Chapter Sixty-Three

John settled into his desk for Spanish class, looking up at the Mexican woman teaching them. His mind flashed to an image of his aunt Juanita, remembering her popping pills to get a high while she snorted cocaine with a hundred dollar bill up her nose. He could still smell the cooking tamales that were stuffed with way too many jalapenos to be edible. He remembered the taste of tequila that he and Dominic used to steel from his uncle's fridge, his mouth watering for the sweet burn of the drink. He glanced at Dominic, noticing his eyes held slight fear at the resemblance between the teacher and his mother.

Dominic looked at him, giving a short nod to let him know he was okay.

"Hola Class," the teacher began, looking at John and Dominic with a look they were familiar with, "My name, is Miss Hernandez." She wrote her name on the board, turning to look at them again. "I see we have some new students with us this year," she motioned to John and Dominic, smiling as they stood, "will you tell the class your names?"

John winced, leaning on his desk as his chest spasmed, automatically looking at Dominic to let him know it was only a small pain. "I'm John Bender, I'm seventeen, in my senior year, and I just moved here from Chicago Illinois with my cousin and our family." He looked around at the hint of recognition that passed through the class, noticing the fear in Miss Hernandez's eyes as she realized he was the kid who'd been on the news.

Dominic kept a close eye on John as he started his speech. "I'm Dominic Bender, I'm eighteen, in my senior year, and I moved with John from Chicago about a month ago." He watched as John rested a hand on his side, knowing that his scab was either itching or the nerves were healing and giving him little pains shooting through the muscles.

They both sat down, watching as Miss Hernandez started the lesson. She started with simple words, her gaze drifting to John every so often, trying to hide the fear in her eyes that John and Dominic had become so used to. "Can anyone remember how to say 'My Mother cooked me dinner last night?'" She asked, watching in disappointment as the class seemed to have forgotten how to say the simple phrase.

John looked at Dominic, his eyes holding the words 'are you shitting me?' He looked up at Miss Hernandez, his mind already translating the English into Spanish. "Mi madre me cocinó la cena anoche." He stated, speaking in perfect Spanish.

Miss Hernandez looked at him, wondering how he'd learned to speak as well as he did. "Very good, Mister Bender." She nodded, noticing that Dominic obviously had Mexican in him where as John seemed to be more of a more Mediterranean heritage. "Where did you learn that?" She asked, taking in John's thick stubble on his jaw, noticing the streak of grey in his hair.

John leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the desk. "My aunt was Mexican." He stated, not wanting to go into the whole meth conversation again. "She would speak in Spanish when she thought Dom and I were asleep." He remembered sleeping on the couch with Dominic, one of them always staying awake to keep an eye out for trouble. He remembered hearing his aunt cry out in both pleasure and pain in Spanish, he remembered the image of her being beaten by his uncle Reuben usually followed by them having a roll in the hay in the kitchen.

Dominic dropped his gaze, knowing what images were running though his cousin's head. "Aprendimos mucho."

John nodded, tracing a hand over one of the scars hidden under his jeans. "Sí."

Miss Hernandez watched them for a moment, starting to get an idea that they knew Spanish inside and out. "Jake, can you remember how to say 'I met my girlfriend at the park?'" She asked, ignoring the kid behind John as he started to bug him.