Romiette and Julio (5 page)

afroqueen:
they don’t ever check the teacher’s purse and pockets

sweetthing:
yeah, they probably holding

spanishlover:
we had gangs at my old school

cookieman:
so what else is new?

spiceboy:
gangs run everything

afroqueen:
no, gangs RUIN everything

oogaooga:
yeah, you just put up and shut up

afroqueen:
I don’t mess with them

spiceboy:
you join or you pay or you hide

niobe:
you ever seen a gun up close?

becool:
yeah, I got one. my old man bought for me.

cookieman:
you lie!

vanityfair:
what does it look like?

becool:
It’s black and heavy.

cookieman:
you lie! you ain’t got no gun.

becool:
no lie. he said a man gotta have protection.

afroqueen:
you ever shoot it?

becool:
yeah, at cans and birds

oogaooga:
birds gotta fly, man. don’t take it out on birds.

sweetthing:
you ever take it to school?

bigmac:
only fools do that

becool:
yeah, once. in my book bag.

niobe:
you get busted?

becool:
I’m too slick

spiceboy:
you ever see somebody get shot?

becool:
no. don’t want to

spiceboy:
I did once. it was a drive-by in LA.

niobe:
who got shot?

spiceboy:
some kid—waiting on the bus with his mother

sweetthing:
makes me wanna cry

spiceboy:
she was screaming and blood was everywhere

afroqueen:
did he die?

spiceboy:
I don’t know. I left.

cookieman:
I hate blood

afroqueen:
and killing

sweetthing:
I hate cows

niobe:
cows? why?

sweetthing:
I live on a farm

spanishlover:
what else do you hate?

becool:
dead snakes. live ones are cool.

cookieman:
peppermint toothpaste

oogaooga:
homework. waste of time.

vanityfair:
my mother

sweetthing:
dirt, mud, and anything else that’s brown and stinky

afroqueen:
commercials with athletes who sweat

spiceboy:
crank phone calls

niobe:
blue eye shadow

spanishlover:
gangs

vanityfair:
fights

becool:
cops

cookieman:
guns

sweetthing:
bombs

afroqueen:
death

niobe:
We just read Hamlet in school. EVERYBODY dies.

becool:
who cares?

oogaooga:
Shakespeare is stupid.

afroqueen:
it’s not so bad

spanishlover:
you into Shakespeare?

cookieman:
Shakespeare was a dude!

niobe:
so was Charles Manson—what’s your point?

vanityfair:
suppose Shakespeare was a woman?

sweetthing:
maybe he was

becool:
who cares!

bigmac:
would we still have to read that stuff in school?

afroqueen:
no—cause nobody paid any attention to women back then!

cookieman:
nobody pays any attention now.

niobe:
you do

cookieman:
only for joy, babe—only for joy!

spanishlover:
anybody here from Cincinnati?

bigmac:
who would WANT to live there?

spanishlover:
not me. I just got here and I hate it here

becool:
where did you move from?

spanishlover:
Texas

sweetthing:
I went to Texas once. Too hot!

spanishlover:
it’s not hot on the river where I lived

afroqueen:
what about the Ohio River?

spanishlover:
it’s ugly!

becool:
so is your mama!

spanishlover:
my mama uses your mama to clean her shoes!

afroqueen:
what you got against the Ohio River?

spanishlover:
like I said, it’s the ugliest river I’ve ever seen!

afroqueen:
it’s winter, what do you expect? the river is muddy. What’s it supposed to look like? a blue crayon drawing?

spanishlover:
it’s not just your river. I hate everything here. it’s cold and I want to go home.

afroqueen:
you sound unhappy

spanishlover:
depressed

bigmac:
why don’t you two take it to a private chat room?

spanishlover:
afroqueen?—see you there?

afroqueen:
I’m with you—

Dear Afroqueen:

I’m from Texas. Do chat rooms get on your nerves? There’s so much junk! Nobody really says anything, just little one-liners that mean nothing.

Hey, Spanishlover:

Yeah, they annoy me. Some are better than others. I’ve been in some where we really talked about stuff. So what’s so great about Texas?

The Nueces River flows proud and beautiful all year. As does the Rio Grande. It’s wide and powerful, and I really miss it. And it
never gets cold there like it does here. Does the river ever freeze?

I’ve never seen the river freeze, and I’ve lived here all my life. But I’ve heard that it has frozen before. Boats get stuck right in the middle. I’ve never seen any other river, though. I figured they all looked the same—kinda wet.

No, there is a difference. Some rivers are heavy and slow, others are cheerful and lively. Just like people.

So are you a deep river or a stagnant stream?

I’m an ocean. I’m real deep. What about you?

Me? I’m a lake. I got edges, but I also have ripples and possibilities. Now, cut all this, and tell me about you really.

Like I said, I’m from Texas. I like Tejano music, refried beans, and guacamole. But I also like pizza, German chocolate cake, and sauerkraut.

Remind me never to have dinner with you. Do you eat the sauerkraut on the pizza or with the German chocolate cake?

Both! Let’s see, what else can I tell you
about me? I like to sail and I’m a good swimmer. I can play two different instruments and I speak two languages. I hate TV talk shows and stupid billboards. Now, your turn.

Me? I’m one of the only girls in our class who uses the Internet and talks to people on-line. I like to read, and write poetry, and go to dances, but I also play basketball and soccer. You can sail and swim? I really admire that. I never learned to swim.

I’ve never met anyone who couldn’t swim. Swimming is like breathing. How can you not know how to swim?

Cause when you’re swimming, you can’t breathe! I’ve taken lessons since I was three. Couldn’t do it. I’m just plain terrified of the water. But I know I’ll never drown, unless it’s in the bathtub, because I never intend to get close enough to any water that’s deeper than that!

I am afraid of being alone, of being abandoned.

I guess most kids feel that. Have you ever been left alone?

No, not even been lost in a grocery store.
But fear doesn’t make much sense. It is just something you know and respect. Your fear of the water will make you strong.

Maybe, but sometimes my fear takes over. I have bad dreams. Actually, I’ve been having this one really terrifying dream ….
What kind of dream?

Never mind. Can you speak Spanish?

Sí. Of course. My whole family is from Mexico. What about you?

I’m taking French II, but I’d be afraid to go to France with what I know. You know what else I like to eat? French croissants, and grape jelly. Also Cincinnati chili, but not with grape jelly on it! Have you ever tried any of the chili?

No, I haven’t had a chance to try Cincinnati chili, with or without jelly. But unless it’s hot and spicy, I probably won’t like it. My mother uses hot sauce on everything. Now I can’t eat a meal without it!

Hot sauce. Yuck. And you had such potential. I bet you like carbonated pop too, don’t you? I like mild things—like fresh fruit juice instead of soda pop, and warm gravy instead of hot
sauce (except on oatmeal—that gets warm milk, not warm gravy!).

What about music? What’s your favorite?

Well, I listen to rock and rap and R&B, but believe it or not, I like classical music sometimes too. It helps me write poetry and relaxes me when I can’t sleep. I don’t tell many people this. You know my favorite? Mandolin music. I discovered it late one night when I was listening to the radio, feeling moody and blue. It was beautiful.

You’re not going to believe this, but I play the mandolin! My grandfather taught me when I was a little boy. And you’re right. It’s a beautiful sound. But I also play the saxophone. I like the music, but there’s not much call for mandolins in the school marching band, not even in Texas.

Give me a break! Nobody plays the mandolin, at least not on purpose! Wow, that’s awesome! Hey, I’ve got to get off of this computer and help my mom with the dishes. Sign on tomorrow at four. Let’s talk again. This was cool! Peaceout—Afroqueen

I’ll be there! Talk to you then. Peaceout—Spanishlover

“Girl, that was the best movie I ever saw!” Destiny sighed as the final credits rolled off the screen. She was dabbing her eyes with the edge of the blanket on Romiette’s bed. “Rewind it to the part where she has to decide if she’s gonna stay with her soul mate, who she loves like hot fire, or her crippled husband, who has loved her with pure, sweet trust since childhood. Ah! The agony of true love!”

“You say that after every love story we rent, Destiny. And get a tissue! You’re always crying on my blankets.” Romiette hit the remote to rewind the tape, and turned on the lights.

“That’s because I’m an expert on love, Romi. I understand the pain of passion.”

“You’ve never even had a boyfriend, except for Jerome in the seventh grade. How do you know so much?” Romi laughed.

“Imagination, girlfriend! I read. I dream. I will know him when he walks through the door.” Destiny was walking dramatically across the bedroom just as the downstairs doorbell rang.

“There’s the doorbell. It’s the pizza. Why don’t you answer the door, Destiny, just in case the pizza boy is your secret soul mate.” Romi grinned and gave Destiny half the pizza money.

“You got me bent! I’ve seen the pizza boy. Not a chance!” Destiny ran downstairs to get the pizza, their usual of pineapple and peppers, and returned with the large square box and a soda from Romi’s refrigerator. The smell of the warm cheese, spicy sauce, and soft bread filled the room.

“Did the soul mate package come yet, Destiny?” Romi asked between bites.

“No, but I have faith. It’ll be here by next weekend. We gotta get a life, Romi. How am I going to get a date for the prom if I spend every weekend looking at videos with you? We need new blood!”

“Speaking of new blood, I met a guy a couple of days ago.” Romi waited for a pillow to be tossed at her.

Destiny screamed, “And you’re just now telling me? Girl, spill it! I told you my cards said you were going to meet a new man. And you weren’t even looking! What does he look like? Is he fine?”

“Well, I don’t know. I’ve never seen him.” Romi grinned.

“You talkin’ crazy. How did you meet him if you’ve never seen him?” asked Destiny.