Page 79 of Pride High

“Yeah!” Omar said suddenly. “Fuck yeah! It’ll be the three amigos, except instead of swords, we’ll be killing the ladies with our good looks. Maybe we’ll even find some babes for you guys to date.”

Anthony sighed. “You’re thinking of the three musketeers.”

“That’s a candy bar, dude.”

“I know that,” Anthony said with forced patience. “But the candy bar is named after the actual three musketeers.”

“Do you know their names?” Omar challenged.

“No.”

“Steve Martin, Chevy Chase, and Martin Short.” Omar sniffed, as if satisfied. “I’m Chevy, because he’s the funniest. Ricky, you have to be Martin Short, because you’re small like he is. Anthony, you get to be Steve Martin because you both have weird hair.”

Anthony looked at Ricky and shook his head. “Are you sure you want to hang out with us?”

He nodded happily. “It’ll be fun!”

The banter continued as they waited in line. By time they were walking toward the table with their trays—Omar with twice as many nuggets as anyone else—most of his troubles seemed far away. It was only by chance that he noticed blue eyes watching him. Cameron was sitting at a nearby table. Ricky stopped in his tracks, the others continuing without him. He flashed a smile, hoping it would be returned. And it was, but in an apologetic sort of way. Ricky took a step toward him and the smile vanished. Cameron shook his head and resumed talking to the girl sitting across from him. Ricky stared a moment longer, wondering where he had gone wrong.

Was it the dishonesty that had been motivated by caution? Or was it because they both knew Anthony, and that made it too risky? He hoped it wasn’t as simple as Cameron not being into Asian guys, or not finding him attractive in general. Which would be a shame, because Ricky wanted to experience the connection they’d had online, except in person. Even now, with rejection battering his ego, he still felt like walking over to Cameron to try again. He was handsome and funny and nice. Ricky felt a spark, even at this distance, and he could swear he wasn’t the only one. Those blue eyes sought him out again, filled with an intensity that went beyond friendship. But he would have settled for even that. Ricky needed friends. He could have been one of them. But it was clear, as Cameron broke eye contact and didn’t look at him again, that he didn’t want to interact. Forcing himself to keep walking, Ricky followed his real friends to their table, excited that he’d soon be hanging out with them outside of school.

— — —

Omar surveyed his bedroom while gnawing on a thumbnail. He’d spent the morning straightening up. His mother had been shocked to find him dusting and had nearly fainted when she saw him hauling the vacuum cleaner upstairs. Now everything looked nice. But not nice enough. He glared at the bed, which despite numerous attempts, was still a wrinkled mess. He couldn’t get the white sheets to stop hanging lower than the black comforter on either side, so he tried tucking everything beneath the mattress, which made it look like a giant ice cream sandwich. Normally he wouldn’t care if the bed was made at all, but today was special. Silvia was coming over and he wanted to impress her. After trying again, and failing, Omar decided he couldn’t do it on hisown. His parents had taken Yasmin and one of her friends to Worlds of Fun, an amusement park on the Missouri side. Only his grandmother was home, so he went downstairs and found her reading a book on the deck out back.

“Mamani,” he said in pleading tones. “I need help.”

“Your mother thinks so too,” his grandmother replied, “but I’m sure you’ll grow out of it.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing, darling. What’s going on?”

“Can you come look at my room? My girlfriend will be here soon and I want everything to be perfect.”

Mamani set down her book. “Do you need my opinion or a maid?”

“I need my grandma.” It was a good line. She saw straight through him, but that didn’t matter. It worked anyway.

“What do you think?” he asked when they were standing in the doorway to his room. “You were a girl once. Would you have been happy?”

Mamani slowly pivoted toward him. “What do you mean Iusedto be a girl?”

“I just mean that you’re a woman now, so you probably see things different.”

His grandmother sniffed. “The first thing I would do is open a window.”

“Really? You think it stinks in here?”

“I think it smells like you.”

“Are you sayingIstink?”

“Yes. But only because you have a smart mouth that I’m tempted to smack. You should worry more about how you talk to a woman. Or a girl.”

“Sorry, Grandma,” Omar said, walking to one of the windows so he could open it. “Fresh air is a good idea.”

“Everything else looks nice,” Mamani said as she hobbled into his room.

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