Romiette and Julio (11 page)

“Yep, and Romi’s house has a huge backyard, with trees and walkways, even. I’ve been there a couple of times. It’s really phat.”

“She said she had deer in her yard in the morning. Cool.” The volleyball was so far out of bounds that it landed at Julio’s feet. He laughed and tossed it back to the ninth grader with ease. “Toss it the other direction, kid,” he called. “You get more points for your team that way.” The boy grinned and returned to his game.

“So where do you live, Julio? In a dungeon?” Ben asked while he lay flat on the gym floor.

“Almost,” answered Julio. “Our little place is a dull, gray apartment box on the other end of London Woods. Lots of people, more concrete than greenery, and more pigeons than deer. We only live a few miles apart, but what a difference a few miles of woods can make. So, are you going to do sit-ups or what?”

“I’m inventing a new exercise. It’s called laydowns. You don’t have to move at all!”

“You’re nuts!” Julio chuckled.

“Don’t let where Romi lives intimidate you,” Ben continued. “Go for it!” He turned on his side then. “Must exercise all parts of the body,” he said with great seriousness. “So you got through the meal with no hassle this time?”

“I wish! Near the end of lunch, just before the bell rang, the Devildogs came back. There were five of them this time, all dressed in the purple hoods, silently standing at our table and staring.”

Ben sat up. “The leaders of The Family! What did they say?”

“They didn’t say anything. I guess they figured their silence was loud enough.”

“What did you do?”

“Romi and I had already planned what we would do. It worked perfectly. We kept talking and totally ignored them—acting as if they were invisible.”

“I know that pissed them off.”

“Yeah, it made them really mad, and it seems like they stared even louder, if that’s possible.”

“So was that it?” Ben seemed disappointed.

“No. Wait till you hear,” Julio replied with a mix of
excitement and mystery in his voice. “Just before the bell rang, Romi pulled her portable CD player out of her book bag, turned it up as loud as it would go, we jumped up on the table, and we started dancing.”

“You didn’t! I love it!” Ben rolled on the floor with delight.

“Everybody,” continued Julio, “of course, turned to see what we were up to, including Mr. Prince, who headed our way from across the cafeteria. The bell rang just at that moment, we gathered our stuff, grabbed hands, and ran from the cafeteria. We were laughing so hard! Wow—that was the first time I touched her—it was like bright green electricity!”

“You held hands? Gee, take me back to kindergarten!”

“Your nose is starting to look normal. Want me to redecorate it again?”

“Nah, man. Save it for The Family!” Ben declared, touching his nose and nose ring carefully. “So what happened to the Devildogs?”

“A friend of Romi’s told her that the Devildogs were left standing by our table, looking stupid, and by the time Mr. Prince had waddled over, they had dispersed. Mr. Prince never really knew who had the nerve to dance on his lunch table. We got away clean.”

“Righteous, man. So what happens now?”

“Who knows? I hope they figured out we don’t want anything to do with them. Hey, we’re up to play now. Watch me serve you out!”

“After all that exercising I just did? Give me a break!” They ran out onto the gym floor, laughing.

The bell rang for the end of sixth period. The halls, which had been silent just a few seconds before, were instantly crowded with hundreds of students trying to get to seventh bell in the five minutes allotted. Most could probably make it in three, but the two extra minutes were necessary to stop by their lockers, run to the bathroom, and talk with their friends. Instead of moving the pace along, as their teachers constantly tried to encourage them to do, they huddled in noisy, excited bunches, anxious to share the last tidbit of news or gossip, which, of course, had changed in the forty-five minutes since the last change of classes.

Romi saw Destiny first. She was easy to spot. She was dressed in bright orange—pedal pushers, body shirt, and big-heeled shoes—and her hair was full and fluffy.

“Destiny! Com’ere, girl. Guess what! Julio held my hand today! We were laughing and running after we left those Devildogs in the cafeteria looking stupid, and he grabbed my hand, and oh my goodness, it felt so good!”

“My psychic powers tell me you got it bad, girl. Or you got it good. What’s up with the gangbangers? Why they sweatin’ you?”

“Forget the gangbangers! Julio touched me!”

“For real, girl. I see your soul mate rising out of the mist. Tell me what it felt like when he touched you. This is important.”

“It felt like fire, like ice, like spice, like magic. I think he felt it too.”

“Fire. Ice. True signs. He’s a Pisces, a true water sign, and you’re a Leo—pure fire. A joining of the opposite forces of the universe! Awesome!”

“When we got to the end of the hall, Mr. Wilkins—that substitute with the fake eyeball—walked toward us and shushed us, but he smiled, and we smiled back. Even with only one good eye Mr. Wilkins could see the sparks.”

“I’m taking notes, Romi. I’ve got to check my star books on this one—true soul mates meet in this life, and I am here to witness it! What happened next?”

“When Julio finally let go, my hand felt empty. I got embarrassed and was afraid to look at him. He touched my hand once more, then ran to his gym class to get there before the bell rang. I heard the late bell, but didn’t even notice it. I danced to French, and didn’t even care when the teacher asked me, in French, if I wanted a detention for being late. I told her, ‘Suit yourself,’ and just smiled.”

“You said that to Madame Mantua? How many detentions did she give you?”

“She must have thought I’d lost my senses, because she just told me to sit down and to come back down to the earth’s atmosphere. Was it that obvious?”

“It must be something in the stars, because if I just giggle in Madame Mantua’s class, she sends me out,” Destiny moaned. “I’ve started leaving a chair in the hall so I have someplace to sit when she puts me out of class! Maybe I should fall in love too.”

“Who said anything about love, Destiny? He makes me feel silly, happy, crazy—but that’s not love, is it?”

“Feels the same, they tell me, but how would I know? I get all my information from star books and teen magazines.”

“Hey, the bell is getting ready to ring. I gotta go. Me and Julio are supposed to talk again tonight on the computer. I’ll call you after that.”

“OK. Have fun up there in the stars! There’s the bell! See ya!” Destiny’s slim orange figure disappeared into the classroom.

“Later.” Romi walked slowly down the quickly emptying hall. She was thinking of Julio, not math class, and she smiled as she shifted her book bag on her shoulder.

Hola, Romiette:

Do you think those Devildogs will come after us now that we made them look stupid in front of the whole cafeteria? I’m not scared of them, but you never know how the peanut minds of people like that operate.

Yeah, I think they’ll try something. They have to in order to look good in front of the others. We’d better be careful, or at least plan something just as outrageous for the next time they try to stare us down. Were you scared?

Me? Que no! I came prepared with extra weapons—Jell-O cubes in my back pocket!

Yeah, right, Jell-O kills. I forgot. Oh, I almost forgot. The puppies are old enough to go. Are you coming on Sunday?

Yes, about three o’clock. What will your
mother say about me? You know I’m a little scared about meeting your folks.

Even though there’s no reason for you to feel funny, I think I know what you mean. Parents of a girl look at every dude that comes over as a somebody who will take their little darling away. My dad is going to have it really rough when I finally leave home. He and I are very close. He still calls me his little angel and lets me do almost anything. Mama is strict. She always says “No way” when I ask to go on ski trips or overnights with my friends. So I use my best little girl voice and plead to my dad. He usually tells Mama, “Aw, Lady, let the girl go. She works hard in school, makes good grades, and never causes us any trouble. Let’s let her go.” Mama usually gives in, and I smile sweetly to my dad. She knows what I’m doing. She’s been using it on Daddy herself for years! The funny part is that the things that he talks Mama into letting me do are things involving boys or potential dangerous situations—like an overnight in a ski lodge with sleepy chaperones. He doesn’t want me to grow up, but he lets me go to these pretty grown-up places. I guess he trusts me.

I can tell that you’re crazy about your dad. And your mom sounds cool too. My parents are a little tighter. They’re very strict on me, and expect me to do well, so
I do. I see kids all around yelling at their parents and talking back and coming in late and stuff. I wouldn’t even know how to do that. I guess I’m pretty lame.

No, you don’t sound lame. I get tired of hard-headed, big-headed boys who think they’re so bad that they can’t even take time to be nice to their mama. I like the way you talk about your folks with respect. But didn’t you ever just want to run singing into the moonlight and do exactly as you wanted to do? Sky dive naked from a plane? Eat ice cream for breakfast and broccoli for dessert?

I like your attitude! Yeah, I guess I’ve thought about doing that kind of stuff. I’d like to swim across the Nueces River, at the widest crossing, in a thunderstorm, at midnight! How’s that?

You’re getting there! Do you have clothes on for this swim? Are you carrying anything?

No, I’m naked as a newborn rat! And I’m carrying a backpack—no—two backpacks! And they’re full of medical supplies, which I must deliver or the lives of the children of Mexico will be lost! And it’s cold—at least fifty below zero!

Now you’re talking! I think I’ll be in that warm little yacht next to you—the one with a motor and a heated cabin and a fully stocked kitchen—in a coat, sipping cocoa, watching you swim!

You make me do all that, and you sit sipping hot chocolate while I freeze my naked buns?

It’s your fantasy! I’m having fun watching you.

You’re silly. And it’s so much fun to talk to you. Want to hear another fantasy? It’s a little scary.

I’m ready.

I imagine two sixteen-year-olds, a little different on the outside but sharing something on the inside, on a beach. I imagine them touching each other in the moonlight on that beach. It wouldn’t matter if it were a thunderstorm, or a hurricane, or fifty below zero—it wouldn’t matter because they wouldn’t notice. They’d only see each other. He would whisper soft phrases of Spanish love songs into her ear, and she would tremble in his arms because even without knowing the words she’d know the meaning, she could feel the tenderness of his lips on hers. And the world would stop for those few moments while they stood
there in the shadows of the night.

Wow, Julio. You have a way with words. I had that same fantasy many nights, while trying to get to sleep. I imagined that young man and that girl standing on the beach, on a mountain, in a crowded room—no longer alone, but together. I have imagined the feel of his lips on mine. I have imagined how safe I would feel in his arms. I don’t understand it—I don’t want to. But I know it is real and powerful and wonderful. I’m not sure what to do with these feelings—I’ve never felt like this before. But I want to be with him.

Romiette, you are my dream.

Julio, my dreams are sometimes terrifying.

I will protect you.

From my dreams?

Maybe I will be there for you in your dreams.

I have to go. My mother wants to use the computer. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Call me. Better yet—write me. I love the way you say things. Good night.

Good night, Romiette. Sweet dreams.

Romiette washed her face and quickly slipped on her pajamas. She couldn’t stop smiling. She hurried to bed and snuggled under the covers onto the cool, soft sheets. She plumped two pillows behind her head, and hugged one in front of her. She reached up, turned off the light, said a quick thank-you to the darkness, and let herself think of Julio. How could someone she’d only known such a short time so completely fill her thoughts? He was clever, and kind, and smart, and oh, so good-looking. His eyes sparkled, his grin was infectious, and his voice—his voice was … She drifted to sleep, smiling, thinking of Julio, his voice echoing in her dreams.

They were running, fearful, in a place she had never seen. She was hot and sweating, but the air was cold. The sky was black and green with slices of bright yellow. Was that rain or blood that was pelting her, soaking her? She was crying.

He held her hand tightly, never letting it go. She could sense his fear, feel his heart beating. He was afraid for her,
for them. Why? She couldn’t remember, couldn’t see through the storm. She smelled the water then. Deep, evil, powerful. The water was her only hope, her only chance. She screamed, jumped, and screamed again. Then all was silence as the water thundered into her ears, forced itself down her throat, and burned its way into her nose, her lungs, her brain. This water was fierce and deadly—not cool, gentle waves but hot, choking, liquid flames, sucking the breath of life from her. She struggled, searching for air, for land, for something to hold on to. But there was only the water, pulling her into its depths. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t swim. She could no longer scream. The water filled her, seared her thoughts, and she drifted slowly into unconsciousness. The fire cooled, the terror ebbed, and the dark shadow of death embraced her.