Page 111 of Pride High 2: Orange
Diego shrugged, so Ricky pulled him toward the window that overlooked the backyard.
“As soon as you see me out there, hurry up and leave through the front. Okay?”
“Whatever.”
Ricky went to his bedroom door but didn’t open it yet. “I can’t wait to hang out tomorrow. Will you pick me up? I miss Frankenstein.”
This made Diego smile. “Yeah, all right.”
“Okay. See you then.”
Ricky listened intently before opening the door. Then he went downstairs and found his parents unpacking in their bedroom. Which wasn’t a bad place for them to be, but Diego was so big that they’d probably hear him coming down the stairs.
“You guys, you guys!” he said, getting himself worked up. “The skunk is outside. Come see!”
“I don’t want to get sprayed,” his mother said.
“He’s far away. Orshe, because I’m pretty sure I saw babies.”
It was a clever ploy, because the baby version of anything was enough to make his mother say—
“Aww! No wonder it has been staying close to the house.”
Before long, they were standing outside at one corner of the yard while Ricky pretended to search for the skunk. He even pointed to tracks in the snow as evidence, even though they were probably made by a squirrel. When he heard an engine roar past the house, he feigned disappointment.
“I must have scared it off,” he said.
“That’s okay, son,” Ken replied. “Animals are smart. She’ll find somewhere nice and warm to take care of her babies.”
They went back inside. Ricky got a drink from the kitchen and casually checked for any traces that Diego might have left behind. He’d been much more careful downstairs. Or maybe he was simply tidy. If so, that was a nice trait to have in a husband. Giggling to himself over the idea, Ricky went back up to his room. Then he dived into bed, buried his face in the pillow, and breathed in deeply. Sure enough, it smelled like Diego. So he got up again, but only long enough to lock his bedroom door.
* * December 31st, 1992 * *
“I’ve been waiting for this!” Mindy cried happily as the truck zipped down the road.
Silvia had been waiting for it too, although for different reasons. She glanced over at her best friend. Mindy sat next to her on the truck’s long front seat. Just beyond her was Keisha, the smallest glimpse enough to quicken her pulse.
“All three of us together at last,” Mindy added, whipping her head back and forth to smile at them both. “Why didn’t it happen sooner?”
“Probably because Silvia and I have been trying to out-busy each other,” Keisha drawled.
“Sitting behind a counter is nothing compared to working on a farm,” she said dismissively.
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Keisha replied. “You’re gainfully employed. I respect that.”
“I’m getting straight As,” Mindy said. “What am I, chopped liver? And what exactly is that anyway? Liver that’s been chopped, I know, but why would anyone do that?”
“It’s a Jewish recipe, you anti-Semite,” Keisha replied.
Mindy gasped and covered her mouth with a hand. “Is it really?”
“Mm-hm,” Keisha confirmed. “I have an aunt who married a Jewish man. They brought chopped liver to a family get-together. Yours truly thought it was beef. Nobody told me the truth until I’d finished eating some. And you know what? It actually tasted good. I liked it. So yes, you are chopped liver, because I like you too.”
“Aww!” Mindy replied. “That’s both the nicest and grossest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“What sort of food am I?” Silvia asked, wanting some of that attention. “And don’t name any Mexican dishes or it’ll make you racist. It’s bad enough that Mindy hates Jewish people.”
“I do not!” her best friend protested.
