Chain Reaction (2 page)

3

Luis

I guess my secret is out. If it wasn’t for that damn snake, I wouldn’t have fallen off the rock and
mi’amá
wouldn’t be sitting in the hospital room continuously shooting me threatening stares that translate into
You are in so much trouble
.

Ends up I didn’t have venom running through my body. One of the snake’s fangs punctured a nerve in my hand, which is why it felt numb. After I fell, Brooke called her father in a panic. He picked us up and drove me to the hospital. Surviving the snake bite was the easy part. Getting continuously lectured by
mi’amá
has been torture.

During the fall down the face of the rock, I scratched up my legs pretty bad. I should be grateful for finally being able to grab part of the rock that jutted out with my good hand, even though in the process I ripped my skin open from palm to wrist and almost needed stitches. In the end, the doc decided the cuts weren’t deep enough to require stitches and decided to have a nurse bandage me up instead.

Mi’amá
crosses her arms on her chest as she watches me adjust the hospital bed so I’m not lying down flat. “You scared me half to death, Luis. Who told you to climb up a mountain without a safety harness?”

“Nobody.”

“It was stupid,” she tells me, stating the obvious as she watches the nurse bandage my hand.

“I know.”

I look over at my brother Alex, leaning against the window watching me. He’s shaking his head, probably wondering how he got stuck with two younger brothers who were destined to do reckless, stupid things.
Papá
died before I was born, so Alex has been the oldest male in our immediate family since he was six. Now he’s twenty-two.

I’ve got to give Alex credit. He’s always tried to keep us out of trouble. Carlos was a lost cause from the start.
Mi’amá
said our other brother was born kicking and screaming, and never stopped until he was a teenager. Then all that pent-up energy was used to start fights with anyone who was stupid enough to piss him off.

Alex was twenty when
mi’amá
sent Carlos to live with him so Alex could straighten Carlos out.

Now Carlos is in the military and Alex is about to get married to Brittany Ellis, the girl he’s been dating since high school.

A nurse peeks her head into the room. “Mrs. Fuentes, we need you to sign a few papers.”

The second
mi’amá
leaves the room, Alex steps toward me. “You are one lucky motherfucker,” he says. “If I ever find out you free solo again, I’ll personally kick your ass. Got it?”

“Alex, it wasn’t my fault.”

“Oh, hell,” he says, covering his eyes with his hand as if he has a big headache. “You sound just like Carlos.”

“I’m not Carlos,” I say.

“So don’t act like him. I’m gettin’ married in two weeks.
Two weeks
, Luis. The last thing I need is one of my brothers fallin’ off a fuckin’ cliff and killin’ himself.”

“Technically it wasn’t a cliff,” I tell him. “And the odds of gettin’ a snake bite on an ascent is like—”

“Give me a break,” he says, cutting me off. “I don’t need statistics, Luis. I need my brother at my weddin’.”

Five girls, including Brooke, Jamie, and three of their friends, appear in the doorway. They’re all carrying balloons that say
Get well soon!
on them. I give a short laugh as my brother glances at the parade of girls with shock as they tie their balloons to the side rail of my bed.

“How are you feeling?” Brooke asks.

“Like crap,” I tell them, lifting up both of my bandaged hands—one with the snake bite and the other from being ripped open by the rocks.

“We came here to make you feel better,” Jamie says.

I smile wide and immediately feel better. Now that I know I’m not about to die, it’s all good. “What do you girls have in mind?”

I think I hear my brother snort as he steps back and the girls surround my bed.

“Want a back massage?” Angelica Muñoz asks with a flirty lilt to her voice.

“I brought some cookies from the Pearl Street Mall bakery,” Brooke says. “I can feed you since you can’t use your hands.”

“You’ve
got
to be kiddin’,” Alex mumbles from behind her.

Angelica settles behind me and starts massaging my back while Brooke takes one of the chocolate chip cookies she brought and lifts it to my mouth.

My future sister-in-law walks into the room, her high-heeled boots clicking on the hospital floor and her hair secured in a long blond ponytail running down her back. She takes one look at my entourage and shakes her head in confusion.

“What’s going on here?” she says to Alex.

“Don’t ask,” Alex says, coming up to her.

“Alex called me in a panic and said you’d had an accident,” she tells me.

I hold up both of my bandaged hands again. “I did. Hurts like a bitch, but the doc says I’ll survive.”

“Obviously,” she says. “But I don’t think you’ll be happy when your mother walks in the room and catches her fifteen-year-old son surrounded by his own harem. You know how protective she gets, Luis.”

“If she’s like my mom, she’ll freak,” Angelica says, then says to the other girls, “Maybe we should leave.”

Angelica is a girl I’ve casually fooled around with a few times at parties. She’s got Mexican parents, too, so she gets it. The other girls don’t have a clue how protective Mexican mothers can be.

I tell the girls that I’ll text them when I can use my hands, and they leave right before
mi’amá
walks back in the room.

“Who brought the balloons?” she asks. “Was it those girls I saw in the hallway?”

“Yeah,” I tell her. “They’re just friends from school.” No use getting into detail about how I’ve made out with three out of the five of them at one point or another. That will bring on another lecture I definitely want to avoid.

The doc releases me a half hour later, after giving
mi’amá
instructions on how to rewrap my wounds at home.

“You’re not invincible,” Alex tells me after Brittany and
mi’amá
walk out of the room. “None of us are. Remember that.”

“I know.”

He pokes a finger into my chest and blocks my path. “You listen to me, Luis, because I know all too well what was goin’ through that head of yours when you decided to climb that rock without safety gear. You liked the rush of knowin’ you were sayin’
fuck you
to danger. I’ve got one brother in the military, a best friend who’s been six feet under for more than four years, and I’m not about to sit back while my baby brother gets
la tengo dura
by flirtin’ with danger.”

“You take life too seriously,” I say, moving past him. “I’m not your baby brother anymore, Alex, and I’m not as innocent as you think. I’m almost sixteen. You know that girl Brooke who brought me cookies? She’s not innocent, either. You want to know how I know that?”

I can’t help but crack a grin as Alex puts his hands over his ears like earmuffs.

“Don’t tell me,” he says. “You’re too fuckin’ young, bro. I swear, if you get a girl pregnant you’ll have more than just two bandaged hands to deal with.”

4

Nikki

I don’t know how much time has gone by. Every time I get a call on my cell and realize it’s not Marco, I ignore it. Every time I get a text from one of my friends, I ignore it.

I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting on the beach crying, but I don’t care. I tell my baby to give me strength, but I feel as weak as ever.

Until I hear a familiar voice. “Nik!”

I look up. It’s Kendall. Kendall and I have been best friends since preschool, when we both wore the same dress on picture day and told everyone we were twins even when Miss Trudy said that lying wasn’t part of the school’s “core principles.” We didn’t know what “core principles” were back when we were four, but when Miss Trudy talked about them in her stern voice we knew we were in trouble.

Before I say anything, she kneels down to me. “I heard.”

She might have heard about the breakup, but she has no clue I might be pregnant. I bury my face in my hands. “I can’t believe this.”

“I know.” She sits beside me.

“He picked the gang over me.” I look up at my friend who has light hair and hazel eyes—the exact opposite of me. “He said I wasn’t Mexican enough.”

Kendall shakes her head and snorts. “He’s an idiot.”

I sniff a few times, then try to wipe the tears off my face. “How did you find out?”

She winces. “I tried to call you and text you, but you didn’t answer. So I texted Marco and asked where you were. He told me.”

“I told him I loved him. Then he said he wanted to see other people. Then he said he was already hanging out with the Blood and we could be friends.
Friends with benefits
, Kendall. Can you believe it? As if I could just turn my feelings off like a faucet.”

Just saying the words
friends
and
benefits
in the same breath makes me cringe.

Kendall sighs. “I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but you’ll find someone else.”

“I can’t do this without him.”

“Do
what
?” she asks, confused.

I look up at her, the one friend I can trust more than anyone else. “I might … be pregnant.”

Her look of shock mixed with a hefty amount of pity is enough to make me cry all over again.

She puts her hands on either side of my face and urges me to look at her. “You’re going to be fine, Nikki. I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

I nod. I wish I’d heard those words come out of Marco’s mouth.

“How late are you?” she asks.

“A week and a half.”

“Did you take a pregnancy test?”

I shake my head. I guess I thought after I told Marco, we’d get one together at a drugstore a few towns over where nobody knew us.

Kendall urges me to get up. “First, I’m going to get a pregnancy test for you. Then we’re going to figure it out. Listen, it is what it is and you can’t change it. Let’s find out so we know for sure. Cool?”

Truth is, at this point I don’t know if I want to know for sure. Ignorance is bliss, right?

I’m silent as Kendall drives me to a drugstore and back to her house. I sit on the edge of her tub and bite my fingernails nervously while she reads the instructions and hands me the stick I’m supposed to pee on so I know if I’m carrying Marco’s baby.

I look at the stick. “I can’t,” I tell Kendall. “I just … need to see Marco one more time. I need to talk to him face-to-face before I do this. He’ll be at Malnatti’s. If I can pull him away from the party and talk to him, maybe we can work things out.”

“I … I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“I have to see to him tonight, Kendall.” I look down at the pregnancy test. “I can’t do this without him.”

I know I sound desperate. I just have to find out if there’s anything I can do to change his mind about the Latino Blood … and me … and dealing drugs.

Kendall stands. “You sure you want to talk to him tonight?”

“Yeah.” I feel like I have so much to say, and was too caught off guard to say it before. If he knows how much I truly care about him, he’s got to change his mind. I can’t imagine any girl loving him more than I do. I put the pregnancy test back in the package and shove it in my purse.

“Come on, let’s get you ready then,” she says, taking me to her room and scanning her closet to pick something for me to wear. “I think seeing Marco right now is a horrible idea, but if you’re determined, I’m not going to stop you. First I’m going to make sure you look so hot, Marco will shit in his pants when he takes one look at you.”

In the end, Kendall picks out tight skinny jeans and a designer top that her mom gave her after she decided she didn’t want it anymore. At the party, I take a deep breath and hold my head high as I walk through the big white tent at Malnatti’s with Kendall at my side.

I scan the main area. It seems like the entire school is here celebrating the beginning of summer break.

Music is playing.

Some people are eating.

Some people are dancing.

I scan the tent for the familiar face that makes my heart race every time I look at him.

I finally see him … making out with Mariana Castillo in the back corner. She’s one of the tough, pretty Latino Blood homegirls that most girls at Fairfield steer clear of. He’s kissing her in that familiar way I know all too well. And feeling her ass with hands that touched my naked body just two days ago.

No
.

I close my eyes, wishing the image would disappear. But it doesn’t.

I open my eyes, and now I notice that most of the freshmen and sophomores are staring at me. I get looks of pity from girls on the north side, but I notice most of the Latina girls from the south side are whispering to each other and laughing. They’re gloating, happy that Marco dumped his rich north side girlfriend.

I tell Kendall not to follow me as I turn and run out of the tent, not stopping until I reach my house twenty minutes later. I bolt upstairs and lock myself in my room, feeling like a complete fool.

I pull out the pregnancy test from the zippered section of my purse and unwrap the stick. I let out a long, slow breath. This is it.
The moment of truth
.

I sneak off to the bathroom, glad the rest of my family is watching television in the family room.

After I follow the instructions, I hold the stick in my hand and wait impatiently for the results to show up. As I stare at the little plastic window that will tell me my fate, three things Marco taught me today race through my mind: boys will lie to your face just to have sex with you, don’t trust any boy who says
I love you
, and never date a boy who lives on the south side of Fairfield.

5

Luis

Two weeks after my showdown with the snake, I’m in a tuxedo at my brother’s wedding. I never thought I’d see Alex get married. Then again, I never thought I’d be back in Illinois again. This time, though, we’re at a rented house on Sheridan Road in Winnetka. It’s less than fifteen minutes from the south side of Fairfield where we used to live, but it feels like a whole other world.

“
¿Estás nervioso?
” I ask Alex as I watch him attempt to adjust the bowtie so it sits straight.

“
Estoy bien
, Luis. It’s just that this damn thing won’t go on right,” Alex growls, then slides the strip of fabric from under his crisp white collar and whips it on the ground before running his hand through his hair. He sighs heavily, then glances at me. “How the hell did you get yours to tie without lookin’ like a kid did it?”

I pull out a piece of folded-up paper from the back pocket of my rented tuxedo pants, ignoring the pain from my still-raw hand. “I printed instructions off the Internet,” I tell him proudly as I hold out the piece of paper.

“You’re such a geek, Luis,” our brother Carlos chimes in as he moves from the opposite side of the room and rips the instructions out of my hand.

Carlos didn’t have to worry about renting a tuxedo because he’s wearing his dress uniform from the army. From the way he stands straight and tall when he wears it, I know he’s proud he’s in the service instead of being in the gang he was in when he lived in Mexico with me and
Mamá
.

“Here,” Carlos says as he picks up the tie and shoves it and the instructions into Alex’s empty hand. “You don’t want to keep that bride of yours waitin’ at the altar. She might decide to ditch you and marry a white dude with an investment portfolio instead.”

“You tryin’ to piss me off?” Alex says, shoving Carlos away when he laughs at the clear plastic container with the red rose boutonniere packed neatly inside.

Carlos nods. “
Estoy tratando
. I haven’t had a chance to give you shit since I was deployed nine months ago, Alex.
No puedo parar
.”

Just as I’m about to offer to tie Alex’s bowtie for him,
mi’amá
comes into the room.

“What are you boys doing?” she asks, as if we’re still little kids messing around.

“Arguin’,” Carlos says matter-of-factly.

“There’s no time for that.”

Carlos kisses her on the cheek. “There’s always time for arguin’ when you’re a Fuentes.”

She glares at him, then looks up at the ceiling. “
Dios mío ayúdame
.”

She grabs Alex’s bowtie and wraps it around his neck. As if she’s a pro, she has it tied in less than thirty seconds.

“Thanks, Ma,” Alex says.

When she finishes, she looks up at Alex and cups his face in her hands. “My oldest
hijo
is getting married. Your father would be so proud of you, Alejandro. Graduating from college, and now getting married. Just … don’t forget where you came from.
¿Me Entiendes?
”

“I won’t,” he assures her.

Mi’amá
pins his boutonniere on his lapel, then steps back and looks at all three of us. Her hands press against her heart and her eyes get watery. “My boys are all grown up.”

“Don’t cry, Ma,” Alex tells her.

“I’m not,” she lies as a tear escapes the corner of her eye and runs down her face. She quickly brushes it away, then straightens and heads for the door. “Carlos and Luis, you should collect the rest of the groomsmen and tell them to line up soon.” She glances at Alex. “Finish getting dressed, Alejandro. The procession is about to start.”

She closes the door, leaving us alone.

I watch as Alex walks over to the window overlooking Lake Michigan. Chairs set up on the private beach are filled with guests waiting for him and his bride.

“I can’t do this,” he says.

I step closer, hoping to get a hint that he’s joking.

He’s not.

I glance at the clock on the wall. “Umm, Alex, you do realize that the weddin’ is supposed to start in ten minutes, don’t you?” I ask.

“I’ll handle this,” Carlos says, taking control. He braces his hands on Alex’s shoulders. “Did’ja cheat on Brittany?”

Alex shakes his head.

“You in love with another chick?”

Another shake.

Carlos leans away from Alex and crosses his arms on his chest. “Then you’re goin’ through with it. I didn’t get leave and fly all the way to Chicago for you to call it off, Alex. And besides, you love the
gringa
and promised you’d marry her after you both graduated college. This is a done deal. No backin’ out now.”

“What’d you do, Alex?” I ask, completely confused now.

He sighs heavily. “I haven’t told her the news that at the end of the summer we’re movin’ back to Chicago.”

Our entire family has lived in Colorado for almost three years. Moving back here isn’t gonna fly with Brittany. “What do you mean,
you’re movin’ back to Chicago
?”

“It’s a long story. Brit’s parents are handin’ over custody of her sister, Shelley, to the state of Illinois. She’s twenty-one and can go on state fundin’ for her care. That means she’ll be pulled from Sunny Acres and moved back here. Brit doesn’t know yet. She also doesn’t know I got into Northwestern for grad school. I accepted.”

“And you didn’t tell her any of it?” Carlos asks. “Oh, man, you are screwed.”

Alex rubs the back of his neck and winces. “I kinda never even told her I applied to Northwestern. She thinks we’re stayin’ in Boulder after the weddin’.”

I know full well my brother’s soon-to-be wife doesn’t want to come back to Illinois. I’ve heard her talk about her fear of coming back to the place where Alex got shot, and beat up within an inch of his life to get jumped out of the Latino Blood. He’s told her it’s safe now, since the gang broke off into different factions and the new head of the gang, Chuy Soto, is in jail. We’ve all assured Brittany that Alex doesn’t have a target on his back, but she’s skeptical.

I know it took a lot for Alex to convince Brittany to have their wedding back here. I think she agreed for the sole reason that she hoped her parents would attend the ceremony—despite their hatred of my brother.

They hate him because he’s Mexican.

And he’s poor.

And he was in a gang.

He’s still batting two out of three, which makes him an unacceptable match for their daughter. She comes from a rich, white, and stuck-up family. I have to give Mr. Ellis, her dad, some credit. He did try to get to know Alex. A while back when he came for a visit to Boulder, he invited Alex to play golf. That was a bad idea. My brother is not the golfing type. One look at his old gang tattoos should’ve been a clue.

Brittany’s parents haven’t shown up. Not yet, at least. Brittany hopes to have her parents at her side when she walks down the aisle, but plan B is to walk down with Carlos’s girlfriend’s dad, Dr. Westford. Either way, my brother will be waiting for her at the end of the aisle.

Alex shrugs into his black tuxedo jacket and heads for the door. “Just promise me one thing. If she kicks me out of our room tonight, let me sleep in one of yours.”

“Sorry, bro,” Carlos says. “I’ve been away from Kiara for nine months. I ain’t sharin’ my hotel room with anyone but her. Besides, your virgin bride’ll want to consummate the marriage.”

Alex rolls his eyes. I’m pretty sure they consummated their relationship years ago. I’m also pretty sure Carlos knows that fact.

“You’ve got to tell her,” I say. “Before the weddin’.”

“There’s no time,” Carlos chimes in, totally amused. “Nice to start your marriage with lies and deceit. You’re a stellar role model, bro.” He pats Alex’s back.

“
Cállate
, Carlos. I’ll tell her.”

“Before the ceremony, or after?” I ask.

From the open windows, harp music starts flowing into the room.

The three of us look at one another.

We know our family will never be the same.

“Well, guys, this is it,” Alex says as he opens the door. He stops suddenly and bows his head. He squeezes his eyes shut. “I wish Paco were here,” he mumbles.

Paco was Alex’s best friend. He died when he and Alex were seniors in high school. My brother has never gotten over it.

“Me too,” I say, crossing myself as I think of the one guy who we treated like an honorary Fuentes.

“Yeah,” Carlos says. “But he’s here. You know he’s watchin’.”

Alex nods, then straightens. If it weren’t for Paco, Alex wouldn’t be here. He’d be in a coffin, too.

My brothers aren’t aware that I know how Paco died. Hector Martinez, the head of the Latino Blood, shot Paco. Hector also killed my father, and even shot Alex. Hector was the enemy. My life would have been very different if the enemy weren’t dead, because I would have dedicated my life to getting revenge.

I was eleven when I found out who shot
Papá
when Alex was six years old and
mi
’
amá
was pregnant with me. I held back the urge for revenge, but I felt it like a fire slowly burning inside me until Hector’s death years ago made my family safe.

Just the thought of Hector Martinez can get me riled up. I take a deep breath and follow Alex and Carlos to the processional. We stand near the priest with the rest of the wedding party, and for the moment I forget about the past.

“Alex, you got the
arras
?” Carlos asks him.

The
arras
are the thirteen gold coins he’ll give Brittany as a symbol of his trust and confidence in her. They’ve been passed down from my grandparents to my parents, which is a good thing, ’cause there’s no way my brother would be able to afford the coins otherwise. They’re not having a traditional Mexican wedding since Brittany isn’t
Mexicana
, but they’ve put some Mexican traditions in the ceremony.

Alex pats his pockets. “Shit. I left the
arras
in the room.”

“I’ll go get ’em,” I say, then head back to the makeshift dressing room.

“Hurry,” I hear Carlos and Alex call out behind me.

I swing open the door to the dressing room and find I’m not alone. A girl about my age is in the room, looking out the window. Her white dress contrasts with her honey-colored skin, and just the sight of her makes me stop in my tracks. She’s smokin’ hot, with dark wavy hair running down her back and a face that reminds me of an angel. She’s obviously a guest at the wedding, but I’ve never met her before. I’d definitely remember her if I had.

I flash her a smile. “
¡Hola! Yo soy Luis
.
¿Quieres charlar conmigo?
”

She doesn’t say anything.

I point to the door. “Umm …
la boda va a empezar
,” I tell her, but it’s clear by the way she rolls her eyes that she doesn’t really care.

“Dude, speak English,” she says. “This isn’t Mexico.”

Whoa.
Chica
with an attitude in the house. “Sorry,” I say. “Thought you might be Mexican.”

“I’m
American
,” she says, then holds up a blinged-out cell phone and waves it in the air. “And I’m on the phone. It’s a private conversation. Do you mind?”

The side of my mouth quirks up. She might claim she’s a full-blooded American, but I’d bet my left nut she’s got some Mexican blood running through her feisty veins.

I pick up the
arras
and give her a smile. “Save a dance at the reception for me,
mi chava
.”

She hangs up with whoever she was talking with and sneers at me. “Ugh, you’re one of those guys who flirt and smile to get with a girl, then they dump that poor girl on their ass when they least expect it.”

“Oh, so you’ve heard about me,” I say, then wink at her. She starts to walk out of the room in a huff, but I reach out to stop her. “I was just kiddin’. Don’t take life too seriously,
mi chava
.”

The angel gets in my face. She does it to intimidate me, but all it does is fire me up. “How dare you tell me not to take life too seriously! You don’t even know me.”

I don’t usually mess around with girls with attitude. I’ve been around enough of ’em to know that
muy creídas
are more trouble than they’re worth. They’ve always intrigued me, though. I can’t help it. I think it’s in the Fuentes blood to mess around with girls who most definitely don’t want to get messed with.

“Luis, you’re holding up the ceremony,”
mi’amá
calls loudly from the hall. She walks into the room, then raises an eyebrow at the sight of me standing close enough to the angel that if I bent forward the slightest bit I’d be kissing her. “What’s going
on
in here?” she demands, as if we were about to get it on and she got here just in time to break it up.

“Yeah, what’s goin’ on?” I ask the girl, deliberately putting her on the spot.

The girl holds up the cell. “I was in the middle of a call when
he
came in here and started to hit on me.”

“That’s my son. And you are …”
Mamá
says, her eyes narrowed into slits. Oh, man. She’s in interrogation mode. You don’t want to meet
mi’amá
when she’s got her mind set on getting information out of you.

“Nikki Cruz,” the girl says with pride. “My dad was Alex’s surgeon.”

Not Mexican, my ass. I was right. This angel has more than a little red, white, and green blood running through her veins. Dr. Cruz was the one who took the bullet out of Alex’s shoulder at the hospital when he got shot years ago. The doctor has been in contact with Alex ever since, keeping tabs on him.

Mamá
nods, then scans Nikki Cruz—the surgeon’s daughter—from head to toe. “The wedding is about to start.
Ándale
, Luis.”

Before I turn around and walk out of the room, I give Nikki a completely arrogant and secret wink/nod that’s sure to once again bring out that Latina attitude in full force.

She flips me off. She doesn’t do it to amuse me, but it does.

I can’t wait for the reception. Like my two older brothers, I don’t ever back down from a challenge, and Nikki Cruz is definitely not one that will surrender easily. By the end of the night I bet I could convince her to be my next girlfriend—well, at least until my flight back home to Colorado.