Romiette and Julio

  “Hola, my man Julio. How’s it going there?” Julio thought his friend’s voice sounded particularly far away.

  He sighed. “Hey, Diego. Good to hear from you. It snowed all day here. No chance of school being canceled, though. It’s just cold and miserable. My feet are still cold, and I gotta get a heavy winter coat or I’m gonna die!”

  Diego laughed. “I hate to tell you it’s seventy-five today, and I went hang gliding, so I won’t. How’s the new school?”

  “Well, amigo, on the very first day of school, before the first class even started, I got into a fight. I mean as soon as I walked in the door, I punched out the face of some kid with green hair.”

  “You don’t play around, do you? You get busted?” Diego asked.

  “No, for some reason, the kid covered for me,” Julio said in amazement. “I didn’t see him again all day. I’ve talked to him since, though. He’s OK.”

  “That’s good. What’s your classes like? ’Bout like they are here?”

  “Yeah, I manage to flounder through them all, keep to myself, and try to be invisible. My English class is reading Walt Whitman, who was pretty radical. History class is stuck at the Civil War. I think all eleventh-grade history classes must be stuck there.”

  “Yep, we’re still on it too. Boring!”

  “And guess what? They scheduled me for Spanish One! What a hoot!” laughed Julio.

  “That’s just plain estúpido! Didn’t you tell them you were bilingual?”

  “Naw, man. Why mess up an easy A? You ought to see the teacher! She’s this first-year lady who’s from China! Spanish with a Chinese accent! She had me weak!”

  “You’re gonna go crazy in there, man,” Diego sympathized.

  “Nah, it gives me something to laugh at, and besides, if I get my schedule changed, I’d have to drop band. The band teacher is cool. Long dreadlocks, a sixties kind of guy. Likes jazz. He was really glad to get a good sax player, and he even asked me to try out for jazz band next week.”

  “Cool. Meet any girls?”

  “Naw, there’s no Latina girls here, and I’ve been too stressed to worry about that kind of stuff. I talked to a girl on the Internet once who seemed really cool, but she thinks I’m some kind of sexual pervert, so I haven’t been able to find her again. She was kinda special.”

  “I’m never too stressed to find women, man. If this little lady turns you on, then keep trying,” suggested Diego.

  “Yeah, but she might end up being some kind of nine-hundred-pound witch!” Julio exclaimed.

  “So what. You’re never gonna meet her anyway. The Internet is for pretending, man. Don’t worry about reality.”

  Julio sighed again. “Yeah, I got enough reality here. There’s gangs here at this ‘super-safe’ school that my folks brought me to, seven million miles away from home.”

  “For real?” Diego seemed astonished.

  “Yeah, I almost got jumped in the bathroom already.”

  “Why you?”

  “Why not? I’m new. That’s all the reason they need. But you know why they only stared me down and didn’t try to punch me out?”

  “Your strong right hook on kids with green hair?” Diego laughed.

  “Yeah, right. No, they think I belong to a gang from home called the Texas Tejano gang. You ever hear of them?”

  “Yeah, man. They’re really bad. Guns and a big body count.”

  “No wonder they just pushed a little. But when they find out I’m not in that gang, and they will, I may have to fight the battle of my life,” Julio said with concern.

  “Your fist won’t stop a bullet, Julio.”

  “I know. Got any ideas?”

  “Join the track team,” joked Diego.

  “I’m not running away. My parents ran away to bring me here.”

  “Be careful, Julio,” Diego warned him.

  “Yeah, man. I will. My other line is ringing. I’ll catch you later.”

  “Peaceout.”

  Julio clicked the phone to get the other call. “Hello,” he said, expecting someone for one of his parents.

  “Hey, Julio, what’s up, my amigo with the strong right hook?” asked Ben’s cheerful voice.

  Julio smiled. “Hey, Ben, what color is the sky today?”

  “The sky is blue and so is my hair. Sky blue. It’s my message to spring to hurry up and get here. I’m tired of cold, wet weather.”

  “What about me? I haven’t been warm since I left Texas!”

  “I’m starting to lose sympathy for you!” Ben teased.

  “Hey, Ben, let me ask you something,” Julio said seriously.

  “Hit me.” Ben was rarely serious.

  “What do you know about gangs in the school?”

  “I know they’re there. Most of the students and all of the teachers pretend that they aren’t,” Ben replied with derision.

  “Yeah, been through that stage before. They close their eyes and think it will go away. That’s the way it was at my old school until one of the teachers was killed. Then they started to pay attention, but by that time, it was too late.”

  “I hear you. It’s been getting worse here, though. Fights in the halls, in the bathrooms, at the bus stops. One girl got beat up real bad because she broke up with her boyfriend from The Family,” Ben offered.

  “I almost got jumped in the bathroom today,” admitted Julio.

  Ben didn’t seem surprised. “Dudes dressed in purple?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hooded sweatshirts?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You got pushed by the bosses of The Family. They’re the strongest at school. Probably about fifty members. Most of them only wear something with purple on it. Only the leaders wear the sweatshirts with hoods.”

  “The Family,” remembered Julio. “Yeah, that’s what they called themselves.”

  “Their real name is the Devildogs. It’s supposed to be a secret, but everybody knows it. Were you scared?”

  “I was so scared, I coulda peed in my pants, but they didn’t know it.”

  “You watch your back, Julio. These dudes play with real guns,” warned Ben.

  “Thanks, Ben. I’ll be careful.”

  “Check you out at school tomorrow.”

  “Later.” Julio hung up the phone, feeling both warmed and chilled.

  12.

  Chat Room 2

  Welcome to TEEN TALK, the best partying chat room on-line! TEEN TALK is open every day, 24 hours a day!

  logon//spanishlover

  sweetthing: whassup, spanishlover?

  spanishlover: sky

  cookieman: folks who are high

  becool: stars

  niobe: nothin’s up ’cause I feel down

  oogaooga: why you down, baby?

  spiceboy: she needs some love

  bigmac: let me make your dreams come true

  niobe: you ain’t my kind of dream. you are a nightmare!

  bigmac: you just wish you could have me.

  cookieman: no, she needs sweet dreams

  afroqueen: anybody ever have bad dreams?

  cookieman: all the time!

  becool: I like nightmares. Turns me on!

  spiceboy: why?

  becool: I’m deep, and I’m weird. I’m going to write them down one day and make a million dollars.

  afroqueen: that’s how the story of Frankenstein happened. this lady was on her honeymoon and wrote Frankenstein in her spare time!

  niobe: either her new husband was a freak

  becool: or he wasn’t giving her what she needed!

  sweetthing: I have dreams sometimes that I’m dying.

  bigmac: now that’s freaky!

  vanityfair: that’s not freaky. everybody has dreams like that sometime.

  sweetthing: I heard if you dream you’re falling, and you reach the ground, then you really do die.

  niobe: nobody has ever proved that

  sweetthing: I guess not

  niobe: I dreamed once this big black
shadow came to get me. I was suffocating. then I woke up with my mom’s fur coat on my face.

  cookieman: people who wear fur ought to be shot

  vanityfair: why? the mink is already dead!

  bigmac: I dreamed I got shot once

  cookieman: did you die?

  bigmac: not yet

  afroqueen: I have really scary dreams sometimes

  spanishlover: me too

  afroqueen: I feel like I’m drowning in the ocean

  spanishlover: that must be really scary for someone who can’t swim

  afroqueen: you making fun of me?

  spanishlover: no, I’m trying to sympathize with you

  vanityfair: she don’t want sympathy

  niobe: she needs somebody to read her cards

  afroqueen: I got a friend who does that

  becool: dreaming about drowning—that’s deep

  afroqueen: I hear this voice at the end of it. a voice I never heard before.

  vanityfair: is it a voice from Heaven?

  afroqueen: I don’t think so. it’s a lover’s voice, I think.

  vanityfair: a lover? my dreams are never that cool.

  spanishlover: I dream about being alone and having no one to talk to

  cookieman: I dream about food.

  bigmac: go eat something then.

  spanishlover: I dream about afroqueen.

  sweetthing: oooooooo!

  vanityfair: oooooooo!

  niobe: oooooooo!

  afroqueen: why you dreaming about me?

  spanishlover: I don’t know. I keep thinking about you.

  sweetthing: be careful, afroqueen.

  niobe: beware of perverts and weirdos.

  afroqueen: make it clear, spanishlover

  spanishlover: I’m no pervert. I enjoyed our private chat. that’s all.

  vanityfair: watch out!

  niobe: check him out, afroqueen. we got your back!

  bigmac: yeah, give him ten minutes in a chat room. let him talk.

  afroqueen: spanishlover, you want to go to a chat room?

  becool: be cool, you two

  spanishlover: please

  afroqueen: OK. See you there.

  Dear Afroqueen:

  Thanks for coming in here to talk to me. It sounds like we really went to a room or something. We’re floating someplace in cyberspace. The only difference is that the rest of them can’t see what we’re writing.

  Spanishlover:

  I had lots of people warn me about on-line predators. You hear on the news about stupid girls who run away with some old man after he talks to them in the chat rooms. Now I certainly don’t consider myself to be stupid, but I have sense enough to be careful.

  Let me see if I can ease your fears. I don’t know enough to be a pervert. I’m sixteen years old, and in the eleventh grade, and I just moved to Ohio from Texas. I checked in a few weeks ago to Thomas Jefferson High School in Cincinnati, and the only kid I know really well is Ben Olsen, who has blue or green or red or purple hair.

  Well, shut me up! That’s the school I go to! Did you get in a fight with Ben on the first day of school?

  That was me! But don’t think I’m some kind of troublemaker. It had been a really bad morning, and Ben’s nose got introduced to my fist before I met the rest of him. I think he’s a pretty cool dude.

  I heard about that, and I know Ben. I think I may have even seen you in the hall. You’re always by yourself.

  I told you I have this dream, this fear of being alone.

  So why don’t you make friends?

  It’s hard being the new kid in the middle of the year. It’s even harder when you’re different.

  What do you mean different? You got two heads or something?

  No, I mean, there’s lots of Anglo kids at our school. And lots of black kids. But I’m probably the only Hispanic kid in the whole school.

  Does that bother you?

  A little. Probably more than a little. At my old school, it was about eighty percent Hispanic.

  I feel you. I’d hate to have to move to another city and state. I’ve known most of the kids here since elementary school.

  Yeah, that’s the way it was at my old school too. My friend Diego and I went to kindergarten together.

  That’s rough. But most of the kids at Jefferson are pretty friendly. Give us a chance. You gotta reach out.

  Not all of them are friendly. And some have already reached out and almost touched me. You ever heard of The Family?

  The Devildogs? They been sweatin’ you?

  Yeah, real sweat. They don’t like the fact I’m new or that I’m Hispanic.

  What did they do?

  Just threatened me in the bathroom, but I know what they can do if they want to. I came here partly because of the gangs at home.

  Well, those of us who don’t do gangs will watch your back. Hey, when’s your lunch bell?

  I have first lunch.

  Me too. I hate that. It’s so early in the morning, I’m never very hungry. You want to meet at lunch tomorrow? Maybe I can introduce you to my friends.

  Bet! And I won’t wear anything purple!

  Good idea. What do you look like?

  I’ll be the tall, good-looking guy with the bottle of hot sauce in his hand. I’ll meet you at that table in the back near the pop machine.

  Hey, I don’t even know your name.

  Julio. Julio Montague. And you, my African Queen, what’s your name?

  My name is Romiette Cappelle. I’ll be wearing an orange sweater and a big smile. (I’ll probably have on shoes and jeans too—didn’t want you to get the wrong idea!) You’re the new guy—it will be easy to spot you. See you soon.

  Peaceout.

  13.

  Romiette’s Journal

  So they were all wrong. He wasn’t a psychopath or a pervert. He was just a dude, a really good-looking one—wow—who needed somebody to be a friend. Today I had lunch with Julio. Destiny and I have the same lunch bell, so we usually see each other at lunch. But she was absent today with a cold, so I headed to the lunchroom alone. I just wasn’t prepared for what happened. When I first saw him, I sucked in my breath and forgot to exhale. He looked so much better than any of the boys around here. He has really dreamy eyes, but of course, who notices such things? I’ve never really paid much attention to what boys look like. But Julio was different. He was funny and friendly and so easy to talk to. And so easy to look at!

  He was standing there, up on top of the table, dressed in a jeans jacket and a Texas Rangers T-shirt, holding a bottle of hot sauce in one hand and a red rose in the other. He seemed to know exactly who I was, because he jumped off the table just as I approached and bowed low and handed me the rose. He said he brought the rose because the hot sauce was too great a treasure and he couldn’t give it up. We talked about school (he hates it—at least here), cold weather (he hates it), snow (he hates it), and Texas (he loves it).

  We hit it off so good. We talked so much and laughed so hard that we forgot to eat lunch. The bell rang, and we both looked up and realized that we hadn’t taken one bite out of our food, and lunch was already over. We laughed and promised to meet again for lunch tomorrow. I can’t wait to talk to him again. He’s not like any guy I ever met. He’s witty, and wise, and oh my goodness—he’s cute too. I’ve got to get my homework done in a hurry—we’ve got a one-on-one session scheduled on the computer at nine tonight. I can’t believe this—I can’t wait. What is happening to me? I gotta call Destiny!

  14.

  Phone Call

  Just as Romi picked up the phone to call Destiny, it rang. “Hey, Destiny,” Romi greeted her. “I was just getting ready to call you.”

  “Well, Romi, you know I’ve been working on developing my psychic abilities. With you, it’s easy. Something happened today. Tell me!”

  Romi was never really sure if Destiny was just lucky, or if she really did have some extrasensory abilities. “How did you know?” she asked in amazement.

>   “When will you learn to appreciate my psychic powers?” Destiny replied. “Spill it, girl.”

  “I met the dude from the Internet,” Romi began. “I had lunch with him,” she added, just to agitate Destiny even more.

  “You what? Are you crazy? Where? When?”

  “At school.” Romi was enjoying this—making Destiny crazy with questions.

  “You met a grown man at school? Have you lost your mind?”

  “I thought you were psychic,” teased Romi.

  “I am, but you’re messing up the interstellar vibes.”

  “He’s no grown man. He’s the same age as we are.”

  “A sixteen-year-old is a sexual stalker?” Destiny was totally confused.

  Romi laughed out loud. “I keep telling you. He’s not a stalker or a pervert. He’s the new kid—the one who transferred here from Texas a few weeks ago.”

  “The one who dyed Ben’s nose to match his hair?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one. And he didn’t mean to hit Ben.”

  “He’s the one you’ve been talking to?”

  “Yeah, and all the time he was going to school right here.”

  “Talk about psychic,” Destiny said in admiration. “You got the stars with you, girl. This is too freaky. What’s his sign?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

  Destiny screamed into the phone, “How many times do I have to tell you. That’s the first thing you ask. How are you gonna know if you’re compatible or not?”

  “We just talked,” Romi replied, unconcerned. “That seemed compatible enough. He’s fun to talk to. And Destiny, he is so fine!”

  “I hear you, girl. And I have not heard this from you before. He’s gotta be an Aries or a Sagittarius—those are the fire signs. Since you are a Leo, you know that’s your best bet unless you want to go with your opposite, which is an Aquarius—something I would not advise! Fire and water do not mix, girlfriend.”

  “You’re nuts, Destiny. He could be an Aquarius. I don’t know.”

  “How can you have lunch with a dude and not be sure of his sign?”

  “I’ll find out for you, OK? Relax. All I did was eat lunch with him one day. We didn’t make wedding plans.” Romi laughed.

  “I sure hope his sign is compatible—this may be your soul mate.”