Chapter 11
I stayed in bed for three days with the shades down, the lights off, and the covers over my head. I wanted it dark. Frank called Harrison High and told them I’d be out for the week, that I had the flu. I couldn’t go in to see Marco. Frank called the hospital every evening after work. By Thursday Marco had been moved out of the ICU into a regular room.
The cops stopped the blue car the same night Marco was shot and Eddy was killed. Angel, Leonardo, and a couple other Locos I didn’t know were arrested. The gun was found under the front passenger’s seat. I might have to testify about what I knew, but maybe not. I didn’t know what was going to happen. I was scared.
I hated to wake up. Every time I did, I thought about Eddy’s face, about Marco, his blood soaking into my jeans. About me. My headache and fever went away after a couple of days, but every time I woke up in the dark, it felt like death was squeezing in on me. I couldn’t breathe. I was the one who said where Eddy would be that night. It was only lunch conversation, but it was me that got Eddy killed. It was me that got Marco shot. It was me that made Miguel scream and scream and scream. I hated what had happened. I hated myself.
Friday morning Frank knocked on my door. “Get up Ricky.” He opened the door. “Your not sick anymore. You’re gonna come out and eat breakfast with us this morning.” I buried my head under the pillow. He pulled the pillow off my head, took my arm, and hauled me out of bed. “Come on. Get up. Get cleaned up.” He walked me to the bathroom and closed the door behind me.
I turned the shower on to heat up. I looked in the mirror over the sink. It was still me but different. I wanted to be the old Ricky.
The mirror fogged up. I rubbed away a small circle of steam and looked at myself. My mother’s eyes. How come she didn’t want me? How come I only had an older brother? I pulled a towel off the rack and wiped the whole mirror clean. I was still there. I knew none of it was going to change—what happened to Marco and Eddy, my never-knew-me father, my mother, Frank, Imelda and her broken angels. I got in the shower and let the water rinse me clean.
As soon as I sat down at the kitchen table, Imelda put Jennifer in my arms and handed me her bottle. I wondered what she’d be like when she was sixteen, if it would be hard for her, too. I put the bottle in her mouth and she smiled. She still knew it was me. I don’t know why, but that gave me something to hang on to.
Imelda put sausage, eggs, and toast in front of me. I didn’t think I was hungry, but I was. I ate with one hand and fed Jennifer with the other. By the time she’d finished her bottle, I’d eaten everything on the plate.
Before he went to work, Frank told me to stay out of bed and quit moping around. My fever was gone, and Marco was going to be OK. He pointed to the pile of textbooks he’d set on the coffee table and told me to get going on the work I’d missed.
He kissed Imelda and Jennifer and opened the door to leave for work, but turned back to me. “I’ll take you to see Marco tomorrow.” I nodded. He looked down at the floor, his hand still on the doorknob. “Ricky…” His voice broke. He took a deep breath and looked up into my eyes. “It’ll be OK. You’ll be OK.”
My throat tightened. My eyes filled with tears. I wanted to hug him. He’d never left me except to find a better life for me in America. Tears spilled down my cheeks, and I wiped them away with the back of my hand. I looked at him again, wanted to say I loved him, but couldn’t talk. I just nodded. He gave me a half smile and left for work.
I watched a couple of game shows with Imelda, but mostly I worked on makeup work. For some reason it seemed important. I don’t know why, but it seemed important for Marco and Eddy, and maybe even for me.
The next day, Frank took me to see Marco at the hospital. Mrs. Quintanilla looked up from her knitting when we walked in the room. I could tell by her eyes that she hadn’t slept much. Frank asked her if she’d like to go to the cafeteria for breakfast and some coffee. And they left me alone with Marco.
He looked OK. Most of the tubes were gone. He was asleep. I wanted him to wake up so I could tell him I was sorry, but part of me wanted him to stay asleep. I didn’t know if I was brave enough to tell him the truth. I sat down and waited. The TV that hung from the ceiling was tuned to some show about cooking. A nurse came in to check Marco’s IV. He opened his eyes.
“You have a visitor,” she said.
Marco looked my way and smiled. “Hi.”
“Hi.” My mouth went dry. I’d wait till the nurse left, then I’d tell him. Marco picked up the remote box and turned the channel. Sports. Skiing. The nurse asked if Marco needed anything. He shook his head no, and she finally left.
“How’s school?” Marco asked, looking over at me.
“I’ve been stuck at home. Sick. That’s why I couldn’t come see you.”
“I was out of it, anyway.”
“Are you OK?”
He nodded. “It hurts sometimes.”
He looked back at the TV. When a commercial came on he changed the channel. Golf. “Saturday’s boring,” he said.
“I gotta tell you something,” I said. Marco changed the channel again. Bowling. He looked my way.
I took a breath. “It’s all my fault about you and Eddy.” Marco looked puzzled. “At lunch that day I was out there with Maria. I told them what you’d told me at nutrition, that Eddy said he’d be at your house that night. It didn’t mean anything. It was nothing. I mean, they were saying he was bragging about beating up Sandra, but I told them about him calling you and he didn’t say anything to you about it. I don’t know why I said it. I was just talking, like lunchtime talk. I didn’t know Angel was going after Eddy or anything like that. I didn’t know they had a gun. But we were talking and…” I looked down at my hands. I didn’t know what else to say.
Marco started coughing. I looked up. He was pressing his hands against a folded blanket on his stomach like he was afraid he was going to hurt himself where he got shot. He pointed to the pitcher of water on the end table. I filled the plastic cup with ice water from the pitcher and held it up to his mouth, but he took it from me. “I didn’t get shot in the hand, stupid,” he said. He took a drink and handed the cup back to me. He turned the TV back to skiing. When a commercial came on, he finally turned to me. “They’d have got Eddy anyway, somewhere else.”
“But you and…” Tears filled my eyes. “You and Miguel…” My voice cracked. Another night and Eddy wouldn’t have been at Marco’s house. Marco knew it. So did I. I wasn’t gangbanging, but I was hanging with the gang because of Maria. Miguel was lucky and Marco would be OK. But Eddy was dead. And it could have been all of them.
Marco looked at me. I stared down at my shoes. I hated them. I hated the way the blood had changed them.
“It’s OK,” Marco said. “You didn’t know.”
Mrs. Quintanilla and Frank came back from the cafeteria. Frank asked Marco how he was doing, made some jokes, and tapped me on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”
“Do you want anything,” I asked. “A coke or anything?”
Marco shook his head.
“If you want anything, I can bring it to you.”
“I’m OK.”
“Yeah.” I was trying desperately to get back to something I knew had changed forever. “It looks like you’re gonna make it.” He started coughing again and I gave him the cup of water.
Frank tapped me on the shoulder again. “Come on.”
I didn’t move. “You want to play basketball or something when you get out? I’ll give you a bunch of points on me till you’re better.” Marco just looked at me.
I turned to go. “Hey, Ricky,” Marco called when I’d reached the door. I turned back. “Don’t need a bunch of points. I could beat you from here if they’d unhook me.” He smiled, looked back at the TV, and switched to bowling.
“Don’t bore yourself to death,” I said. He waved his hand in my dire
ction, but I could see he was grinning. Frank and I said good-bye to Mrs. Quintanilla and left.
I went back to school on Monday. I’d worked hard on my make-up work. It felt good, like it did the year before when I aced most of my tests, when I was thinking about being an engineer, making things that could move around on the space station or on another planet. Trouble is, I was afraid. I knew what it meant to go back to that person, to that me,
Gray clouds covered the sky. Not the kind of clouds that rain, but the kind that keep the sun from shining. I had called Maria the night before, and she was going to meet me on the steps in front of the school.
When I stepped off the bus, I felt like I couldn’t get my bearings. It seemed like a different place. It was the same school, but all the edges seemed sharper, more in-focus, brighter. I squeezed my eyes closed and opened them again. I felt dizzy. I put my head down, my hands on my knees, and took a couple of deep breaths. I felt disoriented, almost lost, but when I looked up again, it was like I’d been there forever. I knew where to walk, what steps to take.
Maria was already sitting on the top step in front of the school. I ran up the steps two-at-a-time. I wanted to kiss her so bad I ached. She looked up at me. “How come you wouldn’t talk to me when I called?”
I sat down beside her and put my arm around her shoulder. “I was just…” I stopped. I didn’t know how to tell her about how I felt.
“Sandra’s mother says all Sandra does is cry. Eddy’s stupid. I mean, I’m sorry and all, but he should have known better than to mess around with a Locos girl.”
“They killed him.”
Maria looked up at me. “I know, but…”
“Never mind. It doesn’t…” I didn’t know what to say.
“Ricky…what?”
I shrugged. “Nothing. I don’t want to…”
She put her hand on my thigh. “Let’s not talk about it. Come on. Let’s go to the bleachers.”
The first bell rang. “Look, I gotta get my attendance check. And go to class. Frank will kill me if I don’t.” But deep inside, I knew that wasn’t the reason I wanted to go to class..
I kissed her on the cheek, and hurried to the attendance office. I made it to first and second period, turned in my make-up work, and found myself listening in class for the first time since I’d fallen in love with Maria.
At nutrition Maria wanted to go to the ROTC area to find out what was going on. I told her I had to take a make-up quiz, and I’d see her at lunch.
I ran into Mr. Wilkerson on hall duty at lunch. He put his hand on my shoulder. “You OK?” he asked. I shrugged. “I hear Marco’s improving.”
“He’ll make it,” I said. I felt my throat tighten. Maybe it was the way he always knew my name, always asked how stuff was in my life. I could hardly speak. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You will. You can’t change what happened. You just have to get through today the best you can. And then you get to have tomorrow to try again.” Two girls tried to push past us into the hall. Wilkerson held out his hand for them to stop. “Lunch passes please, young ladies.”
My algebra teacher told me I could take a makeup test at lunch, so I texted Maria that I’d see her after school at her bus. She didn’t have to work that night. I did. We decided to get to school early the next day and meet under the bleachers.
At dinner that night, Frank started talking about the old days, about our grandparents, about how we used to dream of coming to America. “Remember sitting up in that old tree, you and me, and talking about what it would be like up here?”
“Yeah,” I mumbled.
“Like the streets were made of gold and you just had to look for a job and you got it?”
I nodded and reached for the bread and butter. “We were stupid.”
“Maybe,” he said. “I guess I could have stayed down there and been a boxer.” He grinned at Imelda. “How’d you like me with my nose all broken and crooked?’ She laughed and punched him on the shoulder.
Man, I’d loved him back then. He was like everything I wanted to be. Even when he got on the bus to come to America, I knew he would send for me one day.
Frank stood up, wiped his mouth on the dishtowel, and tossed it on the counter. “I don’t buy napkins so you can wipe your mouth on my clean dishtowels,” Imelda complained. For some reason it made me laugh. Imelda handed Jennifer to me like she always did, gave me her bottle, and followed Frank into the living room. He clicked on the TV, pulled her down on the couch beside him, and put his arm around her shoulder as he flipped channels.
Maria was already under the bleachers when I got there. I pulled her into my arms. “My Mom’s gone to the doctor,” she whispered in my ear. “And then she’s going shopping with my little sister for shoes, and meeting my aunt at her place for lunch. We can ditch to my house.”
I wanted her so bad it hurt, but I couldn’t make myself say yes. Everything was different, more complicated, all flipped upside-down.
Maria leaned back from me. “What’s wrong? What’s the matter?”
I dropped my arms from around her. “I don’t know…It’s hard to explain.”
“Ricky, come on. I mean we haven’t been together since before…” She stopped. She grabbed my hand and tugged it. “Come on, let’s go.”
I wanted not to care so I it wouldn’t hurt so much. I wanted to be tough. Leonardo was tough. Angel, too. All of them. Even Maria. I didn’t see how a girl could be so soft and so tough all at the same time.
Maria took my other hand. “It was nothing. Eddy was stupid, that’s all. It’s not like it’s us or something. I mean Marco’s OK.” Maria looked worried, desperate. “Come on. I want you. I want to ditch.”
How could I go on? Have breakfast with Frank and Imelda every day. Go to school, all my classes. Carry the memory of Eddy, play basketball with Marco like nothing mattered, hear Miguel screaming in the liquor store for the rest of my life. How could I do that and still try to make something of myself?
If I wanted to try, I’d have to decide soon because the 7:50 bell was going to ring. I had to get all the way up to 3rd floor C wing before Mr. Stamos locked the door. I looked over my shoulder at the school. When I looked back at Maria, she had tears in her eyes. She knew what I was thinking. I couldn’t stand it, looking at her fear.
“You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you?” She pulled her hands away from mine, and sadness shot through me like a bullet.
I knew I had to talk, to say something. “I don’t know…I just want to…”
“Why?” she said. Tears spilled down her cheeks.
“I just can’t do that anymore,” I finally managed to say. “Locos. I just can’t…”
“You don’t have to join. And anyway Eddy’s the one who caused the trouble. Not Locos.”
“Maria, it’s just that…when you’re with them…”
“I can’t leave the gang, Ricky. They won’t let me. I don’t want to. They’re my friends.” Maria reached her arms around my neck and looked up in my eyes. “I love you, Ricky. I’ll show you. Just today. Ditch with me today.”
“I love you, too, but…”
“Just this morning. Nobody’s there. I’ll show you, Ricky. Please, I promise. Just today.”
“I can’t…”
Maria stepped away from me and shoved me hard in the chest. She was crying. She shoved me again. I stepped back, not knowing what to do.
“I’m sorry, Maria. I’m really am. I can’t do this anymore.” I reached in my pocket and pulled out the little black cross. I handed it to her. She grabbed it from me and turned away.
I touched her shoulder, but she slapped my arm way. She turned around angrily. “Fine,” she said. Her teeth were clenched. She ripped off the black, silk jacket I’d given her and threw it at me. She got up in my face. “You son of a bitch.” She shoved me again, then took off toward the
baseball field. I knew she’d climb the fence and take off for home. Tears filled my eyes, and everything blurred. I thought my heart would break open all over the school.
The 7:50 bell rang. I looked toward the school, and wiped my eyes. All I had to do was try. That’s all, just try. I looked toward the baseball field. Maria looked small in the distance. She reached the fence, tossed her backpack over, and started to climb. I looked back at the school and started walking. I knew if I hurried, I could make it to biology on time.
About the Author
Anne Knowles writes books and poetry for children and young adults. A former VISTA Volunteer, zookeeper, and high school teacher, she currently spends her time writing, walking with her dog, and enjoying her grandson. She lives with her family in California.
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