Of Hustle and Heart (11 page)

CHAPTER 19

ZINA

I
’m waiting for Uncle Tony, when Blanca comes out of Rico’s with Rachel and three junior varsity softball players in tow. After Shannon finally left, I sat on the bench alone in so much pain, I couldn’t believe it. I sat there for an hour, sobbing so hard that it staggered my breathing. My eyes had swollen, and my head hurt. I didn’t want a ride from Bee, Rocky, or Shannon, and I accepted I’d have to call Uncle Tony. I’d run out of minutes on my phone, so I had to text.

I really don’t want to talk to Blanca and Rachel, so I sit still, watching which way they’ll go. Blanca stalls at the edge of the parking lot and then turns to Rachel, who’d been typing on her phone. She looks at Blanca, a frown buried deep in her thick Persian brows, and lashes out in annoyance. Blanca jerks away from her and glances around the parking lot. They were looking for me.

Antonio pulls into Rico’s parking lot just as Blanca is about to step off the curb. She stares at his car, and I’m sure she recognizes it as it slows down for a speed bump and comes to a stop in front of the bench where I’ve taken up residence. I spring from the bench without looking her way. I feel heat rising up my neck and across my face as I open the car door and slide inside as fast as I can. My heart melts.

“Seatbelt, chica,” Antonio says as I slam the door and duck my head. He peels out, cutting through Rico’s back parking lot, where there are no speed bumps to slow him down. As Tony navigates his way through the highway tollbooth, I get a text from Blanca, asking me if her uncle had just picked me up at Rico’s; then a text from Andrew, telling me the lights at home had been shut off.

I slide my phone into my back pocket without responding.

At school on Friday, Shannon and I had beef. Today, we pass each other in the hallway as if we’re strangers, the level of awkwardness as cold and thick as ice between us. It’s just the worst. Shannon sits as far away from me as possible during class; I do my best not to look at him. But then I get up to sharpen a pencil, turning in my desk so I could look at him. He angles his body, leaning against his right side so we can’t make eye contact.

Bitch
.

The fire in my chest gurgles. After I sharpen my stupid pencil, I still can’t move. I stand at the back of the class, still hurt beyond anything I’ve ever felt. I shouldn’t be caring about this stupid boy so much. When I turn to go back to my desk, I stop and stare at him. He’s hunched over, scribbling back and forth on his desk and a sheet of notebook paper, lost in thought. I watch him scribble and erase like a mad person.

“Zina, what are you doing?” Ms. Boyd’s voice echoes across the classroom. A few kids turn to look at me.

“Sharpening a pencil,” I reply.

Now everyone turns to look—everyone but Shannon. And though he doesn’t turn around, he stops writing and looks up at the sound of my voice.

“Sit down, Zina,” Ms. Boyd says.

Shannon gets up, wads up the paper he was writing on, and tosses it into the trash can. He never even looks at me. After the dismal bell rings, I linger in the classroom, until only Ms. Boyd, the kid who passes notes between me and Shannon, and I are left. I gather my shit, ready to exit but can’t help myself. Before I leave, I retrieve Shannon’s paper from the trash. In the hall, I unravel and read it.

I can’t stand it. I don’t know what to do. We’re different now. Beatrice won’t understand. Why can’t you
…

The letter stopped like an imperfect or forgotten thought. I don’t know what to do, either.

With one week left until prom and five weeks left in the school year, there’s a war brewing within the senior class. It’s fucking ridiculous, but it does force my hand in reconciling with Bee and Rocky, who I’ve been avoiding as much as possible as I wallow in my sorrow.

I would’ve made up with them eventually, but I also would’ve drug the shit out for a while longer. I’m still pissed by what looks and feels like betrayal to me. But with Beatrice’s fugazi-ass posse preparing to swarm, I need my friends. Yeah, I have other kids to talk to and other girls who like and respect me, but I trust none of them like I trust Blanca and our adopted daughter, Rachel.

As I walk through the hallway, looking for Rocky, two of Beatrice’s groupies—sophomore girls who are in her theater class—spot me. As we pass each other, they stare me down, one of them purposely brushing against me. I pull my shoulder out their way and turn to look at them. They roll their eyes and keep walking; I do the same.

“Beatrice and Shannon forever!” they yell in unison as they head down the stairs.

I stop in my tracks, fuming, because these hoes are absolutely right. Shannon had proven it. They’d pushed the right button.

I find Rachel buried deep in her locker, distracted and deep in thought as she shuffles through the mess she’s been tossing in there for the past few days. It’s unlike the Persian princess to let her locker resemble mine, but it does, shit falling everywhere; I know that she’s been out of it. I stand behind her open locker and gather myself and my thoughts as she digs. We haven’t spoken in almost two weeks. I don’t know if she’s tried to text or call, because I’ve been without a working phone since I ran out of minutes the night Tony drove me home from Rico’s. I actually find it surprisingly peaceful without one. It’s just me and my thoughts, and I’m forced to deal with stuff I try to hide from otherwise.

Rocky shuts her locker door and jumps when she sees me. She doesn’t say anything, and she looks nervous. That’s to be expected; I’m nervous too. But I don’t apologize. It’s not like me to waste time with all that. Rachel already knows I’m sorry for it all; otherwise, I wouldn’t be standing here now.

“I need you,” I say to her.

“I know,” she says with a nod.

“I’m sorry I got mad. I was acting like an asshole and taking my shit out on you. That wasn’t cool.” Rachel tears up, which makes me feel even worse. “I’m sorry, Rocky. Why are you crying?”

“I’m not.”

“You look like you’re about to.”

“I’ve been so sad,” she says. “It hasn’t been any kind of fun without you. Blanca misses the hell out of you, too. She hasn’t worn makeup to school in a week.”

“Bee doesn’t wear a lot of makeup, anyway.”

“Yeah, not like me…but you know, no lip gloss, no eye shadow—nothing. And now this stuff with Beatrice…” Rocky lowers her voice. “You made out with Shannon Smith at Rico’s?”

Embarrassed, I lower my head. “Yeah. Man, I couldn’t help it. He’s so sweet. We get along well. And you said he and Beatrice were fighting…the worst part—Shannon and I can’t even look at each other anymore. We’re really beefing over this.”

I look up at Rocky, who stares at me like only one of your very best friends could. This girl loves me—I know it without a doubt—and she cares about how I feel.

“You and Shannon got beef?” she asks.

“On the sickest level,” I say. She frowns. “I wanted him so bad, Rocky,” I whisper. “And he did kiss me back.”

“So it was mutual?”

“Yeah, I thought so.”

She frowns and grabs my arm as we walk down the hall together. “Have you heard the rumors, though?” she says.

I take a deep breath. “I hear I’m hated by many and loved by few.”

She laughs. “They’re saying you jumped on Shannon and tried to mouth rape him, and he told you to get the hell back and pushed you off so hard that you fell on the ground. And then when he tried to help you up, you got mad and told him to leave you alone.”

My mouth drops open. “What?”

“So that’s not what happened?”

“No! Hell no!”

“I’m sorry. Just asking.”

“First of all, Rachel, what guy is going to push me away?” I narrow my eyes at the ridiculousness of that shit. “Second of all, Shannon kissed me, okay? Yeah, I did kiss him first…but he didn’t push me away. He kissed me back—I mean, really kissed me.”

The memory of it is hard to face, and talking about it with Rachel brings it all crashing back. The memory of his tongue sliding across my mouth and his arms grabbing me, squeezing me, pressing me close to him—my heart threatens to stop. It’s the best memory. And it hurts me so much.

“It was mutual, Rock. I swear it was.”

I don’t play fair with Blanca; I get Uncle Tony to help me. I use Rachel’s phone to call him during our lunch period, while three varsity football players, who have crushes on our clique, surround us like bodyguards. I tell Tony I want to hang out with Blanca, but I haven’t been talking to her lately.

“I know,” Tony says. “She told me you’re mad at her.”

“She did? When?”

He was silent for a few seconds. “I haven’t seen you in a while, and none of us could get in touch with you…I almost came to your house.”

“I’m okay. I just don’t have a working phone right now.”

“I’ll take care of that,” he says.

“No, you don’t have to—”

“Zina, I’ll take care of it. Let me do this.”

“All right. So…will you pick me up so I can meet with Blanca?”

“Of course.” I hear him grinning into the phone.

And then I catch sight of Beatrice sitting across from me in the courtyard, looking as if she has just stepped off the cover of
Teen Vogue
.

Surrounded by her hoard of fugazis, she stares at me, her eyes drilling a hole of pure hatred into my forehead. As she crosses her legs at the ankles, the fugazis follow her gaze. The four of them lock eyes with me and smile—all teeth, no love. It’s eerie as hell. They whisper among themselves, and my pulse rate spikes. I have no doubt about what’s coming—if not today, then soon.

I crave Blanca’s presence. I need her and Rachel here to help me handle this shit. One of them, the redhead fugazi, continues to stare at me as she pushes her food toward the middle of the table. I am definitely shocked. Has the fat, mean girl actually lost her appetite for the first time in her entire life?

Motherfuck. Do not come over here.

“Uh…Unc, I gotta call you back,” I say, watching them rally around each other. I don’t give him time to answer before I hang up and hand the phone back to Rocky.

“Rocky, look,” I say, pointing at the group of girls walking toward her.

“What do these bitches want?” she asks as she pushes past the most adoring of the jocks. She stands next to me and folds her arms. I shrug.

“Man, I don’t know. God, this is so freaking annoying.”

As Beatrice approaches us, Rachel whispers in my ear, saying, “You know, you’re right. Shannon wanted it. How could he not, with that bitch for a girlfriend?”

They close in on us, taking their time. Rachel and I stand our ground, waiting. Beatrice stands directly in front of me with one hand on her narrow hips.

“Don’t touch my boyfriend ever again,” she says. She’s fuming, barely holding back her rage. On that note, she’s better than me, because if I were in her skin, I would’ve already slapped the smirk off my face. She chews on her bottom lip to keep it from quivering.

“Okay?” she spits the word on my face. She’s beside herself, and I feel kinda bad for her. She’s only trying to keep what’s hers. I can relate to that. Maybe we’re more alike than I imagined. I don’t know what to say. As bad as I want her boyfriend, I’m sure she wants him just as badly. They’ve been together for almost three years now. She has a lot more to lose than I do.

“He doesn’t want me,” I say.

“I know he doesn’t,” she replies. “But that doesn’t seem to stop whores like you.”

I swallow her calling me a whore; I owe her one. “I mean, really, you try it with my boyfriend in front of everyone? Are you insane?”

I don’t answer.

Beatrice laughs at my silence, mistaking it for weakness.

“What makes you think he’d break up with me for a thot?”

“A thot?” To that I take offense. “How can I be a thot? You’ve been around way more than me…Yeah, your boyfriend made out with me, but I promise I kept my feet on the ground the whole time.”

She reaches out and tries to put her hands around my throat, but I slap her away. Out of nowhere, another pair of arms reaches out at me, but I duck away just as the fat redhead charges me. This bitch is big, but she doesn’t know how to fight. As she pulls me forward, I punch her with both fists. My punches anger her, and she puts her head down, trying to escape my fury. She jerks me forward with all her big-bitch strength. I lose my balance as I stumble forward, but Beatrice comes at me again before I can hit the ground. I catch a glimpse of her gold bracelets banging together as she reaches behind me and grabs my hair.