“What? No! And we’re not,” Bianca insists, then takes her mom’s place at the door. She looks pretty, like always. She has her long black hair in a messy bun, and her tank top strap is falling off her shoulder. Her eyeshadow bunches at the crease of her eyelid from a day’s worth of wear. But the thing that catches my eye is the friendship bracelet on her wrist. She made that at my house.
“Hi,” I say.
“Yami, what are you—wait, are you crying?” She lets the door hang open just enough so her friends can see me. Like this wasn’t already embarrassing enough.
“I’m fine.” My eyes are dry, but Bianca knows me too well. And the fact that she bothered to ask . . . maybe she still cares? “I just thought—”
“Look, I told you I don’t like you like that. Stop stalking me.” She’s projecting her voice so Chachi and Stefani can hear, like this is some kind of performance.
I process that for a second, then start laughing. She fidgets under the sound of my laugh, giving me a confused look. I was a fool to think she cared about me. Not just now, but ever. If she cared, she wouldn’t have done what she did.
“Okay, well, bye,” she says, and shuts the door.
Once it’s closed, I kick over the talavera pots and stomp on the flowers over and over again. I don’t discriminate between the ones I planted and the ones she did without me. I came here for closure, but all I feel is a hole in my chest. I fill the void by stomping on the potted soil until I can’t feel my foot.
The next day, I still feel lost. I would have gone outside for lunch, but it’s a hundred degrees and I’m not trying to go into class all sweaty. I could probably sit with Cesar and Hunter and their other popular senior friends who are somehow both nerds and jocks at the same time. I know he would try to get me to make friends with them. Everyone here seems to love my brother, so I’m sure they’d welcome me. Hunter’s nice, too, but I can only handle so much testosterone at one lunch table. And I don’t want Cesar feeling bad for me that I can’t make my own friends.
Looking around, I have to consciously avoid looking at Jenna’s table, because I don’t want to slip up and make eye contact with any of them. Then I’d have to give them stink-eye to make sure they know how I feel about them. It would just be awkward, and I don’t have the time or energy today.
Then there’s Bo’s intoxicating laugh from across the cafeteria. She throws her head back from the powerful force of her own laughter. And I find myself drifting closer, but I stop myself. I’m almost positive she’s gay. If I sat with her, would everyone else be positive I’m gay?
No, gaydars don’t work like that. Besides, I have a terrible one. I was sure Bianca was into me before I came out to her, and I couldn’t have been more wrong. So maybe Bo isn’t even gay! It’s not like I’m crushing on Bo or anything, though she could be potential crush material. If I was going to be catching any crushes here. Which I’m not.
Shit. How long have I been staring? Judging by the fact that she’s smiling and waving at me, she probably isn’t too weirded out. There’s no turning back now, so I walk over.
“Hey, Yamilet! Do you know David and Amber?” Bo asks me. She says my name right.
“I know you, we have religion together!” Amber says. I’ve seen her, but we haven’t talked. She’s a thick white girl with curly blond hair. The teacher in that class doesn’t give us a whole lot of time for socializing. Honestly, religion class would actually be cool if we learned about any religion besides Catholicism.
“You’re Cesar’s sister, right? Everyone says he’s my long-lost twin.” David laughs, throwing his hands up in a who knows why kind of gesture. He has art class with me, Bo, and Hunter, so I’ve seen him before. Cesar told me about his “twin.” I guess I can sort of see how they maybe look a little bit alike? I mean, they’re both shortish Brown guys with similar body types. Other than that, though, there’s not much of a resemblance.