Everything Within and In Between

by Nikki Barthelmess

  Brittany sees me watching Carlos. She rolls her eyes—which he doesn’t see since his head is down. She’s not even giving Carlos a chance. But why? And what the hell kind of reaction was her shock about Edgar taking Multimedia last year?

  Brittany turns to Edgar. “So, you like photography?”

  I release a breath, relieved that the conversation keeps moving along, but I don’t hear the rest of what they say. Instead my thoughts race as they land on the same question I had yesterday. Only then it was about Viola. Has Brittany always acted like this? My stomach clenches, because if she has, she’s said those kinds of things to my face, and I never thought a thing of it.

  Never cared about who she was insulting.

  Never realized it was also me.

  Chapter

  Four

  After school at my locker, I see Edgar before he sees me, so I stay put, waiting for him. He grins in greeting, readjusting his camera strap as he puts some stuff away.

  “You’ve always got that thing on you. How come?”

  Edgar lifts the camera so it’s in front of his face. The camera shutter clicks. He laughs at my mock horror and looks at the picture. “This—I’ll call it Girl Who Doesn’t Want Picture Taken.”

  I roll my eyes. “Cute. Now delete it.”

  Edgar hits delete and then shows me the camera screen to prove it. “Done.”

  I smile at him, but his eyes shoot behind me.

  “Incoming,” Edgar says, nodding at Brittany. My stomach drops as I remember how rude Brittany was at lunch.

  Edgar shuts his locker and looks at me. “See you later,” he says. As he walks by Brittany, he says hi to her, and he’s friendly enough, but it looks forced.

  “Hey, Ri!” Brittany says, oblivious.

  I cut right to the chase. “You didn’t have to be such a jerk to Edgar and Carlos at lunch, you know.”

  Brittany’s eyebrows furrow and she lifts her chin, taken aback. “I wasn’t.”

  My jaw tenses.

  Brittany’s laugh comes out breathy. “Look, I didn’t want to say anything before, but those guys just aren’t our scene. Well, Edgar was okayish, but Carlos—”

  “Our scene?”

  Brittany shifts her weight and adjusts her bag strap. “Yeah, no offense, but we have like nothing in common with them.”

  I blink, several times, not sure how to respond.

  Brittany laughs again, this time high-pitched. “What’s up with you, Ri? You seem pissed. It’s not like we have to be friends with everyone—”

  My words come out hard and clipped. “You might not have anything in common with Carlos and Edgar, but I do. And it’s not just . . . just . . .” I don’t want to say our ethnicity. “Because we’re in Spanish together. I like them, Brittany.”

  Brittany throws her hands up. “Whoa. I’m sorry.” She stumbles over her words a bit. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  I take a deep breath, and then another, before trying to talk again. “Okay, sorry. I’m just . . .” I don’t really want to apologize because I don’t know what I would be sorry for, so I let the words trail off.

  Behind Brittany, Finn Wesley’s tall and tanned frame becomes visible. She’s been crushing on him for a while and has even talked me into going to the beach he surfs at to “hang out,” but really, she’s just been looking for a chance to run into him.

  Brittany’s eyes follow Finn as his wavy, light brown hair flops while he walks by us. He stops a few paces later and turns to head back. “Brittany, Ri, you coming to the beach later?”

  Just then, Carlos approaches us, either not noticing or not caring that Finn asked a question. The two boys nod at each other. “Glad you’re still here,” Carlos says to me. “I thought I might have lost the chance to walk you home. Nina mentioned you live nearby.”

  Brittany’s mouth opens like she’s just about to say something, but she catches my glare and beams at him instead.

  “I was actually going to head to the beach, work on my tan,” Brittany says to Finn before looking at me. “Are you coming? Or do you want to . . .” Brittany eyes move between Carlos and me as she trails off, waiting for my answer.

  Carlos slips an arm around my waist. My breath catches. I hardly know Carlos, but I can practically feel my skin tingle underneath my clothes where he’s holding me.

  I swallow. “Go without me. I’m walking home with Carlos. But we’ll hang out later.”

  Brittany looks like she wants to say something until Finn answers. “Sweet. Some other time, then. Brittany, you still coming?”

  “Yup, just give me a second.”

  Finn nods at us before taking off.

  “Maybe we can go for a run later?” Brittany asks me. “I don’t mind driving back to meet you.”

  “Yeah, text me when you’re on your way over.”

  A relieved smile takes over Brittany’s face. “Okay, well, have fun! And I really am sorry.”

  I want to believe her, but part of me wonders if she even knows what she’s sorry for. I guess now isn’t the best moment to figure it out, though. “Don’t worry, Brittany. I’ll see you later.”

  “Yeah, see you later, Britt,” Carlos says.

  Brittany’s face flushes. She hated that he called her Britt, I’m sure.

  Rather than giving Brittany the chance to ruin her apology, I quickly start walking away.

  “What’s she sorry for anyway?” Carlos asks. His hand trails down my back to my arm, and I pause, considering the tingly feeling I’m getting where Carlos’s hand meets my skin. Thinking about Brittany can wait.

  “Oh, nothing, just a girl thing.” Time to change the subject. “I normally ride home with Brittany, even though I live so close.”

  I don’t address the fact that Nina and Carlos were talking about me, though I find that very interesting. I smile up at Carlos. “I guess I could use the exercise, though.”

  “Nah, you look perfect. But it’s nice out for a walk.”

  Carlos leads us down the hallway. I feel eyes on us as we walk outside together. We pass a few of Carlos’s football friends and he nods at them.

  “Wait. Don’t you have practice?”

  Carlos’s fingers slide a little lower on my waist. “Nope. I didn’t try out this year.”

  “Why not?”

  Carlos lets me go. He puts his hands in his leather jacket. “Not into it anymore. It was more for my dad, anyway.” Carlos shrugs. “He always wanted to be a ball player in college, but had to work, since his parents couldn’t put him through school and he didn’t get a full scholarship. And then my dad and my mom had me before they graduated Cal Poly, so they had to work even more. Now that he’s all college educated and a fancy tax lawyer, he wants me to do everything he couldn’t. You know how parents are, wish fulfillment with their kids and all that.”

  I think of Grandma and her insistence that I get an education, get an education, get an education, and nod.

  “Still, do you miss it? I quit cross-country this year, too, but I can run anytime.”

  Carlos shrugs again. “I just don’t see the point. It’s not like I was going pro or anything. Why waste the time? I got other things I could be doing.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like a bunch of stuff.” Carlos slows his stride as we walk on the school’s front lawn. “My parents have been on my ass about getting my grades up—my dad thinks I have to become a lawyer like him to be successful.”

  “There are a lot of ways to be successful,” I mutter.

  Carlos nods.

  I don’t want him to think my dark tone had anything to do with him. “My grandma—”

  “My dad’s always—”

  We both stop when we realize we’re talking over each other.

  Carlos chuckles. “Go ahead.”

  “You go.” I’d much rather hear from him.

  Carlos sighs and I lean a little into him. This is nice. Just talking, walking together.

  “My dad’s always on me to be grateful
for everything,” Carlos says. “Because even after he graduated, my parents were still broke for a while. They were sending all the money they could back to my mom’s family in Oaxaca. She moved here with my abuela when she was a kid,” Carlos adds as an aside.

  I look at Carlos, his nice shoes and clothes.

  Carlos catches my stare. “Oh, my parents make me buy my own shit. Or they do when they think it costs too much. I have to do yard work and stuff around the neighborhood for money.”

  I chew on my bottom lip, thinking that one over.

  I guess it’s not just Grandma who tries to force her will on others. Carlos is dealing with it too. I steal a glance at him. Carlos, a lawyer. I have a hard time seeing it. Not that he’s not smart—I mean, I guess I don’t know if he is or not—but I can’t see him all buttoned up like that.

  I want to be a writer, but if I tell him that Grandma doesn’t want me to be one, he might ask why. And it’s so tied into her backward views—I just can’t go there.

  As we walk, I notice Edgar, Miguel, Nina, and a few of their friends are standing on the outermost part of the parking lot. Miguel is talking to Edgar about something.

  We start to walk by, but Cassie catches my eye.

  “Hey, Ri. How’s it going?”

  My throat dries. I shouldn’t be surprised Cassie knows my name. Nina must have told her about me too. I don’t know if that makes me feel good or bad. Maybe a little bit of both.

  I blink several times. “Hi, Cassie.”

  Before I get the chance to say anything else, Miguel cuts in. “Carlos, you coming with us tonight to play ball? We need another guy for the game.”

  Cassie rolls her eyes. “Another person,” she says. “Maybe if Carlos doesn’t show up”—she says Carlos full of annoyance—“you’ll actually let me and Nina off the bench at the same time.”

  Nina laughs. “Since we’re better than you and Edgar anyway!”

  “You guys play basketball after school?” I look at Nina and Cassie. “Is it for a club team?” I know none of them play for the school.

  “Nah,” Nina says. “Just some neighborhood people.”

  There’s a long pause as we stare at each other, but I finally look away. I shouldn’t expect her to invite me.

  “You want to come?” She surprises me, and I can feel my whole face light up as I look back at her. “It would be cool to have you around more.”

  My stomach dips a little. Part of me, completely unbidden, wants to rush over and hug her, and the other wants to cry. She’s the reason I’m not around.

  Carlos shrugs off the invitation, like it’s no big deal. “We can’t today—Ri and I are busy.”

  Miguel laughs. “N’hombre. You don’t have any plans.”

  “What? We’re talking—that’s our plan.” Carlos says.

  Cassie raises a black, beautifully sculpted eyebrow. “And you can’t talk while you play basketball with us?”

  I hold my breath and look to Carlos, who doesn’t acknowledge the second invitation for me to stay but instead chuckles. “See you fools later.” He starts to leave, but I turn back to Nina.

  “Thanks . . . for the invite,” I tell her. “Another time?”

  Nina nods, but the smile feels a little off. I wave to her and the rest of them before rushing to catch up.

  Once we’re out of earshot, I steal a glance at Carlos.

  I think about Cassie, how she seemed annoyed with Carlos. “Cassie will be happy, I guess. That she and Nina can play together.”

  Carlos says nothing.

  “She doesn’t seem to like you very much. Or the two of us together.”

  “Cassie’s just jealous.”

  The wind picks up and whips a piece of my hair into my face as we hit a red light. We stop on the sidewalk. “Why would she be jealous?”

  Carlos gently reaches down and tucks my hair behind my ear. “She and I were talking a while back, but it didn’t work out. And now she sees me with you, and you’re beautiful.” He pulls his full lips into a sexy smile. “Don’t girls normally get jealous over that kind of thing?”

  Cassie was nice enough; I mean, she didn’t need to say hi to me. Even still, my heart seems to all but jump out of my body. Carlos called me beautiful.

  Carlos grins. “Cassie is just used to how things are, hanging out with the same people, everyone knowing everything about each other.”

  The light turns green and we start walking again. A line stretches around the block outside La Super-Rica Taqueria, the nearby Mexican restaurant that’s always busy, no matter the time.

  Carlos glances toward the line of people again. He’s smiling, watching a kid bounce a basketball in the street in front of his parents while they wait. The crowd, the noise, everything that sometimes annoys me on my walk home doesn’t seem to bother him.

  I rack my mind for something to say, wanting to keep his attention on me.

  A man and woman pass us walking on the other side of the street, speaking Spanish together. Carlos grins as they walk by, the woman smacking the man playfully on the shoulder as he rapid fires something back at her. My face flushes but I quickly fake a smile, like I’m following along. If Carlos were to ask me what they were talking about, I wouldn’t know.

  Carlos kicks a pebble away from him with his Air Jordans. His parents can afford a nicer house on a nicer street than this, I bet, but Carlos seems completely at ease here. Maybe because this neighborhood is where his friends live, or maybe he lived around here when his dad was just starting out his career. Or it could be because Carlos can understand the Spanish spoken by passersby, neighbor to neighbor. Maybe it’s because he looks like them, he’s one of them. Or us. He’s one of us.

  Carlos turns, and I hold my breath now that his eyes are on me. “What about you? What do you like to do, when little Miss Brittany isn’t breathing down your neck?”

  My eyebrows furrow. “Brittany comes off a little strong, but . . .” I hesitate, look down at my sneakers, slow my pace. “She’s my best friend, the only person who really gets me.” The second I say the last part, I realize, for the first time, that I don’t know if that is really true anymore.

  I stop at the edge of the sidewalk. “This is my street. My house is just down the block.”

  “You may do everything together”—Carlos pauses and whistles softly—“but I doubt that girl gets you.”

  Warmth rushes to my face. Even though I was just worrying over the same thing, I can do that. She’s my best friend. “How would you know? It’s not like we’ve talked much or ever even hung out before this week.”

  Carlos lifts his eyebrows. “I don’t. But that doesn’t mean she does either.”

  I think about how Brittany didn’t want to give him or Edgar a chance. I think about how she talks about money like it’s nothing, when it’s everything in my family. The reason Grandma works so hard. The reason she’s never around to see me.

  But Carlos doesn’t know that either.

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Brittany’s been my best friend for years. She doesn’t put me in a box, or look at me like I’m different, like a lot of the other rich kids at our school do.”

  The words feel wrong coming out of my mouth, even as I say them.

  Carlos’s eyes brighten. “So, you do acknowledge you’re not like them, huh? You had me starting to wonder.”

  “Look,” I say, shaking my head, “I don’t have to hang out with people based on where I live or what my last name is. I don’t know what Nina’s told you, but she’s the one—” I stop, cutting myself off. Not going there.

  Silence lingers between us like a puff of smoke.

  Carlos finally nods, and his lips twitch as though he’s trying to suppress a smile. “You’re right, you don’t. I don’t either. But you seem to only hang out with certain types of people. You don’t find that a little odd? I mean, come on.”

  “Whatever, this is bullshit.” I turn back to the sidewalk. “I gotta go.”

  Carlos touches my shoulder,
stepping closer to me. “Hey, don’t be mad. I’m sorry, okay?” He drops his hand as I pull my shoulder away. “I just think Brittany might want you to stay in her bubble.”

  “That’s not . . . I don’t . . .”

  Carlos shrugs. “All I’m saying is you don’t seem to go out of your way to hang out with anyone other than Brittany. And, you know, if that’s all people have to judge you by . . .”

  I purse my lips. The question that has been following me around all day comes back around. Has Brittany treated other people like she did Carlos and Edgar the whole time we’ve been friends? Because then there are any number of things Brittany could have done that would have pissed Nina and her friends off—rightfully so—and I would have been wrong, too, for just standing there and doing nothing. I would’ve been . . . complicit.

  I blink several times as my throat dries.

  “Let’s not get too into it, okay?” Carlos laughs and intervenes when the silence goes on for too long. “But unless I’m completely reading you wrong, and let me know if I’m coming out of left field here, I thought you wanted to be friends. That’s what you’re doing now—branching out?”

  I open my mouth to reply when Carlos gives me a wicked grin. “I can be a really great friend.”

  “I, um . . .” I trail off, embarrassed. “Sorry. It’s not a big . . . Yeah, new friends. Good.” I manage a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Carlos licks his lips, and I find myself staring at them longer than I should. “Count on it.” He grins. “Later, Ri.”

  The second my back is turned toward Carlos, I squeeze my eyes shut tight. And it’s now, in this moment, after making a fool of myself in front of Carlos, talking about how Brittany doesn’t get me, and realizing that I may be remembering my past through rose-colored glasses, I realize it’s time to find my mom. She might be the only one who can actually see the real me and be able to help me figure out who that person is. I have to go see her. I’m ready. Because maybe in knowing her, I’ll finally know myself.

  The house is quiet when I walk inside, which suits me just fine. I might have minded Grandma never being around before I read that letter, but I certainly don’t now. I eat leftovers Grandma set aside for me and wait for Brittany. Tense. Not sure how to feel about her or about me. But I know that if Brittany says something messed up, I have to speak up. I’m not a kid anymore and I’m not unaware. I have to be more direct, more than I was when we talked about how she treated Carlos and Edgar at lunch.