Page 23 of The Crush
The Trip
I hadn’t really dated in high school. And byhadn’t really, I mean Ireallyhadn’t.
Sure, there may have been a few dances at my quinceañera, a few hopeful smiles in school hallways, and once, a very sweet boy named Leo from my senior year English class had asked me out to a movie.
Of course, my father had insisted on dropping me off, just like he had insisted on knowing Leo’s full name, his parents’ names, his father’s job, and their home address before leaving. Which is probably why I was so surprised that Leo still had the courage to make a move during the show.
At the unexpected feeling of his arm against the back of my neck, I’d jumped up so fast that our popcorn had gone flying, and I’d tried to quickly cover my reaction by saying I needed to use the bathroom. When I came back after a very firm talk with myself, he didn’t try again.
I didn’t care.
It wasn’t until college that I started seriously dating a political sciences major from my economics class. Recognizing that at some point I wouldhaveto stop pining for Daniel Ríos, evenif I’d gotten as good at hiding my crush as I had the newspapers I swiped once my father was done.
When I finally brought Mark home, nearly everyone in my family loved him. My father, because Mark would politely listen to him complain about how politicians “like to talk about small towns but hate to do anything for them.” My mother, because he was “a good Catholic boy.” Aarón, because he was another high school football star. Eli, because Aarón did.
Gabe had thought Mark was “an absolute shithead.” In the end, I was inclined to agree.
After that, I’d gone back to waiting, to hoping for some sort of lightning strike that could outshine a long-burning torch. Then the door had opened.
Nineteen
Isabel
Tuesday, September 27, 1994
“So…why are you going out of town?”
“I need to clear up an issue with my diploma.”
“Howterrible, mija! What’s wrong?”
“They’re saying I still owe money and won’t send it until I pay.”
“Dios mío, how much money?”
“…Three…hundred?”
“Wrong!” Gabe loudly smacks the flat of his hand on the bottom of an empty feed bucket to emphasize his point. “Try again.”
“Wrong?” I stare at him from across the barn aisle, the overwhelming din of cattle queuing up for their dinner canceling out any risk of us being overheard. “Why is that wrong?”
“It’s too much money.”
“Too much?” I frown, trying to figure out what I’m missing. “Why?”
“Because Dad loves to get up on his soapbox about the cost of college being outrageous. Not that it isn’t,” he hedges before reaching for another bucket. “But you tell him that they’re tryingto get three hundred dollars more out of you, and he will go there himself to get the chance to shout about it.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose between my fingers. “So…two hundred?”
“You’re thinking too big. The idea is to fly under the suspicion radar,” Gabe tells me before grabbing the buckets out of my hands. A clear indication I’m moving too slow for him, even if he’d never say so.
“Fine, what do you recommend,maestro?”
He smirks at me over his shoulder, pauses for dramatic effect, and then, “Fifty bucks.”
“Fifty?” I say, incredulous. “Why even bother?”
“Exactly.Pop will be annoyed, but not to the point of verbal threats. Only to the point of a long lecture on bureaucracy.” Gabe sets down his last bucket, then starts walking up the aisle, taking a quick audit of the herd. I tag after him, wiping my hands on my dirt-smeared T-shirt and aching for a shower.
