Rayshawn and I walk-talked all the way over to a building I’d never been to, a wing behind the natatorium (that’s a fancy word for a swimming pool). The smell of chlorine brought me back to the swimming lessons I’d had at the YMCA in Hyde Park when I was little. My dad would take me on Saturday mornings. And all of a sudden I was imagining my dad swimming across the Rio Grande River, and I tripped.
Rayshawn grabbed my arm, steadied me. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m good.”
“K…”
Then neither of us said anything. So we burst out laughing.
Then Rayshawn asked, “You coming to the big game Friday night?”
“Basketball?”
Rayshawn stopped walking. “You aren’t seriously asking me that.”
“Sorry!” I started laughing again. Yes, of course he meant basketball. He was on varsity—one of the stars. Duh!
“Lili?” I heard my name, and turned.
“Hey, Holly—”
“Hey…” Then Holly looked at Rayshawn like, What are you doing walking with my best friend? I didn’t like it.
“What are you—” she and I said at the same time.
“Oh, I was just at the WC,” Holly said.
“The bathroom?” I asked. “Aren’t you British!”
Rayshawn laughed. Holly’s ears turned pink. I felt so bad; I wasn’t trying to make fun of her.
“Uh… yeah. But it also stands for ‘Writing Center.’ ”
“You go there?” I must have sounded accusatory or surprised or judgmental or all of the above, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t know Holly went to the Writing Center.
“Yeah. They literally help you with your papers and you literally get a higher grade just for going. See?” She took out a mustard-colored paper; it had a couple of signatures at the bottom. I took it from her and began to read.
“Hey,” Holly interrupted. “I thought you had study hall now.”
“I do.” The bell rang. “Eee! I mean, I did.”
“I’m out,” Rayshawn said. “Test in bio. Wish me luck!”
“Luck!” Holly and I both called out.
As we walked back to the main building, Holly asked, “So… whatsup with you and Rayshawn?”
“Nothing. Can’t a girl walk down the hall with a guy?”
Holly gave me a smirk. “No. And you know it.”
I smirked back. “Oh my God. It’s nothing.”
“You say so. But I wonder what Dustin thinks about your nice little walk with Rayshawn.”
“So, about the Writing Center…”
“Smooth, Lili.”
“Yeah, wasn’t it?” We laughed. “I swear, it’s not like that… with Rayshawn.”
“Whatevs.”
As soon as she was out of sight, I backtracked to the Writing Center to get some more info. I really was surprised that Holly used it. I guess I just didn’t think kids who were already smart needed to do that. And after my last big talk with Tía Laura, I knew for sure going to the Writing Center was something my dad totally would have done. When I was signing up for a tutoring slot, I looked up to see Ivy.
“Hey,” she said. No lie, I kind of held my breath. Why was I so nervous? I guess I was used to her and all the METCO kids icing me out. Well, not Rayshawn. Okay, mostly Dorito Girl.
“Hey,” I said back. Clever, Lili!
But at least Ivy smiled. And when I was done writing my name on the clipboard, I passed her my pen.
20
On the real, it was crazy to picture Tía Laura and Tío R. in Guatemala, handing my father this big wad of cash. Money cobbled together from lots of IOUs. To hire a coyote. To smuggle Dad across the border. And for him to return home. To us. Saying it like that made it sound like a movie, not a real life. Not my life. But it was my life. I wasn’t quite sure how Mom managed to gather the money, but by snatching bits and pieces of her conversations with my aunt late at night, it seems she had borrowed most from other people (mostly kind folks from church). Apparently she’d needed seven thousand dollars in total. And it had to be cash. Either way, Mom had some major IOUs to pay back.
With my aunt gone, my mom, alone all day again, was even more wigged out. She literally jumped at every noise she heard—even the toilet flushing! It was like she’d forgotten how to relax. So one day I asked her if I could use some of her CVS ExtraCare bucks for some school supplies. Instead of graph paper and highlighters, however, I returned with nail polish, polish remover, cotton balls, hand lotion, and a little brush that was supposedly for scraping the dead skin off the bottom of your feet. Kinda gross, but it was only ninety-nine cents, so. I set up a little mani-pedi station in the living room, laying a folded towel down on the rug, placing two bowls of warm water on it. In one I poured some drops of hand soap and stirred them around until they made suds.
“Hey, Mom? Can you come here a sec?”
After a minute she appeared in the living room doorway. “What’s this?” She cinched her robe at the waist.
“It’s for you. I’m going to give you a mani-pedi. Come sit.”
Her smile was everything. “Really?”
“Yes. Come on. Sit.”
“Ay, Liliana.” Just like old times. Thing was, this used to be Mom’s “thing.” I even think she had dreams of opening her own salon one day. Eh-hem, Sylvia’s Salon. I needed to finish that one. It did have a nice ring to it.
I think the mani-pedi helped, because that weekend Mom actually thought it would be fun if we invited Jade and her grandmother, Doña Carmen, out to eat with us at the Chinese Buffet on Route 9! Jade + Chinese food = heaven. And my brothers would be at a birthday party, so they didn’t have to tag along. So on Sunday we borrowed a neighbor’s car (rented, actually, by the hour), and off we went. I hadn’t seen Jade in like forever. She brought Ernesto.
The whole time, Jade and her boy stole tiny kisses from one another between nibbling on fried shrimp. His skin was kind of shiny, and he smelled like cocoa butter.
“I’m going up for more egg rolls,” Doña Carmen said. “Anyone else want anything from the buffet?”
“Hm? No, thank you,” I said.
“Vaya, pues,” Doña Carmen said, and excused herself.
Now Jade and Ernesto were eating off each other’s plates. Gag me. But if Dustin were here, wouldn’t we have been doing the same thing? Truth: I’d never even told Jade about Dustin. I liked having my worlds separated, like food at salad bars. Corn stays in the corn area, lettuce in the lettuce area.
“I’m getting more rice.” Mom interrupted my Dustin daydream, shot Jade and Ernesto a look, and left the table as well. As soon as she was gone, Ernesto actually spoke to me. “Hey, Liliana,” he said. “What’s the deal at your new school?”
The deal? I had never literally talked to Ernesto before, to be perfectly honest. He was just there in the periphery—picking up or dropping off Jade, and texting her like crazy. “I mean, it’s whatever.”
“Lots of entitled kids there?” he pressed.
“I guess.”
Jade gave me a look like, WTF, how rude are you?