Down to the Bone (2 page)

She faces the students. “Class. Would you like to hear what’s in Shai’s highly important texts?”

She can’t read my personal texts to the entire class. She can’t!

Everyone, except my best friend Soli, blasts, “Yeah!”

“Please give it back,” I plead. I try to grab my cell with force out of her hands, but she instantly pulls it away.

Fart Face puts on a disgustingly fake smile and walks slowly to her desk. “So these texts are that good, huh?” She speaks to the class. “I’m sure you’d love to hear everything, but I’m afraid I’ll need to use the word ‘bleep’ in place of X-rated words.”

She sits poised on the chair, lowers her reading glasses, and begins:

ur the greatest kisser and lover ever, Scrunchy.

love BLEEP BLEEPING w u.

tomorrow, when u come over after school, we can BLEEP BLEEP 4 hours.

i love when u BLEEP, BLEEP me.

The guys whistle and shout, “Way to go, Scrunchy!”

“Scrunch-Munch is a beast!” Roberto cheers.

“Scrunch-Munch! Scrunch-Munch!”

I lower my head and wring my trembling hands. Fart Face walks toward me in almost silent steps. She stops a few feet away from my desk. “Wait until your mother finds out. She’ll just
love
it.”

She turns to the class.

“Should I continue reading, or are these texts too dull and dreary?”

“Read on!” Everyone, except Soli, goes nuts. She sits wagging her head.

“No! Please, stop,” I beg with my heart in my mouth.

“Quiet!” Fart Face stomps her foot and shuts me up. “Maybe next time you’ll learn to pay attention in class.”

I want to run out of here, but my feet are glued to the floor.

She clears her raspy voice and continues. ur BLEEP, BLEEP and more BLEEPS . . .

Soli widens her eyes as if telling me, “Grab the cell and run!” But I still can’t move.

i love 2 feel ur body BLEEP under me.

i go crazy about the way ur BLEEP feels when—

Ryki interrupts and teases, “Who’s your secret lovey-dove, huh, Scrunchy?”

My body feels as if a Mack truck is parked on it. I stare out the windows. Lightning bolts threaten the dark sky. The scent of humiliation surrounds me. I gulp hard to try and release the tension, but it doesn’t help.

I think about a white horse picking me up and galloping me full speed out of here. I know my mom will kill me. I’m trapped by Fart Face’s rasping voice, hurting my ears, stabbing me slowly. She’s really enjoying this.

I cover my ears with my hands.

ur my life. i’ll love you till eternity. so glad we’re girls my beautiful Shai Sofía . . .

The room becomes hushed.

Caro and her girlfriend Maribel smile. “Hey, I didn’t know you were lesbo too! Let’s go to Papaya’s this Friday for the all girl, alcohol-free, dance night!”

Karina, better known as Butchie, shouts with a fist in the air, “Yeah!”

I feel darts shooting at me from my friend CC’s eyes. “You’re a
tortillera
? You should have told me instead of lying so much about phony guys you liked and a boyfriend in Spain.”

Marlena made me promise not to tell a soul about us. I took it too far by fibbing so much. I owe CC, and all my friends, an apology when the time is right. I hope they accept it.

Bookworm Margarita speaks up. “Give Shai a break. She wasn’t ready to tell you. Don’t be so dense.”

Half the class supports me. “Who cares?” Telia says. “Let’s get together tomorrow night at Pizza Girls and have a big party for Shai and her girlfriend.”

“Woooh hoooooo!” a bunch of people cheer. “Party! Party!”

I try to crack a smile, but the sides of my mouth won’t cooperate. My mom will soon find out what I’ve really been up to every day after school.

Olivia, my friend since fourth grade, scrunches up her face. “Count me out.” She sticks her index finger in her mouth, as if she were about to puke.

Soli comes over and puts an arm around my shoulder. She says to the class, “This is for the jerks: So what if she didn’t tell you bunch of morons about her private life?” She gives attitude just by being her curvy self, with those cantaloupe boobs and perky butt.

Gustavo lets out a gutsy laugh. “I have no problem with lezzies. Let’s have a threesome!”

“A girl sandwich!” Some of the guys get all riled up, laughing uproariously, clapping and stomping their feet. “Let’s do it! Threesome! Threesome!”

“Shush!” Fart Face reprimands. She juts her long pointy chin at Soli. “Go back to your seat, Soledad.”

Soli squeezes me harder to her.

Fart Face untangles Soli’s arm from around me and raises her voice, “Shai, follow me.”

2—Tazer

Some people think going from your usual source of strength—fun and laughter—to vulnerable, without armor, helps you grow. Bull! I’d rather have my life back, filled with excitement and no worries, dim-witted as that may seem.

A girl who looks exactly like a cute surfer guy walks from the water to an empty towel close by. She’s wearing a vivid green T and long bathing trunks. Her straight bleached blond hair is buzzed all over, and streaks of dyed purple bangs hang over her eyes. The sleek dark sunglasses, sitting on top of her head, make her look hip.

I hope she’s not coming toward me. A condemned person can’t celebrate life and new friendships like she used to. I just need to be alone to figure out where I’m going to live and what’s about to become of me.

As she nears, Neruda dashes to her. She vigorously pets my pup’s fuzzy head. “Hey cutie,” she says in a mild Cuban accent. Neruda is all over her, slobbering her chiseled, dimpled chin and nipping at her tiny earlobes.

“Neruda!” I call to her. She flies to me and I grab her. “Sorry.” I look away into the horizon. I don’t want her to start a conversation. What I’m going through is too intense. I can’t share it with a stranger. What do I tell her, “Hey, hi! Great to meet you! Today, I have several names: Shamed. Mortified. Disgraced. Embarrassed. Dishonored. You can call me any of those, or better yet, make up one of your own!”

But how do I tell such a friendly face I need silence, and total concentration, to help unburden myself from all I’m going through?

“No problem. I love puppies. Neruda’s my favorite poet. What a brill name for a dog.” She recites a few of her favorite Neruda lines verbatim. I’m amazed she seems to enjoy him as much as I do but stay quiet about it.

She dries her face, wrings the bottom of her T, and slips on white sneakers. She brings her purple towel closer to me and plops on it. “I’m Tazer.”

“Hi. I’m Shai.” I try hard to smile.

“S-h-y?” Tazer slides her glasses down to her nose, and her hazel eyes look up over them.

“Sounds the same but it’s spelled, S-h-a-i.” I clutch my hair with both hands and stare away from her, into nothingness.

“Beautiful name. It doesn’t sound Cuban.”

“Thanks. My mom loves America because it’s given us so much. That’s the reason she gave me an English sounding first name.”

“Epic. You okay?” She catches on.

“Fantastic.” Sarcasm usually has restorative powers but it’s not working for me right now.

“What happened?”

“Just had a beautiful fight with my mother.” I feel my chin trembling. I clutch Neruda in my arms and squeeze her tightly against me.

“That’s terrible. Why?”

“Because she’s a case.” I kiss Neruda’s head and stare at the frothy ocean waves.
What have I got to lose by telling an unfamiliar person something about my messed-up life? Maybe she’ll have valuable insight that’ll help me reflect on the destruction humanity brings upon itself and say things like, “Consider yourself lucky. Most artists’ work becomes more and more powerful with suffering and pain.”

Suddenly, words just pour out and I can’t stop them.

“In second grade, I brought home a picture book called,
Birthday in the Barrio,
about rebel eight-year-old Chavi and her best friend Rosario. My mom read the author’s blog where she stated that in her next novel, the girls are twenty-year-old lesbian girlfriends. She tore the book into pieces, threw it in the trash and said, ‘Authors like these plant seeds in girls’ minds about choosing different lifestyles when they’re all grown up. Girls can do anything they set their minds to. You could be president, but no one will hire you for the job if you turn into a woman uninterested in men. I don’t want you transforming into one of
those
.’”

“
Qué loca.
” Tazer totally gets it.

“Well . . . she’s a great mom except for some things. Right now, she wants to tear up my life and throw it away in the garbage.”

I hate talking about my mother that way. I should present Tazer with a complete history of all the great moments my mom and I have shared, like the day we entered a daughter and mother singing contest and won, or how we usually walk hand-in-hand, singing together, in harmony, whenever we’re out and about.

A sympathetic ear to relieve what I’m feeling might be a good thing, though. But maybe not. I don’t want Tazer to think my mom is disposable just because of one character flaw. I really shouldn’t tell her what Mami just did to me.

A bunch of wild green parrots startle us as they circle the palm trees above us. I stand to catch a clearer view. “How beautiful. I have four in the backyard of my house.” I want to change the subject from me, to anything at all.

Neruda growls and barks up at them. Tazer lifts her, belly up, and pets her chubby stomach. “We’ve got a family of owls in my backyard.”

It would be rude if I didn’t at least ask her
some
thing about herself. She’ll just think I’m one of those narcissistic, egocentric,
plástica
Cubanita chicks who don’t give a royal rooster’s butt about anything but themselves.

I lift my dorky, navy blue school skirt and stretch down my tank top. “Where do you live?”

She sets Neruda down on my towel. “With my dad, in Gables by the Sea.” Gables by the Sea is one of the wealthiest places in Miami. “My uncle, who’s been here twenty-five years, got my father into becoming a realtor. They struck it rich during the real estate boom. I miss my family in Cuba. I lived in an apartment building with my grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins. There were nineteen of us. Now I have everything, but I don’t have them.”

“That’s sad.” She nods. I tell her I live in Little Havana. “But we’re moving soon to a ritzy neighborhood in Coconut Grove. My mom just got married. She wants to move up in the world.” I tell her this so she gets it that I can relate. “I’ll miss my old neighborhood, too.”

Suddenly, I miss Pedri, my home, my friends, and everyone who now sees me as a lying, untrustworthy jerk. My chest fills up with pain.

Tazer talks about her fun life at Coral Gables High, and having headed the LGBTQI Center there when she’s interrupted by a girl far away waving her hands and yelling, “Taze!”

“I’ll be right back. That’s my friend Zoe.” She takes off.

As I watch her dash away, I flash back to our principal, Mrs. Superior-Sicko, a cockroach of a woman, with bloodshot, steely eyes, paper-thin lips and tangled eyebrows. She stood with feet planted close together as she read the texts to my mom. I wanted to tear my cell out of her hands but she’d have destroyed me.

I can’t shake the memories of Fart Face walking her ogre self into the principal’s office, dragging me behind her.

She calls my mom at work and in Spanish, says, “Mrs. Amores, we have a problem with your daughter. She’s in the office. We need you here immediately.”

That call is my death. My legs feel like they’re made of clay. To any mother, reading vivid, detailed texts of her daughter being with another girl will horrify her. I’d rather fry in the chair than for this to happen.

My hands won’t stop trembling. I’ve got to pee. Sweat drips down my back from my neck as I wait for Mami to come through the door. No one is talking to me. But they’re talking about me with my cell in hand. They’re desperately trying to figure out Marlena’s name and number so they can call her parents.

“The callback number was turned off. This is preposterous. We can’t allow two bad apples to spoil our private school’s impeccable reputation. We won’t let such indecency here.”

In a quavering voice, I raise my hand. “May I please use the restroom?” I’ll make a mad dash out of this dreadful school and run for my life after I pee.

Mrs. Superior-Sicko grits her teeth. She scratches her bulbous nose. “The restroom? You should have thought about the consequences of these atrocious texts, young lady.” Her ears and neck flush a dark pink. A thick blue vein on her forehead pops out. Her eyes drill holes into mine. “Hold it until we resolve this matter.”

I try to sit but they won’t let me. My legs are weak.

Before you know it, my mom rushes through the door and they’re reading the texts to her.

. . . your breasts on my . . .

Mami’s face goes from rosy to deathly pale as she burns holes into my pupils with her stare. “Those texts are obscene. This is so embarrassing. How
dare
you have a relationship with a girl in this school behind my back?”

Mrs. Superior-Sicko glares at me. She points a fat finger toward the middle of my forehead. “If you’d like Shai to stay in our school, you must keep watch over her so she doesn’t meet up with that girl again. They must end this sexual relationship and filthy texting, today.”

“It’s not disgusting like you all think.”