Page 24 of 10 Things I Hate About Prom
“Can’t,” he replies with a genuine frown. “I’ve gotta head back for practice in an hour.”
My brow furrows. After-school activities on half days should be outlawed. “I thought Coach Mills was taking it easy on you guys?”
Joaquin shakes his head and pulls out his phone. “Now that the pep rally’s over, we’re going into hardcore training mode.” Sure enough, the calendar he’s just opened is packed to the brim with three hour-long practices every weekday up until the championship in three weeks.
“This seems a little excessive.” I examine the calendar more closely, realizing he’s also scheduled for morning training sessionswith Coach Mills. Guess I can kiss my ride to school goodbye. “Okay,veryexcessive.”
“It’s the first shot the team has had at a championship title in, like, a century,” he insists as he tucks his phone away. “This is our last game as a team—my last gameever.If we have to live and breathe baseball for three weeks to be champions, then I’ll live and breathe baseball for three weeks.”
Doña Carmen might argue that he already does that, but I can’t blame him for giving in to Coach Mills’s over-the-top schedule. Baseball is a part of the Romero family legacy. Long before Joaquin came along, his dad was the type of one-of-a-kind player they still talk about at his high school in San Juan. Apparently, they still have a photo of him hanging in the entryway. Mrs.Romero has been shuttling Joaquin to games since he could hold a bat, and I’ve been sitting in the stands ever since. He’s worked hard for his legacy. Who wouldn’t want to go out on the highest note?
“What about after practice?” I suggest. “I get off work at—”
Before I can finish, my phone buzzes several times in a row.
Going to meet up with Carlos at Boner Grill after work tonight. Sent you some money for dinner—lmk if you got it
*Boner Grill
BONER
CARAJO!!! BONEDRY GRILL!!!
Watching my mom struggle over her phallic autocorrect should be funny, but it only sparks a white-hot flame.
K.
“Scratch that. My mom’s going on yet another date tonight, so I’m on dog duty.” I toss my phone into my backpack with a sigh. “Again.”
“Damn,” Joaquin says around a mouthful of his sandwich. “That’s like the third time this month.”
“Fifth,” I mutter bitterly.
Joaquin gives me a sympathetic knee nudge under the table. “At least your mom’s getting some.”
I shudder. “Please don’t ever use the words ‘your mom’ and ‘getting some’ in the same sentence ever again.”
“My bad.” Our usual teasing banter falters as he stares at me like a puzzle waiting to be solved. “You know we can talk about it, if you want?”
“My mom getting some?” I reply sarcastically.
He snorts, tossing a wadded-up napkin at me. “Let me be real for a minute, geez.” His smile fades, and I’d laugh at his ultra-serious PSA-worthy expression if I didn’t know what was coming. “About…y’know. The whole her dating again thing.”
Joaquin and I share everything. Candy and toys and secrets and more memories than I could ever count. But I am still hesitant to talk about Mami around him. Not because I don’t trust him, but because it feels weirdly…selfish. Sure, I barely see my mom these days because of her work schedule and love life, butat least she’s around. Complaining about only seeing Mami once a week would probably feel like a slap in the face to someone who doesn’t get to see theirs outside of a screen.
I toy with my necklace, avoiding Joaquin’s eye.
Joaquin takes my nonresponse as an answer, swiftly moving on. “Let’s do a rain check on the slushies, then. How about next Friday, after my practice?”
While I appreciate the topic switch, it’s another gut punch. “I’m closing next Friday, too.”
Joaquin lets out a low whistle. “Are you gonna be free anytime in the next century?”
I groan. “Probably not. Once we open up the outdoor seating area, things always get super hectic, so my tío needs all the help he can get.” I cross my arms, leaning back until I’m staring at a concerning brown stain on the ceiling. “I don’t even know if I’ll be able to make it to Dino World this year.”
Dino World is a forty-five-minute drive away from home. It’s the dinosaur-themed amusement park of my and Mami’s adrenaline junky dreams.
Joaquin hisses, knowing how much the loss must sting. He leans over to rest a consoling hand on my arm. “If I wasn’t going to San Juan this summer, I’d offer to take you to that death trap you call entertainment.”
