The Secrets We Keep

by Kimberly Blackadar

“Before you go home today,” Courtney starts with a huge smile, “I’d like to take you somewhere.” Minutes later, Courtney and I enter La Buena Vida Restaurante; she slides through the crowded waiting area and right up to the hostess. “Como estas, Marianna?”

  “Muy bien.”

  “¿Alex aquí?”

  “Si.” She grins.

  “¿Por cuánto tiempo es la espera?”

  “Para usted, chica,” she replies with a wink, “un momento.”

  I catch the gist of the conversation—something about a short wait. Obviously, Courtney has some pull here, but then again, Courtney finds her way to the top of every A-list.

  “What do you usually order?” I ask as we wait for a table.

  She shrugs. “Whatever the waiter recommends.” Then her phone chimes and she answers, “Hi…yeah…we just stopped to eat.” She looks over at me. “I think tonight…uh-huh…okay, I’ll tell her.” She lowers her phone and relays the message to me. “Ian says you’re not allowed to leave town without saying goodbye to him first.”

  I lean over and talk into the phone. “Then you better come to La Buena Vida Restaurante right now.”

  I hear a faint “See you in a few,” and then Courtney pushes out a breath.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, you’ll see.” She pauses, “Yep, you will definitely see.”

  The hostess returns with our table for two, and she adds a chair to make it three. Soon we have water and a basket of chips, and I’m dipping a warm tortilla chip into salsa, when I hear, “Ooh, if I knew it were you two, then I would’ve gone home early.”

  “Mr. Martinez?” I shirk back in my seat. “What are you doing here?”

  “My uncle owns this place, so I work here when I’m not teaching.”

  “Oh,” I say, but it is more like a double oh—one for why he works here, and another one for why Courtney is not happy about Ian joining us.

  Mr. Martinez is a science teacher at our school, but Courtney met him the summer before he interned at Riverside High. Apparently, she lied about her age, and they dated under a false pretense. Now he’s a full-fledged faculty member, but the teacher-dating-student rumor still floats down the halls. Chloe and I know the truth, so we have to lie to protect our friend’s “honor.”

  Mr. Martinez flags down a waiter, says something in Spanish, and then takes a seat in the empty chair. He looks at me. “How are you?”

  “Fine.” My eyes drop to the menu, embarrassed. He exudes Latin machismo, and it’s hard to feel at ease around him. “So what’s good here?”

  “The food is good,” Courtney begins, “but the service is muy excelente.” Courtney winks at him.

  Mr. Martinez leans back and spreads his hands to the side. “See what I gotta’ deal with here?”

  “Yeah, but I think you kinda’ like it.”

  “Well, I would like it a whole lot better if someone were a whole lot older.” He springs up from the chair. “Listen, girls, I’m gonna’ have Manuel fix you up something special. I’ll be right back.” He pushes the chair under the table.

  I lean across the table. “That was so weird.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you were flirting with our teacher.”

  She smiles. “He won’t be in nine months.”

  “Hmm,” I say, “and what do you plan to do until then?”

  “Ian,” she squeals as he nears the table.

  “Sorry it took me so long.” Ian sits down. “I was talking to a friend on the phone.” He looks over at me, but I ignore his subtlety. “You order?” We nod, and Ian turns and flags down the hostess. “Could you get our waiter?”

  Marianna nods, and Ian looks over at me. “Do you want to know who I was talking to?”

  “No, because I don’t care.”

  “Yeah, you do.” He starts smiling, and I shove him.

  Then he asks me about our day with our friends, and I tell him about the bathing suit incident. Ian just shakes his head. “I bet you were pissed.”

  “Yeah, but that’s not the worst of it.” I pause. “My ex showed up.”

  “Ooh,” he starts, “how’d that go?”

  “Like a segment from the Maury Povich Show.”

  He laughs, and then I look up. Mr. Martinez is standing next to Courtney, and he has a hand on her shoulder as they talk.

  “You the waiter?” Ian asks.

  “Si, hombre, what can I get you?”

  “How about you start with…removing your hand from mi novia?”

  “My apologies.” Mr. Martinez presses his lips together and takes a step back. “And what would you like to order?”

  Ian orders a combo platter, and Mr. Martinez retreats back to the kitchen.

  Then Ian fixes his eyes on Courtney.

  “What?” She looks uncomfortable. “He’s our teacher, okay?”

  “Is he a good teacher?”

  She rolls her eyes.

  “What does he teach?” He leans in with a scornful scoff. “Chemistry?”

  “Actually…yes.”

  “So…do you have chemistry with him?”

  She bites down on her lip. “Yeah, next year…I’ll have Advanced Placement Chemistry.”

  Last year, Courtney tried to convince Mrs. Rivers, Caitlyn’s mother and school guidance counselor, to let her add AP Chemistry to her course load. And with Mr. Martinez as the teacher, there were lots of girls who were very interested in that particular class. Mrs. Rivers told her no, but that didn’t stop Courtney Valentine. Nope, she got an override—a glowing teacher recommendation.

  Ian pushes out a breath. “That’s great…just great.”

  “Ian, you’re acting jealous.”

  “Do I have reason to be?”

  “Like I said, he’s just my teacher.”

  “Then he shouldn’t be touching you because he’s your teacher.”

  I look at Ian and pantomime a clap, and Courtney gives me a nasty look. I shrug and dip a chip into salsa. Mr. Martinez returns with our food, then again to check on us and clear our plates, and lastly to drop off the check. He morphed from Mr. Personality to an expressionless robot serving us food. I have to think that Ian got his point across—to our teacher, at least.

  *****