Page 29 of Loco

I stifled a laugh. Roque’s parents were sweet, especially his mom—I knew them through Evie—but I could only imagine their reaction to their son joyriding across state lines.

“How bad was the fallout?” I asked, biting the inside of my cheek.

He gave me a pained look. “On a scale of one to ten? Solid eleven. My life was basically locked down for two months. No phone, no TV, grounded into the next century.”

I couldn’t help it—I laughed. “That’s amazing. Okay, okay, now I have to tell you mine.”

Roque raised a brow, intrigued.

“I was six,” I began, “and I gave my cousin Heidi a haircut. Averycreative one. I also decided her hair needed some flair, so I colored it like a zebra—with pink and black permanent markers.”

His eyes widened. “Youzebra-stripeda kid?”

“She had this gorgeous, almost white-blonde hair down to her waist,” I said, already starting to laugh. “I chopped five inches off one side…”

Roque tilted his head. “Just one side?”

I sighed. “I got a little over-enthusiastic and took about nine inches off the other side.”

He burst out laughing, shaking his head. “Okay, I take it back. You werewayworse than we were.”

Roque was still chuckling, eyes crinkled with amusement when I added, “And that wasn’t even the worst thing I did.”

He sat up a little straighter, eyes lighting up like a kid hearing there’s more candy. “Wait, there’s more?”

“Oh, so much more,” I said, grinning. “The very next week, I shaved my brother Cash’s head.”

His eyebrows shot up. “What?Wasn’t he just a toddler back then?”

“Two and a half,” I said, nodding solemnly. “Just a sweet, innocent little cherub with these soft golden curls my mom was obsessed with. So naturally, I took clippers to them.”

“Oh my God,” Roque muttered, laughter already bubbling up.

“But I didn’t stop there,” I went on. “No, no. I took itto the next level. After I shaved his head, I thought it looked boring, so I drew flowers all over it. Big, pink, and purple ones with green vines. He looked like a bald little spring garden.”

Roque was fully laughing now, one hand over his chest like he needed to hold his ribs together. “Please tell me there are pictures.”

“Therewere,” I said with a dramatic sigh. “But my mom destroyed most of the evidence in a fit of maternal rage.”

“I bet she did! What did she say?”

“Oh, she almost had a heart attack,” I said, remembering the moment vividly. “She walked in the door after work, saw Cash with his flower head, and just stopped breathing for a solid five seconds. My grandparents had been babysitting, but Grandpa was in the bathroom, and Grandma was doing dishes in the kitchen. I was left unsupervised with a toddler, clippers, and a vision.”

Roque had tears in his eyes now and was laughing so hard he couldn’t catch his breath. “You’re a menace. A literal childhood menace.”

“I was creative,” I said, chin high with faux pride.

“You were aterror,” he corrected, wiping his eyes. “That’s it, I’m hiding every pair of scissors and every single marker in this house. If you so much as look at a Sharpie, I’m calling for backup.”

I smirked and leaned back in my seat. “Oh, go ahead. But remember—you’ve got to fall asleep eventually.”

He stopped mid-laugh, staring at me with mock horror. “You wouldn’t.”

“Don’t piss me off, Roque,” I said sweetly. “I’m very resourceful, and you’d look great with daisies on your scalp.”

Roque groaned and dragged a hand over his head like he was already mourning his future hair. “I regret everything.”

“Too late,” I sang.

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