Being True (10 page)

Javi shook his head. “Nope, but I’m getting tired of him being such an asshole all the time. He wasn’t like that when we were kids. Sure, he got into trouble. But it was little stuff like talking in class all the time or not doing his homework. But ever since he came back from camp last summer, he’s been an unbearable prick to just about everyone. Including me.”

“What happened at camp?”

“I don’t know.” Worry crept into his eyes. “I asked him when he got back and was acting all moody and shit, but he played it off. Said he was just tired of being stuck with a bunch of whiny fags for the summer who were crying about their mommies and daddies.”

That sounded like the Rance who’d practically torn me apart in the locker room yesterday. “And you didn’t believe him?”

“Nope. But he’s got a big chip on his shoulder now, and I’ve gotten tired of dealing with it. And with him.” When he looked at me, the light in his eyes returned. As if I was something he’d spent the last few months searching for. “That’s why I’m glad I met you.”

I almost fell over. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure really,” he said with a chuckle. “But when I saw you standing there in precalc, I just knew I had to be your friend.”

Now that I couldn’t believe. Javi seemed to be the most popular guy in school. Not only had Claudia told me how beloved he was by the student body, but I’d seen it firsthand over the course of the last two days. Why would Javi need to be
my
friend? “Don’t be pulling my leg,” I said. “You’ve got tons of friends already.”

“I do,” he said with a nod. “And I count myself lucky. I really do. But fate brings people into your life for a reason. At least that’s what I believe.”

I’d never believed in that old saying. New people only brought fresh pain. At least that had always been my experience. Still, hearing those words come from Javi gave me faith.

Perhaps, for once, my life had taken a turn for the better.

J
AVI
AND
I sat in the park for hours, enjoying the sunny afternoon and then the cool evening breeze. And in that time, I’d learned a little bit more about Javi Castillo.

When Javi ran for sophomore class president and had to make a speech in front of the entire tenth grade, he’d been so nervous he’d thrown up on stage and all over Ms. Garcia. It took me at least fifteen minutes to stop laughing. I couldn’t get the image of Javi blowing chunks all over Ms. Garcia’s fake boobs out of my head. Of course, in true Javi fashion, he’d been elected president anyway. He probably could have gotten on stage and farted in the microphone, and still won by a landslide.

Besides being class president at one time, Javi was also a member of the National Honor Society, the drama club, the student council, where he currently served as vice president, and was a school ambassador, which meant he’d been selected by the administration as what an ideal high school student represented. According to Javi, he’d been chosen as an ambassador because it had always been easy for him to make friends. He didn’t fall into the social cliques everyone else did.

He preferred being friends with everyone. He didn’t care if someone was considered a nerd or unpopular by everyone else. As long as people were kind to him, he’d always do his best to return the favor.

It was hard for me to believe someone like that really existed in the world, but as Javi whistled to the birds in the trees, it was hard to deny the truth when it sat right in front of you.

“Your turn,” Javi said as he conversed with a robin perched upon its nest.

I stared up at the bird that chirped back in response. “I can’t whistle like you.”

Javi picked up a small pebble and threw it at me.

“Hey!” I said as I searched the grass for a retaliatory stone.

“I meant for you to tell me about yourself,” Javi said.

My gut wrenched. First Claudia and now Javi. Would this madness never end? “What you see is what you get,” I said after I’d selected a stone and tossed it at Javi. He easily ducked and the small rock sailed over his left shoulder.

“All I see right now is someone with piss poor aim.”

I gestured to myself with a flourish of hands. “Then you know all about me already.”

Javi snatched another pebble from the grass and chunked it at me. It hit me on my shoulder before I had a chance to blink. “Damn it!” I pored through the blades of grass, searching for another projectile. “How do you do that?”

Javi rolled his eyes. “I’m the pitcher for the baseball team,” he said matter-of-factly. “A good arm is kind of a requirement.”

When I found another small rock, I hurled it as quickly as Javi had, but it went wide and high. Javi watched it fly over his head.

“Damn, you suck at this!” he said with a chuckle. He pegged me again on the other shoulder so quickly I hadn’t even seen him select a new weapon. What was weird was that even though rocks were hitting me, the impact never hurt. It was as if Javi instinctively knew at what force to throw the stone to both hit his target and to not cause any pain.

I found two pebbles, but this time I took my time. I held Javi in my sights as I prepared to hurl them at the same time. The cocky little shit sat there grinning at me. He clearly didn’t expect me to hit my mark.

I reared back and let them fly, expecting Javi to deflect or dodge them at the last moment. Instead, he sat still as one sailed to his left and the other struck him square in the forehead. He immediately fell backward in the grass.

“Oh, shit!” I scrambled over to where he was sprawled a few yards away. His eyes were closed, but his tongue dangled from the corner of his mouth. He was playing dead. “Asswipe,” I said as I gently shoved his shoulder. When I made contact, the electric spark I’d felt yesterday after Javi had shaken my hand once again shot through me in one quick jolt.

Javi opened his eyes and stared up at me. “You should have seen the look on your face when you actually hit me.” He laughed as if it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen. I replied by giving him a raspberry. “You were both happy and scared shitless. Talk about priceless.”

As he lay there lost in a laughing fit, I couldn’t help but notice the tiny red mark the rock had left on his forehead. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, and then without thinking, I brushed my fingertips across his tanned, smooth forehead, tracing the edges of the indentation. Javi’s flesh was soft, warm, and inviting. I could touch him all day long.

Javi cleared his throat. When I met his eyes, I suddenly realized I’d been caressing him. Shit! How long had I been touching him? Based on the uncomfortable expression on Javi’s face, it had been way too long. I immediately withdrew my hand and backed up on my knees. “Sorry,” I said, turning my gaze to the ground. How could I look at him ever again? No doubt Javi would get up, hop on his bike, and ride out of my life for good.

“No worries,” Javi said as he sat up.

I couldn’t believe my ears. I glanced up and was surprised to see his usual slanted grin instead of his face puckered in revulsion. “I was just—”

Javi waved my words away like nothing had happened. “Now that you’ve hit me, though, you’ve got to tell me about yourself.”

I groaned.

“Come on,” he urged. He winced in pretend pain as he rubbed his forehead. “I think I deserve something for being hit in the head with a rock.”

After letting out a deep sigh, I retold the sad tale I’d shared with Claudia earlier that day.

“Damn,” he said, when I finished speaking. “Your life’s been one big crap storm.”

“Tell me about it,” I said with a nod.

He sat there for a moment in quiet contemplation before a grin broke his stoic expression.

“What’s the smile for?”

“I’m just in awe of you,” he said.

Well, that was completely unexpected. Usually after telling my story, people stared at me as if I was some dog they’d found beaten to near death on the side of the road. “Why?” I finally asked once the breath returned to my body.

“I’ve seen lots of kids who’ve had hard lives.” He surveyed the neighborhood as if our surroundings supported his statement. “And I’ve seen what it’s done to them. They turn to drugs or alcohol to escape a parent who whales on them every day. They get arrested for petty thefts because their families don’t own shit, or they walk around with a pissed-off look on their faces, just itching for a fight. But you,” he said as his smile broadened, “you don’t have any of that hardness. It’s like all the bad stuff has been unable to change who you are. I think that’s pretty neat.”

Since I’d grown more accustomed to teasing than compliments, I didn’t know how to respond. I sat there with a dopey grin on my face and my cheeks aflame with embarrassment.

“I have to ask you something,” Javi said as he lay back in the grass.

I’d lost the ability to form words, so I simply nodded.

“Where’d the name Truman come from?”

This was a story I usually hated telling above all else, so when my usual dread didn’t descend, I was surprised. “It’s a silly story,” I said. “And it’s one that usually ends with people pretending to bring up their lunch.”

Javi held up his fingers in the Boy Scout salute. “No retching. I promise.”

I told him the origin of my name. “My parents were high school sweethearts, and my mom’s told me that when she saw my dad walking down the halls in his ROTC uniform, she knew she’d be with him for the rest of her life. She said everyone else in the school vanished and it was like my dad was walking straight for her. And the funny thing about that was, he was. He apparently saw her and made a beeline to ask her out before anyone else did.”

At that point in the story, most listeners typically checked out, believing the tale too sweet to be consumed. Javi sat forward, eagerly wanting more. “Go on,” he said after a few seconds of silence.

“Well, my parents got married a few months out of high school. Mom worked in an office downtown, and Dad joined the police academy. Shortly after my dad graduated and started patrolling, they found out they were going to have me. When I was born, they said I was their true little man.”

Javi grinned. “Ah, so ‘true little man’ became Truman.”

I touched my finger to my nose, letting Javi know he was spot on. But I didn’t tell Javi the rest of the story. I wasn’t ready to drop any clues about my middle name. The “L” in Truman L. Cobbler would stay hidden from as many people as possible. It was just too much.

“I don’t understand the fuss,” Javi said. “It’s a sweet story about your parents. You should be proud of it.”

I knew that, but it was difficult to be proud of something I’d been teased about for as long as I could remember.

“We should probably start heading home,” Javi said as he stood up. The sun had disappeared, and the sky had grown dark. “My mother is probably sending out search parties looking for me.”

I envied Javi being able to go home to a mother’s warm embrace. My mother worked so much, we only saw each other before school. The notion of going home to an empty apartment suddenly made the wonderful tale I’d shared a sad reminder of what I never had the chance to experience—a loving family.

“Want to come for dinner?” Javi asked as he swung his leg over his bike.

“Hell, yeah,” I answered immediately. If I’d been any more excited, I’d have squealed like a little girl. How embarrassing! “As long as you don’t think your parents will mind.”

Javi laughed. “Are you serious? My mother lives for feeding people. Her motto is ‘the more, the merrier.’”

So I hopped on my bike and followed Javi to his house, where his mother greeted me with open arms and a kiss on my forehead. We sat down to dinner after Mr. Castillo got home from work, and we each took turns talking about our day. Afterward, I rode back to my empty apartment, but the memories of the food and conversation filled both my stomach and my heart.

For the second night of my life, I drifted off to sleep without fear or loneliness crouching at the edge of my bed.

Chapter 4

T
HE
NEXT
couple of months were the best of my life. Javi and I rode our bikes to school every day, and while he had practice in the afternoon, I did my homework in the library or worked in the journalism room until he was done. Then we’d ride home together, sometimes stopping in the park or at the local drugstore to buy some candy and a Coke before riding to Javi’s house.

Mr. and Mrs. Castillo never made me feel as if I was an imposition. Every time they saw me, I was greeted with hugs and kisses by Mrs. Castillo and a pat on the back by Mr. Castillo. They eagerly embraced me as well as my friendship with their son.

Mr. Castillo even said he’d never seen Javi smile so much. Mrs. Castillo agreed, saying I wasn’t a troublemaker like Rance. Even though she twisted her face when she mentioned Rance’s name, Javi, like the true friend he was, came to Rance’s defense. He cited problems at home as the cause for Rance’s shitty attitude and some internal conflict he refused to share, but his parents either didn’t buy it or didn’t care. They simply shrugged off Javi’s comments.