Perfect Chemistry 1 (21 page)

Without another word, I lead him into our dark, mahogany-paneled

library. Shelley is sitting in her wheelchair, her head awkwardly

slumped to the side as she watches television.

When she realizes she has company, her gaze shifts from the

television to me to Alex.

"This is Alex," I explain, shutting off the TV. "A friend from

school."

Shelley gives Alex a crooked smile and hits her specialized

keyboard with her knuckles. "Hello," says a feminine, computerized

voice. She hits another button. "My name is Shelley," the computer

continues.

Alex kneels down to Shelley's level. The simple act of respect

tears at something suspiciously like my heart.

Colin always ignores my sister, treating her as if she's blind and

deaf as well as physically and mentally disabled.

"What's up?" Alex says, taking Shelley's stiff hand in his and

shaking it. "Cool computer."

"It's a personal communication device or PCD," I explain. "It helps

her communicate."

"Game," the computer voice says.

Alex moves beside Shelley. I hold my breath as I watch her hands,

making sure they're nowhere near his thick head of hair.

"You have games on there?" he asks.

"Yeah," I answer for her. "She's become a checkers fanatic.

Shelley, show him how it works."

While Shelley slowly taps the screen with her knuckles, Alex

watches, seemingly fascinated.

When the checkers screen comes up, Shelley nudges Alex's hand.

"You go first," he says.

She shakes her head.

"She wants you to go first," I tell him.

"Cool." He taps the screen.

I watch, getting all mushy inside, as this tough guy plays quietly

with my big sister.

"Do you mind if I make a snack for her?" I say, desperate to leave

the room.

"Nah, go ahead," he says, his concentration on the game.

"You don't have to let her win," I say before leaving. "She can hold

her own in checkers."

"Uh, thanks for the vote of confidence, but I am tryin' to win,"

Alex says. He has a genuine grin on his face, without trying to act

cocky or cool. It makes me even more desperate to escape.

When I walk into the library with Shelley's food a few minutes

later, he says, "She beat me."

"I told you she was good. But enough games for now," I say to

Shelley, then turn to Alex. "I hope you don't mind me helping to feed

her."

"Go for it."

He sits in my dad's favorite leather chair as I place a tray in front

of Shelley and feed her applesauce. It's a messy affair, as usual.

Tilting my head, I catch Alex watching as I wipe the side of my

sister's mouth with a towel.

"Shelley," I say. "You should've let him win. You know, to be polite."

Shelley's response is a shake of her head. Applesauce drips on her

chin. "That's the way it's going to be, huh?" I say, hoping the scene

doesn't gross Alex out. Maybe I'm testing him, to see if he can handle

a glimpse of my home life. If so, he's passing.

"Wait until Alex leaves. I'll show you who the checkers champion

is."

My sister smiles that sweet, crooked smile of hers. It's like a

thousand words put into one expression. For a moment I forget Alex is

still watching me. It's so weird having him inside my life and my house.

He doesn't belong, yet he doesn't seem to mind being here.

"Why were you in a crappy mood in chem class?" he asks.

Because my sister is going to be sent away and yesterday I got

caught with my boobs exposed while Colin had his pants down right in

front of me. "I'm sure you heard the gruesome rumors."

"Nope, haven't heard a thing. Maybe you're just paranoid."

Maybe. Shane saw us, but he has a big mouth. Every time someone

looked my way today, I imagined they knew. I look at Alex. "Sometimes

I wish there were Do Over Days."

"Sometimes I wish there were Do Over Years," he responds

seriously. "Or Fast Forward Days."

"Unfortunately, real life doesn't have a remote control." When

Shelley is done eating, I sit her in front of the TV, then lead Alex to

the kitchen. "My life doesn't seem so perfect after all, does it?" I ask

while I take drinks out of the fridge for both of us.

Alex looks at me curiously.

"What?"

He shrugs. "I guess we all have stuff to deal with. I've got more

demons than a horror movie."

Demons? Nothing bothers Alex. He never complains about his life.

"What are your demons?" I ask.

"Oye, if I told you about my demons, you'd run like hell away from

me."

"I think you'd be surprised what I'd run from, Alex." Chimes from

our grandfather clock echo through the house. One. Two. Three. Four.

Five.

"I gotta go," Alex says. "How about studying tomorrow, after

school. At my house."

"Your house?" On the south side?

"I'll show you a glimpse into my life. You game?" he asks.

I swallow. "Sure." Game on.

As I lead him to the door, I hear a car drive up to my house. If it's

my mom, I'm in big trouble. No matter if we had the most innocent

meeting, she'll go ballistic.

I peek through the windows by the front door and recognize

Darlene's red sports car. "Oh, no. My friends are here."

"Don't panic," he tells me. "Open the door. It's not like you can

pretend I'm not here. My motorcycle is parked in your driveway."

He's right. I can't hide the fact that he's here.

I open the door and walk outside. Alex is right behind me as I face

Darlene, Morgan, and Sierra walking up the sidewalk. "Hey, guys!" I say.

Maybe if I act all innocent they won't make a big deal about Alex being

here. I touch Alex's elbow. "We were just discussing our chemistry

project. Right, Alex?"

"Right."

Sierra's eyebrows are raised. I think Morgan is about to pull out

her cell, no doubt to inform the other M's she saw Alex Fuentes

walking out of my house.

"Should we go so you guys can be alone?" Darlene asks.

"Don't be ridiculous," I say too quickly.

Alex steps toward his motorcycle, his shirt outlining his perfect,

muscular back and his jeans outlining his perfect, muscular--

He points at me after putting on his helmet. "See ya tomorrow."

Tomorrow. His house.

I nod.

After Alex is out of sight, Sierra says, "What was that all about?"

"Chemistry," I mumble.

Morgan's mouth is open in shock.

"Were you guys doing it?" Darlene asks. "'Cause we've been friends

for ten years and I can count on one hand how many times I've been

invited inside your house."

"He's my chemistry partner."

"He's a gang member, Brit. Don't ever forget that," Darlene says.

Sierra shakes her head and says, "Are you crushing on someone

other than your boyfriend? Colin told Doug you've been acting strange

lately. As your friends, we're here to talk some sense into you."

I sit on the front stoop and listen to them rant about reputations

and boyfriends and loyalty for a half hour.

They make sense.

"Promise us there's nothing going on between you and Alex," Sierra

says to me alone while Morgan and Darlene are waiting in the car for

her.

"There's nothing going on between me and Alex," I assure her. "I

swear."

THIRTY : Alex

I'm sitting in calculus when the security guard knocks on the door

and tells the teacher I need to be escorted out of class. Rolling my

eyes, I grab my books and let the guy have his kicks by humiliating me

in front of an audience.

"What now?" I ask. Yesterday I was pulled out of class for starting

a food fight in the courtyard. I didn't start it. I might have

participated, but I didn't start it.

"We're taking a little trip to the basketball courts." I follow the

guy to the courts. "Alejandro, vandalism to school property is very

serious business."

"I didn't vandalize anything," I tell him.

"I got a tip that you did."

A tip? You know the phrase ‘whoever smelt it, dealt it’? Well,

whoever snitched probably did it, "Where is it?"

The guard points to the gym floor, where someone spray painted a

very poor replica of the Latino Blood symbol. "Can you explain this?"

"No," I say.

Another security guard joins us. "We should check his locker," he

says.

"Great idea." All they'll find is a leather jacket and books.

I'm turning the combination lock when Mrs. P. passes us.

"What's the problem?" she asks them.

"Vandalism. On the basketball court."

I open my locker and stand back to let them inspect it.

"Aha," the security guy says, reaching inside and pulling out a can

of black spray paint from the top shelf. He holds it out to me. "Are you

still going to plead innocent?"

"I'm bein' set up." I turn to Mrs. P., who's looking at me like I

killed her cat. "I didn't do it," I tell her. "Mrs. P., you've got to believe

me." I can see me now, being hauled to jail because of something an

idiot did.

She shakes her head. "Alex, the evidence is right there. I want to

believe you, but it's really hard." The officers are on either side of me,

and I know what's coming next. Mrs. P. holds up her hand, stopping

them.

"Alex. Help me."

I'm tempted not to explain, to let them all think I was the one who

defaced school property. They probably won't listen, anyway. But Mrs.

P. is looking at me like a teenage rebel who wants to prove everyone

wrong.

"The symbol is all wrong," I tell her. I show her my forearm. "This

is the Latino Blood symbol. It's a five-point star with two pitchforks

coming out the top and LB in the middle. The one on the floor had a six-

point star with two arrows. Nobody in the Blood would make that

mistake."

She says to the officers, "Where's Dr. Aguirre?"

"In a meeting with the superintendent. His secretary said he

doesn't want to be disturbed."

Peterson checks her watch. "I've got a class in fifteen minutes.

Joe, radio Dr. Aguirre on your walkie-talkie."

Joe the security guy isn't too happy. "Ma'am, this is the sort of

thing we were hired for."

"I know. But Alex is my student, and believe me when I say he can't

miss class today."

Joe shrugs, then radios for Dr. Aguirre to meet him in L hall. When

his secretary asks if it's an emergency, Mrs. P. takes the walkie-talkie

from Joe and says she's considering it her personal emergency and Dr.

Aguirre should get down to L hall right away.

Two minutes later, Aguirre with a stern look on his face comes into

view. "What's this all about?"

"Vandalism in the gym," Officer Joe informs him.

Aguirre stiffens. "Dammit, Fuentes. Not you again."

"I didn't do it," I tell him.

"Then who did?"

I shrug.

"Dr. Aguirre, he's telling the truth," Peterson says. "You can fire

me if I'm wrong."

He shakes his head, then turns to the security guy. "Get Chuck to

the gym and see what he can do to clean that stuff off." He points the

spray paint can at me. "But I warn you, Alex. If I find out it was you,

you'll be not only suspended but arrested. Got it?"

When the officers leave, Aguirre says, "Alex, I didn't tell you this

before, but I'm telling you now. I thought the world was my enemy

when I was in high school. I wasn't that much different than you, you

know. It took me a damn long time to learn that I was my own enemy.

When I realized that, I turned my life around. Mrs. Peterson and I,

we're not the enemy."

"I know that," I say, and actually believe it's the truth.

"Good. Now I happen to be in the middle of an important meeting.

If you'll excuse me, I'll be in my office."

"Thanks for believing me," I say to Mrs. P. once he's gone.

"Do you know who vandalized the gym?" she asks.

I look her straight in the eye and tell her the truth. "I've got no

idea. I'm pretty confident it's not one of my friends."

She sighs. "If you weren't in a gang, Alex, you wouldn't get

yourself into these messes."

"Yeah, but I'd be in other ones."

THIRTY-ONE : Brittany

"It looks like some of you don't think my class is important," Mrs.

Peterson says. She starts handing out the test from yesterday.

As Mrs. Peterson heads toward my and Alex's shared table, I sink

down in my chair. The last thing I need is Mrs. Peterson's wrath.

"Nice job," the woman says as she places my paper facedown in

front of me. Then the woman turns to Alex.

"For someone who aspires to be a chemistry teacher, you're off to

a very poor start, Mr. Fuentes. Maybe I'll think twice about sticking up

for you if you don't come prepared to my class."

She drops Alex's test in front of him with her index finger and

thumb, as if the paper is too disgusting to touch with the rest of her

fingers. "See me after class," she tells him before passing out the rest

of the tests.

I can't understand why Mrs. Peterson didn't rip me a new one. I

turn my paper over to find an A on the top of it. I rub my palms over

my eyes and readjust them. There must be some mistake. It takes me

less than a second to realize who was responsible for my grade. The