Rules Of Attraction (17 page)

“Dr. Winky,” Brandon corrects me. “Not. Dr. W.”

“Whatever.” I hold up G.I. Joe and say to the plastic dude, “Joe,

you ready to kick Dr. W.’s butt?” I turn to Brandon. “Joe says he’s

ready.”

Brandon perks up as if he’s on a secret mission. “Follow me,” he

says, crawling across the room. “Come on!” he whispers loudly when he

notices I haven’t followed. I crawl behind him, pretending I’m a six-

year-old kid who has the patience to play this game. Brandon cups his

hand over my ear and whispers, “I think Dr. Winky is hiding in the

closet. Call in the troops.”

I look at the plastic miniature soldiers scattered all over the room,

then say, “Troops, surround the closet.”

“You can’t be a G.I. Joe in your own voice. You have to sound like a

marine,” Brandon says, obviously not impressed with my action hero

role-playing skills.

“Don’t push it, or I’m outta here,” I say.

“Okay, okay. Don’t leave. You can be G.I. Joe in your own voice.”

Brandon and I set the miniature soldiers around the closet door. As

long as I let myself get sucked into playing, I figure I might as well

spice it up a bit. “Joe here told me he got some info on Dr. Winky.”

“What is it?” Brandon asks, totally getting into it.

But now I’ve got to think of something fast. “Dr. Winky’s got a new

weapon. If he winks at you, you’re dead. So make sure not to look

directly at his eyes.”

“Okay!” Brandon says excitedly, reminding me of my little brother,

Luis, who gets excited about the smallest things.

Thinking of Luis makes me think of Mamá and how I rarely saw her

smile these past few years. As much as I rebel, I’d do anything to make

her smile again.

TWENTY-EIGHT :
Kiara

I watch from the doorway as Carlos and my brother play with the

toy soldiers. Carlos set up an elaborate scene with Brandon’s T-shirts

as tunnels held up with string. One side is tied on his window latch and

spans the entire length of Brandon’s room. The opposite end is

attached to his closet handle.

From his relaxed expression, I’d bet Carlos was having almost as

much fun as my brother. My mom rubs my shoulder. “You okay?” she

mouths.

I nod.

“I worry about you.”

“I’m fine.” I think back to this afternoon, playing in the yard with

Brandon and Carlos. I admit I had fun, too. I give her a huge hug. “More

than fine.”

“They seem to be having fun,” she says, nodding to the war scene

going on in Brandon’s room. “You think Carlos is warming up to the idea

of living here?”

“Maybe.”

“Five minutes was up a long time ago,” I hear Carlos say.

My mom rushes into the room and picks up Brandon, heading off

what’s sure to be an attempt at a typical Brandon negotiation tactic.

“Time for bed, Bran. You’ve got school tomorrow.”

After she tucks him in, she asks, “You did brush your teeth, didn’t

you?”

“Yep,” my brother says, nodding. I notice he’s got his mouth totally

closed when he nods. I’m guessing my brother isn’t telling the exact

truth.

“’Night, Racer,” Carlos says as he follows my mom out of the room.

“’Night, Guerrero. Kiara, since Carlos won’t tell me a story, can you

sing me a song? Or play the letter game? Please,” Brandon begs me.

“Which one?” I ask.

“The letter game.” My brother sits with his back to me and lifts up

the back of his shirt. I’ve been playing this game with him since he was

three. With my finger, I trace a letter on his back. He has to guess

which letter I’m tracing.

“A,” he says proudly.

I trace another one.

“H!”

And another.

“D . . . no, B! Am I right?”

“Yep,” I tell him, then say, “Okay, one more. Then bedtime.” I trace

another letter.

“Z!”

“Yep.” I kiss him on the forehead and tuck him in one last time.

“Love you,” I say.

“Love you, too. Kiara?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell Carlos I love him, too. I forgot to say it.”

“I will. Now go to sleep.”

In the hallway, Carlos is leaning against the wall. My mom has

disappeared, probably to watch television in the family room with my

dad.

“I heard what he said, so you don’t need to tell me,” Carlos says.

His usual cockiness is gone. He looks vulnerable, as if hearing Brandon

say I love you broke down some emotional barrier he’s been holding up.

He’s showing a glimpse of the real Carlos.

“Okay.” I look at my shoes because, honestly, I can’t look into his

eyes. They’re mesmerizing and too intense right now. “Thanks again for,

you know, playing with my brother. He really likes you.”

“That’s ’cause he doesn’t really know me.”

TWENTY-NINE :
Carlos

Before school starts, I go behind the football bleachers to find

Nick. Sure enough, he’s smokin’ a joint.

A look of panic crosses his face, until a second later he masks it

with a smile. “Hey, man, wassup? I heard you got busted last week.

That sucks.” He holds out his joint. “Want a hit?”

I grab him by the collar and push him into a metal bar. “Why did

you set me up?”

“You’re crazy! I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he says. “Why

would I set you up?”

I punch him in the face and he goes down. “Remember now?”

“Oh, shit,” Nick cries out as I stand over him. I’ll kick the crap out

of him until he gives me info. If he’s involved in any way with the

Guerreros del barrio and Wes Devlin, that means Kiara and the

Westfords could be in danger because I’m living with them. I can’t let

that happen.

I grab the front of his shirt and hold him up. “Tell me why you put

the drugs in my locker. And you better do it quick, because I haven’t

been in a good mood since those cops put me in handcuffs.”

He holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m a pawn, Carlos, just like

you. My supplier, this guy Devlin, told me to plant the drugs. I don’t

know why. He had a gun. And gave me the can and said to put it in your

backpack or else. I don’t know why. I swear it wasn’t my idea.”

That leaves me to find out whose idea it was. The problem is, now I

have to contact Devlin and watch my back every second of the day.

“Carlos, it’s your turn to share.”

All eyes are on me after school at REACH. Berger expects me to

spill my guts in front of everybody. Isn’t it bad enough I have to hear

about their stupid problems, like how Justin’s dad tells him he’s an idiot

all the time and how Keno is a hero because his friends all drank beer

over the weekend and he didn’t give in to the peer pressure?

What. A. Bunch. Of. Crap!

Mrs. Berger looks at me over the top of her glasses. “Carlos?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you like to share something you did over the past week that

had an impact on you?”

“Not really.”

Zana sneers, curling her lip-glossed lips. “Carlos thinks he’s too cool

to share with us.”

“Yeah,” Carmela chimes in. “Why do you think you’re better than us,

huh?”

Keno gives me a hard stare, obviously tryin’ to intimidate me. I

wonder if he knows anything about Devlin.

It’s clear I shouldn’t expect Mexican Power on my side right now,

so I look to Justin.

“You can do what you want,” Justin, the green-haired kid says.

“Just as long as it doesn’t involve me.”

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Quinn is looking at the floor.

Berger leans forward. “Carlos, you’ve been here a week already and

haven’t opened up. Each of the other group members has shared a part

of themselves with you. Why not share just a tiny bit of what’s been

happening so your peers can feel connected to you in some way.”

She’s actually assumin’ I want to be connected to these people. Is

she nuts?

“Just say something already,” Zana urges.

“Yeah,” Keno agrees.

Berger gives me that we’re-here-for-you pity gaze. “Our group is

held together when everyone contributes a part of themselves. Think

of your sharing as the glue that makes us a unit where everyone helps

each other and nobody is left out.”

She wants glue, I’ll give her glue. I’m not tellin’ them crap about

Nick or Devlin, but something else is on my mind. I hold my hands up in

surrender. “Fine. I almost kissed this girl, Kiara, on Wednesday. It was

on top of this stupid mountain she made me climb.” I shake my head in

frustration just thinkin’ about it. The problem is, for the past two days

I haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ about what that kiss would have

been like.

Keno leans forward in his chair. “You like her?”

“No.”

“Then why did you almost kiss her?” Zana asks.

I shrug. “To prove a point.” They’re all quiet and totally focused on

me.

“What point would that be?” Berger asks.

“I kiss better than her boyfriend.”

Justin’s hand flies to his shocked, open mouth. If that’s scandalous

to him, I bet I can count how many girls he’s kissed on less than one

hand.

“Did she kiss you back?” Carmela asks.

Keno raises his eyebrows. “Is she Mexicano?”

“We didn’t kiss. We almost kissed, and it wasn’t a big deal.”

“You like her,” Zana says. When I sneer she says, “Oh, please.

People say ‘it was no big deal’ when it is a big deal.”

“What does it matter, Zana?” Justin chimes in. “He didn’t actually

kiss her, and she has a boyfriend. Whether he likes her or not, she’s

taken.”

“You have to work on yourself, Carlos, before you can have a

healthy relationship,” Zana says like she’s some sort of expert.

Yeah, whatever. I don’t like Kiara. The last thing I want is a healthy

relationship . . . and I’m not even convinced that a healthy relationship

even exists.

I lean back and cross my arms. “Just so you know, Mrs. B., I’m done

talkin’.”

Berger gives me a nod of approval. “Thanks for sharing, Carlos. We

all appreciate your willingness to give us a glimpse into your personal

life. Believe it or not, our group is more cohesive now because of you.”

I’d give a hand gesture to show what I think of her theory, but it’s

probably a violation of the damn rules.

I suffer through the rest of our group therapy session with the

misfits, although I swear they’re all actin’ as if we’re friends now.

When I walk out of the building at the end of the day, Alex is in the

parking lot waiting for me with Brittany’s car. When we’re at a

stoplight, I see a couple walking hand in hand in front of us. I never see

Tuck and Kiara holdin’ hands, so maybe one of them is a germ freak.

“Kiara’s got this boyfriend who’s a total pendejo,” I blurt out. “The

two of them are ridiculous together.”

Alex starts shaking his head.

“What?” I ask.

“Don’t get messed up with her.”

“I won’t.”

He laughs. “That’s what I said to Paco when he warned me about

Brittany.”

“Let’s get this straight once and for all. I’m not you. I’ll never be

you. And if I tell you there’s nothin’ between Kiara and me, I mean it.”

“Fine.”

“She annoys the shit out of me most of the time, anyway.”

My brother’s response is another laugh.

When we get to the Westfords’ house, nobody is home. Kiara’s car

is in the driveway with the passenger window open as usual.

“She needs it fixed,” I tell Alex as we head toward it. I don’t think

either one of us can resist imagining what the car would be like if it

were fixed up. “The passenger door doesn’t open.”

Alex pulls the handle, testing it. “You should take it apart and see

if you can fix it.”

I shrug. “I might.”

“Fixed up or not, it’s a sweet ride.”

“I know. I drove it.” I poke my head inside the window and slide in.

“What if I told you I bought one just like it?” Alex asks.

“Really? You finally have your own car?”

“Yeah. It needs work, so I’m keepin’ it in the shop until I can

rebuild the engine.”

“Speakin’ of engines, I think this one is draggin’,” I tell him, then

pop the hood on Kiara’s car.

“You sure it’s okay we’re doin’ this?” he asks me.

“She won’t care,” I tell him, then hope it’s true.

As we’re inspecting the engine and talking cars, it’s as good a time

as any to tell my brother what I found out. “I think Devlin was behind

me bein’ set up.”

Alex picks up his head so fast he bangs it on the hood. “Devlin?

Wes Devlin?” he asks. I nod.

“Why Devlin?” He wipes his hand over his eyes, as if he can’t

imagine how I got myself into this mess. “He recruits gang members

from all over, turnin’ them into hybrids no matter what their affiliation

is. How the hell did you let this happen?”

“I didn’t actually let it happen. It just happened.”

My brother looks me straight in the eye. “Have you been lyin’ to me,

Carlos? Have you been contactin’ the Guerreros back in Mexico and had

this drug thing planned all along? Because Devlin doesn’t fuck around.

Hell, he even had connections with the Latino Blood back in Chicago.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” I pull out Devlin’s number that I

found in Nick’s locker and hand it to Alex. “I’m gonna call him.”

He takes one look at the number and shakes his head. “Don’t.”