Page 46 of The Golden Boy's Guide to Bipolar
“Really?” Moni claps her hands the way Abuela does, and I can’t tell if she’s making fun of her or if she’s genuinely picked up some of her mannerisms from staying here. “Can we have a game night?”
“Why don’t we let your primo settle in for tonight, and we can talk about something like that another day.”
I raise an eyebrow. Board games with Moni and my grandma doesn’t exactly sound fun, but whatever. Anything to keep me from dying of boredom, I guess.
After dinner, Moni shows me to our shared room, which is completely empty except for a bunk bed in the corner.
“I’m on bottom,” she says as she crawls into the lower bunk.
“Fine by me.” I didn’t bring any pajamas with me, so I climb into the top bunk fully clothed.
We’re quiet for a few minutes, and I’m starting to think Moni has fallen asleep when she finally breaks the silence.
“No one appreciates ingenuity in my line of work,” she says, all fast like she’s been holding it in since we got in bed.
“Oh,” is all I say, since I’m way too tired to make more words than I absolutely have to. Moni doesn’t seem to have that problem.
“I came up with an innovative product packaging idea you can’t find anywhere else on the market, but all my dad cares about is a failed drug test! What a hypocrite, right? Unlike him, I actually try my own product to make sure it’s good. That’s why my customers are happier than his.”
“That sucks,” I say, still not really knowing how else to respond.
“That’s why I’m here,” she continues. “Because of the drug test. He didn’t even want to know the rest of the story!”
I know she probably wants me to tell her whyI’mhere now, but instead I ask, “How long are you staying here?”
“No idea. Long enough I’m going to school here for now. I think my dad’s trying to teach me a lesson about public schools being bad or whatever, but I actually really like it here!”
Great. I’ll be here until I die, probably.
“So what got you sent here?” She asks outright this time.
I roll over, as if to roll away from the question. “You’re really persistent, you know that?”
She laughs. “I mean, I’m curious. I’ve been here by myself for a week. It’s nice to have someone else to talk to. I mean, it’s obviously not good for you that you’re here, but it’s good for me, and that’s good enough for me.”
I can’t help but let out a small laugh. “Fine,” I say. I guess there isn’t any point to hiding it, really. “I got expelled from Catholic school.”
“What’d you do?” she asks, not even pretending to feign sympathy. I kind of like that.
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“What can I say, I’m a nosy bitch.”
I let out another little laugh. Normally, I’d be really annoyed at all the questions, but something about Moni makes me feel less on edge. Maybe it’s because we’re kind of the same. As a musical prodigy turned drug dealer, she’s just as much of a disappointment to her dad as I am to my mom. She knows what the pressure is like, and what it’s like not to live up to it.
“I got tagged in a picture on Instagram of me with a bottle of tequila, and I added it to my page like a dumbass,” I finally say.
I can hear Moni draw in a breath through her teeth. “That sucks. Can they really expel you for that if it wasn’t on school grounds, though?”
“Yup,” I say. I know in public school they wouldn’t have been able to do shit about that, which is probably why Bianca posted thepicture in the first place, but Catholic schools have a different set of rules. They have no problem using social media and your personal life against you.
Moni doesn’t answer. I’m about to start being nosy myself and askhera question when she starts snoring.
Guess I’ll have to wait until tomorrow.
19
When Your Therapist Doesn’t Know What the Fuck She’s Talking About
