by Paula Chase
Jacinta inhaled sharply at another dull twisting of her insides, stronger this time. As the clenching subsided, her breath leaked out slowly in relief.
Yes, it’s coming, she thought excitedly.
Even though she was used to shit happening, words couldn’t describe how happy she was to ride the crimson wave this month.
Not one single word.
But seven hours and ten trips to the bathroom later, she did have a few words to describe how she was feeling: terrified, on edge, and sick. The dull warning of the cramp storm had stopped shortly after her first class. Distracted, Jacinta had spent the day asking to be excused to the restroom by every single teacher, plus a few stops in between classes, hoping, praying that the cramps would return and bring the flow of her cycle with it.
With the last bell still echoing in her ears and students spilling out all around her, Jacinta stood at the double doors of the school’s entrance, staring out into the teacher’s parking lot, a sea of cars and SUVs that went on for rows. The vehicles waited patiently for their turn to leave while students’ cars revved up and sped out in the surrounding lots. Jacinta gazed out at the still lot, wishing for some of its stoic silence to quiet her mind.
Mina was in front of one of the concrete benches under the flagpole, talking to three girls, two cheerleaders and a girl Jacinta didn’t recognize. The four of them stood clustered together, deep in conversation. Every few seconds, one of them would look up, smile, flirt, laugh, or shout good-bye to friends passing by before going back to the discussion.
No doubt solving a real crisis, like whether to choose polyester shorts over mesh for next year’s cheer camp, Jacinta thought, unable to avoid the disgust crawling up her throat. She swallowed it like a bitter pill, refusing to feel sorry for herself. She closed her eyes for a second—to better hear her own body—last check to see if the cramps were lurking somewhere deep inside. But her stomach was silent, minus a low rumble to remind her that she’d skipped lunch.
She snorted softly, defeated, before pushing the doors open and walking into the swirl of students heading toward buses and their own cars. Her steps, slow and deliberate to ensure Mina’s friends were gone before she reached the flagpole, clicked lightly against the walkway. Exhaust from the buses pulling off got tangled in the warm air and wafted her way. She wiped at her nose absently.
“Hey,” Mina called when Jacinta was only steps away. “Brian had some after school…thing. Some graduation meeting. Wanna walk to the Ria and meet JZ, Liz, and Todd?”
“Okay, Mina. We’ll talk to you later,” one of the cheerleaders said.
“See y’all.” Mina waved, turning her full attention to Jacinta. “I’m not all that hungry. But I’m down for heading to the Ria if you are. Brian said we could wait for him. He’s only gonna be like a half hour. But we could have been home and back by that time.”
“Mina, give me a second,” Jacinta snapped softly. She sat on the concrete bench and dropped her tote bag beside her. It kiltered dangerously near the edge, threatening to spill her books.
“My bad.” Mina’s eyebrows raised slightly. She took a seat beside Jacinta. “Bad day or boy trouble?”
“Both,” Jacinta said glumly.
Still holding on to the straps, she nudged gently at her tote with her butt, letting it fall down to the ground. She folded one leg under her and turned toward Mina. “It’s a really bad day, and it’s ’cause a boy got me in trouble.”
Mina laughed loudly and was about to make a joke until she saw how serious Jacinta’s face was.
“Wait. Trouble like what?” Mina’s eyes narrowed.
Jacinta rolled her eyes at Mina’s playing dumb. Her eyebrows spiked, and she stretched her neck in a comical prod, as if to say, “now, what do you think?”
“Trouble like detention? Or suspension?” Mina leaned in, whispering. “Or trouble like, somebody ready to be a momma up in here?”
Jacinta laughed at that. Hearing Mina come close to revealing her problem sucked some of the fear away. Not a lot, but some. She nodded. “Yeah, trouble like that…the third one.”
Mina scooted closer, and she folded her legs under her, going into full-scale friend mode, so she and Jacinta were only inches apart. “Oh, my God. Are you freaking?” Her hand thumped on her chest dramatically. “Oh, my God, I’d be freak-ing.”
“I’m alright,” Jacinta lied.
“Alright?” Mina’s voice rose. Her head bobbed to the left, then right as she checked out the near empty campus. Aside from a few teachers filtering out, she and Jacinta were practically alone out front now. “Does Raheem know?”
“He knows my period is late. But I really thought it would come on this morning.” Jacinta shook her head in disbelief that it had betrayed her. “I told him to call me to check. He should be calling soon.”
As if summoned, Jacinta’s phone shouted, “Partner, let me upgrade ya,” then proceeded to play a bar from the Beyoncé song before Jacinta flipped it open.
“Hey, Heem.”
“Wassup, girl,” Raheem said.
“Nothing.” Jacinta leaned her elbows on her thighs and away from Mina’s curious gaze. Immediately, all the control fled. She silently cursed the tight knot in her stomach, willing its tightness to be from her period and not the doom she felt crowding her. Telling Raheem was the easy part compared to…well, she didn’t want to think about telling anyone else.
Easy or not, she braced herself for Raheem’s rant. She’d probably have to hear all about how not ready he was to be a father. Like she was ready to be a mother? But he was heading to Georgetown University late this summer—she was pretty sure they didn’t allow babies in the dorm.
Mina tapped her, mouthing something.
“Hold up for a second,” Jacinta said to Raheem. She brought the phone away from her ear. “Huh?”
“Want to walk to the Ria or just stay here?” Mina asked.
The Ria was only a short five-minute walk across the school’s soccer fields and the main street, but walking, doing anything would be better than nothing. Jacinta stood up, picked up her bag, and signaled that she wanted to walk.
They took their time, using the sidewalk around instead of cutting through the teacher’s lot.
“So, what’s up? Did it come on?” Raheem asked.
“Nope.”
Jacinta’s heart pounded in her ears as she waited for Raheem to flip out. Instead, his voice came back a hushed whisper. “Damn. For real?”
“For real,” Jacinta said.
The short answers were helping her keep her cool. Keeping her from screeching into the phone, “What are we going to do? What? Huh? What are we going to do?!”
“So we gon’ have a little baller, huh?” Raheem said, the smile in his voice unmistakable.
Jacinta took the phone off her ear and stared at it, scowling, like it had licked her.
“What?” Mina asked. “Dead spot?”
“Raheem, are you serious?” Jacinta asked, her voice hitting that note of incredulity that meant she wasn’t just confused, she was pissed.
“Well, I guess it could be a little girl. But girls be hoopin’ too,” he said.
Jacinta stopped abruptly. Mina sputtered to a halt beside her. “Alright, where is the real Raheem? And who the hell are you?”
Raheem laughed. “What? You thought I was gon’ trip?”
“Yes. I’m tripping. Why aren’t you?”
Jacinta kept taking the phone off her ear and staring at it.
“’Cause there’s worst things that could happen, I guess,” Raheem said, a shrug in his voice.
“Yeah, like my father killing you and me.”
“I know that’s right,” Raheem said. There was silence on both ends; then with another verbal shrug, he said, “But Jamal know I’m gon’ take care of mine.”
“Alright, look, we need to have this conversation in person,” Jacinta said with real authority. She shook her head. “’Cause I don’t know if you’re joking or what. But…�
� She paused, as if pondering another option, then snorted. “Naw, we need to talk.” Her eyebrows squinted in genuine confusion. “You heard me right? About my period?”
“Yeah. You said it’s not coming on or…whatever, it was supposed to come on a few days ago, and it didn’t,” Raheem said matter-of-factly like Jacinta was the crazy one. “But alright, holler at me later. I can dip by today or tomorrow.”
“Bye, Heem,” Jacinta said. She flipped the phone shut, still shaking her head in a slow tick tock motion.
She and Mina stood on the sidewalk, waiting for the light to turn so they could cross over to the Ria. Traffic was light this time of day, the calm before the rush hour storm, and cars floated by lazily.
“What did he say?” Mina asked, raising her voice to be heard above the passing cars. “Was he mad?”
“Naw, he wasn’t mad,” Jacinta said. Her eyebrows tightly knit, she shook her head. “But I wish he had been.”
Good Boys vs. Bad Boys
“We headed out something proper like.”
—T-Pain ft. Akon, “Bartender”
Monday’s reluctant return to the end of the stretch countdown turned to Tuesday’s frantic gallop to get the week going. End of the year fever was in the air. Even late in the afternoon, with classes over, the hallways were louder as students, emboldened by the thought of freedom, ignored the inside voice etiquette. Teachers, fighting their own battle fatigue, gave lackluster warnings, knowing that neither they nor an administrator felt like dealing with an after-school detention with only fifteen days left. Even the hall walls, usually vivid with school spirit signs and informative flyers—Order your year-book NOW—were silently blank, minus a few forgotten “Prom Tickets For Sale.”
Prom was next week. Tickets had stopped being sold yesterday. The random signs were only another clue that each day, everything from the schools walls to its faculty were on a countdown to desertion.
Greg Canon was in on that countdown, and Kelly could tell. Their tutoring session dragged. Greg was getting even simple sentences wrong. Too polite to show her frustration, Kelly swallowed an explosive sigh building in the back of her throat and corrected Greg’s mangled translation for the fourth time. Mina had been right, Greg was adorable but hopeless. Kelly had serious doubts he was going to get the C he needed on this exam to avoid failing Spanish. Most likely he’d be volver otra vez to Senorita Caridad’s Spanish level four course.
For a second, she was tempted to speak aloud to see if Greg knew what the phrase meant just to break the monotony. But the thought that he wouldn’t be familiar with the simple word for “returning” swelled her chest with another unuttered sigh. Her Sidekick tinkled lightly, and Kelly quickly fished it out of her purse. It was after school, but cell phone use in the library was frowned upon. Her breath caught as she read the text from Angel.
Whaddup ma?
Angel had stopped texting her months ago, once it was clear she wouldn’t answer. The chill she felt goose bumping down her arms, once delicious anticipation, now was a curious dread. What did he want? And why was he so casual like they were still dating or, heck, had even talked recently?
She flipped the Sidekick shut when Greg’s voice, stuttering over yet another sentence, reached her ears. This time, she did sigh—a small, fluttery breath of air—but smiled apologetically to cover it up. She absently placed the Sidekick on the table as she said, “No. It says, ‘Martinez was unable to understand Nunoz’s frustration.’ She snorted at the irony of the sentence. “You said, ‘Martinez did not know Nunoz’s frustration.’”
Greg flashed a smile, and Kelly found herself smiling back, her irritation at bay.
He sucked at Spanish, but boy, was he a cutie! His low cut hair framed a round pie face, which was baby soft clean, except a small patch of hair above his lip that would only be considered a ‘stache if it had lots more follicle company. Narrow, almond-shaped eyes and a constant, upturned impish grin gave the impression that he was perpetually happy.
“Mí no bueno en esto,” Greg said, his grin sheepish.
Kelly let out a belly laugh, then smacked her hand over her mouth, her eyes searching for the librarian, Mrs. Bostwick. She wasn’t sure if Greg had purposely spoken the sentence grammatically incorrectly or not. But it was close enough. She nodded. “You’re right…you’re not very good at this.”
“Usted procura. You try,” Kelly said, meaning it. The Sidekick tinkled again, but Kelly ignored it. “Not to be mean or anything…but why are you still taking Spanish if you’re struggling with it so much?”
Greg’s eyebrows shrugged. He sat back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head. “I know it’s crazy. But if I want to get into a good lax school, I need certain courses and grades.”
Kelly didn’t know much about lacrosse, much less what made a college qualify as a good lax school. But she nodded sympathetically. Now, with only two weeks left in their sophomore year, a lot of her peers, her included, really had college on the brain. It was as if a bell had rung, and everyone realized they only had two more years to goof off. Some people took it to heart and were goofing off more. But some of the more motivated achievers were already planning to take the SATs over the summer to gauge whether they’d need a course to help them pass it. Getting good grades had always come easy to Kelly. It was no secret she was a loner and the classic quiet girl while at elite McStew Prep. She hadn’t gotten a social life until transferring to DRB High last year and meeting Mina. Still, even with a serious uptick in social activity, Kelly’s grades continued to stay on track.
“Couldn’t you just take Advanced English?” Kelly asked. She had her doubts about Greg passing level four, and thoughts of him going to level five made her cringe for him. By level five, the entire class was taught in Spanish, no breaks, no English. He’d be lost from day one.
Greg nodded. “I think so. But you know it looks better when you have a foreign language.”
“Do you know what schools you’re going to apply to already?”
Greg sat up straighter, his eyes shining. “Hopkins, UNC, and probably Syracuse. Hopkins was the NCAA lacrosse champions last year…. That’s definitely my first choice.”
“Maybe you should look to see exactly what their requirements are,” Kelly prodded. “If you don’t need Spanish…”
Greg laughed. “I should run now while I have the chance?”
Kelly nodded, chuckling along.
“I feel like I know the stuff, but I just can’t translate it when Senorita Caridad goes so fast.”
“Actually, you’re not doing too well reading it off the paper, either,” Kelly said apologetically.
Greg chuckled. “Okay, okay, I suck.”
“Admitting it is half the battle,” Kelly joked.
The two of them muffled their laughter. Kelly’s Sidekick rang out again, and Greg picked it up without flipping it open.
“These things are cool. You like it?”
“Yeah. I mean, the phone part sort of sucks, but I mainly use it for texting anyway,” Kelly said.
Greg nodded. “Yeah, I’ve heard other people say that.” He handed it over to her. “It keeps ringing. Must be your man.”
Kelly’s eyes fluttered in a half roll, half pop as she protested, “Nope. I don’t have one.”
“No?” His eyebrow crinkled in concentration for a second. He chuckled almost to himself. “Then maybe I’m not crazy. Is Mina trying to hook us up?”
Kelly laughed openly, and sure enough, Mrs. Bostwick appeared behind Greg, frowning. Kelly tucked her chestnut hair behind her ear and covered her mouth respectfully. She waited for Mrs. Bostwick to walk away before she giggled softly.
“She’s so busted,” Kelly whispered.
Greg’s smile widened. “I knew it. I actually already had a tutor, but she kept saying you were the best and that I had to meet you if I wanted to pass.”
“The best?” Kelly shrugged. “No. But I’ve spoken fluent Spanish since I was three.”
“Word?�
�� Greg nodded, impressed. “Are you Hispanic?”
“I’m Latina, yes,” Kelly said.
“I didn’t know that,” Greg said. “I just thought you were mad good at speaking Spanish. No wonder you sound so…authentic when you speak.”
“Authentic?” Kelly cocked her head to the side in mock question.
Greg leaned in, apologizing. “No, I mean…I didn’t mean—”
Kelly smiled. “I know what you mean.”
“Mina was right, then. You are the best. Sorry I’m a lost cause.”
“No, you’ll pass. We’ll just have to…” Kelly frowned, searching for the right solution. She finally decided upon, “…Work harder.”
“So, should we tell Mina the jig is up or”—Greg leaned in, lowered his voice, and said in near perfect Spanish—“should we go get a slice of pizza together?”
“I’d love to,” Kelly whispered back in Spanish. She smiled. “That’s the best I’ve heard you speak since we started.”
Greg beamed. “I practiced that one.” He gathered his books. “How about Friday?”
Things were moving so fast Kelly could only nod. Before Greg could sprint away, she reminded him, “And don’t forget we have another session on Thursday.”
He winked at her. “Thanks. See you, Kelly.”
Kelly took her time gathering her books. The Sidekick tinkled again insistently. There were five more messages from Angel. She cruised through them, her eyes wide as saucers.
Whus up ma? hit me back
Kelly come on, I need a favor
Wanna kick it Friday?
Cm on girl I wan ask u smthng
Be my date for Sam-Well’s prom
By the time Kelly joined the clique in the student parking lot at Brian’s Explorer, they were ready to break camp and head their separate ways. The truck idled noiselessly as Mina hung out the window, gabbing with Lizzie. Mina’s face lit up when Kelly joined them.