Anger Is a Gift Sneak Peek

by Mark Oshiro

  “Maybe there just haven’t been a lot of people who have applied to those schools that come from West Oakland,” she said gingerly. “Maybe there’s just not a lot of interest.”

  He furrowed his brows at her. “Well, not if they never show up here.”

  “Never?” She shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe they used to but no one paid attention to them. You could still apply yourself, though.”

  He felt a vicious urge to argue with her rise in him, but he pushed it down. What was she trying to say? He knew he was sensitive about this stuff, but it sounded like she was trying to blame the students for the lack of schools at the college fair. Maybe you’re overthinking this, he told himself.

  “So what was this boy stuff you wanted to talk about?” Esperanza said, changing the topic and the tone.

  A pettiness came over him. He suddenly didn’t want to talk to her about it. “Oh, it’s okay,” he said. “I just needed help figuring out something to say to Javier, but I got it figured out.”

  “No way! How’s that going?”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “We’re just chatting at this point. He seems cool.”

  “You guys gonna hang out soon?”

  He made the decision in an instant. “Nah, I don’t think so. But I hope we get there!” He stood up and dusted off his jeans. “I gotta head home and shower. You taking BART or walking home?”

  “No, my mom’s gonna get me from a coffee shop up the street.” She examined him a bit. “You sure everything’s okay?”

  He nodded. “I’ll text you later. We’ll talk.”

  “Good,” she said. “I look forward to it, Moss. I’ve missed you this week.”

  Guilt surged in him, so the next words out of his mouth were the truth. “Yeah, I missed you, too.”

  “We’re still on for tomorrow, right? At Farley’s?”

  “Yeah! I don’t really know what we’re gonna do besides rant, but it could be good.”

  They hugged, and Moss headed toward the train station, eager to get home and start getting ready, shoving aside any creeping suspicions he had about his best friend. Later, Moss thought. I’ll deal with it later.

  10

  Moss pulled apart the blinds to see the sun disappearing on the horizon. If he climbed up onto the roof, he could see it slink behind Marin and the Golden Gate Bridge in the next few minutes, but he had somewhere to be. Someone to see.

  He packed his Chrome bag with his U-lock, a pair of gloves, and a copy of Overwatch. Javier hadn’t played it, and even though it was a single-player game, Moss was a bit obsessed with it and wanted everyone to play it. He slung the bag over his shoulder, and then adjusted it into place while staring in the mirror attached to his closet. He straightened out his shirt so that it fell into place beyond the waist of his jeans. He’d exhausted himself before his shower with push-ups, hoping they bulked up his chest, but now he was just sore and tired.

  Stop criticizing your body, he said. He adjusted the V-neck again and then turned away from the mirror. If he stayed there, this could last for hours, and he couldn’t let his mind convince itself that this wasn’t worth it.

  He sighed, anxiety coursing in his chest and stomach, the fear of rejection hanging in his mind. As far as Moss could tell, Javier enjoyed him through text, but he was so afraid that he’d hear those damning words again: “I’m just not into you like that.” It wouldn’t be the first time, though he supposed it wasn’t as bad as when his first crush said they couldn’t date because he didn’t normally date black guys.

  I’m gonna have to have that conversation with him, he thought, and it sank in his stomach. Had Javier ever dated a black guy? Was he just an experiment to him, something exotic to try on for size?

  Moss set his concerns aside for the moment. He put the maroon cap on his head, adjusted it so that it sat perfectly, tilted just a bit to the side.

  “You headin’ out?”

  His mother’s voice rang out from the living room, and Moss sighed again. His body wouldn’t change while he stood there, so he knew he had to let it go. He grabbed his phone from his desk and headed out of his room, switching the lights off as he went.

  He fired off a quick text to Javier as he walked up to his mother: On my way. Biking over. See ya soon.

  Moss looked up to see his mother staring at him, a slight smile on her face. “What?” he said, returning the expression.

  “You’re wearing that hat,” she replied.

  He felt heat on his cheeks. “Mama, I swear, you know too much about me.”

  She rose from the couch, laughing, and swallowed him up in a hug. “Be safe, baby,” she told him, then pulled away from him to look at his face. “You are gonna be more handsome than your father, I swear.”

  Moss raised an eyebrow at her.

  “Sorry, you just got me thinking ’bout him, that’s all.” She returned to the couch and picked up a book she’d been reading, something by Octavia Butler. “You got your lights?”

  “Yeah, Mama. And my lock.”

  “You be back here by ten, okay?”

  “Promise,” he replied, moving to open the door. He paused before doing so, and said quietly, almost as if he were speaking to the door itself, “Thanks, Mama.”

  They exchanged grins, and nothing more was said.

  * * *

  Moss slammed his legs down as hard as he could, his quads burning, and sped through the intersection of Lakeshore and 18th, avoiding the red light. The chain whirred beneath him, and Moss felt free.

  He’d picked up biking a couple of years earlier, not by virtue of its popularity, but out of necessity. Esperanza’s house, on the northern end of Piedmont, wasn’t near any of the BART stations, and Moss could only tolerate so much of the bus.

  So now he zoomed past Lake Merritt, thankful for the wide and smooth bike lanes, the wind threatening to tear his hat from his head. He frowned as the light ahead of him flashed yellow, and Moss braked as hard as he could. This light always took forever, so he pulled out his phone from a pouch on the shoulder strap of his bag. Nothing from Javier yet, so he sent another update.

  10 mins away.

  As he shoved the phone back in its pouch, he wondered if he was already texting too much. The light turned green, and Moss received a curt honk from behind him. “Sorry!” he yelled, and then pushed off from the ground, pedaling through the intersection.

  Maybe I’m being too hard on myself, he thought. As he continued toward MacArthur, he realized that if Javier had no interest, wouldn’t he have canceled? If he didn’t want to be alone with Moss, wouldn’t he have invited Moss to a group activity? Moss wanted to trust his instincts, but that was the problem with his cynicism. His instincts always veered toward disaster.

  He hooked a sharp right to climb up MacArthur. He floated out of his seat to mash up the growing hill in front of him and felt a bolt of nervous energy in his stomach. What if Javier wanted more than playing video games that evening?

  Moss, stop it, he told himself. Don’t get your hopes up. He doesn’t want you.

  Moss pursed his lips at this, and cursed himself silently for the way his mind always went to the worst possible conclusion. If Javier didn’t like you at all, he reasoned with himself, why would he be so excited to have you over?

  Is he excited? Aren’t you reading too much into this?

  Moss wiped a trickle of sweat off his temple before it rolled all the way down his face, returning to his seat now that he’d crested the hill. The traffic on the 580 parallel to him roared, a patchwork of red and white lights. He got lost in the ride, focusing on the cars around him so that he didn’t get hit, pedaling as fast as he could. He did slow down a few blocks from Javier’s house, though, because his mother’s voice popped in his head: Moss, where is your helmet?

  “Oh, hell,” he said out loud. Just this one time. I gotta look good for this dude. He smiled as he took his last turn and pulled into the tiny driveway alongside Javier’s house.

  His mother had consider
ed moving into this neighborhood at one time, and she said that it reminded her of Los Angeles. “It’s like our version of Leimert Park,” she had told him. The houses were like giant boxes of candy here, multicolored, bright, some even obnoxiously neon. The neighborhood had not a single chain store in it. His favorite pupusería was down the street, as was the Ethiopian spot his mother frequented. The neighborhood was familiar here, which eased his fear as he walked up to Javier’s house.

  It was a duplex, yellow with green trim, that stood squarely on the corner, a rusted chain-link fence surrounding it. The mesh sagged in certain places where it had come loose from its posts, a victim of the kids who used the yard to play soccer. The yard was packed thick with a dry bed of sand-like dirt. There was a dilapidated swing set at one end of the yard, towels and jeans hanging from it. Moss watched them blow in the light breeze for a bit before hopping off his bike and wheeling it up the steps to the front door.

  He pulled open the screen door and was met with the sound of a child giggling from the back of the house. Javier and his mother lived upstairs, above a Guatemalan family that Javier had warned him about. “The dad’s real nosy,” he had told him over text. “But he’s harmless.”

  Sure enough, the father stuck his head out of the door to his apartment upon hearing the screen open. Moss nodded to him, and the man waved back, disappearing into his own home. Moss hoisted his bike up on his right shoulder and ascended the stairs, glancing at the posters for concerts and plays from decades past in San Francisco. There was an old ad for Prince at The Stone in ’81 that Moss immediately wanted to steal for his mother, but, aside from not wanting to offend the building’s owner, Moss knew he’d probably just end up keeping it for himself anyway.

  By the time he got to the top of the creaky wooden stairs, Moss realized that Javier was standing at the top, waiting for him. He was wearing a black tank that clung tightly to his chest, showing off his fine brown skin, and Moss felt a pang of envy at how well it fit. But the feeling disappeared as Javier reached for Moss’s bike, taking it from him as he said, “It’s good to see you. Thanks for coming over!”

  “Good to see you, too,” Moss replied, wiping more sweat away. He removed his hat to find a thick sheen of sweat there, too. Javier had set Moss’s bike down against the wall in the entryway and was now staring at Moss.

  “You look hot,” he said.

  Moss felt that nervous energy return. “Well, yeah,” he replied. “Lots of hills. You got a towel or something?”

  Javier disappeared around a corner for a few seconds before returning with a hand towel. “That’s not what I meant,” he said, grinning, after handing the towel to Moss.

  “Oh yeah?” As Moss wiped the sweat away, he realized that Javier was still staring at him, an eyebrow raised, a subtle look of amusement on his face, his beanie placed crookedly on his head.

  Oh, he thought.

  “Oh!” he said out loud. “Really?”

  Javier gave a slight nod, then licked his lips before saying, “Moss, come meet my mamá,” and he gestured toward the kitchen. A shorter woman threw a dish towel on the counter and walked over to him, smiling. Her hair was pulled back tightly, and Moss could see the resemblance. Javier and his mother had the same flat, wide noses, the same deep brown eyes. “Mamá, this is Moss.”

  She held a hand out gingerly. “Hola, Moss,” she said, her accent giving his name a softness, “it’s nice to meet you. Eugenia.”

  “Nice to meet you, too,” he said. “Thanks for having me over.” He glanced behind her, saw the pile of dishes in the sink. “Necesitas ayuda?”

  “Oh, no, no, it’s okay,” she said. “I got it.” She gave him a look. “Unless you want to.”

  He laughed. “Put me to work,” he said. He slipped off his shoes next to a neat line of them by the door, then put his Chrome bag down on a chair in the small dining room. “I got Overwatch in the bag,” he told Javier. “Go ahead and load it up!”

  “Already trying to win my mother over,” Javier said, grinning from ear to ear. “Smart move, Moss. Smart move.”

  Moss pulled on the rubber gloves above the sink and began to scour one of the pots that sat next to the sink. “What did you cook in this?” he asked. “Ms.…”

  “Perez,” she said, coming to stand near him in the kitchen. “Un guisado, like … a stew? Soup?” She shook her head. “Stew. That’s the word.”

  “Smells good,” he said. “Or at least what’s left of it.”

  “So you go to school con mi hijo?”

  “Nah,” said Moss. “I’m up at West Oakland High. We just met on the train last weekend.”

  “Oh, okay.” She went silent as Moss moved on to the next dish, and it was the first burst of awkwardness. He wasn’t sure how to do this. Why weren’t there how-to guides on dealing with a cute guy’s mother?

  “Are you two…” She paused, and Moss turned to see her wrestle with a word, then look at him with certainty. “… dating?”

  He nearly dropped the plate he was holding. “Oh, no, I don’t think so,” he said, his voice shaking a bit. “At least not yet. This is our first time hanging out, since we only met last weekend.”

  This seemed to please her, and she smiled at Moss. “Okay. Entiendo.”

  “Are you harassing him already?” Javier came into the kitchen. He’d changed into a red shirt with some writing on the front that Moss couldn’t read. “He just got here, Mamá.”

  She laughed, and it was a high, joyful sound. “Just getting to know him, that’s all. Thank you for doing the dishes, Moss. It is very kind of you, and is the best way to ‘win me over.’” She made quotes with her fingers.

  “See? I know what I’m doing, Javier.”

  Eugenia walked over to her son and he bent down so she could kiss him on the cheek. “Have a good time,” she told him. “And behave. De vuelta en una hora.”

  As she headed out the door, Moss asked, “Where is she going?”

  “Just picking up some dinner for us,” he said. “The stew was for a get-together she hosted last night for her church friends. Plus, I suspect she wants to give us some privacy tonight.”

  “For what?”

  “She’s a bit new to this whole part of me,” Javier admitted. “I only came out to her a few months ago, and … well, you’re the first guy I’ve liked that she’s ever met.”

  “Well … wow,” said Moss. I guess that’s a good sign, he thought.

  “So feel special! You need anything to drink?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he said, walking into the living room. “Water’s good.”

  He watched Javier’s tall and lanky body from the couch, mesmerized by the way he moved. A streetlight outside the nearest window to the left cast stripes through the blinds onto Javier’s skin while he was in the kitchen, crossing over his shoulders and down his arms. He glowed. All this served to make Moss even more nervous, and he almost wished that Javier’s mother was home soon.

  Almost.

  When Javier sat down, his hand fell to Moss’s leg, where he gave it a gentle squeeze before bringing it back to his own controller. “So, amigo,” Javier said, “how was your day? School started this week, right?”

  Pushing aside the desire to giggle about being touched by Javier, Moss gulped and answered him. “Eh, it was okay. A bit too eventful for my taste.”

  He watched as Javier tried to figure out the game options, eventually settling on a practice round. But Moss was only half paying attention, not only because he knew the game backward and forward, but because he couldn’t seem to focus with Javier next to him, the other boy’s leg just inches from his own.

  “Eventful? What do you mean by that?”

  Moss grimaced. “Just … lots of stuff going on,” he said, committing to a more vague explanation. “How’s school for you?”

  “Boring and uneventful,” Javier said, choosing Tracer for his first round in the game.

  “Cool,” Moss said, instantly realizing what a terrible (and uncool) re
ply that was. Desperate to recover, Moss said the first thing that came to mind, which happened to be:

  “So, you guys got lockers at your school?”

  At this, Javier turned to Moss. “Um … yes? Why do you ask?”

  “Ah, nothing. Just that our school is doing this thing and having them randomly searched and stuff.”

  “Like … how random?”

  “I don’t know,” Moss replied. “I’m convinced that they’re gonna make it through the whole student body by the end of the month. Don’t they do that down at Eastside?”

  “Not really. Things aren’t so bad at my school, I guess. Why are they doing it where you are?”

  “I dunno. It sucks. I mean, it’s not like I have anything to hide, but I feel like my school just hates everyone who goes there. Like they want to make everything as miserable as possible for us.”

  The battlefield roared to life on the television, and Moss laughed as Javier began to jump Tracer around the screen, shooting at every object in the waiting room he was stuck in. He stole a glance at Javier, whose concentrated expression seemed a little angry. Without so much as turning his head, Javier said, “I’m glad I don’t go to your school, then,” which made Moss think, That’s too bad. I’d like to see you there. “Of course,” Javier continued, “that would mean I could be distracted by your presence all day if I did.”

  Moss nearly choked, and Javier laughed.

  “Why are you so nervous, Moss?”

  “I’m not ner—” he started to say.

  “You were the second you walked into my house.”

  At that, Moss reached over and paused the game, fixing Javier with a searing look.

  “Moss, I have to unpause the game or I’m going to die in like a second,” Javier said, and he laughed.

  “I’m not … nervous,” Moss said with impatience. “I’m just … I’m just not used to this.”

  “Really? Am I your first real date, too?”

  “Is this a date?” Moss questioned.

  “You know, I don’t actually know what counts.” A bashfulness came over Javier, and Moss appreciated that he wasn’t the only vulnerable one in the room. “I’ve talked to a few guys online, maybe exchanged a few risqué texts, but … yeah, man, this is new to me, too.”