In the hall Dustin grabbed my wrist. “So… what’s up?”
I couldn’t form the words.
“Lili?”
“I—” My voice caught.
“Wait. Come on,” he said, and led me down the hallway, toward the door to the basement. When we turned the corner, I bumped into Genesis. She dropped her book.
“Hey, girl,” I said, bending over to help her pick it up. But—so bizarre—she just scooped it up and kept walking. Like, flat-out ignored me.
Dustin, gnawing his thumbnail, glanced toward the door. Whatever. I’d catch up with Genesis later. Right then, I needed to talk to Dustin.
After climbing over a set of hurdles and some random cones, we found our space from last time in the basement. I leaned against his chest, and suddenly shivered, goose bumps sprouting on my arms.
“Hey,” Dustin said. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I crossed my arms.
He took off his Westburg sweatshirt. “Here.”
I inhaled his sweatshirt’s scent and put it on. It was too big, but it was perfect. “Thanks.”
Then Dustin dipped his head and kissed me. His lips on my lips. Again and again. I felt like we were deep underwater, the rest of the world muted and far away. Then he wrapped his arms around me and lifted me about a foot off the ground, and I let out a little scream. I wasn’t used to people, um, picking me up. I slapped my hand over my mouth. “Sorry,” I whispered. “Do you think someone heard?”
“No. We better be quieter, though.”
He pulled me even closer. Not close enough. I burrowed my face into his neck.
“Lili? What’s going on?”
I wasn’t crying, but I was struggling not to. “It’s a long story.”
“So tell me. You got me out of a wildly fascinating algebra class, after all.”
I laughed—thanks to Dustin for that—then told him everything that had happened, how Erin had come back all hurt like I had assaulted her or something.
“Forget about her,” Dustin said. “She’s so sensitive. She’s probably just mad that someone finally called her out on her shit.”
“Maybe.” I rested my head on his chest.
“Hey,” he said, his voice cracking a little. “How well do you know Gen?”
“Who?”
“Gen.”
Maybe because I still felt like I was underwater, it took me a second to make sense of what he was saying. “Oh… Genesis Peña? She’s my METCO buddy. Do you know her?”
At that moment his phone buzzed from inside his jeans pocket. He ignored it, and we kissed some more. After a minute his phone buzzed again.
I pulled away. “Do you need to check that or something?”
“Nope.”
When his phone buzzed a third time, I knew something was up.
“Fine,” he said with a sigh. Then he read his texts and started to frown.
“Who is it?”
“Steve,” he muttered, still reading. Then his expression changed, and I swear I felt him ever so slightly nudge me away. “Lili? What exactly did you say to Erin?”
* * *
Soooo. Apparently Erin had texted Steve after our little discussion in history class. She’d told Steve that I “attacked” her. Dustin showed me the texts, and I dropped the phone on his foot. He scooped it back up. “No big deal. Steve just wants to know what really happened. I’ll tell him your side of the story.”
“My side of the story?” Now I drew away.
“You know what I mean. Look, let’s just forget about it.” He reached for my waist, but I drew back even further.
“Lil?”
“Look, I gotta go.”
His eyes looked hurt. “Where are you going?”
“I’ll text you.” I gave him a kiss on the cheek, then maneuvered my way through the maze of basketballs and field hockey sticks just as the bell rang. I ran so fast up the stairs that my quads burned. Back in the hallway, people stared. Or was I imagining this? I spotted Rayshawn closing his locker. I decided to stop and say hey instead of just waving. He looked surprised to see me, but in a good way.
“Whatsup?”
“Nothing,” I said, trying to steady my breath.
“Yo,” he said, but his happy look turned to one of concern. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Are you okay?”
“I am now. I heard Chris Sweet transferred to some private school. I guess his parents were flipping out because of his grades.”
“Huh.”
“Right? Doesn’t matter anyway. I’m still playing ball. My moms didn’t want me to miss more school, either. She thinks the tutor wasn’t really doing much. I mean, he wasn’t.”
“So did they find out who did it? Made the meme?”
“Nah. But I’m glad Chris left. Now I don’t get dirty looks for taking his spot on the court.”
“Yeah, whatever.” I tightened my top bun.
“Yo, Lili, you sure you’re good? You seem… off.”
I didn’t want to get into it, what had happened with Erin in Mr. Phelps’s class. Not now, anyway. So I let out a long breath. “I’m good. Listen, I’ll catch ya later.”
“Okay…” I could feel him watching me as I speed-walked down the hall to return Mr. Phelps’s bathroom pass.
On the way, I spotted Genesis standing outside the guidance office. I called out to her. She didn’t hear me, so I walked closer.
“Genesis!” I attracted glares from two girls at their lockers.
I was standing directly in front of her, and still, nothing. “Yo, are you okay?”
Her eyes narrowed into an angry squint, her face set like stone. “I didn’t get into Yale,” she spat out.
“Oh…” That had to suck.
“I mean, I was deferred, but whatever. I didn’t get in.”
I leaned forward to hug her, but she put up her palm.
“Don’t do that,” she said.
“Genesis…”
“Don’t act like we’re all friends, girl. I’m just your METCO buddy.”
“Come on, Gen,” I said. “We’re… friends.”
Genesis didn’t answer, just pointed to the bulletin board. Pink, green, blue, and yellow flyers advertising various SAT prep classes and extracurricular clubs hung at odd angles. “This is all BULLSHIT!” she exploded. “I mean, I joined practically every club in this freakin’ school for the last four years and kept a 3.9 GPA and speak three languages and volunteer at an animal shelter and at a bilingual preschool and act in the school plays, and all for what? I mean, you think I really wanted to play a bratty daughter in The Emperor’s New Clothes? I like being onstage and all. Don’t get it twisted. But it was just one more thing. You know? And all for squat.”
I scrambled for the right thing to say. “Look, maybe the person reading your application was just… just in a bad mood or something. You can still get in! You just said you were deferred, right?”
“Yeah, right.” She clutched her books against her chest. “Funny that you’re giving me advice, Liliana, when clearly you don’t listen to mine.”
I took a step back. “What do you mean?”
Now she smirked. “Don’t act so stupid.”
“I’m not stupid.” But—what was she implying?
“No?” Genesis asked. “Then why are you hanging out with Dustin Walker? Sneaking off to the basement like some skank? I told you to stay away from the white boys. But you didn’t listen.”
“Whoa. Who you calling a skank?” I had never been in a physical fight before, not even with my brothers, and yet I felt myself ready to smack Genesis across her smug straight-A face.
The smug stayed, because she went on. “You. You think you’re the first girl Dustin’s brought down there? Correction—the first METCO girl he’s brought down there? Pa-lease.”
I’d never really thought about that, but—so what? Dustin probably had a few girlfriends before me.
“No…,” I managed to say. “But that’s his business. A
nd why do you care anyway?”
She fake laughed, and that was it. I shoved her so hard that she fell back on her butt, her books landing everywhere. Truth, she looked stunned, her mouth hanging open and all. I left her and her attitude there on the floor, and as I walked away, I gave the girls at their lockers a look like, Don’t even think about saying something. I ran the bathroom pass to Mr. Phelps, grabbed my backpack, then headed for my bus.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about what Genesis had said about Dustin.
I texted him. Nada. So I called him. He didn’t pick up! Something was going on. Then I remembered—he had an away game for his indoor soccer team. One of these buses had to be his team’s. The buses’ brake lights glowed red in the gray. I didn’t have much time. I ran to the end of the bus line. There he was—about to get on!
“Hey, Dustin,” I said, out of breath. The bus engine revved up, so I spoke louder. “Hey!”
“Oh—hey,” he said. He glanced back at the other guys waiting to get on behind him.
“Did you get my text? And I tried to call you like a minute ago.…”
“What? Oh, no, didn’t see it. Whatsup?” And all of a sudden I wasn’t sure if I believed him.
“Nothing really. I just had a question about Genesis.”
“Now? I’m about to go to a game!” But he moved away from the other guys, let them get on the bus.
“Yeah. She was acting kind of strange today, and, well, how do you know her again?”
“Me?” Dustin stepped further away from the door.
Okay, now I knew something was up. And I bet I knew—duh!—what it was! “Did you two… used to go out or something?”
“Me, with Genesis? Oh, like, not really.”
I gaped at him. “What does that mean? ‘Not really’?”
The coach blew his whistle and yelled, “Hurry up, ladies!” to the guys who were still pushing their way onto the bus. No one laughed. Especially not me.
“So did you or didn’t you?” I pressed, almost yelling to be heard over the engine. Dustin shifted from one foot to the other, looking everywhere except at me. His idiot friend Steve came up and slapped him on the back of his head. Oh, great. Steve. Erin’s manager, apparently. “Yo, buddy. We gotta go,” he said.
I gave him the side-eye. He glared at me and then said to Dustin, “Stop talking to Dora the Explorer and get on the fuckin’ bus, dude.”
I did a double take. “Excuse me?”
“Forget it,” Dustin said quickly, shoving Steve toward the bus. “Dude, just go.”
Steve laughed and jumped onto the bus. I stared after him. Wow. Okay, dude needs to like, go to the marsh or whatever, and stay there. Did he really just call me— “Did you hear what he just said?” I fumed to Dustin.
Dustin grabbed my hand. “He’s an asshole. Listen, can we talk later?” He glanced at the bus. “It’s just—the bus is—”
“No,” I cut him off, pulling my hand away.
“What?”
Now I was the one glaring. “You’re just going to let Steve say that to me?”
“He didn’t really mean… I mean, c’mon… It’s not that big a deal, Lili.” He reached for my hand again—I swung it out of his reach.
“Not that big a deal? Are you serious?”
Steve pulled down a window and yelled, “¡Vámonos, muchacho!”
A roar of laughter followed. I wanted to vaporize. “Great taste in friends, Dustin,” I said, and turned away, toward my own bus, toward a different part of the world.
* * *
On the ride home, my hands were trembling as I sent Genesis a text.
Me: Genesis? U there?
Genesis:
Me: I'm sorry
Genesis:
Me: what happened w/Dustin 4 real?
Genesis:
Me:
Then finally, Genesis: u don't even know
Me: ?
Genesis: call u in 5
To be honest, I didn’t really want to hear about Dustin and her, you know, together, so I was dreading her call. Plus, I had basically knocked her onto her butt. So when my phone rang, I hovered my finger over the red button, but in the end I hit the green one. We both said “Sorry” simultaneously.
Then Genesis told me everything. Including how Dustin and she used to date and how he tried to deny it when his “real” girlfriend—some girl who was at some boarding school—accused him of cheating. Apparently it had been a thing and everyone had taken sides—METCO kids included—until it had become yesterday’s news. Of course I instantly wondered if he still had this boarding-school girlfriend.
“Dustin and I haven’t said a word since,” Genesis explained. “So, let’s just say I’m good with white boys. Like, no más. Feel me?”
Truth, I felt like I’d been sucker punched. Yet I was weirdly relieved, too. It all made sense. Ever since that day when Genesis had first seen me going to the basement with Dustin, she’d been acting all nutso.
“I guess I thought you already knew,” Genesis was saying now. “Everyone else does.” I couldn’t believe how matter-of-fact she sounded.
“But what about Yale?” I asked her.
“What about Yale?”
“Don’t you think there’ll be a whole lotta white boys at Yale?”
“Ha. Well, I got deferred, remember?”
“Like I said earlier, you’ll get in. You’ll see. So be positive!”
“Or what?”
“Or… I’ll send Steve after you.”
“Ew!”
And we started laughing.
For the rest of the bus ride I tried to make sense of it all. Dustin and Genesis… huh. Then Dustin and me. So did he have a thing for exotic METCO girls or something? What the freak? Did he like me for me, or just because I fit his type? Or—did he think he would get further with Latinas or something? Genesis wasn’t good enough to be his real girlfriend, so he’d had her as his little B-side hookup? Was that was I was? My stomach hurt. The worst part was that he hadn’t stuck up for me. Cuz truth, I really liked him. But truth, I wasn’t worth sticking up for. I hugged my knees, trying not to cry. I felt like total crap. And I knew what I needed to do next.
* * *
After dinner, I called him. Dustin. And he picked up. I had taken my phone outside and sat on the stoop despite it being like a hundred degrees below zero out. Or felt like it. “So, here’s the thing, Dustin,” I said, setting my shoulders even though obviously he couldn’t even see me. “I just don’t get how you could, like, stand back while Steve acted mad racist.”
“Lil—”
“No. For real, how could you just… do nothing? I mean, it wasn’t some random person.… It was me.” My throat caught. Don’t you dare cry. Don’t you dare cry.
“It really wasn’t like that. I… I don’t know how to explain it.”
“So why don’t you try? And while you’re at it, why didn’t you tell me about you and Genesis?”
He stayed quiet.
“Is it true? Did you have a girlfriend at boarding school while you were with Genesis?”
This time I could hear his breath, then a long sigh.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” When he said nothing, I said, “Back to Steve, though.… You don’t care, huh?”
“I—”
“You don’t care enough to say anything.”
He stayed quiet.
I squeezed my eyes shut. There was no going back. I didn’t want to go back. “Okay, so I guess this is it.”
“So… see you around, then,” Dustin said crazy-fast, and hung up.
Wow. Just like that. We were done. I leaned into the side railing and let myself cry. When I noticed a lady walking her white poodle, heading my way, I wiped my eyes and slipped back inside.
* * *
I was so angry. And I was so stinkin’ sad. I couldn’t stop thinking about Dustin all night. I pictured us snuggled up on the top bleacher at lunch, then walking to his house from school that day (when I wore my hood
ie like I was in a witness-protection program—ha), and all the times he’d met me at my locker, how my whole body smiled when I first spotted him. And his smell. That shampoo-ChapStick combo. I curled into bed. This. Sucked.
Turns out, I didn’t know how bad suck could suck. Because after a lot of poor pitiful me crying, I started scrolling through Twitter, trying to distract myself, and I saw that Steve had posted some ignorant tweet about how SOME people don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about and they should SHUT UP and GO BACK WHERE THEY CAME FROM. I seriously almost rolled off my mattress. It was shared ninety-seven times! And it was as if Steve’s comment lit a match. Another kid started posting links to articles and posters supporting white nationalist propaganda. I couldn’t believe what I was reading, and I couldn’t stop reading, and my stomach wouldn’t stop clenching.
For the rest of the night all I did was text. From the safety of my bed, I texted Holly, Jade, Brianna, Rayshawn, Genesis. Other METCO kids. My thumbs were aching; I kept going. Who I did NOT text: Dustin.
30
Then, sometime late late that night, some anonymous person posted a meme. Of me. On Instagram.
Of me.
Holly alerted me to it first, texting just before dawn, before I was even out of bed yet: Lili. OMG. Sorry to share but WTF?? and a link. After a moment’s hesitation—did I really want to see this?—I tapped the link. And there it was. My face, my face, was photoshopped onto a piñata, and at the top of the screen was the word “wetback.” It took all my self-control not to throw the phone across my room.
Seven thousand thoughts collided in my brain. Who did this? Is this for real? Did people really think I was a wetback? A wetback? That I’d, like… swum across the Rio Grande to get to the United States, cuz hello, that’s what “wetback” means. Seriously? Aside from the term being derogatory, so what if I had? And—and—so what if my dad had? I thought furiously. Who the fuck would have done this? And really—a piñata? No one knew about my dad except Jade, Ernesto—and Dustin! Dustin! That asshole! But would he really go this far? Because I’d broken up with him? Seriously?
Don't Ask Me Where I'm From Page 19