I whispered, waiting for Dad’s apparition to disappear before my eyes. I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them. Dad remained.
The bus beeped as it reversed out of the lot and joined the traffic. I kept him in my sights.
“Joy, are you alright?”
“That’s my dad. Do you see him? Can you see him?” I asked frantically.
“Yes,” Giovanni confirmed.
Dad waved awkwardly at the last second. Then, a cluster of brick buildings cut him off from my view.
I didn’t realize the stranglehold I’d had on Giovanni’s hand. I released him to call Selena.
“Come on,” I said to myself. “Answer.”
“Freckles, what’s up?” Selena asked with her sleepy morning voice.
“My dad was at my bus stop. I–I just saw him after we boarded,” I whispered into the mouthpiece. “He was watching me. I need to get off. Did you leave already?”
“I’m in the lobby now. You think he’s on his way here?”
“I don’t know.” I swallowed.
“Okay. I’ll call out of work. Don’t worry, alright. Stick with your friend and don’t go anywhere alone. Ya hear me?”
“I will. But don’t tell her. You see how she is now. I don’t want her to get worse.”
I stared at the phone after the call ended. What should I do?
Giovanni wrapped his arm around me, hoping to coax the fear away, but three other students were already on the bus with us. The last thing I needed was for them to misinterpret Giovanni’s comforting embrace as something more.
For the second time that morning, I shrugged out of his hold and summarized our whole family saga in a message. He read it and typed his questions. I filled him in on the answers.
With his curiosity satisfied, Giovanni sat quietly for the remainder of the ride across town, leaving me alone to work out how to avoid running into Dad on my way home after school.
The bus came to a halt at our destination. We stood in the aisle, awaiting our turn to disembark.
“Can you come to my house tonight for dinner?”
Two underclassmen girls glanced over their shoulders at us with their mouths opened.
I waited till we were safe on the sidewalk with plenty of space between us and our schoolmates before responding. “Do your parents know you’re inviting me this time?”
“Yes. My ma told me to tell you. I have your surprise ready, and my ma is going to make something better than last night.” His excited grin was contagious.
“Let me ask Selena and see what she says.”
Selena replied quickly with a thumbs-up emoji.
—But make sure your friend can walk you home, she added.
Imagining Dad hiding in her building to catch me on my own made me queasy. “Giovanni, w–would you walk me home today...in case my dad shows up again?”
“Of course.”
“I’m so glad you were with me today.” I exhaled slowly.
Giovanni smiled reassuringly at me. Then, fear froze his face. “Jo–” That was as far as he got with his warning. Something squishy enveloped my shoe.
I matched his disgusted expression and raised my foot out of the lovely turd mound some thoughtful dog owner had left behind.
The bully I confronted yesterday rolled with laughter as he pointed me out to his friends. Selena was right. Today was gonna suck.
I TRAILED BEHIND THE other kids into the kitchen/classroom, pulled up a stool, and propped my arms on top of the long steel prep table, waiting for the final bell to ring. Crystal tossed her bookbag onto the blue-tiled floor and perched on the stool beside me. The scent of fresh laundry always lingered on her clothes.
“Hey. We didn’t get a chance to talk yesterday. How’s it goin’?” She tucked a long strand of damp hair behind her ear and peered at me through small almond eyes.
“Great.” My overly cheerful tone contradicted the truth embedded in my face. It wasn’t my intention to deceive her, but with nosy Imani pretending to touch up her makeup with ears finely tuned to our conversation, how could I let down my guard?
Crystal pursed her thin lips at me.
“I’ll tell ya about it later,” I said quietly, nodding toward the spy behind me.
Three deep wrinkles rippled across Crystal’s high forehead as she glanced over my shoulder at Imani.
Toward the end of class, Crystal and I finally got a minute on our own to talk. Our conversations were normally food-related, and with the short amount of time to socialize during class, we never delved into deep talks. I revealed only a fraction of the stress I was under because of my mom and losing Storm while Imani and our other classmates were occupied with their tasks.
“Oh my God! That’s so...sad,” she said in her Mexican-Spanish accent. “You know you can call me if you need to talk about it.”
“Thanks,” I said, not expecting Crystal to pity me like everyone else always did. I didn’t wanna talk or even think about it.
I rinsed the last soapy pot Crystal had handed me. My phone vibrated against my hip. Selena had sent me a message.
—Your mom’s finally asleep.
A slight weight eased from off my shoulders. But knowing Dad was still out there packed on the worry again.
I pictured his face—the black ball cap with the bill shading his eyes, the half-smile he gave with that uncertain wave. There was so much wrong with that image, so much that clashed with our last face-to-face four years ago. Where was the jerk who used to stare me down until I’d cry or call me stupid when I failed? Was he sober? Had he killed Storm and trashed my room for revenge without drugs in his system? What did he want from me?
“Joy, what’s wrong?” Crystal interrupted my thoughts.
I shoved the fear to the back of my mind and smiled, but I couldn’t ignore the steady buildup of emotion strangling my heart. I tugged at my collar and fanned myself, desperate to cool down. No matter what I did, the thermostat in my body was set to broil. The tightness in my chest worsened. I gripped the edge of the steel counter, hoping my quaking knees wouldn’t give out as I gasped for air. Breathe. Staring at Crystal as she swayed and swirled, I mustered what breath I could to say, “I don’t feel go—”
When I came to, the nurse, Mrs. Knight, hovered over me, her cat eyes like green saucers magnified by the 1970s style glasses with bottle cap lenses.
I laid stretched out on the cold tiled floor with a stack of books under my feet, and my classmates encircling me.
“Look! She’s got dog poop on her shoe,” a boy named Mason said with a lisp and a raspy voice. “I told you I smelled it.”
Clearly, scraping my shoe on grass and concrete to wear away the dog poo wasn’t enough. I set my feet flat on the floor to conceal the evidence and glowered at him.
“Joy,” Mrs. Knight drawled. “It looks like you fainted. How are you feeling?”
Did she speak to everyone like they were three years old or only her patients?
“I’m fine.” I sat up quickly. The room spun again.
“Don’t rush. Take it easy, hon,” Mrs. Knight urged in her baby voice.
The bell rang, and Mr. Clement gathered everyone toward the door like a hefty mother goose.
Once I was well enough to stand, Mrs. Knight helped me to her dreary-looking office while Crystal carried my bags. Mrs. Knight walked me to a thin cot.
“You can leave Joy’s things by the door,” the nurse told her.
After Crystal left, Mrs. Knight launched her interrogation to rule out any dangerous triggers for my fainting spell.
“I want you to lie down and rest for a little while,” she said.
I wasn’t gonna argue. I kicked off my shoes and eagerly obeyed.
I slept soundly for thirty blissful minutes before Mrs. Knight woke me. I glared at her through dry, irritated eyes and rose halfway.
“Are you up to going to class now?”
I yawned. “I’m so tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night. And I’ve got gym class now, so no, not really.”
Mrs. Knight poked out her bottom lip. “I’ll write a note so you can sit out today, then. But try to get some rest tonight. I’m sure that’s just the medicine you need,” she said in that annoying baby voice.
GYM CLASS WAS A BLUR. I sat on a bleacher and stewed in my thoughts, wondering where I would’ve ended up had Giovanni not saved me from that distracted driver or what Dad would’ve said to his heartbroken child three days after killing her dog.
The warmth of a body next to me snapped me into reality again.
“Hey,” Ms. Lane said. I was used to her giant voice screaming instructions at the class, not her worn, indoor voice. “You feelin’ alright?”
“Yeah.” I rubbed the sore spot on the back of my head and diverted my gaze from her brown, probing eyes.
“You sure?” she asked, wringing her hands.
I nodded slowly.
“The bell rang five minutes ago, and you’re still sitting here.”
I looked around the empty gymnasium. “I–I didn’t hear it.” I stood from the bleacher.
“Miss Joy,” she called out.
I turned slowly and faced the stocky woman with an unraveling bun on top of her head.
“Your shoe’s untied.”
Forcing a smile, I bent down and reached for the string. Once I noticed the formerly white part had a brown stain on it, I drew my hand back. Yuck!
“Uh, I’ll tie it later.” I rushed to the nearest bathroom to scrub my poopy shoe clean.
IMANI INTERCEPTED GIOVANNI on his way to our table. They exchanged a few words and glanced in my direction, leaving no doubt as to the topic of their discussion. Imani finally strutted to her own table, freeing Giovanni to join me at last.
“Hey. I want to get lunch. You should eat something too,” he advised, lowering his bag onto the seat across from me. “Do you want a sandwich?”
I rubbed my forehead. “She told you, didn’t she...about culinary?”
His eyes sharpened their focus on me. “Did you not want me to know?”
“No! It’s embarrassing. This whole morning’s been embarrassing. And now you’re examining me again like...some freak of nature. I just want you to treat me like before. All-day long, people keep asking me if I’m okay.” Imani, Mariah, and Trina smirked at me from across the room. I leaned forward. “Let’s just go outside already. Imani and her friends are watching us, and I wanna get away from the noise for a while.”
“Okay. But I will get you something to eat. What do you like?”
I sighed, knowing there was no deterring him from his latest mission. I led the way to the back of the lunch line behind the other weary souls.
The lunch lady grinned broadly at me when it was my turn.
“Hey, Ms. Shirley.” I bounced my gaze between her wandering glass eye and the normal one.
“Hey, Joy. What can I get ya?”
My appetite drifted away the longer I scanned the display of sandwiches, wraps, and salads. Had Giovanni not been hovering over my shoulder like the lunch police, I would’ve chatted with Shirley and let someone else put her to work. I pointed to the pasta salad, paid, and stepped aside while Giovanni bought his usual sandwich of choice.
We paused beside the first tiled column watching Imani and her friends watch us from their new positions at our table.
Casting his eyes away, Giovanni faced me and tugged anxiously on his hair. “Are you ready to go outside now?”
I nodded. “But they’re gonna mess with our bags if we leave them there.”
The distress in his eyes revealed that the sacrifice would have been worth it to him. But as we started toward the door, he slowed his pace and glanced back at our table with sad puppy dog eyes.
“If you wanna take my salad outside with you, I’ll get our things,” I offered.
The worry creases in his forehead softened. “Yes! Thank you.” Snatching my container from me, he scurried through the door.
Just get our bags and go, I recited with each unsteady step toward them.
Mariah Serafín—the notorious younger sister of one of the most feared El Salvadorian gangsters from the next town over and who also happened to be Giovanni’s number one crazy fan—arched her back like a wannabe pinup girl and glared at me. I picked his bag from off the floor by her feet.
“What’s wrong with Giovanni?” Imani asked, drumming her green ombré nails on the tabletop.
Shrugging casually, I maneuvered around her for the bag she had carelessly pushed off my seat and turned to leave.
“Hey!” Mariah shouted.
My heart leapt. Still, I continued walking, doing my best to appear as unaffected as possible. Don’t trip. Don’t trip. I stumbled over the threshold and tried to play it off while Trina, Imani’s other grotesque friend, shouted her favorite nickname at me.
As the door clicked behind me, the sight of Giovanni put my heart at ease. I inhaled the grass-scented air and beamed back at him.
Crimson flooded his cheeks and ears. He waited impatiently for me to settle onto the bench across from him. “What did they say?”
“Nothing.” I pushed the hair over my shoulder.
Giovanni watched me expectantly and unwrapped his sandwich.
“I didn’t give them much of a chance,” I said, examining the salad awaiting my attention.
He shuddered. “Mariah is scary.”
“Does she pinch you too?”
He lowered his food onto its wrapper. “She followed me to my house one-time, and she would send messages to me with pictures of herself...until I blocked her. I do not know how she got my number.” Shaking his head, he added, “But that was when I first moved here. Since yesterday, she has been trying to talk to me again.”
“Is she one of the girls you warned me about?”
He nodded and bit the center half of his sandwich.
I rested my cheek on my arm and shut my eyes.
“You should eat, Joy.” Giovanni swallowed his food and pointed at the salad in front of me.
Sitting up, I opened the container with a sigh and prodded a macaroni with my spork. “How can I eat this when all I can think about is your mom’s cookin’?”
He grinned and shook his head.
AFTER ANOTHER PLEASANT lunch in the sun, Giovanni and I parted ways. I’d mounted the steps to art class and paused in the hall to admire the drawings hanging on the wall for the day’s critique when Trina Beckman threw an arm over my shoulder.
“Get off me.” I shrugged away from the pimply-faced tomboy and dodged her before she tried a second time.
Trina tossed her head back and laughed, contaminating the air with the putrid stench blasting from the garbage can she called a mouth.
It never ceased to amaze me how she could’ve been Mariah’s favorite in her little group of misery over Imani. They were all jerks, but at least Imani’s breath didn’t gag me.
“What’s wrong, troll?” said the girl with the breath of an ogre.
I walked on.
She pursued. “Aren’t you a little too ugly to be hookin’ up wit’ someone like Giovanni?”
Her friends joined in with their giggles.
Trina called me ugly when she was the one who still had crust in her eyes from not washing them away that morning. Judging by the blackheads setting up camp in that brown-rugged terrain she called skin and her usual unkempt appearance, who knew being pretty was a high priority for her?
It didn’t matter, I said to myself. I could’ve told Trina everything about herself, but I’d learned long ago to keep my mouth shut and pretend to be unphased. All I wanted was to go to class.
“How’d you get him to talk to you?” Imani chimed in, blocking me like a tower before I could escape.
Giovanni had warned me yesterday about the attention I’d get for talking to him. He was right. Trina hadn’t bothered me in months. And unfortunately, Mariah had taken notice of me as well.
“We just wanna be his friend too.” Mariah pouted her duckbill lips and twirled a strand of teal-colored hair. She was the most devious character of the three.
“Well, maybe he doesn’t wanna be yours.” I glowered at Imani. “You’re in my way.”
“Is there a problem here?” Mrs. Powers asked from behind Imani.
“Nope.” Trina took Imani’s arm and retreated with a smile. They blended in with the other students packing the hall.
I drew in a breath.
“Hey, Joy.” Kai stopped me before I could reach Mrs. Powers’ room. “Is it true...‘bout you and that Giovanni kid?”
My chest caved. “No! We’re just friends. Why do you care anyway?”
Kai shrugged.
“You’re their little spy, aren’t you?” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. Looking over my shoulder, I discovered Trina, Imani, and Mariah stalking us from the other end of the hall. I marched toward the door.
“I won’t tell ‘em if you don’t want me to.” Kai followed me into the classroom. “But you know how crazy Mariah gets. She’ll bug ya till she gets what she wants.”
“That’s all the more reason not to give in,” I said. “I ain’t afraid of her or her brother.”