Ronnie Anne Santiago slept in on Sunday morning, bobbing up and down in the tide of sleep, semi-conscious one minute and dozing the next. Every time she came to the surface, she snuggled deeper into her nest of blankets and forced herself back down into the peaceful abyss. Finally, the fog in her head cleared and she couldn't sleep any longer. Instead, she lay there with her face in the pillow, the golden sunlight falling through the window warming her skin. She could hear the muffled sounds of her mother rattling around the kitchen and the low din of the TV set. She sniffed the air and caught a whiff of frying bacon, and her stomach rumbled.
Sundays had always been one of Ronnie Anne's favorite days of the week. First, her mom made a big breakfast of Huevos rancheros (or, if she was feeling creative, Belgian crepes). Afterward, Ronnie Anne had the whole day to do whatever she wanted. Lay around the house and play games on her phone? Go to the park and bully smaller children? Duck into the library and browse some books? Anything her little heart desired, the sky was the limit. Usually, she went wherever the spirit took her. That was typically to the park, where she spent many joyous hours picking on other kids. She didn't hurt anyone or anything, she just liked talking smack and poking fun. It was just her way, she did the same thing to Bobby and she liked Bobby. Don't tell him that, though. People might get the idea she was a mushy girl or something, and where she came from, you're either tough or you're lunch. Choose wisely.
That didn't mean she was out of touch with her emotions, she just kept them to herself. No one likes a little crybaby who always mopes around and wears their feelings on their sleeve. Society says be open with your emotions, but honestly, no one cares how you feel. We all have our own lives and problems, you just gotta deal with it, that's all. You can be a sensitive little flower all you want, but don't be surprised when people don't want to be around you. Ronnie Anne's family wasn't insanely anti-emotional, but they sure didn't put up with weepy touchy-feely stuff 24/7. Her relatives were all strong working class who didn't have time for that. White middle class kids who have everything handed to them might, but not her people.
Speaking of white middle class flowers, she wondered what Lincoln Loud was up to.
You know, he was everything she hated in a person - weak, simpering, spoiled, gutless - but for some reason she couldn't quite put into words, she liked him. For one, he was cute. For two...well, that's where it got complicated. She was drawn to him and that was all she could say. Those traits that she disliked in everyone else weren't so bad in him. They were...endearing? Was that the right word? Like...weakness is a huge turn-off for most people, but when they find a tiny little kitten, their heart melts down their chest anyway. That's kind of how she felt about Lincoln. It's okay to be mushy and gushy over some things, like that itty bitty kitty. Even her Uncle Ernesto, the biggest, toughest guy in the world got giddy over babies and puppies. Here was a guy who was reputed to be part of the Guerreros Unidos cartel and he acted like a woman whenever someone whipped out a newborn. It stood to reason that she, being a girl, could be mushy over a boy, right?
Only she wasn't used to mushy. If she liked someone, she picked on them. True, she did that to people she didn't like, but that's beside the point. Her way of showing her affection was to order you around, call you names, and laugh when you fell down.
Especially the ordering you around part. She was eleven and three quarters so she wasn't exactly knowledgeable about sex and sexuality, but she'd been kind of, you know, "hot" before, and bossing Lincoln around like a slave gave her that same flutery, tingling sensation. She didn't know why, but eh, she went with it.
In the beginning, she tried to tell herself that she wasn't crushing on Lincoln. She told herself that he was a little bitch and she didn't like him. Maybe that was true the day he dared bump into her, but after a while, it wasn't anymore. Lincoln did something to her that she didn't understand. She had never really liked a boy before and wasn't sure she did now, but the way he sent her heart pounding and her mind going haywire, she guessed she did. She wasn't content to just call him names and shove him around, she found herself going the extra mile, her affection coming in a nuclear rain of kicks, punches, slaps, and Indian burns. His cries of pain were music to her ears and the little glint of satisfaction in his eye, like he was enjoying it just as much as she was, urged her on, the Mentos candy to her Coca-Cola.
Every morning and afternoon, they walked to and from school together, but sometimes she stood him up and followed him from a distance. The other day, he stopped to help a little kindergarten girl tie her shoe, and when he was gone, she shoulder checked the girl. "Stay away from my boyfriend."
The little girl glared at her. "Your boyfriend is dumb and so are you."
Ronnie Anne leaned in and coughed in the girl's face. "Your mom sells herself at the gas station."
The little girl kicked her in the shin and ran away. Even hobbled, Ronnie Anne was still faster. She caught the girl, shoved her own finger into her mouth, and then jammed it into the little girl's ear. She then stripped off her pink light-up Sketchers and grinned. "I'm gonna sell these and make money."
"You're mean!" the little girl yelled.
Just for that, Ronnie Anne took her socks too, ditching them and the shoes into a storm drain on the way home. "Here you go, Pennywise."
Sitting up, Ronnie Anne stretched, yawned, and got to her feet. She grabbed her phone and unlocked it, going to the camera roll. The most recent pic was from her and Lincoln's date at the park. Lincoln lay in a mud patch with his hands up to defend his face. He looked scared but only because Ronnie Anne threatened to kick him in the balls. She wouldn't really go that far, she just thought he was cute when he was scared. She brought the phone to her lips and kissed his face. "Morning, Lincoln."
She hugged the phone to her chest, then dropped it onto the bed and got up. She slept in a white tank top and purple panties but if she left the room like that, her mom would whip her butt with a wooden spoon, so she pulled on a pair of lounge pants and hit the bathroom. Bobby's door was open and he lay on his bed listening to music and paging through a magazine. "Maricón," she said as she passed.
"Pinche puta," Bobby replied.
That was their daily greeting. Except when a grown up was around. But only if that grown up spoke Spanish.
In the bathroom, she peed and then studied herself in the full length mirror on the back of the door to make sure she looked half-presentable. She couldn't help but notice that she looked different, a little more shapely around the hips and butt and a touch fuller in the chest. Either she was turning into a woman or she ate too much junk food.
Eh, either way, who cares?
Her stomach rumbled again.
Mom worked long shifts at the hospital as a psych nurse to make ends meet but didn't bring home enough money to quite get it there. After bills, there wasn't much left over for food or clothes or anything else. They qualified for food stamps but Mom was too proud to accept help, so they ate ramen and crackers most nights. Every so often Mom would pick up an extra shift and they would eat like kings, usually on Sundays and Tuesdays.
And on Sundays and Tuesdays, Ronnie Anne freaking gorged herself.
Done in the bathroom, she went down the hall into the kitchen from whence the beautiful smells of eggs and sausage emanated. Mom stood at the stove in an old threadbare bathrobe and fried a mixture of eggs, bacon, sausage, onions, and green peppers. Ronnie Anne's mouth began to water and she unconsciously flexed and wiggled her fingers like Swiper the fox moving in for the steal. She reached out, her mind gone, and Mom swatted the back of her hand with the spoon. Ronnie Anne yelped and yanked her hand back. "It's not finished."
"But the feeling in my hand is," Ronnie Anne said and cradled the wounded appendage.
When the tingling stopped, she poured herself a glass of orange juice and helped Mom make toast. Bobby appeared a few minutes later, and shortly thereafter they sat at the kitchen table with heaping plates of food. Ronnie Anne used two forks and shoveled mounds of eggs and onions into her mouth, stopping only to cram a piece of toast in. Bobby ripped his toast into small pieces and sprinkled it over his food, then ate it all with his fork. Mom picked like a bird. "Oh, by the way, I picked up an extra shift today," Bobby said around a mouthful of eggs. "I go in at four."
Mom took a sip of coffee. "That's good. What time will you be home?"
Bobby worked at Pizza Planet, the all you can eat game and pizza place where kids ran wild like animals from open to close. He worked three afternoons a week and every other Saturday making minimum wage, most of which wound up going to taxes. Seriously, screw taxes. A lot of kids roll their eyes when people complain about taxes, but you try being poor and losing over a hundred bucks out of your paycheck each week. Do it a couple times and see if you don't go full Donald Trump.
"Ten," Bobby said.
Pizza Planet closed at nine, but the employees stayed behind to clean. Every time he stayed until close, Bobby had the dubious honor of cleaning every single ball from the ball pit with a washcloth. One by one.
As much as he hated, he did everything he could to get extra shifts. He was like Mom in that way: Whatever it took to bring home a few extra bucks.
Mom finished off her coffee and turned to Ronnie Anne. She donned a sober expression and Ronnie Anne knew in an instant that she'd done something wrong. "As for you, young lady." She reached into one of the robe's oversized pockets and whipped out an envelope. Ronnie Anne stopped mid-chew and wracked her brain, desperately trying to figure out what she'd done. Over the past couple weeks, she'd been too focused on Lincoln to cause mayhem. The last thing she did to someone else was...two Fridays ago? She stole a lawn gnome out of an old lady's front yard, carried it into a stand of bushes, and bashed it's stupid grinning face in with a rock. She hated lawn gnomes and she passed this one two times a day, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up because its eyes always seemed to follow her.
No one saw her do it, though. If they had, they would have snitched her out already. That old lady lived, like, one street over and everyone in the neighborhood knew who Ronnie Anne was and where she lived.
It had to be something else...but what?
Mom opened the envelope and removed a neatly folded piece of paper. "Your report card came in today."
Uh-oh. Ronnie Anne knew this was coming but she was hoping it wouldn't come quite so soon. When tf does a report card come on a Sunday anyway? She thought the mailman had Sundays off.
"I'm really disappointed in you, Ronalda."
Ronnie Anne winced. You know it's serious when your mom uses your government name.
"It took me a lot to get you out of that alternative school," Mom continued. "And you know how important it is for you to do well here."
Yeah, she did. Every kid who went to the Earl Simmons Industrial School was assigned a case manager to oversee their progress and their eventual reintegration into the public school system. Ronnie Anne's was a fat woman named Barbara. She told Ronnie Anne point blank that she would probably be on thin ice with Royal County schools for the rest of her academic career. It was imperative, Barbara said, that she be on her best behavior and get good grades. Ronnie Anne, in turn, had done neither of those things.
"I know, Mom," she said adamantly, "I'm trying, but it's hard."
Ronnie Anne tried to keep up with her classmates, but she had trouble understanding things, especially math and science, All those numbers and letters got jumbled up in her head and she wound up so lost the teacher had to send a search party to find her. This frustrated her so much that it was even harder to think and she eventually gave up. She knew how important it was to Mom that she make good grades and she had been trying extra hard. She had Lincoln doing all of her homework. Did Mom have any idea how much work that poor boy had to do?
Sighing, Mom said, "I know you're trying but you need help. I'm going to find a way to get you a tutor."
Ronnie Anne's heart sank. "But, Mom -"
"No buts," Mom said. "You need to bring these numbers up."
Across the table, Bobby smirked. "You gotta pump those numbers up. Those are rookie numbers."
Ronnie Anne shot him a sour look. "I don't need a tutor. Plus, we can't afford one."
For probably the first time in her life, Ronnie Anne was happy that her family was poor. Look, she wanted to get good grades and make her mother happy, but she was not into spending her free time doing math problems. Once she walked out of school for the day, she didn't think of it until the next day and that was the way she liked it. If Mom hired a tutor, her afternoons (and possibly her weekends too) would be shot, and that was simply unacceptable.
Thank God Mom was broke. She could talk about tutors all she wanted, but she didn't have -
"Your principal put me in touch with a student tutor program," Mom said. Perhaps sensing what Ronnie Anne had been thinking, she leaned in and smiled evilly. "It's completely free."
Nooooooooooooooo!
To say that that put a damper on Ronnie Anne's day would be an understatement. The knowledge that she would soon have to sacrifice God knows how many valuable non-school hours doing school related stuff haunted her as she left the house and walked to the park; it haunted her as she sat slack on the swing set; it haunted her as she stood by the duck pond with her hands in her pockets; it just plain haunted her period. She tried picking on other kids to make herself feel better but not even that old curative worked. Nothing would change the fact that she was getting a tutor and nothing would distract her from the coming shift in her life.
She heaved a sad sigh and watched a line of ducks glide across the surface of the pond, as free as the wind. She kind of wished she was one of them. Ducks don't have to worry about grades and school and junk, they could do whatever they want, whenever they want, free from the shackles of society and stuff. Jealousy overcame her and she looked around for a stone, intent on hitting one of the little shits and teaching it a lesson, but there weren't any by the water's edge. Oooh, you're lucky, but one day I'll be back.
Turning, Ronnie Anne walked up the embankment rising back from the pond and set an aimless course, walking wherever her feet took her. She was almost to the front gate when something drilled her in the back, right between the shoulder blades. She stumbled forward, almost fell to her knees, and hissed through clenched teeth. She whipped around, ready to fight, just as Lynn Loud bounced over. She relaxed a little. Of all Lincoln's sisters, Lynn was the coolest. The others were dumb. Except for Lana. Lana was alright. "What up, Santiago?" Lynn asked.
"Did you really have to hit me with the ball?" Ronnie Anne asked.
Lynn considered for a moment. "No, I didn't have to. I just wanted to. What'cha doing?"
"Nothing," Ronnie Anne said, "I was probably going to go to Flip's or something."
Lynn bent and picked up her ball. "Cool, I'll come with."
Instead of Flip's, they wound up going to Gus's. They sat in a booth by the bathrooms, Lynn with a Coke and a slice of pizza and Ronnie Anne with just a Coke because that's all she could afford. Lynn tore chunks out of the pizza, threw her head back, and swallowed, reminding Ronnie Anne of an alligator or something. Ronnie Anne's stomach gurgled and she took a sip of Coke to quell it. She shifted but the pressure grew in intensity until her guts ached and her butthole clenched. Cocking her butt to one side, she let out a massive fart made all the louder by the hard plastic seat. Damn, she wasn't trying to advertise it like that, but whatever.
"Nice," Lynn said. She lifted off the seat and ripped a fart of her own.
"It wasn't very loud," Ronnie Anne pointed out.
Lynn smirked. "Just wait."
A second later, the choking stench of rancid ass filled the air, and Ronnie Anne's eyes bugged out of their sockets. She gagged and waved her hand in front of her face, and Lynn laughed madly. "It's not very loud," she mocked.
Oh, so that's how she wants to play it, huh?
Ronnie Anne leaned to the side and farted again. In moments, sulfuric egg reek singed Lynn's eyebrows. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her face turned bright red. "Jesus Christ," she coughed. "What did you eat?"
"Mexican food."
Lynn pinched her nose and shuddered. "I gotta freshen the air now." She farted, and Ronnie Anne farted back. They went back and forth until they had nothing left and the entire place stank like raw sewage. Kids stumbled out of the arcade gagging, waitresses quit on the spot, and Gus himself checked the bathrooms, mumbling about another sewage leak. Lynn and Ronnie Anne laughed. "I'm gonna enjoy having you as a sister in law," Lynn said.
Ronnie Anne sobered. "Wait, what?"
"Oh, don't play dumb," Lynn said, "I know you're into Lincoln."
A chunk of icy dread dropped into Ronnie Anne's stomach. Yeah, she was into Lincoln. She knew and accepted that 100 percent...she just didn't want anyone else to know. "Whoa, no, we are just friends. That's all." She swept her arms out for emphasis.
Half lidding her eyes, Lynn leaned over the table like she was going to kiss Ronnie Anne. "Friends don't play footsie."
The color drained from Ronnie Anne's face and Lynn laughed. Ronnie Anne tried to come up with an excuse but came back empty-handed. Her cheeks blushed and she lowered her head to hide her embarrassment. "Oh, buck up," Lynn said, "I'm not gonna mess with you for it."
"Okay...maybe I am into Lincoln," Ronnie Anne admitted.
"Liking a guy is the most normal thing in the world," Lynn said. "Unless you're a guy yourself, then it's not that normal, but not terrible either." Lynn scrunched her lips in contemplation. "Are you guys official?"
Ronnie Anne shrugged. "I dunno. We both know we like each other but we haven't, like, said so."
"You gotta make it official," Lynn said. "Lincoln's not exactly the most decisive person. You gotta take the lead and call the shots."
Call the shots, huh? She liked the sound of that.
"How do I do it?" she asked. "I don't have much experience with this kind of thing."
Lynn sat back and hummed thoughtfully. "You could kiss him. That'll seal the deal."
K-Kiss him?
The thought of locking lips with Lincoln Loud made her heart do this funny little jogging/jolting thing; it felt like it was going to jump right out of her mouth and run away. Oh, don't get her wrong, she wanted to kiss Lincoln and what Lynn said made a great deal of sense, but kissing boys was foregin territory. She was much more comfortable punching his lips than smooching them.
"There's no rush or anything," Lynn said and took a cheesy bite of pizza. "Lincoln's not going anywhere. He's totally into you too. I just thought you should know if you want things to happen, you gotta make them happen yourself."
Yeah, Ronnie Anne kind of figured that. She'd give the matter some thought, but for right now, she was pretty happy with the way things were going.
After lunch, Ronnie Anne and Lynn went back to Lynn's house. Lisa and Lucy were sitting on the couch, Lisa watching some dumb science documentry and Lucy with her pale nose shoved into a book. Lisa looked over when they came in and sneered at Ronnie Ann. Ronnie Anne sneered right back.
"Lincoln should be in his room reading comics or something," Lynn said.
Ew.
Comics.
People who read comics deserve to be bullied.
Ronnie Anne had been to Lincoln's house a dozen times and knew where his room was, so she climbed the stairs. The door was shut but he was her boyfriend so that didn't matter. She twisted the knob and went right in.
Lincoln lay prone on his bed, a comic open before him. His feet were kicked up behind him like a girl and he was humming an airy tune. He looked up, saw her, and jumped like a frightened cat, covering himself with his pillow. It took her a moment to realize he was in only his underwear.
Heat crept across Ronnie Anne's face.
Ignoring that, she went over to the bed and sat with a bounce. "What's up, lame-o? I heard you were reading comic books like a nerd."
His face was beat red and he hugged the pillow to his chest like he was afraid she was going to take it away.
Which is exactly what she was going to do.
Shooting out her hands, she wrenched the pillow from his grasp. He squealed and tried to cover himself, and Ronnie Anne took a moment to leer at his body. "Give it back," he wailed.
She held it away. "Nope," she said, "if you wanna hang out in your underwear, you gotta hang out in your underwear."
He tried again and she pushed him away. Giving up, he slumped his shoulders and crossed his arms over his scrawny chest. She picked up his comic and paged through it. "This stuff will rot your brain." She rolled it up and stuck it in the back of her pants for later, since comic books are secretly entertaining. She smiled at his look up anguish. She laid down and laced her hands over her chest. "You should pay more attention to me anyway."
Lincoln looked uncomfortable and rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh...okay. How was your day?"
"It sucked," she said. She then launched into a rant about how she had to work with a tutor. She told him how much she hated the idea and how mad it made her that she'd have to give up huge chunks of her precious free time to study math. By the end of it, she was furious. She had been planning to kiss him but now she was too mad.
"Can I do anything to help?" Lincoln asked., genuine concern in his voice.
Ronnie Anne stroked her chin, then beamed when something occurred to her. "Yeah," she said, "there is."
Sitting up, she kicked out of her shoes then stripped out of her sweat dampened socks. She scooted around and laid her smelly feet in Lincoln's lap. "A foot rub."
Lincoln crinkled his nose and looked at her. She wiggled her toes.
For a moment, he didn't move, and she though he wasn't going to do it, then, looking away, he tentatively picked one of her feet and began to knead her heel. It tickled at first and she almost yanked away, but the look of disgust on his face as he threaded his fingers between her sweaty toes was too good to pass up. She laid back and enjoyed it the best she could and after a while, it started to feel really good. So good that she lapsed into a doze that she didn't rouse from until her phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket and checked the screen.
Mom.
Lincoln had stopped rubbing her feet and she shot him a withering looking. "Keep going," she ordered.
Sighing, Lincoln did what he was told, like the good little slave he was. She swiped her thumb across the screen and held the phone to her ear. "Hello?"
"Where are you?" Mom asked.
"Hanging out with Lynn," Ronnie Anne lied. It was easier than saying she was hanging out with Lincoln. She knew who Lincoln was and seemed to like him, but she might get weird if she knew they were alone...in his bed...and not entirely dressed.
"Come home. I'm taking Bobby to work and then we're going shopping."
"But -"
"Hurry up."
Click.
Ronnie Anne looked at the phone, rolled her eyes, and let out a deep breath. "I gotta go, lame-o," she said. She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. A look of disappointment flickered across Lincoln's face and her heart twinged...but just a little.
This would be the perfect moment to kiss him. She pictured herself leaning over, putting her lips against his, and licking his tongue like they did on TV, and a nervous pang cut through her stomach. She started to do it anyway, but chickened out at the last minute and put her shoes and socks on instead. She substituted a cheek pinch, almost ripping the side of his face off. "I'll see you tomorrow," she said.
"Alright," Lincoln said dejectedly.
She almost said something else, but decided to let him stew for a while. She ducked into the hall and went down the stairs, meeting Lisa on the way up. Lisa shot her daggers and Ronnie Anne returned them tenfold. "What are you looking at, four eyes?"
"I haven't decided yet," Lisa said through her teeth.
Ronnie Anne almost punched her, but Luna and Lori appeared at the bottom of the stairs. It wouldn't do her any good to get kicked out of Lincoln's house and hated by all his sisters for beating Lisa to a pulp. That would make their relationship a lot more difficult than it needed to be.
She shoulder checked Lisa and left.
The little geek was lucky.
But if she kept it up, her luck would one day run out.
On Monday afternoon, Ronnie Anne left school late because she got detention for kicking a girl in the butt. It wasn't her fault, though, the girl was trash talking Mexican people, and the moment someone says something racist, you're allowed to do whatever you want to them. Even the principal was on her side. "I'm only giving you detention because I have to," he told her as he wrote out a pink slip, "I don't want to, and I assure you that this will not appear on your permanent record."
So basically she got away with kicking a girl so hard in the ass that she pissed herself. LOL. Today at school, Ronnie Anne learned that moral outrage is an acceptable pretense to abuse and assault people you don't like. She could beat someone up and then accuse someone of saying something racist to get out of taking responsibility for it. She could do that because she was Mexican. She could also accuse boys of grabbing her butt or otherwise sexually harassing her and get them into serious trouble. See, society spent years ignoring mistreatment of women and minorities and now it was overcompensating by believing all women and marching for black people killed by the cops even if they were spraying orphans with an Uzi. Nice social justice. It'd be a shame if someone..,abused it.
She wouldn't do that, though. At least not someone who didn't really deserve it. Like...someone would have to go out of their way to piss her off before she'd make a false rape accusation.
Like break up with her.
If Lincoln ever tried to dump her, she'd tell all kinds of lies about him, then stalk him, key his bike, and threaten to kill him and herself.
All of that stuff was sure to win him back...whether he wanted to be won back or not.
After leaving school, Ronnie Anne walked through the amber late afternoon sunshine. Shadows grew long and the moon was a faint suggestion in the west. As she walked, Ronnie Anne's mind turned to the text she'd gotten from her mother earlier in the day.
I talked to your tutor. She's coming this afternoon.
Until that moment, she didn't even know she officially had a tutor. She knew this was going to happen, but not so quickly. That it was happening so quickly made her groan. Goodbye, life. Goodbye, fun. Goodbye, Linc -
That thought cut off.
Okay, she could give up a lot, but not Lincoln. Lincoln was special.
She'd have to find a way around this so that she could still hang with him.
Of course, she wasn't going to meet with her tutor every single day, so she'd have plenty of time during the week to see Lincoln, but what if she had the urge to see him on a day that she had to study? Huh? What then?
She didn't have an answer, but she'd think of something.
Fifteen minutes later, she went up the walkway leading to her front porch. Mom and Bobby were both at work, so the house was empty. Her tutor was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago. With any luck, she got tired of waiting and left.
Ronnie Anne climbed the stairs and whipped out her key. She inserted it into the lock and started to turn it, but froze when something moved in her periphery.
RAPIST!
This is what she got for talking that shit about making false accusations. God heard her loud and clear and decided to give her something to accuse.
Well screw that, she wasn't going down without a fight.
In one fluid motion, she yanked the keys from the lock, gripped them in her fist so that the pointed ends jutted from between her fingers, and wheeled around to face her attacker, fist cocking. The girl jumped back and screamed, hands going up, and in an instant, Ronnie Anne knew she was safe from violation.
Or was she? Girls can be sickos too. "Who are you?" she demanded.
"I'm Sid," the girl said. "I-I'm your tutor."
Ronnie Anne cocked her fast back even more,
"No, please!" Sid cried. "I'm very frail, I can't withstand much damage!"
Ronnie Anne's fist dropped and she furrowed her brow. Withstand? Who uses that word? "That's the dorkiest way to say I'm a pussy I think I've ever heard"
"Well...I am a math and science tutor," Sid said.
Ronnie Anne looked the girl up and down. She was your stereotypical nerd with glasses, braces, and apocalyptic acne. She also had the vaguely almond shaped eyes of an Oriental, which was another huge sign of dorkiness. You might call that racist, but look at the facts, it's true. Asians are naturally smart, the same way Latinas are naturally fiery. Maybe it was all that sushi they ate. Didn't people say that tuna is brain food? Like...it's hard not to be super smart when your Mom feeds you dolphin and rice every night.
What's-her-name wasn't full Asian, though. She was mixed with white.
Really, they couldn't send her a purebred?
What a crock.
"Good point," Ronnie Anne said. She unlocked the door and pushed it open. "Come on, Chong."
Sid hugged a math book to her chest. "Uh...my name is Sid."
"Like that ugly guy from Ice Age. You kind of look like him, to be honest."
To that, Sid had no reply.
"I'd rather be called Chong," Ronnie Anne said.
"Well...you can call me that if I can call you Bean."
Ronnie Anne whipped around and Sid let out a startled cry. "I already beat up one bitch for saying racist stuff today, I will make it two."
"But you just said something to me," Sid said.
Rolling her eyes, Ronnie Anne said, "I'm a minority. It's impossible for me to be racist."
"I'm a minority too," Sid said.
"Yeah, but you're white-aplacement."
"You mean white-adjacent."
Ronnie Anne snorted. "You would know."
Turning away from Sid, she nodded to the kitchen. "Go sit at the table. I gotta pee."
Not giving Sid time to protest, she went to the bathroom, closed the toilet lid, and sat down, propping her face in her hands. She was just prolonging the inevitable, but she really didn't want to do this. She just got done doing school work, she did not feel like doing any more.
The only reason she got up and went into the kitchen was Mom. Mom believed in her and she wanted to let her mother down even less than she wanted to do more school work.
Sid sat at the table with her back straight and her hands neatly folded in front of her, the book off to one side like a dutiful butler waiting to be needed by his master. You could feel the oppressive geekitude as soon as you walked in the room; it was thick and heavy like smoke. Ronnie Anne sniffed the air and detected a faint medicinal odor that burned the insides of her nostrils. She crinkled her nose. "What's that smell?" she asked.
"That's my prescription lotion," SId said. "I have really bad eczema."
Ronnie Anne made a sound of disgust in the back of her throat and sat. "Why do you nerds have so many health problems?"
"I don't know," Sid said, "why do you pretty people always have such low grades? Math really isn't that hard."
Ronnie Anne was almost offended, but realized that Sid basically called her petty. She smiled widely. "You're not very good at insulting people, are you?"
"I mean...I can be," Sid said, "but that's not why I'm here." She grabbed her book and opened it to the chapter Ronnie Anne was currently on. "I'm here," she said, "because your mom wants me to help you get your grades up. She says she's terrified of you going to juvie if you don't turn your life around."
Ronnie Anne's heart sank. "She said that?" she asked quickly.
Discomfort flashed across Sid's face and she pretended to study the book in an attempt to hide it. She bit her lower lip, and Ronnie Anne unconsciously leaned over the table, the edge biting into her stomach. "I probably shouldn't have said that," Sid finally answered, "but yeah, she says she worries about you all the time."
Something like guilt, only much stronger, washed over Ronnie Anne, and she sat dejectedly back in her chair. She knew in a vague, roundabout way that Mom stressed over her, that wasn't news, but hearing it put so plainly made her feel nauseous. Mom sacrificed so much and worked so hard to give her and Bobby a decent life, working long hours, going without, and pulling her hair out with worry over money. And how did Ronnie Anne repay her? By heaping more stress on her shoulders. Mom was strong and stoic and never let on that something was bothering her, but Ronnie Anne could tell. Mom was a ball of constant anxiety and instead of collapsing like a lesser woman, she rose to the occasion and did whatever it took to take care of her family. Not to sound mushy and gushy, but Mom was an inspiration. She faced down every challenge and always came out on top, even if just barely, and when times were tough, she never gave up.
She deserved a throne like the queen she was.
Instead, Ronnie Anne gave her grief. Instead of supporting her and helping her, Ronnie Anne worked against her. Instead of making her life easier the way a good daughter would do, she made it even harder. She didn't mean to, but that was cold consolation.
Now she felt like a piece of shit. Her first instinct was to blame some external force, someone or something else, but she knew in her heart that there was no one to blame but herself. She didn't have to act up, get into fights, and do bad in school. She could be a goody two shoes nerd like Sid; she wasn't stupid and could do it if she put her mind to it. The problem was: She couldn't get her dumb mind to work right. If she wasn't interested in something, she just couldn't grasp it. She tried to, but it was like trying to shove a square peg into a round hole: Impossible and frustrating.
But was it impossible? Did she really give it her all? Or did she get discouraged and back down?
She did.
Unlike Mom, she didn't keep going when the going got rough. She got mad and stomped off.
If Mom was such an inspiration, why didn't she try to be more like her? Why did she give up and slink off?
Why was she like her father?
Revulsion filled Ronnie Anne and deep inside of her, something clicked,
She was going to be like Mom. She was going to persevere.
Sid started to speak, but Ronnie Anne cut her off. "Alright, Chong, let's do this."
"Uh...the name is Sid."
Ignoring her, Ronnie Anne cracked her book open.
"Well...first of all, I need to assess you a little," Sid said. "Uh...tell me what your problem is."
Ronnie Anne favored her with a blank stare. "Math," Ronnie Anne said. "I suck at math. That's why you're here."
"I mean...there are a lot of ways to suck at math," Sid pointed out. "Just tell me what your biggest problem is."
Snapping at Sid and calling her a dumbass was the first thing that came to mind, but Ronnie Anne stopped herself. If she was serious about doing better, she had to calm down and use whatever help was available to her...and though Sid was a giant dweebtard, she was here to help.
"I just can't, like, process it," Ronnie Anne said, "it goes in and kind of floats around."
Sid nodded understandingly. "That means you didn't learn the basics properly. Your foundation is spongy and porous instead of solid. That requires we run through the basics again and see where you're at."
Bending over a spiral notebook, Sid jotted down a bunch of math problems ranging from insultingly simple addition to complex equations featuring numbers, letters, and hieroglyphics. Ronnie Anne's heart began to pound and cold sweat sprang to her brow. She nervously chewed her lower lip and then switched to her fingernails. Her stomach churned like a gray, restless sea, and a lump formed in her throat. Sid finished, spun the paper around to face Ronnie Anne, and pushed it across the table. Ronnie Anne swallowed thickly like a condemned woman glimpsing the noose that would end her life and scanned the problems.
There were fifteen, a veritable buffet of suck. She knew five of them, two right off the bat and three others with a little mental elbow grease. When she got to the first one with runes and spells and shit, she struggled and started to get frustrated: Her face burned, her chest throbbed, and a steely band of anxiety closed around her chest, constricting her airways. She balled her hands into fists and unconsciously ground her teeth together with a grating sound like stone on stone. "Relax," Sid said softly, "there's no pressure."
"That's easy for you to say," Ronnie Anne said tightly. She threw herself back and let out a deep breath. "You're good at this junk."
"I didn't get that way overnight," Sid said.
"Bullshit."
"It's true," Sid stated. "I had to work hard to get to where I am. It didn't just magically happen. I might be more inclined toward math than you are, but still. Like a wise woman once said: Talent is a feeble spark that you must always endeavor to cultivate."
Ronnie Anne knitted her brow. "Who said that?"
"My mom," Sid said.
"She's an even bigger dork than you."
Sid shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe, but she makes over 100,000 dollars a year."
Somewhere, Ronnie Anne had read or heard the term gobsmacked. It meant very shocked. Think of "agony" vs "pain." One is much, much stronger than the other. When she heard that word, she pictured a cartoon character with its mouth hanging open and its eyes ten times their normal size. She had never once been gobsmacked in her entire life and she thought the level of shock that word was meant to convey was exaggerated. When Sid said that her mother made 100k a year, though, she found out that it wasn't. It felt like she was literally reeling from a hard smack to the head. "That much?" she blurted.
The little half-Asian nodded.
God, that was a lot of money. It was, like, five times what her own mother made. She couldn't even fathom having that much money. "What do you guys do with it?" she asked, honestly intrigued.
"We go on vacations and stuff," Sid said. "And put some away. And pay bills with some of it. You know, normal stuff."
Ronnie Anne laughed. "There's nothing normal about that kind of money. You're rich."
"I wouldn't say that," Sid said cautiously.
"I would," Ronnie Anne said. "It takes my Mom five years to make that kind of bank."
Now it was Sid's turn to look flabbergasted. "Your mom only makes 20,000 dollars a year? That's insane. What does she do?"
"She's a nurse," Ronnie Anne said with a hint of pride.
Sid's head visibly spun. "How does she only make 20,000 dollars a year?"
"She might make more, but not by much."
"That's awful," Sid said, then hastened to add, "no offense. I just mean a nurse should make a lot more than that. They provide an essential and invaluable service. Nursing is one profession that is never changing. No matter what - recession, pandemic, bull market, bear market - society needs nurses. What kind of nurse is she? RN? LPN? CNA?"
"CNA," Ronnie Anne said.
"Oh," Sid said, "that explains it."
Ronnie Anne's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean that explains it?"
Sid stiffened in fear at Ronnie Anne's ferocious expression. "I just meant that your mom isn't actually a nurse -"
"How's she not a nurse?" Ronnie Anne demanded, suddenly angry.
"She's a CNA," Sid said, "a Certified Nursing Assistant. She's not an actual nurse. I'm not saying she shouldn't be paid well, but that's why she doesn't make as much money."
"My mom works very hard," Ronnie Anne growled.
"I know," Sid scrambled to say, "it's just that CNAs are really underpaid. If your mom wants to make more money, she has to move up the ladder. It's like how a CFO makes more than a department head. It's messed up that it's like that but that's just how it goes."
Well...she wasn't wrong. Life wasn't fair and that's all there was to it. Sid's mom probably sat in a cushy office and played on the computer all day and made bank while her mom busted her ass for eight to twelve hours at a stretch and made just over minimum wage. How was that fair? How was it fair that the people who do the least amount of work make the most money while the people who do the most work make the least amount of money? That was some bullshit if you asked Ronnie Anne.
"Anyway," Sid said, "we better get back to work.'
Sid helped Ronnie Anne through the rest of the problems. Ronnie Anne was able to do a couple of them with a little prodding, but the rest were totally beyond her. "Math is all about patterns," Sid said. "Once you find the right patterns, you're in business."
One thing became clear to Ronnie Anne during her and Sid's first session: Sid was passionate about math. Her face lit up when she talked about it and shv looked...happy. Ronnie Anne had no idea what about math could possibly make someone happy, but, hey, everyone has their own passions.
After they were done with the questions, Sid launched into a rambling lesson about mathematical Ronnie Anne did her level best to follow. She said she wanted to "build you from the ground up," and the more she talked, the more excited she became. "I've always wanted to teach someone the entirety of the spectrum of mathematics," she said. "See, I have this theory that a lot of people have trouble getting a firm grasp of math - and other subjects too - because our teaching model is so chopped up. Think of how many different teachers we have. Every year we have to acclimate to new personalities, new teaching styles, different sets of expectations, and all that other stuff. Basically, our lesson plans lack consistency, and consistency is absolutely vital, Ronnie Anne. Absolutely vital."
Oh brother. "Thanks for the sermon, Chong, but I really don't care how vital consistency is. I just want to get good grades and make my mom happy. Nothing else really matters to me."
A shadow of hurt flashed across Sid's face, and Ronnie Anne almost felt kind of bad for shooting her down. "Understood," Sid said. "Anyway, I think you would benefit from being retaught math from the very beginning by one teacher. Me."
Animal terror clawed at Ronnie Anne's chest. "Look," she said, "it's bad enough that I have to waste my afternoons on math, but starting over from square one? Nuh-uh, fuck that."
If the word "scandalized" had a face, it would be Sid's the moment she registered Ronnie Anne's profanity. "You probably don't hear that word very often, huh?"
"No," Sid said, "I don't. In fact, I don't think I've ever -"
"Fucking get used to it."
Sid looked around as if in fear that someone had overheard. "I know you're not crazy about the idea," she said, "but you want to get good grades, right? This is how you do it. You have a decent understanding of basic math, but if we sit down together and go over everything step by step, that understanding will get better. You have to learn how to crawl before you can walk, and you have to learn how to walk before you can run."
Hm. She had a point. If you're rebuilding an old house, you have to shore up the foundation, right? Otherwise the structure won't have a solid base. Plus, the idea of putting off the hard stuff and focusing on the easier junk - 2+2=4 - did have its appeal.
No.
That was the old Ronnie Anne talking, the Ronnie Anne who didn't care about disappointing her mother, and who was an all around cruddy daughter. That Ronnie Anne was a jerk and this Ronnie Anne - the new and improved one, better than ever since five minutes ago - spat on her. Phew. Piss off, Old Ronnie. Her commitment to changing was new but ironclad. She meant it this time. She was going to do it and she wasn't going to take the easy way out. Only bitches take the easy way out and Maria Santiago didn't raise no bitches.
Except for Bobby.
She would go along with Sid's little experiment not because it would be easy (at first anyway) but because it was thorough and would likely yield results. It wouldn't happen overnight, it would take a long time and she was libel to get impatient and frustrated when she didn't see a major change right away, but she would stick with it. She couldn't offer Mom much, but she could give her this. She could give her good grades and...gulp...good behavior. Neither one would be easy but if Mom could bleed, sweat, and cry for her, she could bleed, sweat, and cry for Mom.
It was the least she could do.
Letting out a deep breath, she said, "Alright. We'll do this your way."
Sid's face lit up and the sunlight streaming through the kitchen window glinted on her braces, hitting Ronnie Anne's eyes like a death laser from a Star Wars movie. "Great. I'll need a little time to formulate a lesson plan. For right now, I want to go over fractions. The trick to fractions is…"
Ronnie Anne listened intently, narrowing her eyes as a means of training her focus. Sid eventually came around the table, sat next to her, and walked her through a series of fractions. Up close, the smell of Sid's lotion was overpowering and it was all Ronnie Anne could do to keep from gagging. "That stuff is awful," Ronnie Anne said and pinched her nose.
"It feels even worse than it smells," Sid said. "It burns really bad when you put it on."
Ouch.
"Sucks to be you."
Sid shrugged. "All things considered, I'm pretty happy to be me."
That almost made Ronnie Anne laugh. Who would be happy to be a dork with glasses, braces, and little tiny volcanoes all over their face? At least she didn't have as -
As if on cue, Sid whipped out an inhaler and took a hit.
Aaaaaand she does.
Okay, then, should have seen that coming.
An hour and a half after they began, Sid and Ronnie Anne wrapped up and Sid left. Sid was so excited about trying out her new teaching method that she prattled about it a mile a minute on her way out the door. She was still talking when Ronnie Anne shut and locked it. A few minutes later, Bobby got in, covered in pizza dough and looking exhausted. He usually came home around eight and Ronnie Anne was surprised to see him. "What are you doing here?" she asked from the couch.
"They sent me home early," Bobby said.
"Slow day?"
"Slower than you," Bobby confirmed.
Ronnie Anne picked up a pillow and went to throw it at him, but he fled into the kitchen like the pussy he was. "Coward!" she called after him.
A little while later, headlights washed across the wall and Ronnie Anne sat up. The door opened and Mom came in, her white uniform rumpled and her hair sticking out. She looked even more tired than Bobby did. The first words out of her mouth when she saw Ronnie Anne were, "Did your tutor come?"
"Yep," Ronnie Anne said.
"And?"
Ronnie Anne shrugged. "She's cool. We did work and stuff and then she left."
Mom arched her brow suspiciously. Didn't she believe her? "That's it? You didn't beat her up and call her a geek?"
Wow, she knows me too well.
"I called her a nerd a few times," Ronnie Anne confessed, "but I didn't beat her up or anything. It's all good." She summarized Sid's "theory" as best she could, and Mom pursed her lips in thought. "She thinks I should learn everything in one go," Ronnie Anne said. "Not really one go, but, like, one thing after another."
"That makes sense," Mom said. "I gotta get dinner started."
Before she could move a muscle, Ronnie Anne jumped up and all but shoved her onto the couch. "No, don't worry about it, I'll do it. You've been working all day."
Mom tried to protest but Ronnie Anne wouldn't hear of it. In the kitchen, she dragged a chair over to the counter, climbed on, and rooted through the cabinets in search of something she knew she could cook. She considered making chili, but the last time she tried, she didn't stir it enough and it burned. Have you ever had burned chili? It tastes like cinders, sadness, and failure. It also gives you gnarly gas. If she had some of that stuff, she'd blow Lynn Loud out of the water.
I can't wait to have you as a sister in law.
Ronnie Anne blushed at the memory of that remark. It was a little too early to be talking like that, but she did like Lincoln and being married to him didn't sound awful. She could see them together, her working a high power and high paying position and Lincoln staying home. She could even picture their kids. One was a girl who was the perfect mixture of them, with her dark hair and his cute rabbit-like overbite. Her skin was a milky caramel color and she even had a little cowlick that Ronnie Anne wanted to tug. What should her name be? Something Spanish. If Lincoln didn't like it, too bad, their kids automatically got his last name so it was only fair that she get a blank check on their first names.
Coming back to reality, she finished going through the cabinets and finally settled on Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. The noodles were shaped like characters from Gravity Falls. Hi, Dipper, hi, Mable. She boiled a pot of water, dumped the noodles in, and texted Lincoln.
What are u up 2 lameo?
Nothing much, he replied. U?
Making dinner.
She had been so wrapped up in all this math crap lately that she hadn't had much time to dedicate to Lincoln. She saw him everyday at school but inexplicably, it felt like she hadn't seen him in days. Now that her first math session was out of the way, she had a little breathing room, and she went back to what Lynn had said the other day. How did she put it? If you want Lincoln, you have to make the first move. Something like that.
Well...when was she going to make that move? Lynn said there was no rush and Ronnie Anne believed her. Lincoln wasn't stupid, he knew better than to two time her. If he did, she'd tear through his life like a tornado and make him wish he was never born. She didn't think she had to worry about that to begin with because Lincoln was sweet and kind; he wouldn't break her heart. She didn't have to worry about another girl moving in on her territory and she didn't have to wonder if he would reject her; only neckbeards with no self confidence doubt and second guess themselves like that. Lincoln was hers and hers alone, she just needed to make it official. She didn't like putting things off, but the prospect of broaching the topic with Lincoln made her feel kind of sick.
She considered just doing it now and getting it out of the way, but decided against it. Why, she didn't know. Was she getting cold feet? Why? What did she have to worry about? And even if she did have something to worry about, why was she worrying about it?
Those questions and more swirled through her head as she divided her attention between finishing dinner and texting Lincoln. She drained the pasta, added milk and the powdered cheese from the packet, and returned the pot to the stove. She remembered butter, grabbed it from the fridge, and threw a chunk in. Her phone buzzed and she almost dropped it as she fought it out of her pocket/.
Can we still hang out after school? Lincoln asked. Or are you gonna be too busy with your tutor?
Ha, as if.
Sure. Maybe you can come over one day and meet her. She's a ginormous dork just like you. She hesitated, then added: Don't get any bright ideas, tho. Ur mine.
Heart pounding, she waited for his response. When it came, her stomach rocketed into her throat. What would he say? How would he react?
She checked her phone.
He sent a smiley emoji.
I know,
A big, goofy grin spread across Ronnie Anne's face and she held the phone to her chest like she was giving it a hug. Lincoln Loud belonged to her...and though her pride prevented her from admitting this, even to herself, she belonged to him.
I gotta go. Food's almost done.
She shoved the phone back into her pocket, stirred the pot, and fetched a trio of plates from the drying rack. She set the table, then brought the pot in, setting it in the middle of the table. "It's ready!" she called.
Mom got up from the couch and came in, closely followed by Bobby. Mom put her hands on her hips and inspected the table. Ronnie Anne waited in suspense for her final judgement, then beamed when Mom ruffled her hair. "It looks good," she said. "I couldn't have done it better myself."
"I could have," Bobby said.
"Why didn't you then?" Mom asked.
Bobby shrugged. "Eh, didn't feel like it."
"Because you're lazy," Ronnie Anne said and sat down.
Pouring himself a glass of milk, Bobby said, "I work a job, I'm not lazy."
Ronnie Anne rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, you put premade pizzas into an oven. It's not that hard."
"It's a lot harder than it looks."
"No it's not," Ronnie Anne said.
"It's a lot harder than boiling some noodles," Bobby said. He ladled some macaroni ino his bowl.
As they ate, the Santiago family talked and laughed together, sharing a simple meal as enthusiastically as they did one another's company. Mom asked about their day and Bobby went into great detail about the dead rat he found in the pantry at work, being as descriptive as possible to gross his mother and sister out, Mom shocked Ronnie Anne by telling her own story about having to change a grown man's diaper and almost getting covered in poop when he spray-farted, "I'm trying to eat here," Ronnie Anne said.
When it was over, Bobby volunteered to do the dishes while Mom relaxed in front of one of those dumb Mexican soap opreas she liked so much and Ronnie Anne took a bath. In the tub, surrounded by mounds of white suds, Ronnie Anne thought of Lincoln. Suddenly, she wanted to see him very badly. An idea came to her and she bit her lower lip in uncertainty.
Getting out, she toweled off, got dressed, and hung around in her room for a while before sneaking out her window and stealing to Lincoln's house. Soft purple twilight lay over the land and a chilly breeze blew from the west.
1216 Franklin Avenue stood against the coming night like a fortress, every window blazing with light. She crept around the side and craned her neck up to see Lincoln's window. She put her hands in her pockets and stood there for a long time, not seeing him but enjoying his closeness anyway.
Finally, as full night fell, she left.
Goodnight, lame-o.