Down to the Bone (3 page)

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Authors: Mayra Lazara Dole

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Social Issues, #Homosexuality, #Lgbt

BOOK: Down to the Bone
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Fart Face comes to me, shoving the cell in my face. “Shai, you know this school accepts homosexuality. We even have a Straight and Gay Alliance. This isn’t about sexual preferences. The same rules apply to straight kids. This issue has to do with having sex
at your age. Reading, writing, sending or receiving these types of explicit texts during class is not allowed. Who’s the girl you’re having sex with? You’re both responsible for this unacceptable behavior.”

I want to blurt, “It’s your favorite niece, Alicita, the perfect genius you’re always yacking about.” But instead, I zip my lips tightly.

My mom digs holes in my eyes. “I didn’t even know you liked girls.” She looks to Fart Face. “Shai wears dresses. She slow dances at parties with boys. As far as I knew, she loves the opposite sex. I’ve been fooled by my own daughter?” She turns to me. “We were so close.”

Mrs. Superior-Sicko gives me an ultimatum: “Tell us who the girl who wrote those texts is, or you’ll be expelled.” I’m still mute. She continues with hatred in her eyes. “Whoever she is, her behavior needs to be stopped. I won’t allow girls, boys, gays, straights, giraffes, whatever, to write or read graphic, explicit, sexual texts in class.”

The ticking sound of the grandfather clock blasts out like a bunch of loud shots, over and over again, driving me crazy.

“Who is the nasty girl?” My mom’s jaw tenses. “Go bring her to us right now.”

“She’s not nasty!” No one’s going to find out it was Marlena. I’ll let them keep believing she’s in this school. I don’t give a royal banana if they keep me prisoner here for years. I’ll never talk!

Mami utters, “I’m deeply sorry. I raised her to be polite. She’s never given me trouble. Shai’s been a great girl and, as you know, an A student. I don’t know what’s gotten into her and why she won’t cooperate.”

“I’m not shocked,” Fart Face affirms. “This type of sexual behavior shouldn’t be happening at such a young age, but unfortunately, it’s common.”

Mrs. Superior-Sicko’s jaw is tight as she digs holes into my pupils. “Well, Shai Amores, I see that you will not cooperate. You’re lucky today is the last day of school and you’ve graduated. But you’re not welcome back next year.” She blinks her crusty bug eyes. “Get your books and go home.”

Mami stays behind, talking with the Torturers. I don’t want to see her face when I get back. Maybe I can run into the street and get hit by a car. No. No. Pedri will suffer if I die.

First, I dash to the bathroom to pee. Then, I walk into the class. Some girls stare at me with question marks in their eyes. A few guys make fun of me. “Hey, Muff Diver!” They sing out, “Shai e-eats octa-pussy! Shai lo-oves octa-pussy!”

“Shut up, jerks!” Soli chews them out.

The room fills with the buzzing sound of gossip. I don’t understand. Some of these kids have been my friends all my life.

Soli hugs me and kisses my cheek. “Things’ll be okay. I’ll call you soon.” Lucky for Soli, everyone knows she’s boy crazy, otherwise they’d think she was the texter. I don’t want Soli to let go. I’d like her to slap me awake and tell me my mom hasn’t read those intimate texts and this isn’t real.

I kiss her cheek. “Later.” The lump in my throat from knowing what’s awaiting me is killing me.

I grab my book bag and see smiles on the faces of Margarita, Julian, Sasha and Hernando. “
Hasta luego
, Shai.”

“Bye,” I wave back then say goodbye to everyone else. Most of the class waves back but my friends look away.

“Liar!” CC yells after me.

I hear Soli shouting, “Leave her alone, asswipe!”

I close the door behind me, knowing what my life will be like from now on.

I’m snapped out of my memory when Tazer reaches me.

“I’m back. Zoe’s a friend from school. I always see her here. I let her know I’ll catch up with her next week.” She plops on her towel.

Gusts of wind have the coconut palms swaying. Sweet smells of fried plantains fill the beach. A vendor walks over to us selling
pastelitos, platanitos maduros
and sodas.

Tazer buys two
pastelitos de guayaba
and freezing cold Maltas. I thank her, and we sit in the shade of the tree sipping the soda that reminds me of Pedri. When he was a baby, I’d pour condensed milk in a glass bottle, add Malta, shake it, and feed it to him; it’s still his favorite. I sink my teeth into the pastry
.
“So what do you do for fun?”

“Surfing, skateboarding, chilling with friends at the car races, reading, writing plays, going to the theatre and clubbing every weekend with my fake ID.” She swallows, wipes
pastelito
flakes off her skinny chicken lips with her hand, and throws me a gleaming smile. “What about you?”

“I love collecting ancient music and watching foreign films, especially Cuban, French and Italian. I like Japanese animation, too. I’m hard-core into drawing, painting murals, riding bikes, swimming, reading and things of that nature. I’ve got a fantastic part-time job doing landscapes, on weekends. Marco, the boss, will soon be hiring me full time.”

My brain feels like it’s about to explode. The words I see flying around me have nothing to do with happiness. They must have been what Pandora saw when she opened the infamous box: Chaos. Cataclysm. Superficiality. Absurdity. Futility. Pointlessness. Sadness. Brutality.

I can’t stop visions of what’s just happened. I’m trying hard to listen but everything gets jumbled up and reverted back to when I was in my mother’s
cacharro
on our ride home.

The fumes are making me nauseous. My mom puts her foot to the pedal, grips the wheel, and prays, “
Ay Jesucristo
, give me strength.” She makes a
promesa
: “If you save my child from the filth of this modern life, I’ll never cut my hair for as long as I live.”

Old-fashioned Cuban mothers always make weird promises like that. I mean, why would Jesus give three and a half coconuts if my mother let her hair grow down to her heels?

I try to reason with her: “Let me explain.”

She yanks my hair. “Explain? You’re a disgrace to our family name. If your father were alive, he’d die. Tell me who that
degenerada
girl writing you those X-rated texts is!”

The buildings thin out around us as we speed through the school district. My mom makes a left turn. She leaves behind squat structures and drives into a well-manicured neighborhood filled with three-story mansions. The villas lose their usual grasp on me and give way to a dark blur where nothing makes sense. I’ve lost Mami’s trust. My life is changing as quickly as the landscapes flashing by.

I stare out the window, still mute. I can’t tell on Marlena. That will start World War III.

The rest of the ride is silent. We get home and walk into my mom’s dark, hairspray-smelling room. She pulls up the shades and the light blinds me. I cover my eyes with my forearm.

“So that’s what you’ve been doing every day after school before I get home from work, eh?” Mami shakes her head in disgust.
“Dios mío.”
Tears stream down her face. “I’ve never been so humiliated and embarrassed in all my life. I heard details about you being with another girl. Can you understand how disturbed and devastated I feel?”

“I’m so sorry. They shouldn’t have read them to you or in front of the class. That’s not right.” Reading those texts should be against the law. Who does that? They wanted to purposely ruin my life. I can’t do the same and destroy Marlena’s life. I won’t.

My mom loved Marlena from the first day they met. She sensed Marlena was “decent.” When Marlena told my mother she’d like to elope with her boyfriend because her parents wouldn’t allow her to be with him, my mom reassured her, “Be patient and stay being the good girl you are. Eventually, I’m sure your parents will open their hearts to him.” Mami had no idea Marlena was talking about me. I don’t feel too good about having fooled her, but what else could I do?

I stand by the bed and look down at my two-tone shoes. No way will I fight back. She’ll slap the brain juice right out of my head.

She picks up her loose hair, twists it into a bun at the back of her head, and sticks bobby pins deep into it. “I was going to surprise you with a used, sturdy car today for having made such good grades this year. I wanted to drive you to the dealership after school and let you pick it. I’ll be putting the loan money right back into the bank if you don’t tell me who the girl is. Which of your school friends is it—Soli, Olivia, Aracelys or CC?”

Damn. I really need a car.

I keep quiet. Marlena goes to La Caridad del Cobre High. What a lucky break that my mother and Torturous Teachers still believe it’s someone from my school. Mami might never figure out who the “Evil Culprit” is.

There’s a huge silence. Abruptly, we hear Pedri’s school bus leaving him in front of the house. My mother walks into the living room. Pedri opens the door and runs to her for a hug. “Go to your room and stay until I’m done with your sister.”

He obeys.

She barges in. “So you’re still not talking, eh? That despicable girl gets to finish high school in your school, and you get thrown out?”

Her heels clickety-clack something loud in my ears as she paces the room, back and forth, back and forth. My head feels like it’s about to combust and crack open.

“Until you tell me who you’ve been having sex with in my house, you won’t be allowed to leave here, bring friends over, talk on your cell, text or tweet anyone or use your iPad or laptop.” Her voice rises in a frightening tone. “I just got married with Jaime. Tomorrow we begin our honeymoon, the first vacation I’ve had in six years, and you do this to me now? He better never find out. I’ve just started my life again after your father died. Don’t you dare ruin my chances of a happy life with him.”

She snatches my cell from my book bag and tries to find out the number of the girl who sent the texts. Marlena’s digits and info is set on private. She erases all my e-mails and storms off to the kitchen with phone in hand.

Pedri runs to me. “What happened, Shyly? Why is Mami so mad?”

I sit him on my lap and hold him tightly against me. I need to feel his love around me. “Little Punk, they threw me out of school.” I hug him closer, tighter, as I gulp hard and try not to cry.

He examines my eyes while holding onto the back of my neck with both hands. “Were you bad?”

I kiss the tip of his tiny marble nose, press my forehead against his, and look into his green bubble-gum colored eyes. “Nope. They threw me out because I won’t snitch on a friend. Don’t worry about it, okay?” I brush his golden curls away from his forehead with my fingers and squeeze my cheek to his. He’s all mushy and marshmallowy.

Pedri smiles, showing his tiny teeth and one missing front tooth. “Okay.”

My mom calls him and he rushes off.

I go to my room, shut the door behind me, and throw myself on the bed. I hear my mother in the kitchen, slamming cabinet doors, and banging pots and pans. It’s safe to make a quick call to Marlena.

She answers,
“¿Oigo?”

I whisper everything that happened, in detail, without stopping for a single breath. “Oh, no! I should have never texted you something so private.”

“It’s not your fault. I was the idiot reading the texts in class. I should have known better.

“Some guys only see me as sex object now. My mother is treating me like a criminal. Most of my good friends are never going talk to me again because I lied. But worst of all, Mami read what we do in living color. I’m nauseous.”

“Oh, Scrunchy.” She sighs loudly. “That’s horrible. What are we going to do?”

“Don’t worry. No one found out about you, and no one ever will.”

“Texting you in private mode is the smartest thing I’ve ever done. Can you imagine? I’m relieved no one knows it’s me. This way, we can still see each other and work it through.”

I pull off my blouse, ball it up, and throw it against a wall. It’s suffocating me. My friends’ and Fart Face’s sickening remarks are still stuck to it.

“Everything’s going wrong. I should have stayed in bed today, or better yet, I should’ve skipped school and have gone to meet with you. I doubt things will ever get back to normal again.”

“You’re out of that school already. Just transfer to a different one where people don’t know you.”

“But I love my friends, and I want them to trust me again.” I massage my head. My temples are throbbing something fierce. “The guys will just visualize me nude. That’s disturbing. Those texts were private and the most beautiful thing, ever; they weren’t disgusting, like they want me to believe. I wish no one had read them. I love you so much. Nobody will separate us regardless of what’s happened.”

An abrupt, loud scream comes through the receiver. “Shai! Who’s the degenerate you love so much on the other end of this line, eh? Speak,
degenerada
. Speak!”

3—Exchanges

 

Tazer has finished off her
pastelito
and gulps down some Malta. “I can tell you’ve got a lot on your mind. You haven’t said a word. Hey,” she licks her lips, “my dad’s getting some estimates on landscapes, but he says they’re too expensive. Can your boss give him a ballpark figure?”

“For sure.” I give Neruda the last bite of my pastry. She attacks it and swallows it in one gulp and licks my fingers clean. “Where’s your cell?”

“I never bring it to the beach. I’ve lost two of them here.”

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