Page 16 of 10 Things I Hate About Prom
“You didn’t need to do that, Ive,” Joaquin says, crossing his arms and blocking my path.
“And let you get kicked off the baseball team before the championship?” My attempt to walk around him is swiftly blocked. His arms are long enough to trap me no matter which way I go, and I’m nowhere near coordinated enough to trick him. “If you get me another week of detention because I’m late to first period, Iwillbite you.”
The threat doesn’t make him budge either.
“It’s not a big deal, I swear.” I shrug. “Go win the World Cup, or whatever it is they give you for winning a baseball tournament.”
“You have to let me make it up to you.” His tone is as stern as a parent doling out groundings, even as he holds his pinky out in front of me.
“Well, since you twisted my arm…” I loop my pinky through his, and finally, he cracks a smile.
When the bell rings, I’m swept up by the flurry of motion. People spilling into halls, elbows shoving into me, and, suddenly, Joaquin pulling me to his chest. His arms are a warm, safe haven from the chaos around us, the steady thrum of his heartbeat and the comforting smell of his bodywash keeping me grounded.
“Stay out of trouble,” he whispers into my ear, like we’re in our own little bubble in the middle of the hallway.
“No promises.”
I expect his arms to fall away immediately, but we stay there, wrapped up in one another as our classmates pass by like there’s no one in the world but us. For a moment, it feels like our first day of freshman year all over again. The two of us with skinned knees and an unfortunate amount of acne clutching each other for dear life, too afraid to let go.
But he does let go, dropping his arms back to his sides when his teammate, DeShawn, comes rushing up to him.
“Bro, were you seriously trying to ask out Tessa Hernandez this morning?”
Whatever Joaquin says next, I can’t make it out. He lets DeShawn whisk him away, not even giving me a wave or a “bye” before disappearing around the corner.
Watching him walk away shouldn’t hurt when he’s done it dozens of times before. The same way watching him pour his heart out for someone like Tessa Hernandez shouldn’t bother me either.
But that doesn’t stop the feeling.
Chapter Six
Nothing like the smellof burnt ground beef to welcome you home after a long day.
“Ive?!” Mami calls after I close the front door.
I pull out my headphones, so unused to her actually being home these days that I’m not sure I didn’t imagine hearing her. “Yeah?”
“Can I get some help?”
I follow her voice to the kitchen, jumping back in surprise when I open the door to find the room shrouded in smoke and an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. Mami is bent over the kitchen sink, struggling to empty the charred contents of a pot into the sink while Nurse Oatmeal laps the ground for scraps. Smoke swirls around them, getting dangerously close to the flickering fire alarm on the ceiling. I don’t wait for Mami to give me marching orders, immediately throwing open the back door and as many windows as I can. I cover my mouth with the collarof my flannel, fanning as much of the smoke out of the room as I can.
Miraculously, we’re spared the rage of the fire alarm, and the room clears within a few seconds.
“I think I burned the meat,” Mami says, breaking the silence.
And, just as quickly as the smoke dissipated, we’re doubled over with laughter.
Walking into two almost-catastrophes in one day should be traumatizing, but as Mami leans against me for support as she struggles to keep herself up from laughing so hard, all I can feel is relief. Because our house didn’t burn down, sure, but mainly because she’shere.
“All right, all right, let’s get this handled before the fire department shows up,” Mami says as she stands upright, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes.
“Again,” I add as I set down Nurse Oatmeal.
She scoffs, waving me off. “That was one time.”
Two times, but I won’t argue.
We work together to clear out the last of the smoke and scrub the charred contents of the pan. Whatever Mami was attempting to make for dinner is too crispy to be edible; the crumbles sitting in the sink are hard as coals.
