Getting It (18 page)

In spite of what Pulga had said, Carlos wondered: Was he even getting a “friend with benefits,” or only the benefits?

C
ARLOS'S DOUBTS ABOUT
Roxy only deepened the following week. At lunch, some senior dude stopped by her table. He was a little taller than Carlos and definitely better built, with a cocky swagger and confident smile. As the dude talked with her, Roxy grinned back, starry-eyed and laughing.

Carlos shifted in his metal chair. Who was the guy? Was he one of the boys Roxy's mom had implied when she said, “I told you last time …”? Or one of the “friends” Roxy had gone to the concert with? Why was she talking openly to him in front of everyone and yet treated Carlos like some embarrassing secret?

During afternoon classes, Carlos tried to flush away the image of Senior Dude and Roxy, but it kept bobbing back up his mind.

When Carlos arrived home, he marched directly to his computer. From his buddy list he could see Roxy was online. In spite of her mom's warning, he asked,
Can I come over?

He watched the screen, hoping she'd say yes so that he could get a little reassurance. The clock on his monitor showed the passing minutes. Why wasn't she responding?

Finally, an IM chimed:
Not today … Sorry … L8terz.

A sickening feeling seeped into Carlos's stomach. Why didn't Roxy want him to come over? She obviously wasn't at choreography class, cheerleading, or chorus. Was it because Senior Dude was coming over for a hookup?

Carlos peeled his jean jacket off, feeling warm, and threw it on the floor. Then he stretched his fingers and typed:
Y not?

He hit send and waited, balling his fingers into fists, while crazy thoughts of Roxy doing it with Senior Dude on her couch whipped through his brain.

At last, an IM popped up:
U can't come over cuz I said u can't. I don't have to give u a reason. LATER!!!

A wave of anger surged inside Carlos. He slammed the keyboard tray beneath his desk, muttering, “Bitch!”

Immediately, he flushed with embarrassment. He'd never called a girl that before—and he'd definitely never imagined saying it about the girl he cherished.

C
ARLOS STORMED
away from his computer and into the kitchen. From the cupboard, he yanked out a jumbo bag of potato chips dating from pre-Sal. Weeks had passed since he'd eaten any junk. Now, he devoured the entire bag of chips and guzzled a liter of Coke, while he tried to calm his frenzied thoughts.
Doesn't she like me anymore? Maybe she never liked me in the first place. But then why did she make out and nearly go down on me?

Unable to come up with an answer, he scarfed down some old, crystallized ice cream he found at the back of the freezer.

When he'd stomped back to his computer, he found an IM from Pulga:
Sup, pendejo?

Carlos wanted to tell him how furious and confused he felt about Roxy. But he didn't want to keep sounding needy.
Nothin,
he said instead.
Sup with u?

Nothin,
Pulga replied,
just sorta thinking about Carlotta … Can I tell u something? Promise u won't tell the other guys?

Okay.
Carlos sat forward in his chair.
I promise.

After a long moment, Pulga replied,
The truth is … I really like Carlotta, even if she is freaky tall. When we're together, she makes me feel great. I even sort of like her being so tall. Weird, huh?

Carlos stared at the message. Was this the same Pulga who had warned him that getting attached was suicide? Was he now joking? To check, Carlos asked,
For real?

Yeah,
Pulga messaged back.
I feel like such a loser … U think I'm a loser?

It hurt to hear his friend put himself down, especially when he recalled how Carlotta had told him she liked Pulga.

Ur not a loser,
Carlos typed.
U know she likes you, don't you?

U really think so?
Pulga replied.

Yeah! She told me so when we were making GSA posters. She wants 2 date u! What more do u want?

The computer screen was still, as if Pulga were considering what Carlos had said. Then came his response:
Playboy says I'd be pussy-whipped crawling back to her. I'd feel like a total loser.

Who cares what Playboy says?
Carlos argued. He remembered the advice Sal had once given him:
Just tell her that you like her. What have you got to lose? U already feel like a loser anyway.

True,
Pulga agreed.
U really think I should tell her?

Yeah,
Carlos encouraged him.
Just do it.

After a few more messages, Pulga logged off.

To Carlos, the solution to Pulga's situation had seemed so simple. But his own crisis continued to baffle him.

Maybe he should've told Roxy that he liked her from the start, as Sal had said. Perhaps he should tell her that
now.
Except his situation was different from Pulga's. Roxy had never told Carlos she liked him. Was he willing to be the first to say it?

A shiver ran down his back. Compared to pulling his pants down, this felt way more risky.

T
HE NEXT DAY
at lunch, Carlos stared across the lunchroom, his stomach grinding. Senior Dude was not only talking to Roxy, he was sitting at her table.

His buds followed his gaze. Toro asked, “Why is that guy sitting with her?”

“I don't know.” Carlos stabbed the tomato on his burger. “And I don't care.”

Playboy stretched his arms, patting Carlos on the back. “Well, you know what they say: If you love someone, let 'em go. If they don't come back, hunt 'em down and kill 'em.”

Carlos pondered Playboy's suggestion, his head burning. For Roxy to ignore him had been annoying. For her to diss him with another guy was enraging. All afternoon, in every class, Carlos shifted in his chair, debating his options, till he finally made a choice.

When the final bell rang, he trekked slowly toward Roxy's homeroom, his heart galloping ahead of him. Amidst the clamor of students, Roxy stood at her locker with her friends, talking and giggling.

Carlos shoved his fists into his jean jacket, fighting the urge to back out. Steeling himself with all his courage, he called out to her,“'S'up?”

Roxy darted a glance at him, briefly nodded, and returned her attention to her friends.

As she turned away, Carlos felt his resolve collapse. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. But he had to do it. He swallowed the lump in his throat and burst out, “Hey, can we talk a sec?”

The words boomed louder than he'd meant, echoing against the metal lockers.

Roxy's group turned instantly silent, peering at him.

“Please?” he quickly added.

Roxy said something to her friends. Then she stepped toward him, her beautiful lips pressed into an irritated line. “What's so important?”

“Um …” Carlos felt the sweat dampening his neck. “Can we go talk somewhere?”

Roxy gave him a hard-jawed look, as if considering. “Look, I've got to get to cheerleading practice. What is it?”

Carlos knew what he needed to say and he realized he'd better say it quickly, before he completely lost his nerve. His heart pounded in his chest. He looked straight into her eyes and said it: “I really like you.”

Sweat drenched his collar as he waited for Roxy's response.

She took a deep breath and let it out. “Carlos …” Her face softened with concern. “It was just hooking up, okay?”

He felt a sting, as if a needle had pierced his heart. How could she say that, especially after he'd held her in his arms, tasted the salt on her skin, listened to her heart beating beneath her breast? He'd allowed her to see him practically naked, like no one else on earth had ever seen him. And by telling her he liked her, he felt as if he'd bared his soul to her too.

“Roxy!” her friends called.

“I've got to go,” she told Carlos, and sauntered back to her friends.

“What did he want?” one asked.

“Nothing,” Roxy replied. “Let's go.” And with that, she strode away, not looking back.

Carlos braced himself against a locker, feeling his world crumbling around him. How could he have been so stupid? As he leaned against
the cold metal, he finally got it: Only in his mind had the relationship with Roxy been more than physical.

His eyes went blurry with emotion as he hurriedly weaved through the crowded hallway and traipsed home.

When he arrived at his apartment, he threw himself onto the bed, wishing he'd never said anything to Roxy. Had he seriously imagined that by simply telling her he liked her she might respond in kind? He felt like an idiot for thinking Roxy might want to be his girlfriend. His makeover had been a total waste of time.

On the wall above the painted headboard loomed the dried-up praying mantis framed by Sal. This was all Sal's fault. He'd encouraged Carlos to believe he stood a chance with Roxy. And he'd planted in Carlos's brain the dumb idea of telling Roxy he liked her.

Carlos reached up and yanked down the mantis. He hurled the Plexiglas box across the room, where it thudded onto the carpet. Then Carlos lay down again and brought his knees to his chest, wanting to shrivel up and die.

C
ARLOS LAY CURLED
in bed when the doorbell startled him. At the front door he found Toro.

“What happened to you?” Toro grinned at him. “You look like
caca.”

“Thanks,” Carlos grumbled and led Toro to his room, where he plopped onto the bed again.

From the desk chair, Toro pitched aside a dirty T-shirt and sat down, surveying the once-again disheveled room. “Why didn't you ride the bus home?”

“Didn't feel like it.”

Toro gave him a long look. “Is this about Roxy?”

Carlos sighed, his chest tight and hurting. “Can I ask you something? How did you do it? How did you keep from getting attached to Leticia?”

Toro glanced down at the carpet and cleared his throat. “I need to, um, come clean to you about something.” He gazed up at Carlos, his eyes wavering. “This is really hard for me. Promise you won't tell the other guys?”

“Sure.” Carlos leaned forward on the bed. He'd already sort of figured out what Toro was going to say: that he'd never really had sex with Leticia, that he'd made the whole thing up by downloading some chick's photo off the web. He wasn't prepared for what Toro actually said.

“I think, um …” Toro gave a nervous cough and shuffled his feet. “I think I'm gay.”

Carlos stared, speechless, disbelieving his ears. Yet hadn't Sal and
Javier told him Toro was gay? Wasn't Toro always carrying muscle magazines, staring at pics of guys? Hadn't he gotten noticeable wood during that wrestling match freshman year?

Nevertheless, Toro
couldn't
be gay He'd been Carlos's friend since second grade. They'd slept over at each other's houses, sharing the same bed sometimes. They'd draped their arms around each others shoulders, drunk out of the same soda can … If Toro was gay, why hadn't he ever said anything?

“I've wanted to tell you,” Toro now explained. “You're the one person who I figured would understand, since you're friends with Sal.”

Carlos shook his head. This was all too much: Sal ditching him, Roxy crushing his heart, and now a lifelong best bud telling him he wasn't who Carlos had thought he'd been.

“You're not gay” Carlos announced.

Toro peered back at him with a curious look. “Well … I've tried not to be, but … I've never liked girls that way. There never was a Leticia. I figured since you're friends with Sal—”

“Would you shut up about that?” Carlos cut him off. “I can't deal with this right now, okay?”

Toro hung his head. Nearly whispering, he asked, “Do you want me to go?”

“Yeah,” Carlos replied, his temples throbbing.

Toro stood and quietly shuffled out of the room, like a prisoner accepting his sentence.

And Carlos felt like a creep. Why was he being so hard on Toro? After all, he'd accepted Sal as gay. But that was different. Sal had been honest with Carlos; he'd never lied to him. And yet, who was Carlos to judge anyone for lying? Sal had been right about him: He did need an inner makeover—an
extreme
one.

He sprang from the bed and caught Toro as he was about to open the front door. “Wait!”

Toro turned, wiping his face, and Carlos saw that his eyes were wet.

“I'm sorry,” Carlos told him. “It's just …” His voice trailed off. He was uncertain what to say. “Why didn't you tell me before?”

“Because I wasn't sure.” Toro's voice rasped. “I didn't want people calling me names and talking trash about me. I'm still the same person.”

Carlos gave a weary shrug. “Who cares what other people think?”

“Then you're okay with it?” Toro's eyes glimmered.

“I guess.” Carlos scratched his neck, still absorbing the news. Now, along with everything else in his life, he'd have to get used to one of his best buds being gay. “I mean, yeah.”

“You won't tell anyone?” Toro whispered. “What do you think the guys would say?”

“I don't know. I won't tell them. I've got enough to deal with. If you want to tell—”

“I'm not telling them!” Toro gave his head a vigorous shake. “The only reason I told you was because you're friends with …”

Carlos cut him a sharp look.

“Well,” Toro resumed meekly, “you
are
friends with Sal, aren't you?”

“I don't know.” Carlos sighed. “He won't talk to me 'cause I didn't show for the GSA meeting.”

Toro raised his eyebrows in confusion. “But that was your deal with him, wasn't it?”