Third Period

I bolted out of my seat at the back of the room and got to the door in record time as the second period bell rang, but I couldn’t get the words out of my mouth. When Whitney walked past me, her books cradled where I longed to put my head, I couldn’t say, Whitney, would you come to homecoming with me? My tongue tied up in my mouth, and sweat rolled down my forehead in the overheated hall. Unable to speak in English, I took a deep breath, and hurried to Spanish.

Ten minutes into the class, my head was down on the desk, one ear open in case Mr. Rice called on me, one eye open on ex-friend Garrett in case he finally wanted to settle his debt.

It all went down, the fight and our friendship, a few days after the end of our freshman year. We were out back behind Garrett’s house. Brody had Aaron gather some kindling, while Garrett and I dug a pit. It took just one flick from Brody’s bone white lighter to start the fire. Everybody was in a bad mood because Aaron didn’t get us anything to drink. I was surprised to even be there since I’d noticed a change in Garrett. While we all went our separate ways after school—Brody to sports, Aaron to his Xbox, Garrett to student council stuff, and me to my house to watch TV or listen to music—we’d remained tight. But by the end of the year, Garrett started dressing nicer, talking a little less trash, and hanging out with us a lot less. So, it was cool that Garrett wanted to hang with us again.

We started talking about the only thing that mattered: girls at school. Garrett started the conversation and suggested we name names of different girls at school who we’d want to hook-up with. Brody jumped right in and went first. He surprised us by naming Cell Phone Girl. I guessed Brody wanted to figure her out as much as I do. Aaron went next, naming Debbie, the never-seen girlfriend from Detroit. But we pressed him to name someone that the rest of us knew, so he offered up the name of Terri White, who was Nicole’s best friend.

It came to my turn, but before I could even answer, all three shouted Nicole’s name. They enjoyed watching my face turn scarlet in embarrassment, but saw it change to red-hot anger when Garrett said, “If Nicole was my girlfriend, I’d do it with her until my dick fell off.”

“Well, at least I have a girlfriend,” I shouted at Garrett. He didn’t need to know Nicole and I hadn’t done anything, nor ever would, thanks to her “purity pledge.”

“My turn. You know who I’d love to do,” Garrett said, then pointed at me like he was calling me out. “Your mom. I tell you, Mick, she’s one hot MILF!”

“Dude, that’s so wrong,” Aaron said, breaking his normal code of silence.

“What, it’s true, isn’t it?” Garrett shouted at Aaron, but he was looking at me.

“Shut up,” Brody shouted.

I was angry, yet strangely paralyzed, unable to move in defense of my mom. When Garrett started laughing, I dove into him, and we rolled through the remains of the fire. I threw punches, and at first, Garrett covered up and kept laughing. The smack of my hand against his head was ineffective, and he rolled on top of me. I got my hands up, but Garrett was quick with a punch, splitting open my eyebrow. The sound of Garrett’s fists bouncing off my skull crackled like crossed wires. Sweat mixed with blood flowed down my face like a raging river. But before Garrett could land the knockout punch, Brody ended the fight, with a hard stiff kick to Garrett’s face. Garrett went down flat on his back like he’d been hit with a ton of bricks. “Let’s go,” was all Brody said, as I pulled myself off the ground, dusted the black ash from my shirt, and wiped the blood from my face. Aaron quickly followed Brody, and the three of us left Garrett’s big mouth and probably broken nose behind.

Garrett and I never spoke again, exchanging only angry looks at school. Like ex-Dad, he wouldn’t admit fault or say he was sorry. When Mom asked why I wasn’t friends with Garrett, I just grunted, but I wanted to say, I don’t see Garrett anymore because Garrett said he wanted to fuck you. I stood up for you again. I’ve stood up for you twice, so when will you protect me?

My eyes were closed as memories flooded my mind until I heard Mr. Rice say almost into my ear, “Tiene bueno siesta Señor Salisbury?”

“Mucho bueno.” I picked my heavy head up off the desk, waited until Mr. Rice turned around, and then swallowed down two more aspirin. In a few hours, my head would stop hurting from drinking too much, and in a few weeks my heart might stop hurting from missing Nicole. But as I looked at my bandaged hand, I wondered when my life would be healed.

What was the worst day of your life?

Before November 5, it was June 18. That’s the day that I destroyed my family. It was just a few days after school was out; I’d just finished fifth grade. Brody’s mother took him, his two brothers, and me to the mall. Brody’s brothers went one way, we went another. What if we would have gone with them to the food court instead of the arcade? What if we would have been there an hour earlier or an hour later? What if I wouldn’t have seen my father and a woman who was not my mom come out of a jewelry store laughing, kissing, and holding hands?

“Buddy, let me explain.” Dad rushed over like he was putting out a fire.

“Daddy, who is she?” At ten, I didn’t understand all the rules of the adult world, but I knew this woman wasn’t my mother and that my father shouldn’t be kissing her.

“Mick, listen, she’s an old friend of mine,” he’d said. “It’s not what you think, buddy.”

“But you were—” I started, not really knowing the right words to capture what I saw, not knowing what I should feel, only knowing my father wasn’t telling me the truth.

“Your mother doesn’t need to know about this, you understand,” he’d said, then put his hand gently on my shoulder. “You have to promise not to tell her about this, buddy.”

“But—” I stopped when Dad’s gentle touch turned to a hard squeeze.

“Mick, look, I’ll explain all this later,” my father said, but I knew that was a lie, too. “Do I have your word? Your word, Mick, is your bond. I can trust you, right, buddy?”

If I promised my dad, I let him betray Mom. If I told Mom, I was betraying him. My hands stayed by my sides, my eyes on the floor, and I walked away unsure what to think, feel, or do. If you were me, what would you have done?