Chapter Twenty-Six
I sat in History, the one subject I shared with Alex and Joseph. The first half of the test consisted of multiple choice, while the second half was an essay. The last multiple-choice question on any of Mr. Evansâ tests was always a freebie. Todayâs question was: âWhy are you here?â Ironic. I stared at the words on a freshly printed sheet of paper for maybe 10 minutes. Why was I here? It certainly wasnât -
A) Because I want to be.
It wasnât â
B) Because Mr. Evans is the best teacher.
Which was false. Klein was the best teacher. But it honestly wasnât C either.
C) Because I love taking 2-hour long exams.
Why was I here?... I hastily flipped to the written section of the test, causing a few of my peers to pivot their heads in my direction. I read the essay question and furiously dragged my pen across the lined paper. 350 words later, I dropped my pen on my desk.
âMr. Evans, Iâm done.â
âThatâs great, dear, but the rest of the class is still working. Youâll have to sit tight for now.â
I stood up from my desk and this time, specifically Joseph and Alexâs attention was caught. Their faces read: âWhat are you doing??â
I was doing what I should have done a long time ago.
âSir, thereâs somewhere I need to be.â One of my feet made it out the classroom door before I was given a final warning.
âMiss Martinez, if you leave during testing I will have no choice but to notify your parents as well as the administration.â
I let his words sink in and took a deep breath. Iâd deal with the repercussions when I reached that stage. When I exited the building my heart spiked. I had never done anything so reckless. About an hour later I arrived at my doorstep, my adrenaline dwindled by the second into something much more tame. Determination.
âWhat is going on?? Walking out of your exam?!âMy mom stood by the couch, radiating heat like a hot pan taken off of a stove.
âI didnât leave without finishing my work.â
The look of incredulity on her face was a picture. âThatâs not the point, Sienna. Youâve been getting beside yourself. Skipping school? Whatâs next, drugs?â
I couldnât believe the words coming from her mouth. And she wasnât even done yet.
âOh, and donât think I havenât caught on to you and that boy by now. You always tell me that youâre doing this and that with Alex, but youâre always coming home with Joseph. It always ends with him, and you know â itâs beginning to make sense. Heâs driving you to act out like this. Isnât he?!â
I thought the wildfire within me had died down, but that statement is what set me ablaze again.
âDonât you dare bring Joseph into something that has nothing to do with him.â
âWhen he is corrupting the future of my child, I think itâs more than necessary to bring him up.â
The difference between the woman who carried me for 9 months and Joseph, who Iâd known for a little less than a fraction of that time, was astounding. He cared about my well-being and my dreams. He believed in me and loved me for who I am, not who he wanted me to be.
âThe only person who is corrupting my future is you! Harvard is your dream and every day it shows. Instead of working towards a perfect average I could have been doing what I loved. Spending time with those I love... finding out who I am. I bet you didnât even know how much I enjoyed writing until I mentioned it to Marlene. Why? Cause you never took the time to get to know me that well. But I no longer care about that either.â I let out a bitter laugh. âIâm over this.â
I started up the stairs to my bedroom and my mother followed me. I snagged a change of clothes and a few other essentials I may need, packing it into an overnight bag. Though, I was sure Iâd be staying away for more than one night.
âWhere do you think youâre going?â Her voice came out an octave higher than a squeak with each word.
âTo Alexâs house.â
I walked past her and snatched my navy blue hoodie off of my door handle. Her eyes widened in shock, and it was now her turn to be amused.
âYou donât get to leave this house.â
âWell, Iâm going to! Iâm not happy here!â
Her demeanor changed immediately. A deep frown settled on her lips and her brows were tightly knitted together. She slowly brought her hand to my chest where my heart rested, and a single tear slipped from her eye.
âMuñequita...â (Doll.)
I froze hearing the name. The only thing I could hear was the thumping of my heart in my ears. My mother hadnât called me that since I was a little girl, and I felt my armor beginning to crack at her tactile expression of remorse. Still, I had to go. I couldnât let this stop me.
âIâm gonna call Pa before I go. Iâll be back soon.â
She didnât stop me as I slung the bag over my shoulder and slipped past her, quickly making my way down the stairs.
â . ⯠.â
âHey. I was wondering when youâd show up.â
Alex greeted me at her door with a half smirk, as she casually rested her head on the doorframe. She looked tired and I felt her eyes tug at a certain string of my heart.
âI needed a little reprieve,â I said, returning her smile as she stepped aside to let me in.
I made my way on the familiar path to her cozy couch and kicked off my shoes. Alex walked past me and into her kitchen, later returning with two mugs. It was obvious what was happening. She must have prepared the hot chocolate before I came over. I gave her a bittersweet smile.
Hot chocolate was our go-to drink when things got rough, no matter the season. I gladly took a mug from her, holding it tightly in both of my hands.
Once it hit my tongue, I savored the taste of the liquid smooth chocolate that had a hint of cinnamon. It was the peace I needed during such a chaotic day and I couldnât stop myself from groaning at the warmth spreading through my body. It reminded me of the very first mug of hot chocolate I had in this house.
It was a chilly autumn evening. Aaron was out of town and Nani was taking care of a rather upset 14-year-old Alex. My mother received a phone call and Alex was on the other end asking if I could go over for a little while.
âMuñequita, ven acĂĄ!â (Sweetheart, come here!) my mom shouted from downstairs.
âHi, Mama,â I said, reaching the landing.
âWould you like to go over to Alexâs for a little bit? Sheâs feeling a little down.â
âClaro!â (Of course!)
I hadnât seen Alex in almost two weeks and I missed her so much.
âBueno, come down to get your shoes and coat. Weâll head right over,â my mom said.
I flew down the stairs, my ponytail swinging left and right. I couldnât wait. My mom held out my purple zip up jacket for me and I eagerly pulled it on. Next, I slipped on my bedazzled bubblegum pink high top converse and tied the laces as fast as I could.
âListo?â (Ready?) she asked.
âListo.â (Ready.)
With that, I skipped out the door and all the way down the street with my mom in tow until I reached Alexâs block. We crossed the street, and the fallen leaves crunched and crumbled beneath my feet as I made my way down Alexâs driveway and up the steps of her porch.
She was waiting by the window and immediately opened the door to give me a constricting hug. It was then that I knew the greatest power could come in even the smallest of packages.
Once my mom waved me off and I was settled in, the sweet woman brought out two steaming mugs and set them on the table before me and Alex.
âHot, hot, hot. Why donât you two wait a while?â Nani warned.
Alex and I didnât mind waiting at all. The Cheetah Girls was tuned in on the TV, and we were completely enveloped in it; singing along and trying our best to get the dance moves right.
When the mugs cooled we took a break from jumping around and generously sipped our hot chocolate. It was then that everything seemed okay. Things in our world were alright, even if it was just for a moment. That chilly evening had grown a lot warmer.
âIs it as good as the first time?â Alex asked.
âAlmost better than,â I replied, settling back on the couch. She took a seat next to me and folded her legs underneath her.
âAre you ready for this chisme (gossip) session to begin?â she asked.
âOf course âchismeâ is the one word you managed to learn from me.â