Olga tsks. “Don’t say bad words,” she tells Rey. She casts another worried look at the cuffs.
“¿Vas a estar bien? ¿Sabes lo que haces?” Will you be okay? Do you know what you are doing?
“Está todo bien,” I say, hoping it will be. “Is Gabi awake?”
Olga snorts. “She left already.”
“Where did she go?”
“The party for the friend, la Filipina, ¿cómo se llama?”
“Her name is Juliette,” I say.
“Yes. Mr. Guinto left me a note. The party is later today, and Gabi is helping with the decorations.” Olga counts off the things my sister will do on her fingers. “They go to the mall for shopping and getting nails done with Mr. Guinto . . .” Olga stops to check the notes.
“Luego, Mr. Guinto will drop the girls off to the movies for to see The Granny.” She frowns. “It’s either a comedy about abuelitas or about abuelitas who kill.” Olga continues, “After sleeping over, and then breakfast, the girls will do algo para la escuela.” She snaps her fingers, trying to come up with the right word. “You know, la feria de la ciencia?” I nod. “Then, Mr. Guinto will bring Gabi home.”
Rey tries to follow the Spanglish conversation. “What’s feria? Haven’t heard you say that before, Olga. Does it mean fierce?”
Olga frowns. “You don’t listen. I try to teach you, but you never listen.”
“It doesn’t mean fierce. It means fair, like a science fair,” I say.
Rey reaches for her phone. “So, how do you say fierce?”
“Feroz. Like, you are so not feroz.” I smile.
“Watch yourself, Aimee.”
“Okay, ¿algo más, chicas?” Olga says.
“I’ll be right back,” Rey says before leaving the room.
“Are Gabi and Juliette going to the movies by themselves?” I ask Olga.
She squints at me over her reading glasses. “Mr. Guinto will be in the mall where el cine is, and his daughter has a phone with the thing on it so he knows where his child is at all times.”
“What thing?”
Olga’s thin shoulders bunch up. “I do not know what it is called. One of those things on the phone, like a button.”
“An app.”
“An app. Okay.” Olga looks at me. “Cuidado, ¿okay, chiquita?” she says before turning to go back to the kitchen. I appreciate that Olga wants me to be careful—careful of taking the cuff off, careful of being with Rey. But I want to be more than careful. I want to be happy.
Rey walks back into the room slowly, balancing a plate. “Now we do shots, remember?”
On the plate are three little pills and tiny paper cups of the bitter liquid medicine.
“But why? I don’t need it now.”
Rey opens my hand and places the pills in my palm. “Yeah, you do. You took them before, and you take them now. That’s a rule. You can’t stop cold turkey. How do you think I ended up at the VCU ward last time? Stopped taking my meds. And how did I end up puking butterflies?”
“You listened to Pixie.”
“Exactly. I am sometimes stupid, but I can learn.”
I take the pills and drink the liquid medicine. Then, I eat a little toast to get the bitter taste out of my mouth.
“So. Since we’re feeling good, and, you know, we’re—” She takes my hand. “Feeling good,” she says, drawing out the words.
My face must look confused again because Rey becomes serious.
“You know I like you, right?” She pauses, biting her lip. “¿Como una novia?”
I hold still, waiting to see what kind of suerte this will be.
“Did I say it right? Like a girlfriend?” Rey asks anxiously. When my expression doesn’t change, she starts to pull her hand away. I hold on tightly.
“You said it right.”
She smiles. “Okay. So. This is okay?” She holds up our clasped hands.
How can I know? I only know that I don’t want her to stop holding my hand.
“Yes,” I say. “This is okay.”
“Good. Then let’s go out.”
* * *
“What about Indranie?” I ask. I don’t see her car in the driveway.
“She’s with Dad at a reelection fund-raiser for some senator,” Rey answers, adjusting the mirrors on the sides of the car.
“On a Saturday?”
“My dad is ready to deploy his checkbook whenever and wherever he can buy votes. Corrupting the government isn’t a nine-to-five job, you know.”
“You’re kidding around, right?”
“Mostly.”
We sit in another of Mr. Warner’s cars. A small, funny car painted dark green and white, new and shiny like a toy. “The Mini was supposed to be Riley’s. He failed his driver’s test too many times, so Dad said he couldn’t have the car until he retook the driving course.”
I watch her face as she talks about her brother. I can’t feel her emotions anymore. I can’t sense when she is stopped by grief, when it eats her up. I can only watch her face and try to figure out how she feels.
“Was he terrible at driving?”
She turns down the driveway. “Yeah, he sucked,” she says, smiling sideways at me. “He felt it was unmanly to be so bad at driving. I think he psyched himself out watching the driving shows Gabi loves so much, with those idiots doing spinouts in parking lots. He thought driving would be like that.” Her voice falters, and I think I almost feel it, the wave of grief that passes through her. But it is only what I think is happening, not what I feel is happening.
“What’s a spinout?” I ask.
Rey looks at me with a devilish smile. “You want me to show you?”
“Is it dangerous?”
“Hell yeah.”
“Then no.”
“I thought you’d say that,” she says, putting her foot on the gas pedal and making the car leap forward. She laughs at my expression. “I’m just kidding. I don’t even know how to do that. I’m the good twin, remember?”
“You’re mostly good,” I say.
“But you like mostly good,” she says, driving out through the black gates.
“I like a little bad too,” I say. I keep my face turned to my window so she cannot see my cheeks flush. But we are both smiling, I know.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Where aren’t we going?” she says teasingly.
It’s like she is inviting me with a joke. “Okay,” I say, trying to sound innocent. “Where aren’t we going?”
She laughs. It’s a joy to hear her laugh like this when we are both ourselves. I think I am myself. I am still confused by the lack of weight on my leg. By the lightness of my heart.
“Pixie says she’s sorry.”
“She said that?” I can’t imagine the sour girl saying those words.
“No. What she said was, Whine, whine, whine, we used to be so close. Why don’t you want to be my bestie forever and ever. Cry.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means she was jealous and acted like a little bitch because of it. I told her to cease and desist.”
I shrug, as if it isn’t a big deal, even as I think of all the terrible things Pixie said about me. How she wanted to make me feel small. “Well,” I say, “Pixie should be sorry.”
Rey’s mouth opens in shock, but there’s a smile there too. “Why do you say that?”
“Because she wanted to fit me into a box. To say I was one thing, not another. She didn’t like to see me as a person. That was why she was such a bitch.” I probably shouldn’t enjoy saying that word as much as I do.
Rey laughs, then smacks the steering wheel for emphasis. “Poor Pixie is no match for you. No wonder she was so pissed I couldn’t stop talking about you.”
“You couldn’t?”
“No. I honestly couldn’t.” She glances sideways at me, then quickly looks away. We speed down a highway, past stores and cars. Everything seems so big, bright, and clean. I can almost guess what Rey would say if she could read my mind. Give it time; it’ll get dirty soon enough. I don’t care. I like seeing the world this way.
“Wait,” I say. “Does Pixie, um, like you?”
“Everyone loves me.”
I wish I had a pillow to throw at her. “I’m serious.”
“You can be Sirius Black, if you want,” she says.
I groan. I have to remind myself to ignore what I don’t understand. And then, I do understand. She is making a Harry Potter joke. And I understand it! I grin madly at Rey, and she grins back.
“I knew you’d get it,” she says. Getting it feels like warmth spilling through my chest. Getting it is me and Rey in a tiny car, and the rest of the world doesn’t matter.
“Does Pixie like you?”
The light we are at changes to a green arrow, and Rey turns left. “No. I’m not saying she couldn’t be convinced to like me. Pixie can be convinced of a lot of things. But that’s no reason to do it.”
“And you don’t like her?” A little boat on rough waves, that’s me. I have to hold on.
She shakes her head. “I’m way too busy liking you,” she says, and her smile is full of secrets. A secret smile can be a lie. I know that. It can be a real smile or a slap. I don’t trust myself to know the difference.
“How do you do that? How can you be so confident, so sure?”
“I’m not. I’m just faking it. I’m shit-scared, obviously. Did you see how many times I changed my clothes?”
She did change a lot. I put on a red shirt and a new pair of jeans and the boots Indranie bought me, a pair that I couldn’t wear with the cuff on my leg. Then I sat in the kitchen of the main house with Olga, listening to Rey get dressed.
The first Rey came down in was a long-sleeve shirt, a pair of shorts, and boots like cowboys wear. She grabbed a bag, walked to the door, then turned around and headed back upstairs, mumbling.
“Esa chica está loca, ¿sabes?” Olga said.
“I think it’s okay,” I said back.
The next one only made it halfway down the stairs. Olga and I bent our heads to try to see the whole outfit, but Rey turned around before we could.
“A dress, I think?” I said.
The clothes she finally chose—jeans that end at the calf and a green T-shirt with a rainbow and a frog on it—remind me a little of what Olga would wear. But in a nice way. I wonder if Olga wears Rey’s old T-shirts. Or if they go shopping together. That thought makes me laugh.
“What’s funny?” We’re driving near water, away from the stores and traffic.
“Nothing.”
“Come on. You laughed and it wasn’t something brilliant I said. I need to know what caused it. I’m taking notes.” I look at her hands on the wheel. “Mental notes.” We slow down, pulling into a wooded area. In front of us, a car with a bright yellow boat tied to the top of it stops at a little wooden house to pay a ticket.
“I thought of you and Olga shopping together.”
It takes her a moment. She looks down at her T-shirt and then gasps. “I’ll have you know, I look amazing. My T-shirts are ironic. I’m making a statement.”
“It’s a very nice T-shirt. The color green is nice with your eyes,” I say. When it’s our turn at the little wooden house, Rey shows the woman an orange card, and she waves us through the gate.
“Are you messing with me?” Rey says as she looks for a parking space.
“Probably,” I say, smiling. We find a parking space near a path in the woods. I’m excited to be outside, free and with Rey. Excited and a little scared. I have to remind myself that Rey isn’t Liliana. And the past can stay in the past—if I push it away hard enough.
Chapter 28
At mi abuela’s house, before she sold it and moved to the casa para ancianos, there was a lake. Pablo and I learned to swim there. All summer, we lived like kings, playing on the lake’s beach until our strength gave out and we needed food and sleep. Until Abuela shouted for us to come home. Only to wake up the next day and do it again. When I can’t bear to think of Pablo and what he became but I can’t help but think of him, I try to remember him at the lake, sitting on a sun-hot rock and telling me stories about ancient warriors and the monsters that lived at the bottom of the lake. It never made me scared. It only made me want to find those monsters for myself. Fight them with Pablo on my side.
This beach is nothing like the lake at Abuela’s. We’re in the middle of a city. Smooth, warm rocks lead to the water while on a nearby bridge, cars zoom past. Rey tells me this place is called Belle Isle.
“The rocks look like lava flow from a volcano,” I say. “Do you have volcanoes here?”
Rey has taken off her shoes and put them in a little dent in the rocks. Her feet are already in the water. I haven’t taken off my shoes yet.
“A volcano? In Richmond? Nope. At least, not in this geological age. But Dave would know that kind of thing. He’s crazy about this place.”
I sit next to her. It’s only spring, but I could see the rocks getting too hot in summer. The bridge we walked across to get here was a bridge for people hung under a bridge for cars. It swayed as we stepped across it. “It’s an adventure,” Rey said when I hesitated to cross. From the moment I opened my eyes this morning, this has been an adventure.
There aren’t that many people here yet, but I see them walking across the bridge with bikes and dogs and picnic baskets. I point to the walkers’ bridge.
“It looks like they’re going to work. I know it’s Saturday. But they don’t look like they’re going to have fun.”
“Yeah. People take their fun very, very seriously around here,” she says. “Hey, why are you even looking at them? You’re supposed to be looking at me.”
My face must do something funny, or maybe it’s my eyebrows again, because Rey laughs at me.
“Oh man, I’m sorry. I am so teasing. And your face was like, Who is this psycho?”
“No. I wasn’t thinking you are psycho.”
I know the word psycho because Mrs. Rosen made me watch that movie with her. I thought about that movie every time I helped Mamá clean Mrs. Rosen’s bathtub.
“I just mean, your face is, like, inscrutable.”
“I don’t know that word.”
“It means I can’t read it,” Rey says.
“You aren’t supposed to be able to read it.”
“It would help.” She sounds a little sad. As if my face not being easy to understand is a problem.
“I’m not trying to be mysterious,” I say. “I don’t always know when you’re joking. I like to wait until I understand what you’re saying.”
“So, you’re always waiting and thinking, is that it?”
She’s stretched out on the rock, her sunglasses hiding her eyes, her pale toes wet from the river. The James River, she told me.
“Yes,” I answer finally.
“Man, I wish I knew Spanish.”
“Why? I speak—”
Rey groans. “I know . . . excellent English.”
“But I do.”
She sits up. “You totally do. But you think too much about what you’re saying. I have a theory about you.”
“A theory?”
“Yeah, an idea about what’s going on in your head.”
I don’t speak.
She points a finger at me, but at least she’s smiling. “See, you’re doing it now! You’re not talking because you’re getting the lay of the land. Trying to figure out what I’m thinking first so you can respond to that.”
Still, I don’t speak. Not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t know what the right thing to say is. I guess that means what she�
�s saying is true.
“Any other girl, man.” She shakes her head. “Any other girl, and I’d think you were perfect—totally into me, wanting to know my every thought. You’d be like catnip to my ego. But you? You go fathoms deep.”
“You’re doing it again! Using words you know I don’t understand!” Any other girl would be perfect. Does that mean I’m not perfect? Wearing the cuff was terrible. I thought about dying more in the last week than I have in my whole life. But it was bearable because I knew I was helping to save Rey’s life—and because I could feel how she felt. Now I struggle with every word, turning them around in my head, trying to understand her.
She nudges me with her shoulder. “I’m trying to be annoying, get under your skin. So you’ll talk to me.”
A tiny smile crosses my face. “Because sos una peste,” I say.
“What’s that mean?”
“You’re a pest. Annoying. I call Gabi that all the time.” I say it like a joke, thinking that she’ll laugh. But she doesn’t.
“I want you to say what you think, without being afraid,” she says.
All the things that have happened from the moment I went to the feria with Liliana to this moment sitting on a rock with this girl—they are a country between us. I don’t know how to put that into words, how to explain to Rey that, for me, being afraid is like being awake. “It’s not that easy,” I say.
She pushes her sunglasses onto her head, her expression an invitation.
“I’ve been afraid for Gabi a long time. For myself, too.” And you, I almost have the courage to say. “It’s going to take me some time.”
She nods. “I understand. But I’m about as subtle as a stick of dynamite. I’ll be una peste a lot. Probably on an hourly basis.”
I laugh because she is so ridiculous.
“I wish I could hear you laugh more.”
“Do I have a funny laugh?”
Her face is perfectly serious. “You have a beautiful laugh.”
I look away. A person—maybe a man, maybe a woman, I can’t tell—in a pointy blue boat only big enough for one lifts a paddle to us in greeting.
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