Bait

by Alex Sanchez

  “We can talk more before then,” she continued, “but now I’ve got to get back to homework. Thanks for calling.”

  After hanging up, Diego stared into space, a little dazed. Had he actually booked a date with—to his mind—the most amazing girl at school, perhaps even in the entire universe? A flash of excitement surged up from his toes, through his body, and erupted in a thunderous whoop.

  CHAPTER 10

  THURSDAY AFTERNOON, Diego arrived early for his appointment, excited to tell Vidas about the phone call with Ariel. He said hi to the receptionist and was just sitting down when Vidas stepped out of the elevator, carrying a paper bag.

  “Hi, Diego. Come on back. I just went to fetch some lunch. Had cases all day.”

  Inside the office, Vidas hung up his blazer. After plopping into his swivel chair, he tucked the ends of his necktie into his shirt’s front pocket and pulled a sandwich from the paper bag. “You want half? It’s tuna fish.”

  “No, thanks.” It would feel too weird to eat half of his PO’s sandwich.

  “At least take some chips.” Vidas tossed Diego a pack. “I bought an extra.”

  “All right.” Diego caught the bag. “Thanks.”

  “So, how’re you feeling?” Vidas asked, and bit into his sandwich.

  “Great!” Diego announced, opening the chips. “I did it.”

  “Did what?”

  “Phoned Ariel. And like you said, I kept breathing.”

  “Ah. Good! How’d it go?”

  “Um, okay, I guess. We’re going to the aquarium Sunday. On a date.”

  “A date!” Vidas exclaimed. “I knew you could do it. How do you feel about it?”

  “Nervous. Like, what am I supposed to do?”

  “Same as before,” Vidas said, lifting his sandwich. “Relax. Breathe. Just be yourself.”

  Diego shook his head. He didn’t want to be himself. He wished he could be someone else. Somebody confident, cool, normal.

  “I don’t get it. She could have practically any guy she wants. So, why’s she interested in me?”

  Vidas swallowed his mouthful. “Could you ask her?”

  “I guess so.” Diego would never have thought of that.

  As Vidas raised his sandwich again, a chunk of tuna spilled out onto the top part of his tie. “Oh, man!” He put his sandwich down, pulled off his tie, and stared at the mayonnaise stain. “I ruin at least one a month.” He opened a desk drawer, took out a stain stick, and rubbed the spot.

  Diego watched him. “Why don’t you just take it off when you eat?”

  “Yeah, I should, shouldn’t I?” Before taking another bite, Vidas asked, “So, what about the contract and your mom?”

  Diego stopped eating his chips and sat stiffly in his chair. He’d forgotten it.

  “Um, she read and signed it. I swear she did. But I forgot to bring your copy. I can bring it tomorrow if you want.”

  “Tomorrow is good,” Vidas said calmly. “Just leave it with Mrs. Ahern. So tell me: How’d your mom react?”

  “Um…” Diego crumpled up his chip bag and lobbed it into the trash. “Fine…until the part about the cutting…When I showed her, she got kind of upset.”

  “What do you mean?” Vidas pitched his crumpled sandwich wrapper toward the wastebasket, actually making it in.

  “Well, first she started to cry. Then she got angry. And then…I kind of blew up at her.”

  Vidas nodded and chewed on his chips. “What made you angry?”

  Diego thought a moment. “Because…she acted like she’d never noticed the cuts. But how could she not have noticed? You noticed. And then she acted like I did it just to get back at her. So then…I punched another hole in the wall.”

  Vidas glanced at Diego’s fist. “That must’ve hurt.”

  “Yeah.” Diego ran his fingers across his knuckles. “But at least I didn’t punch her.”

  Vidas stopped chewing his chips and his voice came out concerned: “Have you ever hit her?”

  “No. But I was afraid I might.”

  Vidas pondered that before taking another chip. “So instead of hurting her you hurt yourself.”

  Diego hadn’t thought of it that way.

  “Do you think,” Vidas asked, “maybe that’s part of why you cut yourself? In place of hurting other people?”

  Diego shifted his feet on the carpet. “I don’t know.” All he knew for certain was that when the anger consumed him, he had to do something to let it out.

  “Have you cut yourself,” Vidas asked, crumpling his empty chip bag, “since you signed the contract last week?”

  “No,” Diego replied truthfully.

  “What’s it feel like,” Vidas probed deeper, “when you do cut yourself?”

  Diego gave a shrug. “Good.”

  “Good?” Vidas winced. “Doesn’t it hurt?”

  “Yeah,” Diego explained, “but it’s a good hurt—a rush. For a second, it’s the only thing you feel. Like a high. Everything else disappears.”

  “What disappears?” Vidas asked. “What don’t you want to feel?”

  “I don’t know. Everything.” As Diego’s legs began to jiggle, he gazed down at his tattered sneakers. Last week, he’d asked his mom for a new pair and she’d told him he had to wait. There was never enough money since Mac’s death.

  Vidas was saying something. Diego glanced up from the carpet. “Um, sorry. I spaced out. What did you say?”

  “I asked when did you first start to cut yourself?”

  Diego hesitated and folded his arms across his chest. “I guess after Mac died.”

  Vidas raised his eyebrows. “So, Mac committed suicide and you started to hurt yourself? It sounds like maybe there’s a connection. What do you think?”

  “Why do we always have to talk about him?”

  “Because, one, he was your stepdad, and two, he committed suicide. That’s a pretty major event in your life.”

  Diego turned to look out the window at the harbor. In the distance a tiny tugboat was pulling some huge ship across the channel.

  “How did he get along with your mom?” Vidas asked, his voice steady.

  “Fine.”

  “‘Fine’ doesn’t tell me much,” Vidas pressed him. “How often did they fight? Once a month? Once a week? Every night?”

  Diego recalled how at first Mac and his mom hadn’t fought at all. But after moving to America, the arguments started—about money or Mac’s drinking or stupid small stuff. Diego would retreat to his room, but Mac never allowed him to have a lock on the door. Diego had complained about it to his mom, but she wouldn’t listen.

  “Maybe a couple of times a week,” Diego answered Vidas.

  “Did he ever hit her?”

  “Nope.”

  “Did he ever hit you?”

  “No.” Mac had never even spanked him. He never needed to.

  “Did he ever,” Vidas continued, “try to touch you…in a way you thought was inappropriate, that made you uncomfortable?”

  “No!” Diego sat up in his chair, his cheeks reddening, his head burning. “Why do you keep asking stuff like that?”

  “Because,” Vidas said, “sometimes that happens in families. And nobody talks about it. The person it happens to is left stuck with their feelings—hurt and anger. What they don’t talk out, they end up acting out.”

  Diego turned away, refusing to look at Vidas. He suddenly wished he’d never asked for probation. What had he been thinking?

  “If Mac did anything like that to you, it wasn’t your fault. You know that, don’t you? You don’t need to feel ashamed or guilty.”

  “I don’t!” Diego clenched the arms of his chair, restraining the urge to bolt from the room. “I’ve got nothing to feel guilty or ashamed about.”

  “I agree,” Vidas replied. “That’s what I said.”

  Their eyes met and held for a moment, then Diego shifted his gaze out the window again, trying to calm himself. “Nothing happened.”

  “Okay,” Vid
as said a soothing voice. But then he added, “If it did, I hope one day you’ll tell me. So, what are you feeling right now?”

  “Like I want to get out of here.” Every muscle in his body was straining to keep him seated.

  “Do you feel angry?” Vidas asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Can you say that?”

  Diego flashed his eyes at him. “I’m angry!”

  Vidas gave a nod. “It’s good when you can state your anger. You don’t have to punch someone, or cut yourself, or put your fist through a wall. You can just say, ‘I’m angry.’”

  Diego knew that; he wasn’t stupid. But when the rage ignited, he forgot it. Like the cutting, rage was a high that made everything else fade away.

  “What are you thinking?” Vidas asked.

  “Nothing.” Diego sat in silence, waiting for Vidas to ask or say something else. But Vidas remained quiet, until Diego couldn’t stand it anymore.

  “Are we done?” he asked.

  Vidas slowly let out a sigh. “Is there anything else you want to talk about today?”

  “No,” Diego muttered. He just wanted to get out of here.

  “Then you’ll drop your contract off tomorrow?” Vidas asked and stood up.

  “Yeah,” Diego grumbled, and followed him out the office door.

  When they got to the end of the hallway, Vidas gave him a pat on the shoulder. “See you next—”

  “Don’t touch me!” Diego whirled around, fists clenched.

  Vidas sprang back, his eyes wide with alarm, arms raised to protect himself. “Whoa, easy! Take a breath. Stop and think.”

  Diego gulped a huge breath, adrenaline pumping through his body. Had he actually almost punched his PO? It wasn’t his fault. Why did Vidas have to touch him? “I don’t like it when you touch me!”

  “I understand,” Vidas said. He didn’t sound angry, and yet how could he not be? “Take it easy. Keep breathing.”

  Diego breathed deep and let his fists drop. Why had he lashed out like that? Obviously, Vidas hadn’t meant anything inappropriate by patting him on the back.

  “I’m sorry,” Vidas said, lowering his hands. “I won’t do it again. You can tell me if I do something you don’t like.”

  Diego lowered his gaze, ashamed and angry with himself. Would he ever stop losing control?

  “You’re opening up a lot of feelings,” Vidas continued, his voice regaining its familiar calm. “Hang in there. Okay?”

  Diego nodded, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at Vidas. It was too scary to think what would’ve happened if he’d punched him.

  Upon leaving the courthouse, instead of biking home he headed to the beach. From atop a dune, he stared at the surf, watching wave after wave roll in. He thought over the things he’d talked about with Vidas, and the things he hadn’t talked about. The things he’d never told anyone—and never could.

  As he leaned back, his elbows sank into the sand and the shark’s tooth pressed against his chest. He sat up again, pulled the triangle from beneath his shirt, and turned it over between his fingers. He knew that if he cut himself he’d have to tell Vidas about it, but at least for now, the pain he was feeling would leave him.

  He rolled up his sleeve and brought the tooth to his forearm. The tip pricked his skin, its pain immediate. A bright red bubble appeared, shimmering in the afternoon light like a setting sun. He sliced the tooth’s serrated edge across his arm and watched the blood seep into a tiny trough. And for a moment, all his other anguish flowed away.

  CHAPTER 11

  THE FOLLOWING DAY AFTER SCHOOL, Diego rode his bike to the courthouse to drop off his probation contract, hoping he wouldn’t see Vidas. He wasn’t ready to admit that he’d cut himself.

  He rushed in and out of the reception room as fast as possible, quickly handing Mrs. Ahern the contract, and raced all the way back to his neighborhood.

  For dinner that evening he made ravioli. Then he did homework while debating how best to ask his mom for the car for his date.

  In the days since their blow-up over the contract, he’d kept his distance from her. But tonight when she leaned into his bedroom doorway, he greeted her with a smile. “Hi, how was your day?”

  “My day was okay,” she said slowly, suspiciously. “Nothing special. How’d it go with Eddie tonight?”

  “Fine. He brought you a painting he made in school. You want me to heat up some ravioli for you?”

  “Sounds good.” She nodded as if grateful for his improved mood. “Thanks.”

  While she changed from her work clothes, he put a plate of ravioli in the microwave and set a place for her at the kitchen table, next to Eddie’s painting.

  “What do you want to drink?” he asked as she shuffled in, wearing her slippers and nightgown.

  “Just ice water, mi amor.” She sat down to the plate of steaming ravioli and while he served her the water, she studied his face. “So, what’s up?”

  “Huh?” he asked, fiddling with the dishcloth. “What’s up with what?”

  “You know what.” She gestured to the ravioli and ice water.

  Diego sat down opposite her, paused to think, and decided to just go ahead and tell her. “Um, I need to use the car on Sunday to go to the aquarium.”

  She blew on the ravioli to cool it before answering, “Can you take Eddie?”

  Diego cringed. Although he loved his little brother, he hadn’t counted on having to bring him along. “Um…I can’t. It’s a date.”

  “A date?” His mom grabbed her ice water. “You mean with a girl?”

  Diego leaned back. “No, with a broom.”

  His mom ignored his sarcasm. “With what girl?”

  “Her name’s Ariel.” Diego shifted his feet. “Look, can I use the car or can’t I?”

  “Why are you getting so angry?” his mom asked.

  “Because I don’t want to talk about her.”

  “Well, I want to know about her. You’ve never been on a date before.”

  “So? You think I don’t know that? Stop treating me like a kid.”

  “I’m not! I just didn’t expect it, that’s all.”

  “Why? You don’t think a girl would want to go out with me?”

  “Diego, why do you have to take everything I say the wrong way?”

  “Forget it! I don’t want the car.”

  “Diego, stop it! Yes, you can use the car. But I’d like to meet her sometime, okay?”

  No way, Diego thought. She’d probably just embarrass him.

  He returned to his room and resumed his homework, trying to forget about his mom. After all, she’d agreed to let him use the car. And soon the words in his book began to blur as his imagination leaped forward to his date…and Ariel.

  On Saturday after work, he got a haircut at Cheap Cuts in the mall. Afterward, he wasn’t exactly thrilled with how he looked, but at least his hair was neater. He spent most of Sunday morning getting ready—shaving the fuzz from his chin; clipping his nails; combing his hair, first to one side, then the other…After lunch he flossed and brushed and asked for the car keys.

  “Are you bringing her something?” his mom replied.

  In fact, Diego had thought of taking Ariel some flowers, but then decided that was too corny.

  “A girl always likes if you bring her something,” his mom insisted.

  “Like what?”

  His mom hunted through the kitchen cupboards. “Here, take her these.”

  “Gummy bears?” Diego made a face. He’d never heard of anybody taking gummies to a date.

  “It’s the thought.” His mom pressed the bag into his hand. “She’ll appreciate it. You’ll see.”

  He wasn’t convinced but kept the bag anyway. While his mom searched her handbag for the car keys, she asked, “Does this girl know you’re on probation?”

  The question hit Diego like a splash of cold water. “Um, I’m not sure.”

  “She’d probably want to know.” His mom held out the car keys. “Promi
se to tell her?”

  Diego balked. Why did his mom always have to ruin everything? But he knew she was probably right.

  “Okay!” He clenched his fist around the keys and hurried out the door before she could say anything else.

  Ariel lived far on the other side of school, in a townhouse with a white alabaster sea horse out front. Diego forgot the gummy bag in the car and walked nervously up the driveway, his legs wobbling like jelly. Inside the house, dogs yapped excitedly. He rang the doorbell and waited, checking himself in the reflection of the window and combing a hand through his hair.

  When the door opened, the sight of Ariel made him catch his breath. Like him, she’d gotten her hair cut too—not much, just enough to show her face more, making her look cuter than ever. Two dogs were wagging and panting at her feet.

  “Hi. Don’t mind them. This one’s Neptune. We rescued him from the pound. And that’s Pluto. The neighbors moved and left him. Come on in. My mom wants to meet you.”

  Diego followed Ariel inside, bravely putting one foot in front of the other. Although he’d figured he might have to meet her mom or dad, he’d hoped he wouldn’t.

  Her mom was in the kitchen watering plants. She looked like an older version of Ariel—chubby and a little faded, but with the same twinkling green eyes and warm smile. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, shaking Diego’s hand. “Ariel told me you’re in the same grade. Do you live nearby?”

  “Um, sort of.” He told her where he lived and she remarked, “That’s a nice area.”

  “Your house is nice too,” he answered, not knowing what else to say, and shoved his hands in his pockets.

  “Well, have a good time,” she said and went back to watering the plants.

  At the car, Diego remembered to open Ariel’s door for her. When he climbed into the seat on the driver’s side, she was holding the bag of multicolored gummies. “Can I have one?”

  “Um, yeah.” He started the engine, glad his mom had suggested them. “They’re for you.”

  “Really? Thanks.” Ariel opened the bag and held out a little green bear. “Want one?”

  He nodded and opened his palm. For an instant her fingertips brushed his hand, sending little heat flashes pulsing through his body. Quickly, he pulled onto the road.