Chapter 1
Another folded piece of paper hit my desk. To be precise, that was the seventh piece of paper thrown onto my desk. And that was just in math class.
“OMG, when is he going to open it?” I heard from behind me. Not exactly a good whisperer.
I rolled my eyes and pushed it aside into the pile forming next to me. Copying more notes from the board, I hoped she got the message.
Unfortunately, she did not. “Did he just blow me off?” She asked her friend. I think the bad whisperer’s name is Amanda.
“Is there something you would like to say, Amanda?” Mrs. Milan asked, a hand on her hip. She is a sassy black woman who doesn’t take shit from anyone. Those were her exact words.
“No, I’m sorry,” Amanda muttered.
Mrs. Madison pivoted her heel before turning back to the class again. She looked at Amanda, making her squirm in her seat.
“And yes, honey, he did blow you off. Even a blind person could see that,” she said. She turned around and went back to explaining the problem but not before she gave me a look that quickly turned into a cheeky smile.
The whole class burst into laughter. Everyone was mocking Amanda and appraising Mrs. Milan. I laughed along with them, turning around to see Amanda’s face. My laughter halted when I saw her face was beet red and there were tears lining her eyes. Guilt slowly started to creep in when I realized she couldn’t help herself.
Don’t get me wrong, Amanda is pretty. Many high school boys and girls would love to date her. She was a kind cheerleader but sometimes wasn’t the brightest. She has wavy brown hair and fair skin dotted with freckles. Her hazel eyes threatened to spill tears.
I sucked in a breath. “Ok guys, that’s enough.”
That guilt slowly started to wash away as everyone calmed down. Being the “popular jock” has its perks. I gave Amanda a small smile before facing the front of the class again.
The bell rang about ten minutes later and everyone packed up their stuff. Before I could even stand from my seat, Amanda was in front of me.
“Hey Damien, thank you for standing up for me,” she said.
I smiled at her. “It was no problem,” I said. I stood up and walked past her.
“Damien, wait. I wanted to ask you something.”
I swear if she asks me out again. Even Mrs. Madison saw that I blew her off. How does she not understand that I’m not interested? Then again, she isn’t the first.
“Ok but ask quickly, I have to get to chemistry.” There were about four minutes until the final bell.
“I was wondering if you wanted to hang out this weekend. I’m actually having a party Saturday night.”
“Sure I’m down. Snap me your address.” I brushed past her and started to speed walk. Not be rude, I just hate being late.
“Okay, I’ll see you there!”
Speed walking down the hall, I occasionally waved at my other friends. Some called my name but I didn’t have time to stop and chat. The chemistry room was all the way across the building for some stupid reason. I didn’t slow down until I saw the door and walked inside.
I was in my seat thirty seconds before the final bell rang. I took out my tablet and downloaded the warm-up for today. It was balancing simple chemical equations, easy. I finished in five minutes, waiting for the rest of the class. This waiting usually consists of me playing online games.
Mr. Wong didn’t really enforce a “no talking” rule unless he was talking, so everyone was just talking. He was one of the more chill teachers who didn’t really care if you passed or failed. He always believed that he gave enough time and just let people use it however they wanted. It was actually pretty smart.
“Try hard,” the boy next to me said.
I saw that he was struggling with the third problem. It was literally balancing two elements on each side.
“You need help, Vinny,” I asked him. I couldn’t leave my best friend hanging.
“Just because I’m a blue-eyed brunette doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”
“But you kinda are,” the girl across from me, Radhika, muttered. She brushed her black hair from her face to get a better look at Vinny’s tablet.
No one would ever guess they are siblings. When they mention they are, everyone automatically assumes one of them is adopted. The truth is they are actually fraternal twins. They are half Nepali and the other half is about six different European countries that no one cares about. Radhika inherited their father’s genes while Vinny inherited their mother’s genes. His full name is actually Kavin Koirala. He doesn’t like his name much for two reasons:
1. He can’t find it on any keychains.
2. He feels like he doesn’t fit his name.
The first reason makes sense; the second reason does not make sense. I guess it has something to do with how he looks but it never really bothered anyone. Some people, like me, think it’s cool that he has a foreign name. My name is not very unique but it’s not common either.
“Just because you got the Asian looks doesn’t mean you can act like you have the Asian smarts,” Vinny snapped before going back to solving the problems.
She did have more Asian features compared to Vinny. Instead of pale skin, her’s was between an olive and a tan. Her eyes were slightly narrow as were Vinny’s but they had different colored eyes. Honestly, they are both very good looking in their own ways.
Radhika rolled her onyx eyes with a smirk dancing on her lips. “Why would I pretend to have something that I actually have? Now you, on the other hand, would have to be an award-winning actor in order for people to believe you have an IQ in the double digits.”
Well fuck, it finally happened:
Vinny was speechless.
I heard a couple of people snicker and laugh. I was close to rolling on the floor with laughter but was able to compose myself enough. A couple of giggles slipped through my lips, resulting in a glare from Vinny.
“Checkmate, Kavy,” Radhika mused.
“Shut up Radish,” Vinny fired back, the very best he could do.
Vinny is the type of person who is really bad at comebacks but will think of them five hours later in the shower. Radhika is the type of person who is always in the shower.
“Kavin did you just call me a radish,” Mr. Wong, our teacher, asked in a threateningly calm voice.
Vinny was a lot louder than he thought he was.
“No, Mr. Wong. You’re ‘Wong’ about that,” he replied.
I sighed to myself. Radhika pretended like she didn’t know him. All the East Asians either facepalmed, glared at him, looked as if they planned to kill him, or slammed their head on the lab tables. Repeatedly. Some even had a combination of the four.
Real smooth Vinny. Real smooth.
“I’m going to ignore that as long as you keep quiet. Next time you open your mouth without my permission, you’re gonna find you’re as--” He quickly corrected himself, “butt in the principal’s office.” With that, he turned back to his computer.
“Dude, please stop pissing in his Cheerios. He has enough hate for you to last an entire lifetime,” I whispered dramatically.
We all laughed quietly before going back to whatever we were supposed to do.
The rest of the day was a blur. Not much else happened other than homework assignments and new test dates.
Yay me.
The last bell of the day rang and the tsunami of highschoolers crashed through the doors.
Thankfully, my car was only a couple of feet away. Unfortunately, I heard someone say my name.
I was kinda hoping he forgot about today.
I turned around to face the kid who called my name. “Hey Rogelio,” I said through a fake smile.
“Got any numbers for me?” He asked.
He always made it seem illegal but not many girls complain when they get a text or call from Rogelio Mateo Julio Rodriguez. Rogelio is a player but no girl ever seems to give a fuck about that. They think he is more attractive this way.
And he is physically attractive too. His Columbian roots really worked their magic on him. Gorgeous tan skin, rich brown eyes, messy black hair, full pink lips... Plus, he has a pretty spectacular build on him. If only he was into men.
“Dude, haven’t you slept with the whole grade?” I joked, opening up my bag.
“Almost actually. There are maybe twenty left,” he said.
I started to laugh but stopped when I realized he wasn’t laughing with me.
“You’re serious?” I exclaimed a little too loudly. Thankfully, most of the parking lot was empty by now.
“Duh. The only people left are those who I haven’t convinced to sleep with me and those who are religious. Which I totally respect,” he said. “Which actually brings me to my next question. How come you haven’t hit up any girls when you have all of their numbers?”
I dropped my bag out of surprise. I did put their numbers in my contacts but only a couple I ever texted. For school or for parties. Sometimes for people like Rogelio. Not many know that I’m gay and I prefer to keep it that way. I’m just not ready.
“Just not interested,” I said with a shrug. I pulled out a pile of crumpled papers and handed them to Rogelio. He took them eagerly and in exchange, gave me forty dollars.
“By the way, last time doing business with you,” I said, zipping up my backpack.
We started this in eighth grade when he noticed how many girls would give me their numbers. We set up a deal, and now I’m making bank. But lately, I started to feel guilty and wanted to quit.
“Why?” He asked. There wasn’t much sadness in his voice as I expected there to be.
“Morals, guilt, all that crap.”
He simply shrugged. “Whatever. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”
I extended my hand and he shook it. “Same here.”
“See you tomorrow.”
“Bye.” I waved to him. I opened the door of my car and sat inside. The car engine rumbled to like as I pressed down on the gas pedal.
The smell of citrus soap and lavender lotion crept up my nose. I forced the tears back, not wanting to cry over her again. I was done crying and grieving. My whole eighth-grade year had been spent crying and grieving, depressed that I had lost my mom. No more tears.
Taking a few deep breaths, I pulled out of the parking lot and drove home. It was a quick ten-minute drive and I spent most of it trying to ignore the pleasant summer smells in the car.
I scrambled out of the car, desperate to get out. The fresh air was a helpful change as I inhaled it. Spending more than an hour in that car felt... suffocating. Like I was spiraling into an endless pit that no one could pull me out of. It sometimes drove me mad and I could never really talk to anyone about it besides my therapist. She understood as she went through something similar at the same age. Unfortunately, I had to stop seeing her due to the fact that I was making really good progress.
As I opened the door, I remembered my dad wasn’t home. He was in the city and wouldn’t be home until late at night.
The silence in the house was deafening. Usually, my mom would be attempting to help my dad cook. Usually, there would be laughter filling the halls. Usually, I wouldn’t be thinking about what to say to my therapist at my weekly session. I say usually as if my mom died two months ago when it was almost the three-year mark.
I went up to my room and finished my homework. It was slightly less than usual which was good because ten more minutes and my head would have exploded. I went back downstairs to reheat some leftovers and ate in silence, occasionally scrolling through Instagram. It was quite interesting to see people with a social life. Then again, I guess I do kinda have one. All captains, leaders, or main people on the sports teams had social lives that were somewhat interesting. All except mine.
It took forever for people to see past my mom’s death. Only once I became captain of the team, had people put the past behind. Even then, they still believed I only got it out of pity.
I don’t want anyone’s pity.
Once I finished with dinner, I retired to my room to get ready for bed.
My dreams were filled with citrus blossoms and lavender. With a beautiful woman lying in the middle of the field, without a single care in the world.
