“And you’ll look out for your brother.”
“Yes, Mami,” I say as I crawl out of her bed.
I’ll let Cesar think we talked about the mirror.
2
Thou Shalt Have No Other Gods Before Capitalism
I should be working on the summer assignment I got in the mail for my language arts class, but finding a job takes priority. What kind of school gives homework on VACATION, anyway? If I end up finding a job, maybe I’ll do my presentation on how unethical and life-draining homework is.
No matter how busy I keep myself filling out form after form, being grounded is lonely. Usually I’d have Bianca over for moral support or to give me advice. But now I know she wasn’t really my friend in the first place.
Part of me wants to be grateful she only told a grand total of three people about me being gay—our other friends Stefani and Chachi, and Bianca’s mom—but that part of me is way too naive. She shouldn’t have told anyone. I guess, looking back on it, I was never really close with the other girls in our friend group. They just tolerated me because I was friends with Bianca. She was the “leader” of the group, the rest of us her dutiful followers.
But she was more than just a leader, and I wasn’t just a follower. She was the superhero, and I was the sidekick.
Okay, maybe the sidekick is a little generous. I was more like the fangirl in distress who the hero constantly has to save. No one cares about that character. So really, I’m glad Bianca shattered that illusion, so I don’t have to play that role anymore. I’m my own hero now, and she’s the villain.
I guess I was pretty naive back then. I had seen Bianca’s mean side. How she would talk shit about anyone and everyone just to do it. How she looked down on anyone outside our little group. Under Bianca’s glow, I felt special. I should have known how easy it would be for her to turn and make me the target.
For a while, job hunting is a convenient distraction from Bianca. I don’t have to think about how much I hate her while I’m busy filling out applications and compulsively rewriting my résumé. I spend the rest of June and all of July job hunting, but after getting nothing but soul-sucking rejections, I’m still not having any luck. My résumé isn’t exactly impressive, no matter how I twist it. I’ve only had one job working as a barista, and I couldn’t even hold it a couple of weeks. And there’s only so many job openings within walking distance from our house.
Technically, I’m only supposed to use my phone for job hunting and emergencies, but I am allowed to stare at my notification-less screen between applications. My phone background makes me feel slightly better about not having any texts. It’s a picture of me and my dad doing our best America’s Next Top Model poses. I was eight, so Papi’s on his knees to match my height, and we’re both doing that weird pose with our hands on our hips and elbows inverted. I grin at the picture and consider calling my dad, but since I’m grounded, I just keep staring at my lack of notifications.
I hate myself for hoping to see Bianca’s name. I shouldn’t miss her. I should be pissed. I am pissed, and yet . . .
“Ugh!” I wander into my mom’s room and leap over all her jewelry onto the mattress to take comfort in her bed. She’d kill me if I stepped on any of her stuff. I pull the comforter over my face and think.
Since Mom can cover only half my tuition, if I can’t get a job to cover my part, I’ll have to go back to Rover. Alone. I’d have no way of looking after Cesar like Mom expects. She’s already annoyed that I couldn’t get into his genius classes—if he gets himself in trouble and loses his scholarship, it’ll be on me.
That’s what this is about. It’s not about me “running away” from Bianca. Never seeing her again is just another perk of this whole situation, if I can make it work by getting another job. But no one wants to hire a sixteen-year-old with no car and no experience. I have to think outside the box. I sit up and let the comforter fall off me. Think. Think.