Perfect Chemistry 1 (4 page)

you."

Anything but that. But I don't have a choice. I glance over at Colin

again, who seems pretty content with his assigned partner. Darlene

already has a boyfriend or I seriously would be questioning why she's

leaning a bit too close to Colin and flipping her hair back too many

times. I tell myself I'm being paranoid.

"You don't have to like your partner," Mrs. Peterson says, "but

you're stuck together for the next ten months. Take five minutes to

get to know each other, then each of you will introduce your partner to

the class. Talk about what you did over the summer, what hobbies you

have, or anything else interesting or unique your classmates might not

know about you. Your five minutes start now."

I take out my notebook, flip to the first page, and shove it at Alex.

"Why don't you write down stuff about yourself in my notebook and

I'll do the same in yours." It's better than trying to have a

conversation with him.

Alex nods in agreement, although I think I caught the corners of

his mouth twitch as he hands me his notebook. Did I imagine that

twitch or did it really happen? Taking a deep breath, I wipe that

thought from my mind and write diligently until Mrs. Peterson instructs

us to stop and listen to each other's introductions.

"This is Darlene Boehm," Colin begins, being the first to speak.

But I don't hear the rest of Colin's speech about Darlene and her

trip to Italy and her experience at dance camp this summer. Instead, I

glance down at the notebook given back to me by Alex and stare at the

words on the page with my mouth open.

SIX : Alex

Okay, so I shouldn't have fucked with her on the introduction

thing. Writing nothing except, ‘Saturday night. You and me. Driving

lessons and hot sex . .’ in her notebook probably wasn't the smartest

move. But I was itching to make Little Miss Perfecta stumble in her

introduction of me. And stumbling she is.

"Miss Ellis?"

I watch in amusement as Perfection herself looks up at Peterson.

Oh, she's good. This partner of mine knows how to hide her true

emotions, something I recognize because I do it all the time.

"Yes?" Brittany says, tilting her head and smiling like a beauty

queen.

I wonder if that smile has ever gotten her out of a speeding ticket.

"It's your turn. Introduce Alex to the class."

I lean an elbow on the lab table, waiting for an introduction she has

to either make up or fess up she knows less than crap about me. She

glances at my comfortable position and I can tell from her deer-in-the-

headlights look I've stumped her.

"This is Alejandro Fuentes," she starts, her voice hitching the

slightest bit. My temper flares at the mention of my given name, but I

keep a cool facade as she continues with a made-up introduction.

"When he wasn't hanging out on street corners and harassing innocent

people this summer, he toured the inside of jails around the city, if you

know what I mean. And he has a secret desire nobody would ever

guess."

The room suddenly becomes quiet. Even Peterson straightens to

attention. Hell, even I'm listening like the words coming out of

Brittany's lying, pink-frosted lips are gospel.

"His secret desire," she continues, "is to go to college and become a

chemistry teacher, like you, Mrs. Peterson."

Yeah, right. I look over at my friend Isa, who seems amused that a

white girl isn't afraid of giving me smack in front of the entire class.

Brittany flashes me a triumphant smile, thinking she's won this

round. Guess again, gringa.

I sit up in my chair while the class remains silent.

"This is Brittany Ellis," I say, all eyes now focused on me. "This

summer she went to the mall, bought new clothes so she could expand

her wardrobe, and spent her daddy's money on plastic surgery to

enhance her, ahem, assets."

It might not be what she wrote, but it's probably close enough to

the truth. Unlike her introduction of me.

Chuckles come from mis cuates in the back of the class, and

Brittany is as stiff as a board beside me, as if my words hurt her

precious ego. Brittany Ellis is used to people fawning all over her and

she could use a little wake-up call. I'm actually doing her a favor. Little

does she know I'm not finished with her intro.

"Her secret desire," I add, getting the same reaction as she did

during her introduction, "is to date a Mexicano before she graduates."

As expected, my words are met by comments and low whistles from

the back of the room.

"Way to go, Fuentes," my friend Lucky barks out.

"I'll date you, mamacita," another says.

I give a high five to another Latino Blood named Marcus sitting

behind me just as I catch Isa shaking her head as if I did something

wrong. What? I'm just having a little fun with a rich girl from the

north side.

Brittany's gaze shifts from Colin to me. I take one look at Colin and

with my eyes tell him game on. Colin's face instantly turns bright red,

resembling a chile pepper. I have definitely invaded his territory. Good.

"Quiet down, class," Peterson says sternly. "Thank you for those

very creative and . . . enlightening introductions. Miss Ellis and Mr.

Fuentes, please see me after class."

"Your introductions were not only appalling, they were

disrespectful to me and the rest of your classmates," Peterson says

after class as Brittany and I stand in front of her desk. "You have a

choice." Our teacher holds out two blue detention slips in one hand and

two pieces of notebook paper in the other. "You can either serve

detention today after school or write a five-hundred-word essay on

'respect' to hand in tomorrow. Which is it?"

I reach over and grab the detention slip. Brittany reaches out for

the notebook paper. Figures.

"Do either of you have a problem with the way I assign chemistry

partners?" Peterson asks.

Brittany says, "Yes," at the same time I say, "Nope."

Peterson sets her glasses on her desk. "Listen, you two better work

out your differences before this year is up. Brittany, I won't be

assigning you a different partner. You're both seniors and will have to

deal with a plethora of people and personalities after you graduate. If

you don't want to go to summer school for flunking my class, I suggest

you work together instead of against each other. Now hurry to your

next class."

With that, I follow my little chem partner out of the room and

down the hall.

"Stop following me," she snaps, looking over her shoulder to check

how many people are watching us walk down the hall together.

As if I'm el diablo himself.

"Wear long sleeves on Saturday night," I tell her, knowing full well

she's reaching the end of her sanity rope. I usually don't try to get

under the skin of white chicks, but this one is fun to rattle. This one,

the most popular and coveted one of all, actually cares. "It gets pretty

cold on the back of my motorcycle."

"Listen, Alex," she says, whipping herself around and tossing that

sun-kissed hair over her shoulder. She faces me with clear eyes made

of ice. "I don't date guys in gangs, and I don't use drugs."

"I don't date guys in gangs, either," I say, stepping closer to her.

"And I'm no user."

"Yeah, right. I'm surprised you're not in rehab or some juvie boot

camp."

"You think you know me?"

"I know enough." She folds her arms across her chest, but then

looks down as if she realizes her stance makes her chichis stand out,

and drops her hands to her sides.

I'm doing my best not to focus on those chichis as I take a step

forward. "Did you report me to Aguirre?"

She takes a step back. "What if I did?"

"Mujer, you're afraid of me." It's not a question. I just want to

hear from her own lips what her reason is.

"Most people at this school are scared that if they look at you

wrong, you'll gun them down."

"Then my gun should be smokin' by now, shouldn't it? Why aren't

you runnin' away from the badass Mexicano, huh?"

"Give me half a chance, I will."

I've had enough of dancing around this little bitch. It's time to

fluff up those feathers to make sure I end up with the upper hand. I

close the distance between us and whisper in her ear, "Face the facts.

Your life is too perfect. You probably lie awake at night, fantasizing

about spicin' up all that lily whiteness you live in." But damn it, I get a

whiff of vanilla from her perfume or lotion. It reminds me of cookies. I

love cookies, so this is not good at all. "Gettin' near the fire, chica,

doesn't necessarily mean you'll get burned."

"You touch her and you'll regret it, Fuentes," Colin's voice rings

out. He resembles a burro, with his big white teeth and ears sticking

out from his buzz cut. "Get the hell away from her."

"Colin," Brittany says. "It's okay. I can handle this."

Burro Face brought reinforcements: three other pasty white

dudes, standing behind him for backup. I size up Burro Face and his

friends to see if I can take them all on, and decide I could give all four

a run for their money. "When you're strong enough to play in the big

leagues, jock boy, then I'll listen to the mierda flyin' out of your

mouth," I say.

Other students are gathering around us, leaving room for a fight

that is sure to be fast, furious, and bloody.

Little do they know Burro Face is a runner. This time he's got

backup, though, so maybe he'll stay to duke it out. I'm always prepared

for a fight, been in more of 'em than I can count on my fingers and

toes. I've got the scars to prove it.

"Colin, he's not worth it," Brittany says.

Thanks, mamacita. Right back at ya.

"You threatening me, Fuentes?" Colin barks, ignoring his girlfriend.

"No, asshole," I say, staring him down. "Little dicks like you make

threats."

Brittany parks her body in front of Colin and puts her hand on his

chest. "Don't listen to him," she says.

"I'm not afraid of you. My dad's a lawyer," Colin brags, then puts

his arm around Brittany. "She's mine. Don't ever forget that."

"Then keep a leash on her," I advise. "Or she might be tempted to

find a new owner."

My friend Paco comes up beside me. "Andas bien, Alex?"

"Yeah, Paco," I tell him, then watch as two teachers walk down the

hall escorted by a guy in a police uniform. This is what Adams wants,

perfectly planned to get my ass kicked out of school. I'm not falling

into his trap only to end up on Aguirre's hit list. "Si, everything's bien."

I turn to Brittany. "Catch ya later, mamacita. I'm looking forward to

researching our chemistry."

Before I leave and save myself from suspension on top of my

detention, Brittany sticks that perky nose of hers in the air as if I'm

the scum of the earth.

SEVEN : Brittany

After school I'm at my locker when my friends Morgan, Madison,

and Megan come up to me. Sierra calls them the Fairfield M-factor.

Morgan hugs me. "Oh my God, are you okay?" she asks, pulling away

and examining me.

"I heard Colin protected you. He's amazing. You're so lucky, Brit,"

Madison says, her signature curls bouncing with each word.

"It wasn't a big deal," I say, wondering what the rumor is in

contrast to what really happened.

"What exactly did Alex say?" Megan asks. "Caitlin took a picture on

her cell of Alex and Colin in the hallway, but I couldn't make out what

was going on."

"You guys better not be late for practice," Darlene yells from the

end of the hallway. Just as quickly as Darlene appeared, she's gone.

Megan opens her locker, which is next to mine, and pulls out her

poms. "I hate the way Darlene kisses Ms. Small's butt," she says under

her breath.

I close my locker and we walk toward the practice field. "I think

she's trying to focus on dance instead of obsessing about Tyler going

back to college."

Morgan rolls her eyes. "Whatever. I don't even have a boyfriend so

she gets zero sympathy from me."

"No sympathy from my end, either. Seriously, when is that girl not

dating someone?" Madison asks.

When we reach the practice field, our entire squad is sitting on the

grass waiting for Ms. Small. Phew, we're not late.

"I still can't believe you got stuck with Alex Fuentes," Darlene says

quietly to me as I find an open spot beside her.

"Wanna switch partners?" I ask, although Mrs. Peterson would

never allow it. She made that crystal clear.

Darlene sticks her tongue out in full gross-out mode and whispers,

"No way. I never go slumming on the south side. Mixing with that

crowd'll get you nothing but trouble. Remember last year when Alyssa

McDaniel dated that one guy . . . what was his name?"

"Jason Avila?" I say in a low voice.

Darlene does a little shiver. "In a matter of weeks Alyssa went

from being cool to being an outcast. The south side girls hated her for

taking one of their guys and she stopped hanging with us. The confused

little couple was on an island all alone. Thank God Alyssa broke up with