“I made football tryouts!”
“And why would Yamilet lie to me about that?”
“Um, I thought you wouldn’t approve,” I mutter. Football, really? Football tryouts were weeks ago. I made a perfect lie for him. What is his problem?
“Of course I approve!” Mom reaches back and kisses Cesar on his fake-sweaty forehead. “Gracias a Dios. You need an outlet for all that aggressive energy. This is good.”
“Well, I think Mathletes would have been a better choice,” I say. It’s a more believable lie. Am I going to have to teach him how to throw a football now? If he wanted to choose his own lie, he shouldn’t have made me cover for him.
“Why? Just because I’m smart I need to be thinking about math all the time? I’d rather play football.”
“But you never played before! It makes no sense!”
“That’s what practice is for.” He smirks. “I mean, come on. Mathletes? Pfft.”
“You ungrateful little—” I lunge back at him.
“？AUXILIO!” He kicks and calls for help like he’s being murdered. Mom swats at my back until I drop it.
“Yamilet! That’s enough. Let your brother choose his own path.”
“Fine.” I put on my seat belt with all the attitude in my body.
6
Thou Shalt Procure a Pseudo Suitor
I guess I don’t actually hate Slayton. I don’t love it either, but after about a month, I’ve gotten used to it. It’s not even October yet, but it feels like I’ve been here longer. I like the food. I like my friends. Cesar isn’t fighting. He even has tons of friends who would probably defend him if anyone tried to put a hand on him, which is a comforting thought. Plus, his grades are up despite his constant sleeping in class. I guess if I was that smart, I’d get bored enough to fall asleep too. I try not to let it get to me that he sleeps in class every day and still gets better grades than I do.
I can’t keep him from falling asleep in class, but the football lie is working out better than I expected. Mom’s more than happy to take the extra hour of work and pick us up after he’s done with practice—aka detention—and she’s way too busy to catch on. She’ll eventually want to come to a game, but that’s a problem for future Yami and Cesar.
As usual, Bo and Amber join me at a table in the courtyard and get out their textbooks. We make it a habit most days to sit here and do homework or draw after school. Since Cesar’s in detention almost every freaking day, I spend a lot of time here. I tried asking him why he’s always sleeping in class, but he shrugged me off. In accordance with the unspoken rule, I didn’t pry. I guess he has insomnia or something. With all the time I spend waiting outside for him （since Karen and her boyfriend are always in the library after school）， I know I’m starting to get a gnarly T-shirt tan.
After a while of failing to understand my math homework, I switch to an art assignment that requires less thinking. The prompt is “insecurity.” Whatever that means. Ms. Felix says art is subjective, so as long as I have something to turn in, I’ll be fine. I could make a freaking earring and bring it in if I wanted to. But I don’t want to waste Mom’s supplies.
A fourth guest joins us. He doesn’t get any homework out.
“Hey, mind if I sit with you guys?”
“Hey, Hunter. Sure,” Bo says. She gives him a questioning look as he walks around the table to sit by me, even though there was an empty space next to Amber.
“Cool drawing. You’re really talented, Yamilet.”
“Thanks!” I grin. I’m not the most talented artist in the world, but I’m getting the hang of things. I’m sketching a picture of myself as a secret agent, Men in Black style. I love the idea of being a secret agent or a spy. I sort of feel like I already am one, with all the lying I do. Being a spy is a cooler way of living that life, though. I can present compartmentalized versions of myself to each person I know, and no one needs to know about my undercover identity.