by Lexie Ray
Even though it was just a regular Friday night, the place was quickly filling up. Everyone dressed to impress—none of the girls present wore jeans. It was all dresses and skirts, or tiny little hot pants. I could tell from looking that many hours had been put into the appearances of the kids looking to party tonight.
With a tiny gasp, I recognized a guy from my school—Jimmy. He was in a couple of my classes. He’d hit his growth spurt early on, and stood out like a weed. He was with, I presumed, either his family or his crew. They were usually one in the same. I hoped he wouldn’t recognize me. In fact, I knew it was a pretty good chance. I never looked this crazy at school.
“Hey, sorpresita, that beer’s not gonna drink itself,” la prima said.
“But not too fast, huh?” my sister put in. “I’m not gonna be the one holding your hair back in the bathroom.”
I took a swig of the beer, wondering what my sisters even saw in the beverage, but then my world opened right up. I loved the taste of it—crisp, refreshing, and bubbly. When I downed the first one, my sisters and primas cheered and ordered another round.
“I knew you were one of us,” la prima said, beaming.
Belonging was good. It was great, in fact. And after three beers, I was ready to dance.
“Look at our sorpresita,” the other prima laughed, tapping her long acrylic nails on the glass beer bottle. I was wriggling around in the booth, moving to the obnoxious reggaeton song playing.
“Vamos a bailar, entonces,” my sister said. “Let’s go dance, then.”
A girl on either side of me as I tottered out to the closest dance floor in my dangerous stilettos, my ass came alive without me even telling it to do so. It shook to every bass beat of the song, out-shaking even my more experienced family.
“Look at her go!” my other sister shrieked, laughing at my dancing. I didn’t care if I was dancing well or whether they were making fun of me. The beer made me want to move, and I didn’t care who saw it.
Liquid confidence though it was, the beer helped empower me. I’d never felt more free, and I wanted to dance all night.
“Who’s this, mamita?”
Hands lightly caressed my hips, feeling the swaying of my dancing, before gripping them tightly and jerking me backwards into a hard crotch. I yelped at the loss of my rhythm and stumbled in my sky-high heels, trying to pull away from insisting arms.
“Stop,” I protested, elbowing against the hulking guy. “I’m tryin’ to dance.”
“Hey, fuck off, pendejo,” my sister said, swooping in to the rescue and shoving him away. “She says she’s trying to dance, and you’re not helping, clumsy fuck.”
“You gotta problem, puto?” la prima demanded as he started back toward my sister. “We’ll fuck you up, bitch.”
The female contingency amassed around me, pushing the guy away.
“Crazy sluts,” the guy said, his last protest before backing off.
Then, the family went back to dancing, as if nothing had happened.
It struck me to wonder if this was a common occurrence—guys laying their hands on you whether you wanted it or not—but the beer was firmly in control of my brain. I resumed dancing, too.
“Hey.”
I looked over to see my classmate, Jimmy, looking at me. At the beginning of the night, I didn’t want him to recognize me. I’d hoped that he’d get lost in the crowd.
Now, after the beer, I couldn’t have been more excited to see him.
“What’s up, Jimmy!” I exclaimed, throwing my arms around him in a hug.
“You’re in my class, right?” he asked, having to raise his voice to be heard above the rap song playing. I liked the feel of his arms around me as he hugged me back.
“Yeah, yeah!” I said. “I didn’t know you came here, too.”
“This is my first night,” he admitted.
“Mine, too!” I laughed wildly, feeling like I was invincible. “My family got me in.”
“Same here,” he said. “My crew. They wanna see if I can hang.” In class, he was gawky, his body not used to his height yet. I’d had no idea he was in a crew. But here, in the club, he looked perfect—to me, at least.
“You gonna dance with me, or what?” I asked, smiling coquettishly. Jimmy grinned back at me before taking me against his body and moving with the music. He wasn’t half bad, letting me have the reins as I wiggled and swayed.
I was only vaguely aware of the female contingency hooting and hollering at me, then gradually pairing up themselves.
I only had eyes for Jimmy and I only had ears for the music. I didn’t pay attention to my aching feet, the sweat pouring down my neck, or even when a beer got passed my way. When I mashed my lips against his, getting red lipstick all over his mouth, it only felt natural.
And when we walked, hand in hand, to the bathroom, one of the girls pushing a condom down the top of my dress, it seemed like it was simply what came next—the next chapter of the story.
Losing my virginity in a bathroom stall at a club was a physical challenge, rattling the walls of the flimsy cubicle, trying to stay quiet as people came and went. Jimmy was sweet, even if he was as drunk as me, and he was okay with using the condom.
After it was over—a hurried, sweaty, off-balance affair—he said he had to sit down a minute and plopped down on the toilet.
I sat on top of him after pulling my panties back up under my dress. I felt strange and squishy between my legs, like I was going to drip on the floor if not for my underwear.
“That was great,” Jimmy said, hugging me a little bit.
“Can I tell you something?” I asked. “That was my first time.”
“Really?” he asked. “That’s badass. You were so wet.”
“I still am,” I admitted. “It’s kinda weird.”
“Means you were turned on,” Jimmy said, holding me against him a little more fiercely. “Do I turn you on, chingona?”
I smiled at the pet name—“badass.”
“I’m turned on, aren’t I?” I laughed. “Now, let’s get out of here. I don’t want my family coming to look for us. They’re crazy.”
“I noticed,” he said, pushing me up before standing up himself.
The female contingency had nothing but cheers for me when I came back to the dance floor, and I noticed that Jimmy’s crew pounded him on the back. Maybe I’d been some sort of initiation. I didn’t care. I was wet between my legs and I was a woman.
I didn’t care, that is, until the next morning, when I woke up on the couch, my dress up to my waist, my ass hanging out of my panties, and my head aching.
“Oh, God,” I moaned, touching my face and noticing that my hand came back with a rainbow of colors. My makeup. I hadn’t taken it off. In fact, I didn’t remember how I got home.
“You up, sorpresita?”
I couldn’t see which prima or sister was talking to me. My vision was blurred, and it was hard to keep my eyes open.
“I dunno,” I groaned. “What happened?”
“We closed the club down,” she said. “You wouldn’t go, even when they turned the lights on. We had to drag you out, and then you puked. That kid didn’t care. He kept kissing you. We got you home, girl, no worries.”
That kid? Oh—Jimmy. Oh. I covered my face in my hands.
“Oh, Jesus,” I said, my voice muffled. “I had sex in the bathroom with him.”
“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, sorpresita?” she laughed.
How was I going to face him at school on Monday? Would he tell anyone? Would our secret tryst stay a secret?
“All he did was sing your praises,” she continued. I was able to open one eye and see it was my oldest sister. “It was some kind of thing with his crew.”
Damn it. I had just been some conquest to induct him into his crew. I knew it. How could I ever return to school?
“Aw, don’t look so miserable,” my sister said. “You had a good time, didn’t you?”
Did I? All of my memorie
s from last night were encased in a strange fog. It was like they could’ve happened to someone else, or not at all.
“I guess,” I said. “My head hurts.”
My sister laughed again. “It should, sorpresita. That’s how you know you had fun. Here. Have another beer. Take it in the shower with you. Don’t come out until you drink it all. Then take a nap. Works every time.”
My stomach rolled as I heard the snap and hiss of an opened bottle, but I managed to sit up and get off the couch.
I took it to the bathroom and managed a tiny sip before I vomited in the toilet. I felt awful. Did going out to the club always end so terribly? I turned the shower on and poured the beer down the drain, stripping off my clothes and standing under the hot spray.
I’d had sex. With Jimmy from school. Things were different now, whether I wanted them to be or not.
I dragged myself to school on Monday, expecting to be made fun of. It would’ve been a relief to be overlooked or ignored, as usual.
Neither thing happened.
Many people—more than I knew—leveled looks of respect at me. I stared back at them, trying to figure out why they were acting how they were, until I saw Jimmy and a couple of members of his crew who were still in school standing by my locker.
He had a tough guy look on his face, and a faint moustache that I’d never noticed before, but he smiled when he saw me.
“What’s up, chingona?” he asked, jerking his chin at me as I walked up.
“What’s up with you?” I asked, my eyes darting around at the rest of the crew before falling back down to some place around Jimmy’s moustache. “What’s this?”
“You’re my girl now,” he said. “Right?”
Was I? We’d hooked up in a club bathroom. Did that push us together? I was too timid to ask.
“Sure,” I said shyly. “If you want.”
“Fuck yeah, I want,” he said, all bravado. He was different from the Jimmy who’d been in the club on Friday. The sex—and whatever else must have transpired during the weekend—changed him.
And just like that, I had a boyfriend. Jimmy liked parading me around school, picking me up from my classes and walking me to my locker—his crew always in tow. I was never alone anymore, and it made me feel both strange and good—like I belonged again.
We went everywhere together, Jimmy resting his hand on the small of my back, trailing his fingers down over the top of my ass every so often. It was his right, I guessed. He’d taken me in the club bathroom. I belonged to him now. Didn’t I?
I found out later that many of the female contingency had paired off with members of the same crew. Jimmy might be part of it, but he was lower level. The higher ups in the crew had already dropped out of school. I knew the crew was just a feeder into one of the more serious gangs, but it felt nice going back to the apartment with Jimmy and hanging out. I was one of the girls of the crew, it felt like. They were polite to me, and my family was proud.
It also helped that the sex with Jimmy got better and better every time it happened.
By the time I was eighteen, though, and getting ready to finish high school, things were getting out of control.
Despite all of their lectures about protection number one, three of the four that made up the female contingency had gotten knocked up. Las primas both had little babies, and my second oldest sister had a big belly. The apartment was always crowded with squalling infants or members of the crew.
The gang members that the crew fed into were coming over more often now, too, because the two guys who’d knocked up las primas had moved up. Parties raged into the night, and Jimmy was turning into someone I didn’t like.
“Why don’t you let me put a baby in your belly, chingona?” he asked me as I tried to clean up some of the beer bottles around the kitchen. Nobody had bothered getting trash bags the last time they’d gone to the bodega, so I was putting them in an empty trashcan and hauling them down six flights of stairs to the dumpster out behind the building.
“I don’t want a baby in my belly yet,” I said. “I want to graduate school. Maybe go to college.”
“College?” Jimmy scoffed. “For what?” He’d dropped out at the beginning of the school year, the crew taking up more and more of his time. He talked about moving up to the gang, but I didn’t like the idea. They were hardened men, and Jimmy was still my boyfriend. I tried to remember him as he was that first night at the club—gawky and polite and new to all of this.
“I dunno,” I said, feeling shy that I even said anything about it. “To have a good future.”
“Chingona, you’re going to have a good future,” he said. “The crew takes care of me and I take care of you. That’s how it’s going to be.”
I thought about being on the arm of a hardened gang banger. The crew was one thing. It was a brotherhood of friends. The gang was something different. Maybe I didn’t want that for our lives. I kept that thought to myself, though.
I dumped a couple of more beer bottles in the trashcan and paused.
“What’s this?” I asked, lifting up a package of white powder. It looked like powdered sugar, but none of us girls baked.
“That’s mine,” Jimmy said. “I’m gonna cut it and break it up before selling it. You wanna try it?”
It was then that I realized I was holding enough cocaine to put us all in prison.
“This can’t be here,” I said, holding the brick out to Jimmy. “You have to take it away.”
“Don’t freak out, chingona,” he said. “I told you. I’m gonna break it up and sell it. It’ll be gone before you know it.”
“There are babies here,” I said, dropping the coke in his lap. “Get it out. Now. If somebody finds it here, you could get my primas’ babies taken away from them. Everybody jailed.”
Jimmy was standing up and in my face faster than I thought possible.
“And who’s gonna find the coke here, huh?” he asked, pushing me backward. “You gonna tell someone, little girl? Do I need to shut your mouth for you?”
He raised his hand threateningly and I cringed away, horrified at the man in front of me. Was I worried about Jimmy getting into the gang? I didn’t know why I even bothered. He was already one of them, even if it wasn’t in name yet.
“Hey!” my oldest sister yelled, the only one who’d kept protection number one in mind. “Get away from her, puto.”
Jimmy wheeled around and cracked my sister across her mouth. She cried out and fell to the floor, holding her hands up to her face.
“Don’t call me puto, bitch,” he spat. “This is not your business.”
I wanted to tell him off, tell him to back the fuck off my sister, to take up any of his concerns with me. But I didn’t—I couldn’t—and I hated myself for it. All I could do was stand still and tremble.
“Is that what you want?” he demanded, looking back at me. “You want me to hit you like that?”
“No, Jimmy,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Because I will!” he shouted, getting in my face again. “The coke stays here until I sell it!”
“Okay,” I said. “Okay, that’s fine.”
“It’s fucking fine!” he yelled, pounding the brick down and pushing his way out the door before slamming it shut.
As soon as he was gone, I rushed over to my sister. Her teeth were red with the blood pouring from her lip. I expected her to be crying—I would’ve been crying, if it were me—but she was calm, looking at me.
“You wanna spend the rest of your life with that, hermana?” she asked me as I dabbed at her cut. “Leave it.”
I rocked back on my heels and watched as my sister licked at her split lip and spat the blood on the carpet.
“I don’t know,” I said. “He wasn’t always like this.”
“You first met him when he was a boy,” she said. “He thinks he’s a man, now, and that’s the worst thing—when a boy thinks he’s a man.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. Jimmy was my age.
Didn’t I make him a man that night in the bathroom, just the same way he made me a woman?
“It’s only a matter of time before he beats you, as sweet as you are,” my sister said. “The moment you stand up for yourself—and there will come a time when you got to—he won’t stand for it.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said.
“You want to go to college,” my sister said. “Make a good life for yourself. It’s what Mami and Papi wanted, too, and it’s what you should do. Get out of this life, hermana. Do what we couldn’t. Fly away.”
“I can’t just leave,” I protested. “You’re the only family I have. And I love Jimmy.”
My sister shook her head. “If you love him, why won’t you let him put a baby in you? Why don’t you want him to keep coke in the house?”
I thought about that. The coke was the easy thing—I didn’t want to get my family in trouble. It was illegal, besides, and I didn’t want it messing things up.
The baby was trickier. I wanted to finish my education. I wanted a future for myself before I considered bringing someone else into the world. And, I slowly realized, I didn’t want anything to tie me to Jimmy.
“I have to finish school before I go anywhere,” I said.
My sister shook her head. “If you’re going, you have to go now,” she said. “This shit is only going to get worse.”
“He’s never hit me before,” I protested. “I’ve never seen him hit anyone.”
“He didn’t realize he could before right now,” she said. “What’s to stop him from hitting you the next time you tell him you don’t want a baby? What’s to stop him from forcing himself on you, trying to give you that baby?”