SELFLESS (3 page)

I couldn’t do this anymore
, I decided, standing up abruptly.

“Thanks for the advice,” I said, making a move for the door.

“Sit your ass down,” my other sister said. “We’re not done here. Condoms. They gotta be used no matter what hole you prefer. Diseases can still happen in the ass,
sorpresita
, and that is not a pretty thing.”

“Condoms, protection number one,”
la prima
said, pushing me back onto the toilet.

“Protection number two,” the other
prima
said, “is your choice. Pepper spray. Mace. A knife. Whatever fits in your purse,
sorpresita
, or between those titties.”

“I gotta pair of brass knuckles,” my sister said proudly. “Slip those on,
hermana
, and it’s lights out. It don’t matter how big that guy is.”

“Most of them are gonna be bigger than you,
sorpresita,
” my other sister said. “That’s just reality. If he gets violent, or if he wants to do something that you don’t wanna, you gotta let him know.”

“I want you to have this,”
la prima
said. “You’re a woman, now. You should’ve had one a long time ago. You take it everywhere you go.”

She reached into the pocket of her too-tight jeans and drew something out, holding it toward me. When I tentatively put my hand out, she flicked her wrist and a shiny blade popped out. I flinched backward and everyone laughed.

“That’s exactly what the boys are gonna do if you pull this on them,”
la prima
said, nodding with much satisfaction. “That’s exactly what’ll happen. You take this switchblade everywhere.”

“I can’t have this in school,” I protested. “I have to go through the metal detector to get in the building.”

“Shit gets in that school all the time,” my sister scoffed. “You’ll be fine.”

“Now, remember everything we told you,” my other sister said. “And if you ever have a problem with a guy, you tell us.”

“We’ll end him,”
la prima
said, as casually as if she’d said that they were going to the bodega.

Thus ended my first formal session of sex education. Their words and cackles had been seared into my brain. I wouldn’t have been able to forget their words even if I tried.

Friday came too soon, as much as I wished for it never to come. The female contingency attacked me as soon as I walked in the door after school.
La prima
ripped my backpack off of me and my sisters pushed me into the shower.

I was primped, powdered, and made up, putting on the same heavy makeup that all of them wore.

“We should get her a perm before tonight,” the other
prima
said, fingering my locks.

“No, her hair is pretty as is,
cabrona
,” my sister said. “We’ll straighten it, leave it down. Makes her look older.”

“We’re not gonna have any trouble getting her in,”
la prima
said. “She’ll blend right in with us.”

As soon as they were done with my makeup, I saw that it was true. I looked at least of legal age to enter a club, even though I was just fifteen. The female contingency had transformed me into a doppelganger—darkened eyebrows, heavy eyeliner and shadow, and red lips. My sister loaned me a pair of outrageously big hoop earrings and the other
prima
zipped me up in her own dress.

“Fuck me,” she said, turning me around and around. “The dress is yours,
sorpresita
. With that ass of yours, you rock it better than I ever could.”

“We’re ready for the club,
cabronas
,” my sister hollered, looking in on me.

“Is the club ready for us?”
la prima
crowed, and their delighted hoots implied that the club was never ready for them. They were a force of nature, those four, and they were ready to induct me into their sisterhood. Me.
Sorpresita
. I’d been the outsider my whole life, so I had to admit that being a part of things was kind of exciting—even if I knew it was wrong.

The club was a shady affair a couple of blocks from our apartment, situated on a busy corner in the heart of East Harlem. Everyone who was anyone in
el barrio
went there. It was a place to see and be seen, and my sisters and
primas
went multiple times every week. It was their favorite place to pick up boys.

The bouncer didn’t give me a second glance as we entered the club en masse. I was one of the girls, clearly.

We sidled into a booth and a server brought us beer. I quickly understood that my sisters and
las primas
were regulars here and everyone knew what to expect from them, including what they’d like to be drinking.

As my family chattered about who was there and what they were going to do to them, I took the opportunity to look around. The club was smaller than I thought it would be, with all the tall tales I heard at home about what took place there. There were a number of elevated dance floors around the place. People milled around on them, nobody dancing quite yet even though a mirror ball through little points of light all around the space. There wasn’t really a DJ, just someone with a laptop running a playlist of songs. The bartenders were already in the weeds, dashing back and forth to serve up buckets of beer and putting bottle services together.

Even though it was just a regular Friday night, the place was quickly filling up. Everyone dressed to impress—none of the girls present wore jeans. It was all dresses and skirts, or tiny little hot pants. I could tell from looking that many hours had been put into the appearances of the kids looking to party tonight.

With a tiny gasp, I recognized a guy from my school—Jimmy. He was in a couple of my classes. He’d hit his growth spurt early on, and stood out like a weed. He was with, I presumed, either his family or his crew. They were usually one in the same. I hoped he wouldn’t recognize me. In fact, I knew it was a pretty good chance. I never looked this crazy at school.

“Hey,
sorpresita
, that beer’s not gonna drink itself,”
la prima
said.

“But not too fast, huh?” my sister put in. “I’m not gonna be the one holding your hair back in the bathroom.”

I took a swig of the beer, wondering what my sisters even saw in the beverage, but then my world opened right up. I loved the taste of it—crisp, refreshing, and bubbly. When I downed the first one, my sisters and
primas
cheered and ordered another round.

“I knew you were one of us,”
la prima
said, beaming.

Belonging was good. It was great, in fact. And after three beers, I was ready to dance.

“Look at our
sorpresita
,” the other
prima
laughed, tapping her long acrylic nails on the glass beer bottle. I was wriggling around in the booth, moving to the obnoxious reggaeton song playing.

“Vamos a bailar, entonces,”
my sister said. “Let’s go dance, then.”

A girl on either side of me as I tottered out to the closest dance floor in my dangerous stilettos, my ass came alive without me even telling it to do so. It shook to every bass beat of the song, out-shaking even my more experienced family.

“Look at her go!” my other sister shrieked, laughing at my dancing. I didn’t care if I was dancing well or whether they were making fun of me. The beer made me want to move, and I didn’t care who saw it.

Liquid confidence though it was, the beer helped empower me. I’d never felt more free, and I wanted to dance all night.

“Who’s this,
mamita
?”

Hands lightly caressed my hips, feeling the swaying of my dancing, before gripping them tightly and jerking me backwards into a hard crotch. I yelped at the loss of my rhythm and stumbled in my sky-high heels, trying to pull away from insisting arms.

“Stop,” I protested, elbowing against the hulking guy. “I’m tryin’ to dance.”

“Hey, fuck off,
pendejo,
” my sister said, swooping in to the rescue and shoving him away. “She says she’s trying to dance, and you’re not helping, clumsy fuck.”

“You gotta problem,
puto
?”
la prima
demanded as he started back toward my sister. “We’ll fuck you up, bitch.”

The female contingency amassed around me, pushing the guy away.

“Crazy sluts,” the guy said, his last protest before backing off.

Then, the family went back to dancing, as if nothing had happened.

It struck me to wonder if this was a common occurrence—guys laying their hands on you whether you wanted it or not—but the beer was firmly in control of my brain. I resumed dancing, too.

“Hey.”

I looked over to see my classmate, Jimmy, looking at me. At the beginning of the night, I didn’t want him to recognize me. I’d hoped that he’d get lost in the crowd.

Now, after the beer, I couldn’t have been more excited to see him.

“What’s up, Jimmy!” I exclaimed, throwing my arms around him in a hug.

“You’re in my class, right?” he asked, having to raise his voice to be heard above the rap song playing. I liked the feel of his arms around me as he hugged me back.

“Yeah, yeah!” I said. “I didn’t know you came here, too.”

“This is my first night,” he admitted.

“Mine, too!” I laughed wildly, feeling like I was invincible. “My family got me in.”

“Same here,” he said. “My crew. They wanna see if I can hang.” In class, he was gawky, his body not used to his height yet. I’d had no idea he was in a crew. But here, in the club, he looked perfect—to me, at least.

“You gonna dance with me, or what?” I asked, smiling coquettishly. Jimmy grinned back at me before taking me against his body and moving with the music. He wasn’t half bad, letting me have the reins as I wiggled and swayed.

I was only vaguely aware of the female contingency hooting and hollering at me, then gradually pairing up themselves.

I only had eyes for Jimmy and I only had ears for the music. I didn’t pay attention to my aching feet, the sweat pouring down my neck, or even when a beer got passed my way. When I mashed my lips against his, getting red lipstick all over his mouth, it only felt natural.

And when we walked, hand in hand, to the bathroom, one of the girls pushing a condom down the top of my dress, it seemed like it was simply what came next—the next chapter of the story.

Losing my virginity in a bathroom stall at a club was a physical challenge, rattling the walls of the flimsy cubicle, trying to stay quiet as people came and went. Jimmy was sweet, even if he was as drunk as me, and he was okay with using the condom.

After it was over—a hurried, sweaty, off-balance affair—he said he had to sit down a minute and plopped down on the toilet.

I sat on top of him after pulling my panties back up under my dress. I felt strange and squishy between my legs, like I was going to drip on the floor if not for my underwear.

“That was great,” Jimmy said, hugging me a little bit.

“Can I tell you something?” I asked. “That was my first time.”

“Really?” he asked. “That’s badass. You were so wet.”

“I still am,” I admitted. “It’s kinda weird.”

“Means you were turned on,” Jimmy said, holding me against him a little more fiercely. “Do I turn you on,
chingona?”

I smiled at the pet name—“badass.”

“I’m turned on, aren’t I?” I laughed. “Now, let’s get out of here. I don’t want my family coming to look for us. They’re crazy.”