Chapter 2

"I need to study with Janet," I announced.

Family dinners sucked. Usually, my stepparents did everything they could to avoid having a sit-down meal that included me. My stepmother liked the big meal cooking thing, so once a month we suffered through the silence of pretending to be a family.

I never knew my biological father. My mother emigrated to the U.S. days after I was born and married my stepfather eight years later. She died within months of my sister's birth. Six months later, my stepfather remarried; a year later, they had twin boys. My stepmother (I called her Double-Step) treated my sister like her own, but...

The Steps fulfilled their obligations and I tried to make it painless. Sometimes, Double-Step's face flashed with guilt over the situation. We took comfort in the thought they could assuage any guilt with financial aid for my college education which was less than two years away for me.

"Of course," the Double-Step said. "Do you need a ride?"

"No, thank you." I got up and put my plate in the sink. "I need some exercise so I'll walk."

I stepped behind my little sister. She dropped her head back as far as she could to let me kiss her on the forehead.

"Story!" she insisted.

I looked at the clock before nodding to her. It didn't give me much time out of the house, but I read to her every night that she wanted so I'd deal with being in the house while the Double-Step felt familial.

If I could be said to have a friend in high school, Janet Smith would be it. The relationship was based on being outsiders, a nobody and a lesbian. Being a Senior, Janet's parole was months away.

We didn't have to study. She let me use her apartment as an escape when I needed it as long as I did the same for her. I can't say which one of us had the crappier home life. Janet's dad found a new family to love when she was nine and her mom worked eighty hour weeks while spending any free time adding notches to single men's bedposts. Though her dad made insincere offers every now and then, Janet chose to live with her mom.

"I'm sorry," she whispered when she opened the door.

"It's okay," I replied. "I'll go to the library."

If Janet had someone over, I was glad for her. Her sophomore year, she'd been caught in a broom closet with another girl during a student conference. Janet didn't deny or hide from the moment of her sexual awareness. It made her life lonely, though my classmates surprised me in that it wasn't as bad as I would have thought.

"Not that," she said, grabbing my backpack strap to drag me inside. She pressed against me, until she had my back pinned to the wall. "It wasn't my idea; I owe her."

I never let myself think about Janet in THAT way. Unfortunately, she was shorter than me and very cute in a no makeup, dykey clothed way. The shortness mattered because her belly was pushing on my groin.

"You need to step back, Janet," I said. "Please!"

She looked down between us before following the instruction, "Oh, sorry!"

"Who do you owe?" I asked. When she looked down the hall, I adjusted my lengthening penis to give it room in my jeans.

"Can you really do the stuff Maggie says?" she asked. "You didn't tell me."

"Maggie?"

"Magdalena." She grabbed my arm and guided me towards her living room. Janet did that--dragging me from place to place when she got excited. Most of the time it was to small venue concerts we shouldn't have been able to get into. Personally I liked the museum trips the best, even when I only got to look at the stuff Janet found interesting.

As I turned the corner, my stomach squeezed in on itself. Bailey, Magdalena, the Junior class President, and our Treasurer were sitting in various places around the room.

"Oh, fuck no!" I said, turning around to jet. Janet grabbed my backpack and held on for dear life.

"It's nothing bad, Mateo." Bailey walked over to help Janet keep me in the room. "I promise."

"Your boyfriend wants to kick my ass," I told her.

"I want to kick your ass!" she replied. "You don't fucking know how to say hi?"

She was pissed; she might have had good reason to be pissed. None of the girls in the room were going to be on my side of the reason so I didn't bother to look at them for support. A week passed since I massaged the pain from Bailey's shoulder. The high school nobody getting to touch the most popular girl in school, in a public forum and in a private way, only happens in movies. Dumb movies! I figured Bailey would regain her senses after the fallout with the boyfriend settled and regret it so I ignored her. As in, I didn't meet her eyes or give her a chance to diss me when we passed each other in the hall. It required wearing hoodies and keeping my head down for a week, but the sacrifice seemed worthwhile so as not to take a tumble farther down the social ladder. Not that there's much room below 'nobody' except maybe the kid who has to be taken out of class and given a year's supply of personal hygiene products along with a demonstration on using them. (I'm NOT kidding!)

"Bailey, you're gorgeous." I stopped. "I don't believe I said it that so forget it. Whatever the fuck you're doing here, my answer is 'No!' Okay? I'm leaving."

"My shoulder hurts again," she said as I turned around. I puffed my cheeks and blew the air out slowly. "I shouldn't have done that to you in the cafeteria. Reggie cheated on me. I was so pissed off and I just..."

Facing her, I closed my eyes. "Don't bother explaining--we're in high school."

"What is that supposed to mean?" the class President asked.

"Jennifer, don't!" Bailey ordered.

I had to wonder why Jennifer White and our Treasurer Susan Tint were present. I looked at Bailey and the other girls. Bailey answered the question, "I don't know you. Janet says you're sweet, but with what Maggie says you probably have to do I thought more girls would be better."

Bailey stared hard at me, "Maggie says you're like a Hispanic witch doctor."

"It's curandero. My grandmother used to do it, like you, with massage," Magdalena told me. "You're really good. How long have you been training?"

"I don't think I was ever in training. Anyway, I stopped going a while ago," I said. "Look Bailey, it was a one time thing. I got lucky."

Bailey studied my face for a few seconds. "Bullshit!"

Magdalena moved from her spot to the sofa nearest me. Kneeling on it, she joined in the study of my features. "Abuelita said you had to be training for a long time."

"My mom took me to some old women who did the stuff. I was baby when I started, like still eating baby food age." I said. "It stopped a few months before she died because they were getting into herbal stuff and the Jesus-thing. She said I didn't need it. Hell, I don't even speak Spanish!"

"Lo entiendes?" Magdalena asked.

"Yes, I understand it," I replied.

"So you can help with my shoulder?" Bailey asked.

I sighed, "Fuck me! I'll do it but don't tell anybody else, okay?"

"Are you for real?" Susan asked. "A witch doctor is such bullshit."

"Massage therapy!" Magdelana said, biting each syllable off as she glared at Susan. "White people didn't invent everything. It's been done in Latin countries for centuries."

"So you're not going to burn leaves and shit?" Jennifer asked. "Like dance around the room half-naked?"

I almost laughed at the disappointed look on her face.

"It's not like that," I said and then grimaced. "Some of it is like that without the dancing half-naked, but like I said, my mom stopped taking me to the old women so I only know the hands-on part of it."

"She must have insisted they not teach you the religious stuff," Magdalena said thoughtfully.

"Boring! Do you have premium channels?" Jennifer grabbed the TV remote. I was losing my good impression of our Class President.

"Will it distract you?" Bailey asked.

"We could go into the other room," I replied.

Bailey walked over to Jennifer and snatched the remote out of her hand. "That would defeat the purpose of bringing the girls."

"I'm not going to win," I whispered. Janet must have heard me because she covered her mouth to stifle a lƒaugh.

"Do you still have the massage oil sampler I gave you?" I asked her.

"Did you give me that stuff because you were hoping..."

"No! Dammit!" I threw my backpack on the ground. "You're gay; I get it. It's a nice kit. I figured girls, together, massage oil, maybe she hadn't ever gotten massage."

"Oh!" Janet's eyes lost focus. "Does that work?"

"I don't know," I said. "You have a better chance with girls than I do."

"Excuse me." Bailey raised her hand. "We're here for my shoulder. I don't want to interrupt but it's hurting a lot."

"What are you talking about?" I said. "Not more than before."

"Yes, it is."

"That's not right," I said. "Nothing I did would make it worse."

"Something she did could have." Magdelana plopped her ass down on the sofa, crossed her arms, and gave Bailey an I-told-you-so look. "Someone thought she was fine and tried the same stunt that fucked her up to begin with. Didn't land it again!"

"Cheerleaders!" Jennifer huffed.

"Shut up, Jen!" Bailey dropped her best nasty look on Jennifer. I got the feeling this was something that played out many times with them. Their quick smiles when they looked away from each other confirmed it.

"I need the coconut scented oil," I told Janet. "Unless you've got any orange scented in the apartment."

"Why the coconut?" Bailey asked.

"You're an orange," I replied. "Like in the juice carton pictures. Bright, every part ready to burst with..."

"I think he likes you," Jennifer told Bailey.

Bailey kicked my backpack away when I reached down for it. "Jen, seriously, shut up! I need his help."

"You can get a massage at the gym," Susan said.