Perfect Chemistry 1 (16 page)

this option. After what she did to you yesterday--"

"I don't want to hear it," I tell him, cutting him off. "There is

absolutely no way I'm letting you send my sister away." I snatch the

brochures off the table. Shelley needs to be with her family, not in a

facility with some strangers. I tear the brochures in two, toss them

into the garbage can, then run to my bedroom.

"Open the door, Brit," my mom says, jiggling my bedroom doorknob

a minute later.

I sit on the edge of my bed, my mind whirling with the image of

Shelley being sent away. No, it can't happen.

The thought makes me sick. "You didn't even train Baghda. It's like

you wanted to send Shelley away all along."

"Don't be ridiculous," my mom's muffled voice comes through the

door. "There's a new facility being built in Colorado. If you'd open this

door we can have a civilized discussion about it."

I'll never let it happen. I'll do everything in my power to keep my

sister at home.

"I don't want to have a civilized discussion. My parents want to

send my sister to a facility behind my back and my head feels like it's

about to split open. Leave me alone, okay?"

Something is sticking out of my pocket. It's Alex's bandanna.

Isabel isn't a friend, yet she helped me. And Alex, a boy who cared

about me last night more than my own boyfriend did, acted as my hero

and is urging me to be real. Do I even know how to be real?

I clutch the bandanna to my chest.

And I allow myself to cry.

TWENTY-TWO : Alex

She called me. If it weren't for the ripped piece of paper with her

name and number scribbled on it by my brother Luis, I'd never believe

Brittany actually dialed my number. Grilling Luis hadn't helped because

the kid has the memory of a flea and hardly remembered taking the

call. The only info I got was that she wanted me to call her back.

That was yesterday afternoon, before she puked her guts out on

my shoe and passed out in my arms.

When I told her to be real, I could see the fear in her eyes. I

wonder what she's afraid of. Breaking down her ‘perfection’ wall is

going to be my goal. I know there's more to her than blond streaks and

a killer bod.

Secrets she'll take to the grave and secrets she's dying to share.

Oh, man. She's like a mystery, and all I can think about is unraveling

the clues.

When I told her we're similar, I wasn't bullshitting. This

connection we have isn't going away, it's only getting stronger. Because

the more I spend time with her, the closer I want to be.

I have the urge to call Brittany just to hear her voice, even if it's

filled with venom. Flipping open my cell as I sit on the sofa in my living

room, I enter her number into memory.

"Who ya' callin'?" Paco asks, barging into my house without ringing

or knocking. Isa files in behind him.

I click my phone shut. "Nadie."

"Then get your ass off that couch and come play soccer."

Playing soccer is a helluva lot better than sitting here thinking

about Brittany and her secrets, even if I'm still feeling the effects of

last night's partying. We head to the park where a bunch of guys are

already warming up.

Mario, a guy in my class whose brother died in a drive-by last year,

slaps me on the back. "Wanna play goalie, Alex?"

"No." I have what you call an offensive personality. In soccer, and

in life.

"Paco, what about you?"

Paco agrees and takes his position, which is sitting on his ass in

front of the goal line. As usual, my lazy friend sits until the ball rolls to

his side of the field.

Most of the guys playing are from my neighborhood. We've grown

up together . . . played on this playground since we were kids and even

got initiated into the Latino Blood at the same time. Before I was

jumped in I remember Lucky telling us how being in a gang was like

having a second family . . a family who would be there for you when your

own family wasn't. They would offer protection and security. It

sounded perfect to a kid who'd lost his father.

Over the years, I've learned to block out the bad stuff. The

beatings, the dirty drug deals, the shootings. And I'm not just talking

about guys on the other side. I know of guys who tried to get out, guys

who were found dead or beaten so badly by their own gang they

probably wished they were dead.

To be honest, I block it out 'cause it scares the shit out of me. I'm

supposed to be tough enough not to care, but I do.

We take our positions on the field. I imagine the ball holds a

jackpot. If I keep it away from everyone else and kick it into the goal,

I'll magically transform into a rich and powerful guy who can take my

family (and Paco) away from this hellhole neighborhood.

There's a lot of good players on each team. The other side has an

advantage because we have Paco as our goalie, scratching his balls on

the other end of the field.

"Yo, Paco. Stop playin' with yourself!" Mario yells.

Paco's answer is making a huge point of grabbing his balls and

juggling them in his hands. Chris shoots the ball right past him and

scores.

Mario picks up the ball from inside the goal and chucks it at Paco.

"If you were as interested in the game as you are in your huevos, they

wouldn't have scored."

"I can't help it if they itch, man. Your girlfriend must have given

me crabs last night."

Mario laughs, not believing for a second his girlfriend would cheat

on him. Paco tosses the ball to Mario, who passes to Lucky. Lucky brings

the ball downfield. He passes it to me and I have my chance. I dribble

down the makeshift field, pausing only to gauge how far I have to go

before I kick it into the goal.

Faking to the left, I pass to Mario and he passes it back. With one

swift kick, the ball soars right and we've scored.

"Goooaaaallll," our team sings as Mario gives me a high five.

Our celebration is short-lived, though. A blue Escalade is creeping

suspiciously down the street.

"Recognize it?" Mario asks, tensing.

The game stops as guys realize there's something not cool. "Maybe

it's retaliation," I say.

My eyes never leave the car window. When the car stops, we're all

waiting for a glimpse of either someone or something to emerge from

the car. When it does, we'll be ready.

But I'm not. My brother Carlos steps out of the car with a guy

named Wil. Wil's ma is in the Blood and recruits new members. My

brother better not be one of those recruits. I've worked too damn

hard making sure he knows I'm in the Blood so he doesn't have to be.

If one family member is in, the rest are protected. I'm in.

Carlos and Luis aren't, and I'll do anything to make sure they stay

that way.

I put on a game face and walk over to Wil, soccer completely

forgotten. "New car?" I ask him, eyeing his wheels.

"It's my mom's."

"Nice." I turn to my brother. "Where have you guys been hangin'?"

Carlos leans against the car, as if hanging with Wil is no big deal.

Wil got initiated recently and now he thinks he's the shit. "At the mall.

They've got this cool new guitar store. Hector met us there and--"

Did I hear right? "Hector?" The last thing I want is my brother

hanging around Hector.

Wil, with his big shirt hanging over his pants, whacks Carlos on the

shoulder to shut him up. My brother closes his mouth as if something

was about to fly in it. I swear I'll kick his ass from here to Mexico if

he even thinks about joining the Blood.

"Fuentes, you in or out?" someone yells from the field.

Keeping my anger hidden, I turn to my brother and his friend,

who's capable of luring him to the dark side.

"Wanna play?"

"Nah. We're gonna hang at my house," Wil says.

I shrug nonchalantly, not feeling the least bit nonchalant. Que me

importa!

I walk to the field, even if I have the urge to grab Carlos by the

ear and drag him home. I can't afford to cause a scene that might get

back to Hector, who might start questioning my loyalty.

Sometimes I feel my life is one big lie.

Carlos leaves with Wil. That, combined with the fact that I can't

get Brittany out of my mind, is driving me nuts. On the field, when the

game starts back up, I'm restless. Suddenly, it's like the players on

the other team aren't guys I know, but enemies in the way of

everything I want. I charge the ball.

"Foul!" a cousin of one of my friends yells at me when I slam into

him.

I put up my hands. "That was not a foul."

"You pushed me."

"Don't be a panocha," I say, knowing I'm blowing it out of

proportion.

I want to get in a fight. I'm asking for it. He knows it. The guy is

about my height, my weight. My adrenaline is running high.

"You want a piece of me, pendejo?" he says, holding his arms out

wide like a bird in flight.

Intimidation doesn't work with me. "Come and get it."

Paco runs in between us. "Alex, cool down, man."

"Either fight or play!" someone shouts.

"He said I made a foul," I tell Paco, my veins pumping.

Paco shrugs casually. "You did."

Okay, now when my own best friend doesn't back me up, I know

I've lost it. I look around. Everyone is waiting to see what I'm going to

do. My adrenaline is in overdrive, matching their heightened

anticipation. Do I want to fight? Yeah, if only to get this raw energy

out of my body. And to forget, even for a minute, that my chem

partner's number is cued up in my cell. And my brother is on the Blood

radar to be recruited.

My best friend shoves me away from the guy wanting to rip my

head off and pushes me to the side of the field. He calls out for subs

to take our place in the game.

"What'd you do that for?" I ask.

"To save your hide, man. Alex, you've lost it. Completely."

"I can take that guy."

Paco looks straight at me and says, "You're the one actin' like a

panocha."

I shrug his hands off my shirt and stalk off not knowing how, in the

matter of a few weeks, I've gotten my life screwed up so badly. I need

to fix it. I'll deal with Carlos when he comes home tonight. He's gonna

get an earful from me. And Brittany . . .

She didn't want me to drive her home from Isa's house because

she didn't want to be seen with me. Fuck that shit. Carlos isn't the only

one who deserves an earful from me.

I flip open my cell and cue Brittany's number.

"Hello?"

"It's Alex," I tell her, although she has caller ID and knows damn

well it's me. "Meet me at the library. Now."

"I can't."

This is not the Brittany Ellis Show. It's the Alex Fuentes Show

now. "Here's the deal, mamacita," I say as I reach my house and

straddle my motorcycle. "You either show up at the library in fifteen

minutes or I'm bringin' five friends to your house and we're campin'

out on your front lawn tonight."

"How dare you--" she starts to say, but I close the phone before

she can finish her sentence.

Revving the engine to block out thoughts of last night when she

snuggled into my lap, I realize I don't have a game plan.

I wonder if the Alex Fuentes Show will end up being a comedy or,

more likely, a tragedy. Either way, it'll be a reality show worth not

missing.

TWENTY-THREE : Brittany

I'm steaming mad as I pull into the library parking lot and park

next to the woods at the far end of the lot. The last thing on my mind

is our chemistry project.

Alex is waiting for me, leaning against his motorcycle. I take the

keys out of the ignition and storm over to him. "How dare you order me

around!" I yell. My entire life is full of people trying to control me. My

mom . . . Colin. And now Alex. I'm done with it. "If you think you can

threaten me into--"

Without saying anything Alex snatches my keys out of my hand and

sits in the driver's seat of my Beemer.

"Alex, what do you think you're doing?"

"Get in."

The engine roars. He's going to drive off and leave me stranded in

the library parking lot.

Clenching my fists, I stomp to the passenger side. When I'm in,

Alex revs the engine.

"Where's my picture of Colin?" I ask, eyeing my dashboard. It was

taped up there a minute ago.

"Don't worry, you'll get it back. I don't have the stomach to look at

it while I'm drivin'."

"Do you even know how to drive a stick?" I bark out.

Without blinking or looking down, he puts the car into first gear

and the car screeches out of the lot. My Beemer follows his lead as if

the car and Alex are completely in sync.

"This is carjacking, you know." Silence. "And kidnapping," I add.

We're stopped at a light. I look at the cars around us, glad the top

is up so no one can see us.

"Mira, you got in on your own free will," he says.

"It's my car. What if someone sees us?"

My words really piss him off, because the tires screech angrily

when the light turns green. He's purposely ruining my car.

"Stop it!" I order. "Take me back to the library."