Perfect Chemistry 1 (23 page)

I watch Brittany trying to look busy as she bends down and picks up

her books. My mother and brothers are standing in the doorway with

their eyes bugged out.

"Hey, Ma," I say, more flustered than I should be.

From the stern look on mi'ama's face, I know she's not pleased at

catching us making out like there was a promise of more to come.

"Luis and Carlos, go to your bedroom," she orders, stepping into the

room and composing herself. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your

friend, Alejandro?"

Brittany stands, books in hand. "Hi, I'm Brittany." Even with her

sun-kissed hair mussed from my fingers and the motorcycle ride, she's

still kick-ass beautiful. Brittany extends her hand in greeting. "Alex

and I were studying chemistry."

"What I saw wasn't studying," my ma says, ignoring her hand.

Brittany winces.

"Mama, leave her alone," I say roughly.

"My home is not a whorehouse."

"Por favor, Mama," I say, exasperated. "We were only kissin'."

"Kissing leads to making ninos, Alejandro."

"Let's get out of here," I say, totally embarrassed. I whip my

jacket off the couch and shrug into it.

"I'm sorry if I disrespected you in any way, Mrs. Fuentes,"

Brittany says, visibly upset.

My mother takes the groceries she's carrying, ignoring the apology

as she walks into the kitchen.

When we're outside, I hear Brittany take a deep breath. I swear it

sounds as if she's holding herself together by a thin thread. Not the

way it's supposed to go down: bring girl home, kiss girl, mom insults girl,

girl leaves crying.

"Don't sweat it. She's just not used to me bringin' girls in the

house."

Brittany's expressive blue eyes appear remote and cold. "That

shouldn't have happened," she says, throwing back her shoulders in a

stance as stiff as a statue's.

"What? The kiss or you likin' it so much?"

"I have a boyfriend," she says as she fidgets with the strap on her

designer book bag.

"You tryin' to convince me, or yourself?" I ask her.

"Don't turn this around. I don't want to upset my friends. I don't

want to upset my mom. And Colin . . . I'm just really confused right

now."

I hold out my hands and raise my voice, something I usually avoid

because like Paco says, it means I actually care. I don't care. Why

should I? My mind says to shut the fuck up at the same time words

spout from my mouth. "I don't get it. He treats you like you're his

damn prize."

"You don't even know what it's like with me and Colin. . . ."

"Tell me, dammit," I say, unable to hide the edge to my voice.

Initially I hold myself back from what I really want to say, but I can't

resist and tell it to her straight up. "'Cause that kiss back there . . it

meant somethin'. You know it as well as I do. I dare you to tell me bein'

with Colin is better than that."

She looks away hastily. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

"When people see Colin and me together, they comment on how

perfect we are. You know, the Golden Couple. Get it?"

I stare at her in disbelief. That is beyond fucked up. "I get it. I

just can't believe I'm hearin' it. Does bein' perfect mean that much to

you?"

There's a long, brittle silence. I catch a flicker of sadness in those

sapphire eyes, but then it's gone. In an instant her expression stills

and grows serious.

"I haven't been doing a bang-up job at it lately, but yes. It does,"

she finally admits. "My sister isn't perfect, so I have to be."

That is the most pathetic shit I've ever heard. I shake my head in

disgust and point to Julio. "Get on and I'll take you back to school to

get your car."

Silently, Brittany straddles my motorcycle. She holds herself so

far away from me I can barely feel her behind me. I almost take a

detour to make the ride last longer.

She treats her sister with patience and adoration. God knows I

wouldn't be able to spoon-feed one of my brothers and wipe his mouth.

The girl I once accused of being self-absorbed is not one-dimensional.

Dios mio, I admire her. Somehow, being with Brittany brings

something to my life that's missing, something . . right.

But how am I going to convince her of that?

THIRTY-THREE : Brittany

I'm going to forget the kiss with Alex happened even though I was

up all night replaying it in my head. As I'm driving to school the day

after the kiss that never happened, I wonder if I should ignore Alex.

Although that's not an option because we have chemistry together.

Oh, no. Chemistry class. Will Colin suspect something? Maybe

someone saw us drive off together yesterday and told him. Last night I

turned off my cell so I didn't have to talk to anyone.

Ugh. I wish my life wasn't so complicated. I have a boyfriend.

Okay, so my boyfriend's been acting pushy lately, interested only in

sex. And I'm sick of it.

But Alex as my boyfriend would never work. His mom already hates

me. His ex-girlfriend wants to kill me--another bad sign. He even

smokes, which is totally not cool. I could make a huge list of all the

negatives.

Okay, so there might be some positives. A few minor ones too

insignificant to mention.

He's smart.

He has eyes so expressive they give a hint to more than what he

portrays.

He's dedicated to his friends, family, and even his motorcycle.

He touched me as if I were made of glass.

He kissed me as if he'd savor it for the rest of his life.

The first time I see him is during lunch. As I'm waiting in the

cafeteria food line, Alex is two people in front of me. This girl, Nola

Linn, is in between us. And she's not moving down the line fast enough.

Alex's jeans are faded and torn at the knee. His hair is falling into

his eyes and I'm itching to push it back. If Nola wouldn't be so wishy-

washy about her choice of fruit . . .

Alex caught me checking him out. I quickly focus my attention on

the soup of the day. Minestrone.

"Want a cup or bowl, hon?" Mary, the lunch lady, asks me.

"Bowl," I say, pretending to be totally interested in the way she

ladles the soup into the bowl.

After she hands it to me, I hurry past Nola and stand by the

cashier. Right behind Alex.

As if he knows I'm stalking him, he turns around. His eyes pierce

mine and for a moment I feel as if the rest of the world is closed out

and it's just the two of us. The urge to jump into his arms and feel the

warmth of them surrounding me is so powerful, I wonder if it's

medically possible to be addicted to another human being.

I clear my throat. "Your turn," I say, motioning to the cashier.

He moves forward with his tray, a slice of pizza on it. "I'll pay for

hers, too," he says, pointing to me.

The cashier waves her finger at me, "What'd you get? Bowl of

minestrone?"

"Yeah, but. . . Alex, don't pay for me."

"Don't worry. I can afford a bowl of soup," he says defensively,

handing over three dollars.

Colin barges into the line and stands next to me. "Move along. Get

your own girlfriend to stare at," he snaps at Alex, then shoos him off.

I pray Alex doesn't retaliate by telling Colin we kissed. Everyone in

line is watching us. I can feel their stares on the back of my neck. Alex

takes his change from the cashier and without a backward glance heads

for the outside courtyard off the cafeteria where he usually sits.

I feel so selfish, because I want the best of both worlds. I want to

keep the image I've worked so hard to create. That image includes

Colin. I also want Alex. I can't stop thinking about having him hold me

again and kiss me until I'm breathless.

Colin says to the cashier, "I'll pay for hers and mine."

The cashier looks at me in confusion. "Didn't that other boy pay

for you already?"

Colin waits for me to correct her. When I don't, he gives me a

disgusted look and stomps out of the cafeteria.

"Colin, wait!" I say, but he either can't hear me or is ignoring me.

The next time I see him is in chemistry class, but Colin walks in just as

the bell rings so we don't talk.

During chemistry, it's another experiment/observation. Alex swirls

test tubes full of silver nitrate and potassium chloride liquids. "Looks

like they're both water to me, Mrs. P.," Alex says.

"Looks are deceiving," Mrs. Peterson replies.

My gaze travels to Alex's hands. Those hands that are now busy

measuring the right amount of silver nitrate and potassium chloride are

the same ones that traced my lips intimately.

"Earth to Brittany."

I blink my eyes, snapping out of my daydream. Alex is holding a test

tube full of clear liquid out to me.

Which reminds me I should help him pour the liquids together. "Uh,

sorry." I pick up one test tube and pour it into the tube he's holding.

"We're supposed to write down what happens," he says, using the

stirring rod to mix the chemicals together.

A white solid magically appears inside the clear liquid.

"Hey, Mrs. P.! I think we found the answer to our problems for the

ozone layer depletion," Alex teases.

Mrs. Peterson shakes her head.

"So what do we observe in the tube?" he asks me, reading off of

the sheet Mrs. Peterson handed out at the start of class. "I'd say the

watery liquid is probably potassium nitrate now and the white solid

mass is silver chloride. What's your assumption?"

As he hands me the tube, our fingers brush against each other.

And linger. It leaves a tingling sensation I can't ignore.

I glance up. Our eyes meet, and for a minute I think he's trying to

send me a private message but his expression turns dark and he looks

away.

"What do you want me to do?" I whisper.

"You're gonna have to figure that one out yourself."

"Alex . . ."

But he won't tell me what to do. I guess I'm a bitch to even ask

him for advice when he can't possibly be unbiased.

When I'm close to Alex I feel excitement, the way I used to feel

on Christmas morning.

As much as I've tried to ignore it, I look over at Colin and know . . .

I know our relationship isn't what it used to be. It's over. And the

sooner I break it off with Colin, the sooner I can stop wondering why

I'm still with him.

I meet Colin after school by the back door to the school. He's

dressed for football practice. Unfortunately Shane is standing next to

him.

Shane holds up his cell. "You two want to do a repeat performance

of the other night? I can capture the moment forever and e-mail it to

you. It'd be a great screen saver or, better yet, a You Tube video."

"Shane, get the fuck out of my sight before I lose it," Colin says,

then gives Shane a stare until he leaves. "Brit, where were you last

night?" When I don't answer, Colin says, "You can save your breath,

'cause I already have a clue," This isn't going to be easy. I now know

why people break up in e-mails and text messages. Doing it face-to-

face is so hard because you have to stand in front of the person and

witness their reaction. Face their wrath. I've spent so much time

avoiding arguments and smoothing relationships with the people around

me, this confrontation is painful.

"You and I both know this isn't working," I say as gently as I can.

Colin narrows his eyes at me. "What are you saying?"

"We need a break."

"A break, or a breakup?"

"Breakup," I say gently.

"This is because of Fuentes, isn't it?"

"Since you came back from summer break, our entire relationship is

about fooling around. We never talk anymore, and I'm sick of feeling

guilty for not ripping my clothes off and spreading my legs to prove I

love you."

"You don't want to prove anything to me."

I keep my voice low so other students can't hear me. "Why would

you want me to? Just the fact that you need me to prove I love you is

probably a clue it isn't working."

"Don't do this." He tosses his head back and moans. "Please don't

do this."

We filled the football star-pom-pom captain stereotypical box

everyone put us in. For years we fit the mold. Now we're going to be

under a microscope for the breakup, with rumors swirling around us.

Just the thought of it makes my skin crawl.

But I can't pretend it's working anymore. The decision will

probably haunt me. If my parents can send my sister away because it's

good for them, and Darlene can fool around with every guy she comes in

contact with because it makes her feel better, why can't I do what's

right for me?

I put my hand on Colin's shoulder, trying not to focus on his

watering eyes. He shrugs my hand off.

"Say something," I urge.

"What do you want me to say, Brit? That I'm thrilled you're

breaking up with me? Sorry, but I'm not feeling it."

He wipes his eyes with his palms. It makes me want to cry, too, and

my eyes start tearing. It's the end of something we thought was real

but ended up being just another one of the roles we were thrust into.

That's what makes me so sad. Not the breakup, but what our