Perfect Chemistry 1 (29 page)

"It's all lies!" Carlos blurts out. "You, him. It's all lies. !Mentiras!"

"Carlos . . . ," I say, releasing Luis and grabbing Carlos's arm.

Carlos looks at my hand in disgust, his temper seething. "And all

along I thought you joined the Latino Blood to protect us. But you're

just following in Papa's footsteps. Screw being a hero. You like being an

LB, but you forbid me to join. Isn't that a bit hypocritical, brother?"

"Maybe."

"You're a disgrace to this family, you know that, don't you?"

As soon as I lessen my grip on him, Carlos punches open the back

door and storms out.

Luis's quiet voice breaks the silence. "Sometimes good men need to

do things that aren't good. Right?"

I ruffle his hair. Luis is way more innocent than I was at his age.

"You know, I think you're gonna be the smartest Fuentes yet, little

bro. Now go to bed and let me talk to Carlos."

I find Carlos sitting on our back stoop, which faces our neighbor's

yard.

"Is that how he died?" he asks as I sit beside him. "In a drug

deal?"

"Yeah."

"He took you along?"

I nod.

"You were only six years old, the bastard." Carlos cynically blows

out a breath. "You know, I saw Hector today at the basketball courts

on Main Street."

"Stay away from him. Truth is, I had no choice after Papa died, and

now I'm stuck. If you think I'm in the LB 'cause I like it, guess again. I

don't want you jumped in."

"I know."

I give him a stern look like our mother used to give me when I put

tennis balls in her panty hose and flung them to see how high they'd

fly. "Listen to me, Carlos, and listen good. Concentrate on school so you

can go to college. Make somethin' of yourself." Unlike me.

There's a long silence.

"Destiny doesn't want me to join, either. She wants to go to some

university and get a nursing degree." He chuckles. "She said it would be

great if we went to the same university." I listen, because he needs me

to stop giving advice and let him figure the rest out on his own. "I like

Brittany, you know," he says.

"Me, too." I think of earlier, when we were in the car. I got carried

away, big-time. I hope I haven't screwed everything up with her, too.

"I saw Brittany talkin' to Mama at the wedding. She held her own."

"To tell you the truth, she kind of had a meltdown in the

bathroom."

"For someone so smart, you're loco if you think you can handle

everything."

"I'm tough," I tell Carlos. "And always prepared for danger."

Carlos pats my back. "Somehow, brother, I think dating a girl from

the north side is tougher than being in a gang."

It's the perfect opening to tell my brother the truth. "Carlos, you

see guys in the LB who talk of brotherhood and honor and loyalty and it

sounds great. But they're not family, you know. And the brotherhood

lasts only as long as you're willing to do what they want you to do."

My mom opens the door and looks down at us. She looks so sad. I

wish I could change her life and take the hurt away, but I know I can't.

"Carlos, let me talk to Alejandro alone."

When Carlos is inside the house, out of hearing range, my mom sits

beside me. She has a cigarette in her hand, the first one I've seen her

smoke in a long time.

I'm waiting for her to talk first. I've said enough tonight.

"I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, Alejandro," she says as she

blows cigarette smoke up at the moon. "And some of them can't be

undone no matter how much I pray to the Lord above." She reaches out

and tucks my hair behind my ears.

"You're a teenager who has the responsibilities of a man. I know

it's not fair to you."

"Esta bien."

"No, it's not. I grew up too fast, too. I didn't even graduate high

school because I got pregnant with you." She looks at me, as if seeing

herself as a teenager not that long ago. "Oh, I wanted a baby so bad.

Your father wanted to wait until after high school, but I was going to

make it happen sooner. All I wanted in this world was to be a mom."

"You regret it?" I ask.

"Being a mom? Never. Seducing your father and making sure he

didn't use a condom, yes."

"I don't want to hear this."

"Well, I'm gonna tell it to you whether you want to hear it or not.

Be careful, Alex."

"lam."

She takes another drag of her cigarette while shaking her head.

"No, you don't get it. You might be careful, but girls won't be. Girls are

manipulative. I should know, I'm one of them."

"Brittany is--"

"The kind of girl who can make you do things you don't want to do."

"Believe me, Mom. She doesn't want a kid."

"No, but she'll want other things. Things you can never give her."

I look up at the stars, the moon, the universe that I know doesn't

end. "But what if I want to give them to her?"

She lets out a slow breath, the action causing cigarette smoke to

fly out of her mouth in one long stream. "At the age of thirty-five I'm

old enough to have seen people die thinking they can change the ways

of the world. No matter what you think, your father died trying to fix

his life. Your facts are distorted, Alejandro. You were just a little boy,

too young to understand."

"I'm old enough now."

A tear escapes from her eye and she wipes it away. "Yes, well, now

it's too late."

FORTY-THREE : Brittany

"Brit, please tell me again why we're picking up Alex Fuentes and

taking him with us to Lake Geneva," Sierra says to me.

"My mom threatened me if I saw him outside of school, so going to

Lake Geneva is a perfect place to hang out with him. Nobody will know

us there."

"Except us."

"And I know you guys won't rat on me. Right?"

I catch Doug rolling his eyes. It seemed like a good idea at the

time. Going to Lake Geneva for the day on a double date is sure to be

fun. Well, once Sierra and Doug get over the initial shock of the two of

us as a couple. "Please don't give me more shit about this."

"The guy's a loser, Brit," Doug says as he drives to the school

parking lot where Alex should be waiting for us. "She's your best

friend, Sierra. Talk some sense into her."

"I tried, but you know her. She's stubborn."

I sigh. "Can you please stop talking about me like I'm not even

here? I like Alex. And he likes me. I want to give this thing a chance."

"And you're going to do that how? By keeping him a secret

forever?" Sierra asks.

Thank goodness we reach the parking lot so I don't have to

respond. Alex is sitting on the curb beside his motorcycle, his long legs

stretched in front of him. I chew my bottom lip anxiously as I open the

door to the backseat.

When he sees Doug driving and Sierra next to him, a muscle in his

jaw tenses.

"Come on in, Alex," I say, and slide over.

He leans into the car. "I don't think this is a good idea."

"Don't be silly. Doug promised to be nice. Isn't that right, Doug?" I

hold my breath for the answer.

Doug gives an impersonal nod. "Sure," he says, totally monotone.

Any other guy would leave, I'm sure of it. But Alex slides in beside

me. "Where we goin'?" he asks.

"Lake Geneva," I say. "Ever been there before?"

"No."

"It's about an hour away. Doug's parents have a cabin there."

As we drive, you'd think we were in a library instead of a car.

Nobody says a word. When Doug stops for gas, Alex gets out, walks

off, and lights a cigarette.

I sink lower in my seat. So far, this is not how I'd envisioned the

day turning out. Sierra and Doug are usually hilarious together, but this

is about as much fun as a funeral.

"Can you at least try and make conversation?" I ask my best friend.

"I mean, you can spend hours talking about what kind of dog you'd

rather kiss but you can't even put two words together in front of a guy

I like."

Sierra turns around in her seat to face me. "I'm sorry. It's just

that. . . Brit, you can do better. A LOT better."

"Like Colin, you mean."

"Like anyone." Sierra huffs and turns back around.

Alex gets into the car and I give him a weak smile. When he

doesn't smile back, I take his hand in mine. He doesn't return the hold,

but he doesn't pull away. Is that a good sign?

When we drive from the station, Alex says, "You've got a loose

tire. Hear that noise comin' from the left rear?"

Doug shrugs. "It's been like that for a month. No biggie."

"Pull over and I'll fix it," Alex says. "If it falls off on the highway,

we're toast."

I can tell Doug doesn't want to rely on Alex's assessment, but

after about a mile he grudgingly stops on the side of the road.

"Doug," Sierra says, pointing to the adult bookstore we're in front

of. "Do you know what kind of people go in there?"

"Right now, sweetheart, I really don't give a shit." He turns to

Alex. "Okay, big shot. Fix the car."

Alex and Doug step out. "I'm sorry I bitched at you," I say to

Sierra.

"I'm sorry, too."

"Do you think Doug and Alex will start fighting?"

"Maybe. We better get out there and distract them."

Outside, Alex takes tools out of the trunk.

After jacking up the car, Alex holds the tire iron in his hands. Doug

has his hands on his hips and his jaw thrust forward in defiance.

"Thompson, what's up your ass?" Alex asks.

"I don't like you, Fuentes."

"You think you're my favorite person?" Alex snaps back as he

kneels beside the tire and tightens the lug nuts.

I look over at Sierra. Should we intervene? Sierra shrugs. I shrug.

It's not as if they've come to blows . . . yet.

A car screeches beside us. Four Hispanic guys are inside, two in the

front and two in back. Alex ignores them as he lowers the jack and

returns it to the trunk.

"Hey, mamacitas! How about you ditch those losers and come with

us. We'll show you a real good time," one of them shouts through the

window.

"Fuck off," Doug shouts.

One of the guys stumbles out of the car and advances on Doug.

Sierra yells something but I'm not paying attention. Instead, I'm

watching Alex tear off his jacket and block the guy's path.

"Get out of my way," the guy orders. "Don't lower yourself by

protecting this white dick."

Alex stands toe to toe with the guy, the tire iron gripped tightly in

his hand. "You fuck with the white dick, you fuck with me. It's that

simple. Comprendes, amigo?"

Another guy steps out of the car. We are in some serious trouble.

"Girls, take the keys and get in the car," Alex orders, his tone

precise.

"But . . ."

There's a lethal calmness in his eyes. Oh, boy. He's dead serious.

Doug tosses Sierra his car keys. Now what? Are we supposed to sit

in the car and watch them fight? "I'm not going anywhere," I tell him.

"Me, either," Sierra says.

A guy in the other car sticks his head out of the window. "Alejo,

that you?"

Alex's stance relaxes. "Tiny? What the hell you doin' with these

pendejos?"

The guy named Tiny says something in Spanish to his buddies and

they jump back into the car. They almost seem relieved they won't

have to fight Alex and Doug.

"I'll tell you as soon as you tell me what you're doin' with a bunch

of gringos," Tiny says.

Alex chuckles. "Get out of here."

When we're all back in the car, I hear Doug say, "Thanks for having

my back."

Alex mumbles, "Don't sweat it."

Nobody speaks again until we reach the outskirts of Lake Geneva.

Doug parks in front of a sports bar for lunch. Inside, Sierra and I

order chopped salads while Doug and Alex order burgers.

In the booth while we're waiting for food, nobody is talking. I kick

Sierra under the table.

"So, urn, Alex," she starts. "See any good movies lately?"

"Nope."

"Apply to any colleges?"

Alex shakes his head.

Surprisingly, Doug sits up and takes over. "Who taught you so much

about cars?"

"My cousin," Alex says. "On weekends I'd hang at his house and

watch him bring cars back from the dead."

"My dad has a '72 Karmann Ghia sitting in our garage. He thinks

it'll magically start running."

"What's wrong with it?" Alex asks.

As Doug explains, Alex listens intently. While they discuss the pros

and cons of buying refurbished engine parts off of eBay, I sit back and

relax. The tension from earlier seems to disintegrate the longer they

talk.

After we finish eating, we walk down Main Street. Alex takes my

hand in his, and I can't think of anything I'd rather do than be here

with him.

"Ooh, there's that new gallery," Sierra says, pointing across the

street. "Look, they're having a grand opening. Let's go in!"

"Cool," I say.

"I'll hang outside," Alex says as we follow Sierra and Doug across

the street. "I'm not a gallery kind of guy."

That's not true. When is he going to realize that he doesn't have

to live up to the stereotype everyone else has placed on him? Once he

goes inside, he'll realize he's as welcome in a gallery as he is in the