“So good that he brings you cookies laced with drugs. I gave him that recipe, Ricky. The only reason I tried one is to see how they turned out. I would have ended up in the hospital if I didn’t recognize what was happening. What sort of a person thinks that’s okay? And on that note, I thought I raised you better.”
“I don’t take drugs,” Ricky said lamely. “I really don’t.”
“So if I drive you to the doctor’s office right now, you’ll pass a drug test? They won’t find any marijuana in your system?”
He didn’t answer.
“That’s what I thought. You’re grounded for a month. Your father and I will drop you off and pick you up from school. You aren’t allowed to see any of your friends without supervision.”
“Okay,” he said, hoping that would be the end of it.
“And you’re certainly not seeing that boy again. Ever.”
“What?! You can’t do that!”
“I can, actually,” Ami replied evenly. “I’m your mother.”
“This is bullshit!” Ricky snarled. “You just admitted that you’ve done drugs before, but now you’re punishing me for the same thing?”
“That’s right, Ricky. I experimented. In college. As an adult. You are a child. Your brain is still developing.”
“I’m not a child!” he growled. He knew what it felt like to be one. He was a different person now. His body had changed. His emotions were more complex, his thoughts deeper. Why couldn’t she see that?
“You’ve proven, since we moved here, that you are still very much a child,” his mother said. “Otherwise you would be making better decisions. You might despise me now, but someday you’ll look back on this moment and realize that I was right. Maybe when you have children of your own.”
Ricky crossed his arms over his chest and tried to melt a hole in the passenger-side window with a glare. But as they neared the school, his anger ebbed and was replaced by sorrow. He didn’t want to lose what he had with Diego.
“I love him.” Ricky’s heart was thudding against his chest. He’d never said it aloud before—had barely let himself think the words, in case it turned out bad like it had with Jeremiah.
“I know,” Ami said. “And this will hurt, but you’ll find someone else to love. Someone your own age.”
He stared at her in disbelief. “Dad is older and you still married him!”
“A couple of years doesn’t make much difference at our age. But it does at yours.”
“Whatever,” Ricky snapped, grateful that they had nearly reached the school. “Let me know when I’m old enough to have my own thoughts and feelings, because when that day comes, I’m still going to tell you that you’re a hypocrite. And maybe by then you’ll actually listen to me!”
He got out of the car, even though they were only stopped at an intersection and hadn’t pulled into the parking lot. Let her follow him if she wanted! He had no intention of skipping school. Especially since it was the only place he would get to see Diego from now on.
He went inside the building, just in case he was being watched, before he left again. Ricky went to the spot where Diego parked each day. He didn’t have long to wait. Frankenstein tore into the parking lot and came to a screeching halt in front of him. The engine was still running as Diego got out, closed the distance between them, and grabbed Ricky’s wrists. His eyes were filled with manic fear.
“Don’t listen to them!” Diego roared. “They can’t tell us what to do! I’ll fucking win them over or we’ll take off somewhere, I don’t know. Just don’t bail on me!”
“I won’t,” Ricky tried to tell him.
Diego didn’t seem to hear, his grip tightening. “If they kick you out, I’ll take care of you. We can do this. You’ve just gotta make it to sixteen so you can emancipate yourself. I’ll do the same thing. Afterwards, nobody will be able to tell us what to do. We could—”
“Diego!” Ricky shouted, wincing now against the pain.
“What?”
“Let go of me!”
Diego looked down and seemed to finally recognize that his knuckles had turned white. He unclenched his fists, releasing Ricky, although his head remained bowed.
“All right,” he croaked. “It’s not like I haven’t been here before.”
“I’m not going to bail on you,” Ricky said.
Those copper-colored eyes were questioning when latching onto his. “What?”
Ricky swallowed against rising emotion. “I don’t care what my parents say. I care about you!”
“For real?” Diego said, a dimple appearing in one cheek.
“Yes,” Ricky assured him. “For real.”
“Oh damn…” Diego grinned wildly. “This is so much better than dating a girl!” And with that, he grabbed Ricky and crushed him in his arms.
“Ack!” Ricky managed to say.
“Sorry.” Diego loosened his grip, so it was merely a hug, but one that felt incredibly good as Ricky snuggled up against him.
He was aware that people could see them, but he also didn’t care. An entire SWAT team could be sent in to pry them apart and it wouldn’t be enough. They wouldn’t quit. No matter what. He knew that now. His parents had only made their love stronger. But there were more subtle questions that remained.
Ricky took a step back to ask, “What are we going to do?”
Diego shrugged, a wry grin on his face. “Ever snuck out before?”
“No. Not really.” Ricky thought about it. “But I kind of like the idea.”
Diego glanced around. “Have you ever skipped school?”
Ricky made a face. “I’m already grounded.”
“Good. That means you’ve got nothing to lose.”
Ricky laughed. “It means I don’t want to be grounded for two months instead of one.”
“All right. We’ll lay low. For now.” Diego returned to his car to park it properly. When he got back out again, he was his usual self, although it was impossible to forget how intense he had become.
“You really like me, huh?” Ricky said as they walked toward the school.
“Just a little,” Diego said dryly.
“Good.” Ricky leaned against him briefly. “I like you too.”
CHAPTER 8
February 23rd, 1993
Mindy was beginning to panic. Her theater group had chosen West Side Story as their next play, although she certainly hadn’t voted for it. The production seemed way too complex with all its songs and dancing. She wouldn’t have chosen a musical at all, if it wasn’t a yearly tradition. Casting was already proving to be a nightmare, since anyone who couldn’t sing or dance was automatically disqualified.
From the talent pool of their theater group, only Whitney could sing well enough to carry the role of Maria. But she didn’t look Puerto Rican. Mindy had suggested dyeing her platinum-blond hair black and tossing her into a tanning bed, until Keisha pointed out that it would be one step away from blackface. So the lead roles were currently vacant. And judging from how auditions were shaping up, they wouldn’t have enough dancers either.