Here's the second chapter. This one is much longer than the first, so yay! Hope you like it! Thanks for reading! :)
Chapter 2
Paco
Mind-numbingly boring lectures are not the best way to start off the day. I have always hated English class—and no, not because I'm half Mexican. But English is more difficult for me than most other subjects; give me a sentence to correct and I'll sit there for eternity giving you nada, but put a calculus problem in front of me and that paper will burst into flames, I'd work it so fast.
So I'm a nerd. One who is also a sports jock. Somehow, I get the best of both worlds. With my stretched out frame, I'm an excellent basketball player who has got a brain like…well, like my Uncle Luis.
However, my physical and mental skills do not allow me to speed up time. I lay my head down for a just a second, but then Mrs. Regis whacks me on the head with her whiteboard marker. "Ouchie-mama!" I yell. I hear my classmates giggle around me. I was trying to be funny, but that really did hurt. It's not like I've got much hair to cushion the blow. Rubbing my scalp, I turn my puppy-dog eyes on old Mrs. Regis.
But the old crone has no heart. She's worse than Peterson. Glaring down her nose at me with those aged, brown eyes, she rasps, "Keep your head up, Fuentes, or you'll be scraping gum off my desks after school until dinnertime. I'm sure Mr. Gonzales wouldn't mind the extra help."
Esteban Gonzales, the school janitor, is actually a good friend of mine. We Latinos tend to stick together. Grinning cockily at my English teacher, I say, "I don't think Esteban would appreciate you makin' him stay late just to punish me. I mean, él es mi compadre, after all."
Regis leans over,—an amazing feat in that tight-ass pencil skirt and blouse—placing one hand on my desk and the other on her hip. "Who said he'd be the one staying after with you? Straight after school, Fuentes. You just earned several extra hours with me, and your only friend will be a chisel."
"Sorry, señora, but I got practice tonight. How about we reschedule? Let's make it Friday night. I'll even cook, and we can make it date." I know that I'm just asking for it, but lately I've been feeling restless. I'm tired of this place; I'm ready for something exciting.
I watch as that signature sneer that only Mrs. Regis can make slithers across her face, making it even more wrinkled. Her gaze is icy—not that it scares me. Mi papá was a gangbanger back in the day—a pretty famous one who went to this exact school, even. He may be reformed now, but he's still got tattoos, scars, and a glare that could send even mean, old Mrs. Regis cowering with her tail between her legs.
Mrs. Crinkled Parchment straightens up and announces, "Directly after school, Mr. Fuentes. And if you don't hold that tongue of yours, I'll make it for the rest of the week, practice or no."
That shuts me up. Coach Greene made it very clear that if any of us misses more than one practice for anything other than an emergency, we'll be benched for the season. So I close mi boca grande and sink into my seat. After waiting a moment to let her triumph ring throughout the classroom, Regis returns to her desk and crows, "Open your textbooks to page seventy-three…"
O.o.O
The music plays over the speaker, signaling that second period starts now. I look next to me at the empty stool. Julianna Gallagher, my chemistry lab partner, ex-girlfriend, and now best friend, is apparently choosing to skip class today. I saw her in the hallway earlier so I know she was here. Mrs. Peterson starts calling roll, but a few names in, the door squeaks open and Julianna struts in, another girl with bronze hair pulled tight in a ponytail trails in behind her.
Mrs. Peterson's severe eyes turn to examine Julianna and the girl. Looking past Julianna, she asks the girl, "Are you the new student, miss…?"
"Violet Morgan, ma'am. Yes, I am," replies the girl. I frown when I see that even when she extends her hand for Peterson to shake, she never really looks at her.
"Come on, Vi. I'll show you where we sit," Julianna chirps, taking the girl's hand in her own and leading her to our table. She pulls over a spare lab stool for Violet and puts it on the far end from me. Then she takes her place between us and heads for quiet introductions as Peterson continues calling names. "Paco, this is Violet, Violet, Paco. She moved here over Christmas break so since I'm part of the aid for special needs program, they asked me to help her adjust to the new school."
"Hola, nice name. Reminds me of la flor," I say with a short wave.
"Gracias ¿Hablas español?" Violet asks, taking me by surprise. This white chick knows some Spanish.
"Sí. Mi familia es de México."
Julianna butts in, "Okay, guys, maybe you can understand each other, but I'm starting to feel like a total third wheel here."
I flash a toothy grin at her. "The gringa doesn't like not being able to join the conversation, huh? She doesn't get to have the spotlight."
Julianna flicks her golden curls over her shoulder. "And the gringa wants her spotlight."
"Sorry. I didn't mean to be rude," Violet apologizes.
"Don't sweat it. Paco talks in Spanish around me all the time, but usually the people he talks to I don't really have any interest in." Mi mejor amiga can be a real cabrona sometimes, but when she wants to be, she can be a ray of sunshine. I'm glad she's not giving this new kid a hard time.
Just then, Peterson clears her throat loudly and scolds, "Paco, Julianna, I know that having a new playmate must be exciting, but you know the rules in my class. No chatter while I'm teaching."
I notice Violet hang her head in embarrassment, but Julianna and I both have equally cocky personalities. She pouts her perfectly glossed lips and I give Peterson my best innocent face. "Sorry, Mrs. Peterson," we chime in unison. She knows we're just playing around, but she holds up blue detention slips all the same, a silent question on her brow like, "Do you really want to tempt me?"
O.o.O
"What the hell is this mierda?" I complain, grimacing down at my tray. Usually, I bring food from home. Papá is an excellent cook, having learned from mi abuela. But today, he didn't have time to cook us anything, so we all had to eat the school's lunch. My sister, Fiona, is sitting beside me, a similar expression on her face.
Julianna takes the seat on my other side, and I absently notice that Violet is next to her. Julianna chows right into her lunch, almost making me want to hurl.
"You guys are just spoiled with all that homemade Mexican food," scoffs our other friend, Michael—well, he's less of a friend and more of a teammate. I never liked his attitude, but he follows me around and I let him. He's got his girlfriend, Pammy, in his lap.
I'm about to retaliate when an accusatory voice says, "You're that guy from earlier. The one in the office."
We all turn to stare at Violet, but she doesn't notice. Her pale blue eyes just stare straight ahead, although her brow is bent into a frown. Michael's face contorts into an unbelieving sneer. "What?" he snorts.
"You tripped over my foot, and instead of letting me apologize, you rudely told me to watch it. Well, for your information, jerk, I am blind so it's a little impossible for me watch anything." With that, Violet stands up, tray in hand, and stomps off, only to accidentally crash into another person, spilling her mashed potatoes and lasagna on the cafeteria floor. It takes Julianna a minute to remember her duties then she abandons her own meal and goes to help Violet.
It's only then that I realize I've got an incredulous grin on my face. I look at Michael and Pammy who are both disgusted and I laugh, "That flor just whooped your ass." Then I too abandon my sorry excuse for a meal to help this intriguing new chica.
