“I like it! Does he save you?” Destiny was intrigued now.
“I don’t know. I always wake up just as I hear his voice. Is it true that if you dream you die, then you wake up dead?” Romi asked quietly.
“You mean that you really will die? I’ve heard that, but nobody who ever died got to come back and tell! Tell me more.”
Romi sighed. “I wish I could. That’s all I know, but I’m not sleeping very well and I’m getting scared.”
“Well, didn’t your horoscope say a new man was coming into your life? Maybe you’re hearing his voice.” Destiny was trying to be helpful.
“I don’t know, but something’s got to give soon. I don’t like this,” admitted Romi.
Just then, the bell rang for first period, and somebody yelled, “Fight! Fight! Two dudes is goin’ at it!” Dozens of kids rushed to the side of the front hall near the door. Romiette sighed and looked at Destiny. They gave each other a bored shrug, and declared at the same time, “Boys.” Romiette never even glanced toward the crowd that surrounded a kid with green hair and a new boy that nobody had seen before.
4.
Julio
He was tall. He was strong. He was angry. And he wasn’t afraid to fight. Julio strode down the streets of Cincinnati on that January day, coat collar not doing much to cover his ears from the twenty-degree winds, boots unlaced, fists thrust into his pockets, numbed from the cold. The only thing that kept him warm was his anger. Anger at his parents for bringing him to this cold, gray city. Anger at the sky for being harsh and uncaring. Anger at himself for being scared and shivering in this ugly place. If somebody, anybody, had spoken to him then, he might have lashed out to release his fury. He wanted to destroy a wall or the sky.
But the sidewalk was empty that January morning. Everyone with sense was on a bus or in a car, or inside a heated building. But the bus he thought he was supposed to take never arrived, so after thirty minutes of freezing in the winter wind, he started walking. The school was three or four miles down the road, he figured, so using his anger as a cloak, he headed down the street to a school he had never seen, in a city he had just moved to, to enroll for classes in the second semester of the eleventh grade.
Julio had just moved from Corpus Christi, Texas. He hated Cincinnati with a passion. To Julio, it was cold and dreary and everything seemed to be gray. There was dirty snow all over the dirty sidewalks. Everything seems tight and enclosed, like nobody breathes here, he thought. I want to throw paint everywhere out my window and color this place up! They expect me to LIVE here? Do these people ever have any fun? Not likely. I bet you can’t even get a good enchilada here. As he walked, his toes losing their feeling inside his boots, he glanced at the few barren, black trees that lined the street. Mostly he saw fast-food places and liquor stores next to storefront churches. Piles of trash to be collected. Recycling bins with beer bottles and unread newspapers. A few pigeons. His mood grew darker.
There are no big, sweeping magnolia trees, thought Julio, only runty little maple trees with cold, skinny branches, no leaves—all naked and stupid-looking. The river here is dirty and dull, not like the beautiful Nueces River, where I learned to swim and sail and fish. Papa said something about going fishing on the Ohio River in the spring. Not me! Probably just catch some old beer cans. No fish with any sense would live in that nasty water!
He had seen the Ohio River as he and his family flew in over the city. It was brown and thick, and looked more like oozing mud to Julio than refreshing water. He could not imagine why anyone would want to swim in such filth.
Julio loved to swim. He probably learned to swim before he could walk. Water was like his second skin, soothing and relaxing after a hot day in Texas. He was on a swim team once, and the coach tried to get him to think about training for the Olympics, but he figured it would take the fun out of swimming. He also liked to sail with his uncle on his boat. He was a good sailor, and had been planning to buy a little sailboat of his own next year. Sailboat races were held every Wednesday, and last year Julio had won in the junior division. Kids in Corpus Christi get boats instead of cars when they turn sixteen.
Thinking about home made his anger return. Right there on the Gulf of Mexico, swimming and boating were second nature to him. But all that was gone. Nothing remained but cold and bitterness. No soft, warm ocean air, no soft Hispanic flavor here. Just about everybody in Corpus Christi spoke English and Spanish fluently. Most of the people there had relatives in Mexico, across the Rio Grande. The music on the radio, the conversations on the bus, even the breezes that blew there had Spanish melodies floating from them. Here, everything was different. Julio muttered to himself, “May as well have No habla español! posted in large gray (of course) letters on every dull brown building here.”
He had called his friend Diego the night before. Diego had just come in from playing soccer. It was seventy-one degrees back home in Texas. Julio gritted his teeth.
“Hey, Diego, mi amigo, ¿qué pasa? What’s up?” Julio could almost feel the Texas breeze over the phone. He sighed.
“De nada, Julio. How’s Cincinnati?” Diego was slurping on a Popsicle. “Ain’t no fun here anymore since you left, man!”
“I hate it here, man. Just ’cause my dad lost his job, I gotta move a million miles from my home so he can start over. It’s just not fair!”
Diego had heard Julio complain about this many times. Lots of kids had parents who were suddenly out of work. Several factories had moved out of town, and places like the insurance company that Julio’s dad worked for had to cut back because folks just couldn’t make the payments. Diego’s dad had been out of work for five years. “Stuff is rough, man.”
“I hear you!” Suddenly Julio thought about how rough life was for Diego and he was sorry he had complained so loudly. Diego had six sisters, lived in a small apartment, and his mom watched three-year-olds to make ends meet. There was never anyplace to sit or have a moment of silence. That’s how they had become friends. Julio’s house was cool and quiet. Diego used to come just to “breathe in some silence,” he always said. Julio, on the other hand, loved to go to Diego’s place because two of his sisters were “really fine.” Diego didn’t think so, but Julio liked to hang around just to see them brush their hair or laugh on the phone. He even took Maria to the movies once or twice. “How’re your sisters?” Julio asked then.
“Angelina is getting married next year. They got engaged at Christmastime. I’ll still have five left here, though. I never get in the bathroom! That’s why I hate you moved, Julio. You had such a nice bathroom!”
“Glad you appreciate the finer things of life, man.” Julio grinned.
“What’s it like there? Is it like Corpus Christi?” asked Diego.
“Not even close. Bunch of taco fast-food stores—that’s about it—and that stuff all tastes like cardboard. And a bunch of ugly buildings that all look like cardboard.” Julio sighed again, remembering how homesick he was.
“Do the gray buildings there in Ohio have gang stuff scribbled all over them like here?” Diego knew the other reason that Julio’s family moved to Cincinnati was because of the crime and the gangs at their school in Texas. Gang members in their colors roamed the halls, threatening kids and roughing up anybody who opposed them. Fights between the two rival gangs broke out every day.
“Who cares? Gangs are gonna be everywhere, Diego.”
“It’s getting worse, man. During Christmas break they spray-painted graffiti all over the walls—even in the classrooms. The teachers and principal can’t seem to stop them!”
“I’m not surprised. You know, even if the graffiti is cleaned off and painted away, by next week it’ll probably be back.”
“Now you’re gone, Julio, I’m one of the few who still ain’t in no gang. It’s hard being out here by myself! I can’t ride the school bus or eat lunch in the cafeteria.”
Julio and Diego were talking about the unspoken law. They had to eat lunch every day on the steps, try not to ac
t scared, walk home the long way. Either you were in a gang, or you were nobody. It was hard to concentrate on schoolwork with fights in the hall every day and bullies in colors pushing everyone around.
“Yeah, I feel you, Diego. I guess I’m glad I got out of there, but why Ohio? The Montague family has lived in Texas for two hundred years.”
“I’m gonna miss those barbecues and weddings at your grandpa’s ranch with all your uncles and their wives and kids. Your grandpa is a trip! Doesn’t he get married every five years?”
Julio laughed. “Mama says Granpa’s a rascal. Papa says he’s just trying to recapture his youth. Granpa told me that after his first wife died, he was brokenhearted. He says he’s trying to find a woman who can keep up with him! I really miss him already. Just before we left, he told me to keep the river in my heart and follow it.”
“Old people say strange things sometimes. You met any girls yet, Julio?”
“I’ve seen little kids, and old people. Not even any ugly girls. I hate this place! Did I say that already?”
“Sí, man. What about school?”
“Don’t know. I start tomorrow, but I’m not expecting much. Hey, my mama’s calling me. Good to talk to a familiar voice, man.”
“Hang in there, Julio. Maybe something good will come outta all this.”
“I ain’t gonna hold my breath waiting. Later.”
Julio could see the school about a block ahead. It was as he expected—tall, brown, and ugly. Schools in Texas were sprawled out over several buildings with walkways and arches and cool breezes. Lunch was always outside, and an air of freedom blew through the whole place. How will I ever find my way through that giant jail? Julio wondered bitterly. He walked up to the front of it and tried not to stare. It must have been five stories tall, of heavy brown brick, built to withstand tornadoes and snowstorms. Just looking at the unblinking face of that school made Julio remember how angry he was. He just frowned and walked up the icy front steps to the huge front doors.
The school was dark inside. It even smelled damp and depressing. Julio thought, I will never feel right here! Kids were gathering in small groups in the front hall, girls giggling, guys laughing too loud. It was January, the first day back after Christmas vacation, and everyone was excited to see their friends after two weeks away. No one noticed or spoke to Julio. One girl squealed shrilly as a boy picked her up and lifted her over his head. She yelled, “Put me down, Marcus!” but you could tell she was enjoying the attention. Julio stood near the door, watching the friends chatter about nothing and everything, and hating every moment of it. He clenched his fists, and found himself breathing hard. He felt like he was about to explode.
“Hey, man! Get out the way!” A tall, freckled boy wearing two safety pins as earrings, a small gold nose ring, and bright green hair—green like the color of a fluorescent marker—fell through the door where Julio had been standing, and knocked Julio sprawling to the floor. He jumped up and spun around in one swift movement, took his right fist out of his pocket, and all of his anger and frustration exploded in the center of the green-haired boy’s face. Bright red blood spurted from his nose, making him look somehow like a leftover Christmas decoration.
“Fight! Fight!” somebody yelled, and instantly a crowd surrounded the two boys. Kids started jostling and pushing, cramming in to see the fight, shoving each other and getting louder in the hot, crowded hallway. The bell rang then, and the principal, large, balding, and red faced, pushed his way through the crowd, which somehow disappeared in seconds.
“What’s going on here?” he demanded. “Who started this? Five minutes back in school and you’re already fighting. I’m not going to start the new year off with this kind of mess. Both of you in my office right now!” He was sweating heavily and breathing hard.
Ben, the one with green hair, who was now sitting on the floor holding his nose with one hand and his nose ring in the other, had no desire to take on an angry stranger. And Julio was no longer so angry. Too bad this strange, skinny kid got in the way of months of frustration. They looked at each other, then looked at the sweating, red faced principal, and almost grinned. Ben spoke first. “Mr. Prince! Nobody’s fighting! This dude here was just trying to help me up. I was running and I slipped on the ice on the front steps and hit my nose on the door. I was thinking of calling my lawyer, or maybe America’s Most Wanted, or maybe the president. I think you ought to get some salt on that slippery spot, Mr. Prince. Now if you should fall, sir, we might have an earthquake or something, and we wouldn’t want that to happen, because that would interrupt our educational success, and since I always wondered how much pressure a nose would have to put on a door to make it bleed, I feel that I have learned something this early morning, even before class starts!”
The principal just shook his head and said, “Shut up, Ben. It’s too early in the morning for your babbling.” He turned to Julio, who was amazed and trying not to laugh at Ben, who so glibly got him out of trouble. “Young man, is that what happened? Did he slip and fall?”
Julio looked at Ben, who was grinning in spite of a very swollen nose, and replied, “I’m new here, Mr. Prince. Why would I hit someone I don’t know? Today is my first day, and I came to enroll. Here are my transcripts from Texas.” Mr. Prince didn’t believe either of them, but he had morning announcements to make, a sick teacher’s class to cover, and a call to make to the custodian to get some salt on the front steps, so since the danger seemed to be over, he let it go.
“Take your stuff to the secretary in Room 102,” he told Julio. “And Ben, get to class!” He weighed at least three hundred pounds, and he waddled as he headed down the hall. Ben watched him, put his book bag under his coat, and pretended to huff and sweat and roll. He burst into laughter as soon as Mr. Prince was out of earshot.
Julio echoed his laughter. It felt good to laugh. It was almost as satisfying as that right hook into Ben’s nose.
“Why’d you help me?” Julio asked, laughing again. “Why didn’t you narc on me? I punched your lights out.”
“Well, fortunately, I had a spare set of bulbs and I could see you had some issues that had nothing to do with me. Am I right?”
“Yeah, man. I just got here and nothing was going right and I want to be back home in Texas, and then some kid with green hair knocks me down.”
“Hey, tomorrow it will be blue! I like being original! If you ever see me looking ordinary, you got permission to punch me out again. I gotta get to class. What’s your name, dude? I gotta know who redecorated my face.”
“Julio. I’m Julio Montague.”
“I’m Ben! Ben Olsen. Later, dude.”
“Later, and thanks.”
Julio thought about the incident with Ben as he waited for the secretary with the blue eyeliner to check his papers and give him a class schedule. I could be getting kicked out of school, instead of checking in, he thought. If it had been me getting punched by a crazed stranger, I would have clocked him, not helped him. Amazing dude, that Ben.
Julio got his schedule, sighed, and headed to the fourth floor for his math class. The halls were mostly empty by now, with crumpled paper and candy wrappers littering the floor. He could hear Mr. Prince’s monotone voice making the morning announcements, stuff about SAT registration forms, and tardy slips, and the basketball game tomorrow night. None of it had any meaning for him as he checked all the closed doors in that long, dark hallway but couldn’t find Room 407. He saw 405, 406, then the numbers jumped to 412 and 413. Why do schools do this stuff to kids? he thought in frustration.
“Yo, Chico, you lost?” The voice came from the end of the hall.
“Yeah, man, and my name’s not Chico.”
“You look like a Chico to me. Room 407 is around the corner in the new wing … Chico.”
Julio walked toward him, his anger returning, but the boy disappeared into a classroom. All Julio saw was that he had on purple sweats. Julio was frowning when he walked into 407. That “Chico” comment made him tense and i
rritated. Anglos at home used that name as a put-down. And, at home, it was mostly the Anglo gang members who used it. This was not a good sign.
The math teacher, a tall, skinny man with a really cheap hairpiece that slid whenever he moved his head and did not match his graying hair, looked at Julio and smiled. “Welcome, Julio. You can take that seat behind Brandy. Are you a good math student, or will you fit right in with my friends sitting here who think math was invented by beady-eyed monsters?”
Julio grinned. “You mean it wasn’t?” he said with mock surprise.
The teacher, Mr. Whitehead, rolled his eyes and smiled again. “Yep, you’re going to fit right in here! Here’s a textbook. We’re on page 155.”
Most of the kids ignored Julio. A few of the girls looked him over with interest, but nobody spoke or even smiled. They seemed to pay more attention to the fresh snow that was falling than to the discussion on polynomials. Large, flat flakes floated slowly at first, then thick like falling cloud bits, covering the dirt and grayness of the city. Julio watched also, admiring the beauty of the falling snow, and wishing it could cover all the darkness and fear he felt inside as well.
5.
Destiny and the Scientific Soul Mate System
Destiny ran up the stairs to Romiette’s room and barged in without knocking. Romi was used to it. Now that Destiny was driving, she dropped over whenever she felt like it, which was usually once a day and three or four times on the weekend. Destiny’s car was bright red, with dozens of brightly colored butterfly decals on it. Instead of looking tacky, though, it looked just perfect for her. She liked the music loud, the convertible top down, even in the coldest weather (just in case the “right” man was looking her way), and a huge bumper sticker that read, PRACTICE RANDOM ACTS OF KINDNESS AND SENSELESS ACTS OF BEAUTY!
“Romiette! Romiette! Just check this out, girl! This is the bomb! Can you lend me forty-five dollars? I’ve got the answer to your dream problems and my man problems too!”
Romiette and Julio Page 2