Rai
Phone bill paid. Good, finally. Water too. Rent was the next one. If only I could skip another day, but the principal would call my dad, and then I'd be dead. Literally. The man takes school as seriously as Jesus Cristo. I couldn't skip another day. Maybe I could do it again in a couple more days, and work on the auto-wash two shifts. Santiago forbade the guys to skip school... What da fuck was that, anyway?! We're a gang! Why did he need to save his community? Whatever. I still had car wash, for now.
I saw her in the parkin' lot when I was gettin' out of my car with mi cuadrilla. It was this weird moment. Never lived somethin' like this, I only saw it in really stupid, teen drama movies.
In a minute I was listenin' to my friends brag about their chicas, we were all laughin', and the other, I was standin' outside my car, lookin' at Whitney, standing on the green and yellow lawn. She had her car back, and Portia was gettin' out of it as well. The black girl looked from her friend to me, like she was watchin' a tennis match. Whitney was standin' still as well. It looked like a game of blinkin': the one who turned around first bein' the loser. In this case, I think if she turned around first, I would feel like a total loser.
My friends' voices receded, the first ring of the mornin' class was silent to me. The birds were all quiet, and the light wind around my body was like a sunbathe. All I could see, hear, and think about was the beautiful girl with long hair and a really cute aubergine beret. Damn, she was just so... so soft and... sweet and funny and cute!
What the fuck is happening?! I must have a brain tumor...
"Hey! Cabrón!" I heard Tito call, and the guys laughin', so I blinked and stared at him "Are you in there?"
"What?" I grunted, hatin' my friend for breakin' the stare Whitney and I were sharin'.
"We're late. Didn't you say you had to have pristine behavior for the next couple of days?" He grinned and palmed my shoulder hard "C'mon, vato. Let's get educated."
My original plan to have an exemplary behavior was thrown out the window by the meetin' with Whitney. All I could think about was if she was gonna talk to me or not, and if so, what would she say. What about the kiss? Ok, so I bet she didn't even remember she had drunk-kissed me; still, damn it! That kiss made me feel more than any real kiss any girl has ever given me. That wasn't a good sign – and I didn't give a shit.
Time to be real at least to me: I wanted her. Badly. And not just one time. I wanted her over and over and over again. Every day. And it could be only just to sit next to her and talk. I would be happy with just that, honestly!
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I winced when I saw her gorgeous smiling face on my screen. She messaged me again.
Mierda!
Oh man! What did it say?! Was she gonna... tell me to fuck off and don't ruin her flawless reputation? Shit... I don't know if I could deal with that. Fuck it! I was Rai Vega, a Cuervo, damn it! I wasn't some fucked up jock with identity issues.
"Wht happened ystrd? U skipped school. R u ok?"
Oh man, she was worried about me! This must be a dream. I'm gonna wake up real soon and get really angry at my own head for picturin' this shit.
"Perfecto, mamacita. U worried about m?"
"Cut the mamacita, it looks like a bad porno. Dont call m that"
"Do u even know what it means? It's a hot girl. Take it as a compliment."
"It just sounds dirty. Can't u find another word for m? & like hell I was worried! Just asking 'cause my car got back from d auto-shop & I need t know if its ok."
"U askin m on a date again? Hey now. Im a little busy these days, but I think I can squeeze u in my schedule. Wht about 'cariño'? Or 'mi amor'? Does 'mi vida' sound nice?"
"Its not a date! We never had a date. U ruined d 1st 1, rmbr? Besides, its just a security measure. If my car isnt good enough t drive, I could accidentally hit u 1 day. Wdnt d world cry tears of blood if tht happened? D grand almighty Raimundo Vega dead?! Cant let tht happen, can we? & u call m any of those things, Ill shove my fist so far in ur face ull b tasting my nail polish for weeks!"
"Its not ur fist I want in my mouth, & its not ur nail polish I want t taste. Try again. I give u a hint: its somethin in ur face, under ur nose & above ur chin."
I looked at her when she read my reply. To say that she got all red and embarrassed was an understatement. She actually shoved her phone back on her coat, made sure no one saw her put it away, and curled into herself for the rest of the English class. Never once she looked back at me. Good. She was now getting' the Rai treatment: I'd be so far in her face that before she knew it, she couldn't even breathe without me.
When we got out of class, I followed Whitney to her locker. She was walkin' like she had the devil followin' her steps, and maybe she did. She opened the blue metal door and shoved her books inside.
"Didn't get the hint?" I teased, and she jumped on her feet, a little shriek came out of her perfect heart-shaped lips "Hey, there! No need to get nervous."
"Shut up, you... Ugh! Just go away!" She moaned, pickin' her notebooks and pens from the floor.
I sighed and bent down to help her.
"Look, for real now. You want me to take a look at your car? How 'bout after class? I'll go to your place and check it out, ok?" I asked, tryin' to calm her down, 'cause her hands were movin' too quickly for my taste "Whitney? Are you listenin'?"
"I'm trying not to make a scene" She whispered, not lookin' up.
"What?" I asked, confused, and then looked around us.
Oh crap... Got it.
Everyone was starin' at us like we were some freaks in a carnival. They passed by and whispered to each other. What were they sayin'? I was just helpin' her pick her stuff up, it's not like I'm gonna hurt her, or anythin'! I may be a Cuervo but I'm no wife beater. I'd rather have my ass kicked by the Rice Eaters than ever hurt any woman. That included Whitney.
"Portia texted me." She whispered again when we got up, but she still didn't look at me "There's a rumor around saying we are... a thing. They say we've been going around for a while but just kept it low profile. And someone confirmed that 'cause they saw us having dinner together. Isn't that great?"
"So what?" I asked, frownin', and she stopped tidyin' her locker to look at me with a really stunned expression.
"So what?" She repeated, closin' her locker "So what, Rai?! People think we" She gestured for both of us with her forefinger "are together! As in together together! You really don't get it?!"
"What d'you care what they think?" I groaned, lowerin' my face to meet her stare, and I heard her breathin' stop "You think what any of these people think will matter someday, in your life? News flash, Whitney Gordon: these fuckers could think you're Hitler himself, it wouldn't matter. To me, it wouldn't matter. You know why? 'Cause I see you. I see the girl that could be a great woman if she just stopped givin' a fuck about what anyone else thinks. At the end of the day, Copper Girl, all you gotta do is look yourself in the mirror and make sure that what you see there is what you truly are. 'Cause I see it, but you make it really hard for me to believe if it's not just wishful thinking." I sighed when I saw the hallway was as quiet as a church, and every eye was on me and the girl at my reach, and yet as far as the next galaxy "Look, when you figure your shit out, I'm here, 'till then, don't bother getting' friendly. I've had it."
I left her there and just walked towards my next class. Whatever. If she wanted to be the popular perfect girl with the perfect group of friends, I've had it. The girl I wanted wasn't some frigid bitch that cared about what other people think – especially people that were nothin' to her.
***
"That was some show today," Nacio said, while we walked around the neighborhood, on our watch.
"Yeah" I mumbled, lightenin' another cigarette; I was so fuckin' nervous I'd smoked half a pack already.
"You're into the girl, right? Like, really into her" He asked, but this time he was serious, no shittin' me.
"Yeah." I sighed, as I leaned into a car on the dark and poorly illuminated street "I really like her."
"So... what's with the free show in the hall, this mornin'?"
I sighed again and rubbed my eyes with my palms. My head was hurtin' like I'd been kicked over and over.
"She cares about the stares. She cares about the whispers and the bad looks and the social media fuckin' gossip."
"Ouch." Nacio said, wincing "I bet she's much different from what one sees in school. Or you wouldn't give her the time of day."
"Yeah..." I whispered, rememberin' the way she cried in my arms when she was drunk "She's different. She's funny as hell, she's sweet. She's... God, she's so cute! But she's hard, don't get me wrong, she's as tough as nails."
"And you're crazy about her" Nacio assured me, and I saw him smile, but not all cocky, he was actually pleased.
"You know that feeling deep in your stomach? They say it's butterflies but it's not. For me, it's like a grenade explodin' every time I see her. I never felt like that before, and I don't even know how it's possible for me to feel anythin' remotely close to this ever again."
"Man... that's some heavy shit" Nacio whispered, and we both looked at the moon in the cold sky above our heads.
"Do you know she has a tattoo?" I chuckled, and Nacio let out a Spanish curse, skeptical "She does. It's awesome. And you know... she slapped me a few weeks ago."
"What?!" My friend roared, and I laughed "You're crazy, man. Real bottom down crazy."
"Yeah... She slapped me, fired me, and called me – if I can recall – disgusting and repulsive" I told my friend, still grinnin' like a fool.
"So, obviously, you're totally enamorado de esa chica," Nacio said.
"Obviously."