Help Wanted (16 page)

He was thinking of his family. His mother was a single mother, and his older sister, Rebecca, at nineteen, was a single mother, too. His sister lived in Merced, an hour's drive away, where she worked at a swap meet, selling stuffed animals and plastic toys that fell apart after one use.

"Wonder where Mom is," he said vaguely after a while. He was going to ask her for ten dollars for the dance. He was also going to ask her for a ride. He washed his plate and frying pan, and then tidied up the living room. While he was finishing that little chore, the telephone rang.

"Yeah," he answered on the fourth ring.

"
Mi'jo,
" a voice whispered.

It was his grandmother Graciela.

"Grandma? Where are you?" He held back his tongue, which nearly let loose that he had seen her picture in the
Fresno Bee.

His grandmother ignored the question. She told him to tell his mother that she had forgotten her cell phone at her house. She was using it at that moment but wasn't home. Grandma then asked, "
Mi'jo,
what do you want for Christmas?"

A supply of good looks,
he considered bargaining for.
Instead, he answered truthfully, "I want you with us. Maybe we can make tamales."

"You said the ones in the cans are better," his grandmother threw at him. There was a touch of anger in her voice.

"Nah, Grandma. That was a joke." He laughed a little to show that he had been kidding.

The reception of the cell phone faded and cracked, and then the phone went dead after a series of clicks.

At five-thirty he wrote a note to his mother saying that he was off to the dance and would return home at ten, eleven at the latest. He said he had taken three dollars from the cupboard and promised to return the money when he could. From his sock drawer he fumbled for the two dollars he kept there and then for extra luck sprayed his throat with the cologne his grandmother had sold him. But he had to wonder what girl would sniff around his throat—
No girl.

He pedaled his bike against a chilly wind to his best friend Vince Torres's house, a mile away and down a street that was dark as a tunnel—the streetlights were busted out and the porch lights off. Darkness had grown thick and the fog cold. By the time he arrived at Vince's house, his nose was running. His ears were red and his eyes were watery.

"Hey, homes," Vince barked through the curtain before Daniel even knocked. "Just leave your bike on the porch—it'll be okay."

"Yeah, like stolen,
ese,
" Daniel countered. He guided his bike to Vince's backyard and chained it to their clothesline. Daniel wiped the soles of his shoes and invited himself through the back door and into the kitchen, where Vince's mother looked up and slowly let a frown pull down her already sagging face.

"Oh, Danny, I saw—" she started as she spread her arms and welcomed Daniel into their stringy warmth.

So she knows,
Daniel thought. She would have to know because Daniel's grandmother had sold her cologne, too, or had it been the three shades of lipstick called Mood Changes? Still, he didn't walk into this woman's arms. No, he remained near the back door, looked over her shoulder, and called, "Hey, Vince—ready?
¿Listo?
" He wanted to get away from his best friend's mother, who appeared to be wringing her hands for information. When it wasn't forthcoming, she announced, "She'll be okay. You wait and see." Then in a whisper flavored with the cheese she had been cutting at the kitchen counter, she said, "Vince doesn't know. How is your mother?"

"She ain't home," Daniel admitted.

"Your mother is with your grandmother, huh?" Vince's mother's eyes were wet with excitement. Her hands were held high, resembling the crippled arms of a praying mantis.

Daniel turned away without answering and exited through the back door, ignoring her pleas to come back
and have some hot chocolate. "Mom's right—the woman's a
chismosa.
" He felt like unlocking his bike and returning home to mope in front of the television. He would have except Vince bounced down the back steps and growled, "Look at the money I got."

Daniel released the bike chain. He admired the two twenties in Vince's palms. He also admired his friend, who was better looking than him and slimmer. His teeth were straight, not like the car wreckage in Daniel's own mouth.

The two twenties disappeared from his hands like a magic trick, and the smile on his face collapsed. Vince was suddenly all business. "Let's see if we can get us some girls."

Vince was confronted by a girl who stomped her dainty feet, propped her hands on her hips, and screamed above the music, "Me first!" The girl had purple streaks in her hair and a tattoo of a bunny on her forearm. The bunny was playing air guitar.

"Slow down, girl," Vince said, a playful smile working its magic from the corner of his mouth.

But she didn't slow down. She pressed up against Vince, inhaled the air around him, and cooed, "You smell good." She sniffed Vince's neck, and Vince opened his collar, where she planted a quick kiss. She dragged him onto the basketball court, which had been turned into a dance floor. Daniel swallowed and discovered
a lump of jealousy forming in his throat. He stepped away from the crowd of dancers jumping to the throbbing music.

"Vince gets them all," Daniel remarked. He then bumped against someone whose smile deflated into a sneer and who said, "You better not step on my shoes."

"Sorry," Daniel apologized hurriedly.

"You got that right," the kid snarled. The kid's-face was a dartboard of pimples. He was smaller than Daniel, but his ropy arms were lean with muscle. His right eye was flecked with the blood of anger inside him. Daniel had never seen him before, but the sneering face was backed up by dudes he knew—one was a guy with whom he had shared sandwiches in elementary school. Since then they had shared nothing except the heartache of attending a school etched with graffiti and littered with hamburger wrappers and paper cups.

Daniel moved away. He felt lonely in spite of the bodies around him. From the corner he watched the dancers and spied the red glow of a lit cigarette. He smelled smoke and remembered the saying, Where there's smoke, there's fire. He waited for the fire of fists or a couple kissing so fiercely that the security guards in windbreakers would have to break them apart. But the cigarette was just sucked until it was dropped and rubbed into the floor.

"I should go home," he told himself. He pictured
his grandmother being led away in handcuffs. Her face was lowered in shame but still dolled up with the products she sold.
Yeah, I should go home,
he thought.
Mom probably needs me.

His chest rose and produced a sigh. He left the gym, but couldn't force himself to leave just yet. He liked the song the DJ had just pumped up. He stood outside, listening to the song's anthem that you couldn't trust anyone, not even your best friend. "It's true," he vouched. "It's real true. Like my dad! He ain't true." He played in his mind the recurring image of his father walking with that strange woman in the parking lot of Longs Drugs. "I hate him," he spat. "My life is stupid."

He had the evidence that his life was stupid. He was thinking about the cheap necklace his mother had gotten him for Christmas. His mother had carelessly bought a necklace with a charm that was an
0,
instead of a
D
for Daniel. His own mouth had become an
0
when, on his knees, he had unwrapped the gift in front of their Christmas tree. He would have told his mother about her error, but he knew that her mood would sour. She would scold him for being ungrateful.

He next was thinking about his grandmother when he felt a hand on his arm and then a face coming close to his. He wasn't sure what was happening. Was it that dude who had threatened him earlier? Had Vince come out to whisper some naughty detail about the
girl he had danced with? Was the face that of a vampire lowering its fangs toward his throat? His speculation stopped there. He felt a pair of lips lower and a slight suctioning of a kiss. The pair of lips brushed his throat.

"I was waiting for you," the girl purred. "You playing hard to get, or what?"

Playing hard to get,
he thought as he swallowed.
Never!

"You're teasing me, huh," the voice said playfully. The girl hugged him around his neck. They kissed again. He tasted the glossy lipstick that smelled like mint. He wanted more, a lot more. He was also happy that he had sweetened his breath earlier with a stick of chewing gum. He was glad to be alive, in the dark, and in the arms of a girl who was warm and generous with her praise.

"Where were you?" The girl stomped her foot, and Daniel was surprised that her heels didn't kick up a bushel of sparks. By those sparks, perhaps, he could have made out her face. Then again, she would have made out his and immediately run away. He would have considered it love at first sight except that he couldn't really make out her face. He could make out a pout and the gleam of three studs in her left earlobe.

"You were waiting for me?" he asked meekly. He pointed a finger at his heart.

The girl let out a sharp cry when she realized her mistake. She had kissed not her intended lover boy but a stranger. She let out another cry, turned, and ran away, leaving Daniel raising his right hand and asking—begging, he would later confess to himself—for her to come back.

The girl disappeared into the gym.

"Dang," he muttered. He sucked in his breath and could feel the cool minty taste on his lips. He repeated that action and was dizzy with wonder. It was a fresh experience, a kiss that made him breathless. He then admonished himself.

"She's gone, dawg!" He scolded his lazy soul for not acting quicker. He lowered his face and bit a knuckle. Who was she? He was excited, as this was the first time he had ever been kissed. He liked it—he liked it a lot—and now she was gone.

He hurried back into the gym, where the music had suddenly stopped. The principal, Mr. Warden, his tie undone, was spitting threats into the microphone as he foretold the future. He said he was going to stop the dance if he caught one more student smoking.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?" he barked. A vein on his neck stood out, and his eyes were wide with fury. That his own breath smelled of cigarettes was beyond the point.

There were a few yeahs, but most of the students looked down at their shuffling shoes. Some muttered
snide threats; others were searching through pockets for chewing gum to cover up their cigarette breath. Mr. Warden was known to come up to students and sniff their breath, all the while rolling an Altoid in his mouth.

Mr. Warden finished ranting. The music came on with a blare, and a few dancers took to the floor, though their bodies were moving slow and cautiously. Most hung on the side, in rebellion against Mr. Warden and some of the parent chaperones who were policing the students.

Daniel watched the female dancers.
Is that her?
he wondered.
Or her over there? Maybe that's the one.
His attention settled on a girl standing alone, one leg crossed over the other, her thumbs hooked in her pants pockets. He walked past her, his eyes slicing a quick look to see if her mouth was shiny with lip gloss and if her earlobe held three studs.

Nah,
he concluded. She had a single dangling earring, not three studs, and her lips were red, and what he had tasted was a clear lip gloss, that much he knew. Plus, she was tall, and the girl that he had held briefly in his arms was an inch or two shorter than him.

Daniel circled the gym, sizing up the girls but turning away quickly when one of them caught his eye. He didn't want to appear desperate, but he admitted that he was. He felt like a werewolf in search of a lover baby.

He noticed his friend Vince was munching a Life Saver, and Daniel guessed that he had been one of those sucking cigarettes. He started to walk toward the group that Vince was with.

But Vince looked right through him, a sign that he didn't want Daniel to come near. He was hanging with other people, at least for that night, who were a notch or two up on the social ladder.

"You're a stupid snob," Daniel cursed under his breath.

Toward ten o'clock Daniel felt even more desperate as some of the students were beginning to leave.

"She's gotta be here," he whined to himself. He then rocked on the heels of his shoes as he made out a girl with three studs in her earlobe. She was holding a guy's hand and they were headed toward the door. Daniel followed, but not too closely. He made his way bumping among others who were leaving, trailing the girl and the guy she was with.

"Dang," he muttered. "She should really be mine."

The night was cold, dark. He saw the couple, cooing like pigeons. They began to kiss.

Daniel swallowed. He tasted envy on his tongue.
It's gotta be her,
he thought.

Her arms wrapped around the boy as they kissed, laughed, and kissed again. Then she pushed him away to scream playfully, "No!"

Daniel could have wept. It was the most tender no
he had ever heard. Usually when his mother said no, it sounded like gunshot. When teachers said it, it was a door slamming closed by an angry wind.

When the boy and girl began to kiss again, Daniel turned and walked away, disturbed because the girl was no longer saying no but a repeated yes. He was weak from jealousy. "Why can't it be me?" he whimpered. "I never get anything good." He dragged his body away from the love scene.

When he got home he was greeted by his mother screaming from the kitchen, "Where have you been? Did you wipe your feet?" He pictured her at the stove, rubbing her hands over the burners. He pictured his mother dipping her hands into the blossomlike fire; she could take a lot of punishment.

Daniel sighed, and with the sigh something like hope was released from his lungs. He swiveled his head to the right and was only mildly surprised to see his grandmother asleep on the couch, her mouth open. A faint gargle issued up with each exhale of breath. He'd had a suspicion that when he came home, his grandmother would be there. And there she was, snoring ungraciously under the glare of an end lamp. Her veined hands were gripping the crumpled section of the newspaper in which her name and face appeared.