Anthony shook his head while watching her rejoin her family. Then he turned to Omar. “If things don’t work out with Silvia,” he said, smoothing his friend’s hair back down, “you definitely have options.”
“I do?” Omar asked, his brown eyes confused.
Anthony felt his pulse pick up again before he tilted his head in the direction Whitney had gone. “She likes you.”
“Really?
“Yeah. Trust me. I’m intimately familiar with the symptoms.”
Omar grinned, but he was still staring in Whitney’s direction. Then he shook his head. “Nah. I’m not going to rush into anything again.”
“You make it sound like you’ve already broken up with Silvia.”
Omar glanced at him and away again.
Anthony leaned to block his view so he was forced to make eye contact. “Is that what you’re going to do?”
“I don’t know,” Omar replied. “I’m still trying to figure everything out.”
“Okay,” Anthony said, feeling slightly panicked, because he cared about his best friend. But he also liked Silvia. They were close friends now, and he worried that Omar would feel betrayed when learning that Anthony wanted it to stay that way.
CHAPTER 21
April 26th, 1993
After descending the stairs, Mindy consulted the old wind-up clock in the living room. Then she ducked into the guest bathroom by the front door to check her appearance, even though she had just done so upstairs. The long journey from there to here hadn’t made a difference, she noted without surprise. Her ginger hair still curled around her ears, and her makeup appeared to be freshly applied. Which of course it was. She just didn’t know why, since Diego was taken.
Mindy thought of the diamond earrings he’d tried to give her and felt a flush of excitement. Why did all the best guys have to be gay? Or dating another guy, since Diego claimed to like girls. Did that mean her? She had no intention of finding out, but he was one of the few boys who had called her pretty, and she didn’t want to disappoint. She wondered if that was pathetic before deciding that she didn’t care. Mindy returned to the living room, sat on the couch, and turned on the TV, flipping through channels until she heard someone knocking. Most people rang the bell. When she opened the door, Diego was a massive shadow edged by daylight.
“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair,” he said.
“I’m not that kind of princess.” Mindy stepped aside and gestured for him to enter.
“Who would you be then?” he asked.
“Cinderella,” she said instantly. As a child, she used to cast spells on pumpkins using a plastic magic wand, hoping to turn one into a coach that would whisk her away to her own personal Prince Charming.
“Glass slippers always seemed like a bad idea to me,” Diego said as he glanced around the entryway. “Even worse than those wooden shoes that foreigners wear.”
“Clogs,” she said automatically. “I agree with you about the slippers. Imagine how weird my feet would look squished into them and pressing against the glass.”
“Let’s empty a couple pickle jars and find out for sure,” Diego said.
“No way!” she replied with a smile. “Would you like something to eat though? Or to drink?”
“Nah, I’m good.” His eyes darted around her face. “You look nice.”
“I do?” she asked, feigning surprise.
“Yeah. You smell good too. Not like pickles at all.”
“There’s a reason I keep my feet out of jars,” she replied. “Are you ready to practice?”
He shrugged in response. “Where are we gonna do this?”
“Out back is probably best.” She led him through the house. Her dad was obsessed with lawn work, so the backyard was a perfectly even carpet of freshly mowed grass. She hoped he wouldn’t mind them stomping all over it, but they needed somewhere soft and spacious to run through the different dance routines. A boom box already waited on the patio table, loaded with a cassette of music from the play.
“This is nice,” Diego said as he walked to the middle of the yard. She watched him shut his eyes and lift his face to the sun. “They keep us in an icebox for in-school suspension.”
“Really?” she asked. “What’s it like?”
“Cold,” he said, getting on the ground and flopping onto his back. “They put you in a bunker in the basement.”
“Wow,” she said, sitting down next to him. “I didn’t realize that the school had a basement.”
“Yup. I wish they’d put us in the boiler room instead.” Diego stretched and put his hands behind his head. “And it’s so damn boring.”
“How is that different from normal school?” she joked.
“Trust me, it is. Nobody is allowed to talk for the entire day, unless you’re asking to use the john or whatever. You just sit in there with all the assignments from your classes. Time crawls by.”
“I can’t imagine. Do they let you out for lunch at least?”
“Nope. You eat at your desk. I guess you can talk then, but with a teacher listening in, not many people bother.”
“What are the other students like?”
“They’re all bad kids, like me.” Diego lifted his head and shielded his eyes. “I bet you’ve never been in trouble before, huh?”
“You say that like I’m missing out.”
“Nah.” His head plopped into one of his palms again. “It just means that you’re smarter than me. But if you wanted to get into trouble, what would you do?”
Mindy thought about it. “I’d like to toilet paper Faith Song’s house.”
Diego snorted. “Let’s go do that instead.”
“In broad daylight?”
“Good point. Hey, you’re a natural!”
She laughed. “Or maybe I would leave a flaming bag of dog poop in front of her door.”
“Why not both? How did it go with your sister anyway? Was she pissed?”
“Exceedingly,” Mindy said with a sigh. “I had to give back everything I’ve ever borrowed from her. She even came into my room to check. I got audited! And I had to promise to pay her back. I still like your idea of turning the jacket into something else, but when I do, I’m going to keep it for myself.”
“Good call,” Diego said with a yawn, but he seemed more tired than bored.
“Do you want to get started?” she asked. “Keisha said she’d come by later in the week to see how you’re doing. I can’t believe they don’t let you participate in after-school activities while you’re suspended!”
“It’s all right. Aren’t you needed in the wardrobe department?”
“No, my job is mostly done, except for alterations.” She nudged him, and in a poor imitation of Ms. Deville, she said, “Time is wasting, Mr. Gomez!”
“I just need a second,” Diego said with another yawn. “The sun feels good. Take a load off.”
She blinked, not understanding at first. “I don’t want to get grass in my hair.”
Diego sat up, shrugged off the leather jacket he wore, and folded it into a square next to his head. “There ya go,” he said before flopping onto his back again. She had to admit that it did look appealing.