He was surfing the web when Raúl tapped on the doorway.
“Here’s a present for you.” He tossed Carlos a small paper bag.
The color rose into Carlos’s cheeks as he peered inside—at a box of condoms.
“This doesn’t mean I’m telling you to have sex,” Raúl clarified. “You should wait till you’re married.”
Carlos rolled his eyes. Wasn’t that a bit hypocritical for a guy boning his ma to say?
“Or at least older,” Raúl continued. “But I know how a guy thinks. So if you do have sex, protect yourself.”
Whatever, Carlos thought, tossing the bag of condoms aside. But secretly, he felt a little excited. Might he actually get a chance to use them?
That evening, since he was grounded, he invited his friends over. They played computer games, listened to music, and tried to help Toro come up with a science project topic.
“Heh-heh-heh,” Pulga chuckled. “Why don’t you write about the deadly gases surrounding Uranus?”
“Or I’ll help you explain how to make a hormone.” Playboy smacked Toro on the shoulder. “Get it?”
Toro shook his head. “You guys are worthless.”
Playboy leaned into the mirror scrutinizing a zit, and glanced at Carlos. “Hey, how did you get your skin to clear up?”
“First of all, by not eating crap.” The comment was in retaliation for Playboy’s complaint earlier in the evening that Carlos didn’t have any chips or pretzels for the guys, only granola bars and fruit.
“What kind of pansy-ass shit is that?” Playboy had protested.
Carlos now proceeded to explain his twice daily regimen of cleanser, toner, and moisturizer. “And you need to drink eight to ten glasses of water a day—not soda or coffee, but water—to keep your skin hydrated.”
“Who taught you all that?” Playboy smirked. “Your girly-boy?”
Carlos ignored him. “Also, I do a mud face mask once a week.”
“You put mud on your face?” Playboy scrunched his nose. “You’d better stop jacking off. It’s starting to rot your brain.”
“It’s not real mud.” Carlos showed them the jar. “It’s fun and it feels great. Watch …”
While his buds observed, Carlos unscrewed the cap, scooped out a dab of paste, and spread it on his face.
Playboy poked his finger in the jar and smeared some on Pulga’s nose.
“Cut it out!” Pulga socked him.
“It smells like mint,” Toro said, sniffing the jar. “Can I try it?”
“Yeah, me too!” Pulga said. A moment later, he and Toro were laughing like frolicking monkeys as they coated their faces. But Playboy wanted nothing to do with it.
The following evening, at a little past seven, Carlos’s IM bell chimed. He glanced at his computer and his heart skipped a beat.
The message was from Roxy: Sup? What r u doing?
Carlos’s fingers raced to the keyboard. Nothin. How bout u?
Bored, Roxy replied. My mom went out with my lit bro. Wanna come over?
As Carlos read Roxy’s words, the image of her boobs virtually smashed through the computer screen. Trying to calm down, he typed: I’m kinda grounded. Can’t go out tonight.
Roxy answered: U been a bad boy?
Yeah.
R u absolutely positively sure u can’t sneak out? I’m reeeally bored. Pleeease?
Carlos wiped the sweat from his own real-life sad face, wondering if he couldn’t somehow sneak out. But his ma would surely kill him.
If I could I would, he wrote, but I really can’t.
Roxy replied:
Carlos’s heart wrenched in anguish—as did his loins. The keys clacked beneath his fingers. Me too.
That night, he climbed into bed early, unable to contain his imaginings of Roxy—and all the stuff they could’ve done together if he’d gone to her place. It no longer mattered to him if they were a couple or just a hookup. She wanted him. And more than ever, he wanted her.
Forty-Five
DURING THE NEXT days, Carlos spent hours zombielike, thinking only of Roxy.
On Wednesday at the condiment counter, when she turned to him and whispered, “Cheerleading practice was canceled. You want to come over after school?” he immediately gulped, “Sure!”
“Great.” She gave an impish grin and glanced at his table. “But don’t tell your little pals, okay? I don’t want the whole school blabbing about us.”
Carlos nodded obediently. As Roxy strutted to her table, Carlos ambled to his own, determined to keep his mouth shut. But Playboy immediately confronted him.
“You two just booked a hookup, didn’t you?”
“Shut up!” Carlos plopped his tray down. “I’m not supposed to say anything.” But he couldn’t help adding: “It’s for after school.”
“I thought you were grounded,” Toro reminded him.
“Oh, shit!” In his euphoria, Carlos had forgotten about that.
Pulga gave him a wily grin. “But if it’s for after school, how will mommy know?”
Carlos broke into an uncontrollable smile and gazed across the lunchroom at Roxy, imagining her T-shirt lifting for him once more.
Minutes later, his fantasy was shattered.
“Hey!” Sal called to Carlos outside the cafeteria. “Don’t forget our meeting after school!”
“Huh? What meeting?”
“The GSA!” Sal frowned. “Don’t tell me you forgot. Harris is coming to close us down if anyone even whispers the word ‘sex.’ Espie is out sick. You might be the only straight guy, so we really need you.”
“Um, okay.” Carlos nodded. As he watched Sal disappear into the hallway crowd, he felt his heart sink. How could he have forgotten the GSA? He couldn’t bag out on Sal. Yet, how could he bail on Roxy? Who knew how far she might let him get this time?
During Geometry, the teacher led the class through one small angle formula after another, while Carlos struggled to solve his own problem.
If Sal were straight, Carlos could simply tell him the truth. A straight guy would understand. But Sal wasn’t straight or exactly fond of Roxy—certainly not enough to excuse Carlos from the GSA meeting.
By the end of last period, Carlos had failed to solve the dilemma. But he knew he couldn’t pass up Roxy. When the final bell rang, he slinked out to his bus, feeling like a total slimeball for blowing off the GSA. And yet, once he arrived home, he could barely control his excitement. He tossed his backpack onto his bed, grabbed the pack of condoms, and raced out the door toward Roxy’s.
Forty-Six
ROXY ANSWERED THE door biting into a shiny red apple. A cropped T-shirt revealed her midriff. “Want some?”
Carlos pulled his gaze up to her face. “Huh?”
She laughed, tossing him the apple. He barely caught it as Roxy led him into the living room. “Come on! My fave soap is on.”
Carlos took his same sofa seat as before, next to Roxy. Not really sure what to do with the apple, he took a bite from the spot she’d already bitten into and handed it back. “Thanks.”
On the TV, a soap opera doctor discussed with a patient a highly delicate operation. One accidental slip, and the woman could end up brain-dead.
Apparently moved by the scene, Roxy tossed her apple aside and intertwined her fingers with Carlos’s. Instantly all of Carlos’s guilt about choosing Roxy over Sal’s GSA meeting subsided.
Carlos grew warm beneath his jean jacket as he debated his next move. Since Roxy had let him kiss her before, should he feel free to simply lean over and kiss her again? Or should he keep asking permission all the time? As soon as the program switched to a commercial, he turned to face her. To his relief, she took the cue.
Within seconds, his lips, the sweetness of apples, and the faint, salty taste of skin all mixed together.
“Hey, take it easy!” Roxy ordered with a giggle.
“Um, sorry.” Carlos drew back.
“Relax,” Roxy whispered and pulled his face to her chest.
His ear pressed against her boob. “I can feel your heart beating,” he whispered. “I never heard anyone’s heartbeat before.”
“Uh-huh,” Roxy replied, pressing his nose deeper into her cleavage.
As Carlos listened to her heart, feeling so close, he wanted to know everything about her: what she ate for breakfast; why her parents had split up; if she missed her dad; why she didn’t have a boyfriend …
Carlos pulled his face from between her boobs. “Can I ask you something?”
“Wait till the next commercial.” Roxy whispered and pushed his face back into her cleavage. “Can you do like you did last time?”
Eager to please, Carlos lifted her T-shirt. The scent of cherry perfume wafted up his nose and into his brain. As he kissed her chest, her breath came harder and faster.
When he raised his head to gulp a mouthful of air, she clutched his hair and begged, “Keep going! Please, don’t stop!”
“Um …” He cleared his throat. “I think I’m about to burst.”
Her magical green eyes widened. “Don’t!” She abruptly pushed him off her and he feared she was angry, except that she was grinning.
He nearly fell off the couch when she whispered, “Pull down your pants!”
Forty-Seven
CARLOS GAZED UP at Roxy, certain he’d heard wrong. Had she truly told him to pull his pants down? To be sure, he asked, “For real?”
“Yes!” She tugged at his belt, giggling. “Hurry up!”
A million thoughts collided in Carlos’s brain. How was this happening? Were girls actually as horny as in his fantasies? What if her mom came home? But the urgency in his pants overrode the concerns in his brain.
Hands quivering, Carlos fumbled to unclasp his SEXY belt buckle. Why wouldn’t the damn thing open? Fortunately, Roxy’s fingers worked more nimbly. Carlos raised his hips and tugged his jeans down to his knees.
“Your underwear, too.” Roxy sighed impatiently. “Hurry!”
Carlos hesitated. He’d never let anybody see him in such a state of excitement. What if Roxy thought his thing was too small? What if she laughed at it?
Don’t look, okay? he wanted to tell her. But he didn’t want to sound like a kid. Instead, he closed his own eyes.
As he tugged his briefs down, Roxy giggled, but not as though she were laughing at it—more as if she liked it. “Mmm …”
Emboldened, Carlos cracked one eye open. Roxy hovered above his lap, grinning as if she’d just unwrapped a present. Carlos slammed his eye shut again, both embarrassed and thrilled.
Roxy’s warm fingertips touched Carlos and a little zap of electricity surged through him. He wondered if she had felt it too, since she abruptly pulled away
Then she gasped as the front door rattled. “Shit! Its my mom!”
Forty-Eight
CARLOS LEAPED OFF the couch, yanking his pants nearly up to his neck. His heart beat wildly as he struggled with his buckle, barely clasping it before the front door swung open.
“Hi, Mom!” Roxy waved casually at an older but still good-looking version of herself: the same highlighted hair, hip-tight skirt, and killer breasts. In each hand the woman carried a plastic grocery bag. Beside her stood a small boy—Roxy s little brother, no doubt.
“We were just watching TV.” Roxy smiled innocently “This is Carlos.”
Carlos guiltily buried his hands deep in his pockets. “Um, hi.”
Mrs. Rodriguez’s eyes flashed between Carlos and Roxy, obviously not believing her daughter. “Didn’t I tell you last time you’re not allowed to have boys over when I’m not here?”
What does she mean by “last time”? Carlos wondered. How many other guys had Roxy invited over? Did she get into their pants too?
“Mom!” Roxy averted her eyes from Carlos. “You’re embarrassing me!”
“No,” her mom retorted. “You’re embarrassing me What are the neighbors going to think?”
“I don’t care what they think!” Roxy flung her hair back over her shoulder.
Roxy’s mom wagged a finger at Carlos. “I don’t want you here when I’m not home. Understand?”
“Mom!” Roxy repeated. “Stop it! I’m not a child.”
“Then stop acting like one!” her mom yelled back.
Carlos ducked as if dodging bullets while Roxy’s little brother aimed the remote control toward the TV, changing the channel to cartoons.
“I hate you!” Roxy screamed at her mom. Her body shook with rage, though she looked about to cry. “I hate you!” she reiterated, storming out of the room and into the hall. A moment later, a door slammed.
“Um, nice meeting you,” Carlos said politely, like Sal had taught him. Then he hustled past Roxy’s mom as fast as his legs could carry him.
It hadn’t been how he’d imagined meeting the mom of the girl he adored. In fact, he couldn’t recall any mother or ticked-off daughter ever appearing in his dreams. It had scared him to see Roxy so wild with anger.
He shuffled along the sidewalk, trying to calm himself. The whole afternoon seemed like a bummer. He’d come so close to getting laid—or at least getting oral. But he hadn’t even gotten that.
Yet at least he’d made a little progress. Despite his shyness—or perhaps because of it—he’d felt an undeniable thrill at letting Roxy see and touch him. That was worth something. With that thought, he felt better, and crossed the street toward his apartment complex.
But as he got to his building, his heart sank even deeper. A lone figure, stiff and still, waited on the top step of the staircase. His gaze bore down on Carlos. And Carlos suddenly remembered that his time with Roxy had come at a cost.
Forty-Nine
FROM THE TOP step of the tile staircase, Sal gazed silently down at Carlos. His eyes said a million things in a single hurt and angry beam directed straight at Carlos.
“Why didn’t you come to the GSA meeting?”
“Um …” Carlos grabbed the handrail as his mind fumbled for an excuse. Once again, he wished Sal were straight. Then Carlos would simply explain that he’d passed up a boring school meeting for the prospect of getting laid. In his straight-teen-guy world, that possibility trumped any other commitment, especially with another guy.
But Sal definitely wasn’t straight, and Carlos couldn’t conjure up any convincing excuse for having missed the GSA. He lamely uttered, “I forgot.”
“You forgot?” Sal bolted up from the stair step, his eyes on fire. “How the hell could you forget? I reminded you at lunch.”
“I know.” Carlos grappled for words. “I mean, I forgot I had something else to do.”
“Like what? What else was so important?”
“Um …” Carlos dug into his pocket for his keys while trying to come up with a believable lie. “I had a dentist’s appointment. I … I’d forgotten about it.”
Sal gave him a piercing look. “You’d better not be lying.”
“I’m not.” Carlos’s voice sounded shrilly false even to himself. He hated lying to Sal, but there would be other GSA meetings he could attend. What was the big deal? He hurried up the steps and opened the apartment door. “Um, you want to come in?”
He watched Sal’s face soften slightly. Apparently, he’d bought Carlos’s lie.
“Thanks.” Sal stepped inside. “So how was the dentist?”
“Okay” Carlos swallowed the guilty knot in his throat and led Sal toward the kitchen, quickly changing topics. “You want something to eat?”
He pulled from the fridge some pears his ma had bought and handed one to Sal. Although the fruit was barely ripe, the time with Roxy had made Carlos too hungry to care. He took a crisp bite and noticed Sal eyeing him curiously.
“No cavities?” Sal asked. “Your mouth isn’t sore or numb or anything?”
“No, I’m fine. So, um, how was the meeting?”
Sal’s lips angled into a frown. “There was no meeting.”
“Huh?” Carlos stopped chewing his pear. “What do you—?”
“No one
showed up,” Sal interrupted. “I told you, Espie was sick. Carlotta had to take a math make-up exam. And Vicky couldn’t get out of band rehearsal. No new students came. Our posters were no help. The meeting consisted of Mr. Quiñones, Harris, and me staring at each other.”
As Carlos listened, he could barely swallow the chunk of pear in his throat. He truly felt sorry for Sal, imagining him in the silent library, with no other students to back him up and Hard-Ass Harris scowling at him.
The image made Carlos feel even guiltier, both for ditching the meeting and for lying about it. “Well, I promise I’ll be there next time.”
“Forget it.” Sal shook his head despondently. “There isn’t going to be a next time. No one cares about a GSA.”
“I do,” Carlos said, trying to cheer Sal up and also make himself feel better. “I care about it.”
Sal gave him a skeptical smirk. “I’m not going through this again. It’s not worth it.”
“Yes, it is,” Carlos insisted, though he felt a little nuts doing so. Why didn’t he just let the thing die? He’d never wanted to participate in the group in the first place. But seeing his friend so dejected had made Carlos’s guilt grow deeper.
“You were right,” Carlos pressed on. “Every day I hear all the name-calling, and it’s not even toward gay people. It’s like you said, ‘Homophobia hurts everybody’ We need the GSA. Remember the Gandhi quote: ‘Be the change you wish to see in the world’? I’ll be there next time, no matter what. I promise.”
Sal peered at him a little cockeyed. Carlos couldn’t blame him. Where was all this stuff spewing out of his mouth coming from? If Carlos really believed it, then why had he crapped out on the meeting?
For the first time that afternoon, a smile slowly creased its way across Sal’s face. “You really promise?”
“Absolutely!” Carlos beamed, his guilt finally subsiding. As he took another bite from his pear, he heard the front door open.