“You’re probably not related to the Mendozas I know. And the Mendozas I know aren’t related to one another. But I gotta say, vato, I never met a guy with that last name that didn’t know how to fight. These fuckers here only pick fights with guys like Rico.”
One of the guys lying on the ground was trying to pick himself up. Danny put his foot on his back. “Don’t even try it. Relax. Chill.”
“But I’m fuckin’ gonna be late to class.”
Danny threw his own words back at him. “Late to class. Next time I see you, or my friend Ari sees you, picking on Rico or any of his friends, you’re not gonna be able to find your own ass, cuz I’m gonna own it.”
Danny walked over and helped Rico get up from where he was lying. “You okay, Rico?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.” He was crying, though he was trying not to.
Danny scolded him. “Don’t let ’em see that. Don’t ever show those fuckers the best part of yourself.”
Rico wiped his tears and gave Danny a smile.
“Atta boy. That’s it. Shake it off.”
He nodded, and picked up his backpack. He started to walk away—and then he turned around and shouted, “Everybody says you guys are trouble. People don’t know shit.” His head down, he turned back around and headed for his first class.
I turned to Danny and said, “How do you know Rico?”
“My sister hangs with him. She’s not into guys. She’s got attitude. She likes to give the world the finger. But she’s always helping people out. She’s cool.” And then he looked at me, like he knew something about me. “I know who you are. You fucked up one of my buddies.”
“Sorry.”
“Sorry? For what? He and a couple guys caught one of your buds kissing some other guy. They put ’im in the hospital. He okay?”
“Yeah, he’s good.”
“You did the right thing. A friend who doesn’t stick up for a friend ain’t no goddamned friend. And besides, it’s pretty fuckin’ chickenshit to put someone in the hospital for kissin’ another dude. You don’t wanna kiss a guy, don’t kiss ’em. What’s the fuckin’ problem? People are always askin’ me why I go around beatin’ the crap outta people. It’s cuz the world’s full of assholes, that’s why.”
That just made me laugh. I couldn’t help myself.
“Why you laughin’?”
“Because sometimes, you run into someone who knows what the truth is. So you laugh. You laugh because somebody made you happy.”
“I sure as hell don’t make a lot of people happy.”
“Well, like you said, the world’s full of assholes. What you did for Rico, Danny, that was a beautiful thing.”
“Yeah, but Rico’s my friend. And you don’t even know him. You fucker, now that’s a beautiful thing.”
Danny, there’s another one that could break the world’s heart with his smile.
We gave each other a knuckle.
“See you around, Mendoza.”
“See you around, Danny.”
It was funny. I didn’t even know Danny—but I did know something about him that made me feel that I could trust him. It made me sad to think that people didn’t see the most obvious thing about him—that he had a noble heart. I had a funny feeling that I would always think of him as a friend. And I also had a feeling that it wasn’t the last time I’d see him.
The way the world judged and misjudged certain people—and threw them away, erased their names from the map of the world—that was the way that the whole system worked. Maybe Danny’s sister knew exactly what to do in the face of all the judgments aimed in her direction—help people out when you can and give the world the finger.
I didn’t know why I hadn’t known this about myself before. There was something of a rebel in me. For once, I discovered a trait in me that I didn’t think needed changing.
Eleven
MR. BLOCKER KEPT ME AFTER CLASS. “What happened to your knuckles? They’re bleeding.”
“They ran into a couple of guys.”
“Why do you do these things to yourself?”
“I didn’t do anything to myself. But I think those guys think I did something to them.”
He gave me a look. “What we do to others—”
I finished his sentence. “We do to ourselves. I’ve heard that before. I don’t think you understand that—”
“That what, Ari?”
“That you understand a lot of things.”
“Like why you get into fights when you have a mind and imagination that are far better gifts than your fists?”
“What makes you think that I don’t use my intelligence and my imagination when I get into a fight?”
Mr. Blocker didn’t say anything. Then he said, “I know you think that I don’t understand anything about what you’re going through. But you would be wrong about that.”
He saw something in my face. “You have the look of a young man who wants to punch my lights out because you don’t really believe I understand anything about you. And that pisses you off.”
“Something like that,” I said.
“I grew up in Albuquerque. I lived in a neighborhood that was a tough place for a little gringo to grow up in. I’m not complaining. The kids I grew up with had a tougher time than I ever did—and my mother was smart enough to point that out to me. When I was thirteen, I decided I wanted to be a boxer. I joined Golden Gloves. You know what that is?”
“Of course I know what that is.”
“Of course you do. When I was eighteen years old, I was a Golden Gloves champion boxer. Just so you know that you’re not the only guy in this world who turns to his fists to get him through the hard times.”
Just at the moment I hated Mr. Blocker, he said something to make me like him again. I hated that.
Twelve
I HANDED MR. BLOCKER’S NOTE TO the nurse, Mrs. Ortiz. “He’s a nice man, isn’t he, Mr. Blocker? Bet he’s a good teacher.” She put my fists into a small tub she’d filled with ice. She worked on me as she talked.
“Yeah,” I said, “he is. I had him last year, too. Sometimes he gets a little pushy, though. I don’t like that.” I knew I had a pained look on my face.
“The ice hurts. But leave your fists in there. I’ll tell you when you can pull them out.” It really hurt. “Don’t be such a big baby. You can handle getting yourself into fights, you can handle a little ice.” She was looking for some gauze, and I knew she was gonna wrap my fists up. And everybody was gonna be asking, What happened to you, Ari?
“Oh God,” she said, “I just realized who you are. You’re Liliana’s son. As soon as I saw you, I thought there was something familiar about you. You look just like your father.” And then I said to myself, but you have your mother’s eyes. And that’s just what she said. “But you have your mother’s eyes. I was your mother’s best friend in grade school. We’ve been friends ever since.”
She liked to talk. Did she ever like to talk.