The Green (2 page)

“Hi Mr. Paulsen. Um, I’ve started on them but
haven’t quite finished yet,” I said, sitting down.

“Just remember that most of them are due at
the end of the month. Make sure you check the applications online
for the deadlines.” He leaned back in his chair, trying to look
cool with his ponytail and corduroys. What a hippie dork. “By the
way, I was looking through the list of schools you left me and I
want to talk to you about them. You have Northwestern on there.
That’s your number one school?”

“Yes, it has the one of the best journalism
programs in the whole country and it’s close to home,” I said and
fiddled with my backpack zipper.

“I just want to make sure you are aware that
Northwestern is an extremely expensive school. I just think it
would be a great financial burden on your family. If you wanted to
be more economical, you could try one of the state schools. You
definitely qualify for financial aid, but it won’t be enough to
cover the cost of going to Northwestern.”

“So what you’re saying is that I’m too poor
to go to Northwestern?” I tried to keep my voice even. I smiled
politely but narrowed my eyes.

“Well, I just think your economic situation
could pose a challenge. I don’t make the rules. I’m just trying to
let you know what you’re up against. The government caps student
loans at $25,000 a year, and Northwestern is about $40,000 a
year.”

“What about scholarships? I’m the top of my
class. I have a 4.0!”

“That is an option, but competition is tough.
Northwestern has so many students applying from all over the
country that have 4.0s. Feel free to look in the scholarship files
out in the lobby. There are even specific scholarships for Latino
students. Maybe you can find some that would work for you. And good
luck! But remember, it’s always good to have a Plan B.” He reached
out to shake my hand like we were best friends. I shook it, my hand
limp.

“Um, thanks Mr. Paulsen,” I said. Thanks for
nothing.

I flipped through the files, finding a few
scholarships for books and tuition, but most were for $500 to
$1000. What the hell good would it do me to buy books when I
couldn’t afford the tuition?

Northwestern was a long shot, but I would
still apply there. In order to be a top journalist I really needed
to go to a top school or I’d end up reading the weather for a
station somewhere in Arkansas. I wanted to be a newscaster. I
wanted to tell people the stories of the day. I wanted to be
Charles Gibson. You know, that old guy on ABC. He used to be on
Good Morning America and then did the evening world news. He was a
god of modern journalism. And I wanted to be just like him. Except
for the old white man part. And he went to Northwestern. So I was
going to Northwestern. Or at least I was going to try to go to
Northwestern any way I could.

$$$

The last thing I wanted to do today was see
Naomi at practice. Despite my crappy meeting with Paulsen, I
couldn’t stop thinking about James and his pretty brown hair and
pretty green eyes. He probably wouldn’t like them being described
as pretty, but they were nonetheless. And standing in front of
Naomi, all I could picture was James kissing me, just like in the
movies, our mouths pressed passionately together, fingers tangled
in one another’s hair. I shoved the beautiful picture to the back
of my mind and tried to focus on my best friend. I entered the
locker room, heading to our row of lockers.

“Naomi!” I spread my arms out, wrapping her
in a tight hug. “James told me what happened.”

“Ugh, what did he say?” She pushed back,
readjusting her hair, even though I had barely touched it. Naomi
always looked perfectly perfect. She had long dark hair that sat in
a sexy and perfect sweep of bangs across her face, half covering
one of her big brown eyes. She was the girl everyone hated because
no matter what time of day or night, neither rain nor snow nor
sleet could make Naomi look any less then perfect. It was
freaky.

But I loved her anyway. And even though she
could be bitchy as cheer captain sometimes, she knew who her loyal
friends were and she treated me as her equal, which was not the
case with everyone else. Being Naomi’s equal gave me access to a
certain status in school that, as a girl who likes to do her
homework, I wouldn’t normally have just because I wasn’t cool
enough. Being one of the few Latinas at school, I had to work any
angle I had to get ahead.

“All he said was that you guys broke up. It
sounded pretty mutual. Was it?” I pried, trying to sound as
concerned as possible.

“Yeah, I guess it was. I feel better now that
it’s over, but I still feel weird. I don’t know, I guess I just
felt it wasn’t going anywhere.” She twisted a lock of her hair,
curling it around her bright pink acrylic fingernail.

“Yeah, but I tried asking him that too. What
does that mean? We’re graduating soon, so are you saying that you
don’t see yourself with him in the future?” I pushed, really
wanting to know just how ‘over’ this relationship was.

“I don’t know, I guess. I don’t know how to
explain it. It’s like, I just looked at him one day and
thought…this is so over.” She adjusted her tiny black shorts that
had ‘BEBE’ across the butt in sequins and the matching super-tight
black shirt. “Come on, let’s go.”

I changed quickly into tiny black shorts
severely lacking in sequins and a red Cambridge Cheer shirt and
followed her into the gym where the other girls were stretching out
and getting ready for practice. This was considered the ‘small’
gym, which by any other school’s standards, would be their main
gym. I was happy we had it all to ourselves today; sometimes we
shared with the pom squad. Ick.

“But you said you feel better now, huh?” I
linked my arm through hers as we crossed the gym to the middle of
the floor.

“Yeah, I do. Ha, ha, but we’ll see how long
that lasts. I don’t know how I feel about him dating someone else.”
She squeezed my arm.

Shit. Well, it was early yet. Maybe some
other girl could be the victim of Naomi’s wrath first. But hey, I
guess we would just have to cross that bridge when we got to it.
It’s not like James knew I liked him, and Jesus, he was a free man
for the first time in two years, a senior, a damn good basketball
player, and did I mention he was hot as hell? So I was pretty sure
he wouldn’t be getting into another long-term relationship
tomorrow. Other than his harmless flirting, I had no indication
that he really liked me. He probably thought of me as just a
friend. Because I was. I was his now ex-girlfriend’s best friend.
Too much baggage.

“Well, Ari, keep me posted if you see anybody
trying to make a move. Then maybe I’ll know for sure if I’m really
over him.”

“Sure thing babe!” Fake smile. Fake
smile.

“Alright, let’s get this practice started!”
Naomi clapped her hands and the other girls came running as the
sound echoed through the gym.

Homework

Class council meeting

Cheer practice

French Club

Cheer at the basketball game Friday
night

Stare at James (which was awesome)

The week flew by quickly, crashing into the
weekend, where time crawled. Luckily, Mom was nice enough to let me
drive her to and from work on Saturday so I could take the car to
practice. Not that there was much going on otherwise. I had a ton
of homework AND still had to finish my college applications.

After organizing everything into piles around
my room I decided I wasn’t going to get any further unless I got
something to drink. I unlocked the padlock on my door and headed
out to the kitchen.

Padlocking the bedroom door is clearly not
the most normal thing in the world, but it was necessary. Nando, in
addition to being a lowlife on many levels, was also a thief. If I
didn’t lock my room, things turned up missing. I locked it from the
inside when I slept because I didn’t want him coming in to swipe my
stuff. I locked it from the outside when I left the apartment. Mom
preferred to live in ignorance and pretend that she lost things
instead.

As shitty as our basement apartment was, I
was quite proud of my room. It was the nicest part of the whole
place. For my sixteenth birthday when my mom asked what I wanted, I
told her a can of paint and maybe some money to spend at IKEA to
spruce up my room.

With a cheap bookcase and bedside table, some
new sheets and a comforter, a couple of pictures of my friends and
Island Paradise blue paint, it was the perfect sanctuary. Mom also
gave me her little TV because she felt bad that Nando had hijacked
the one in the living room. No one but him could watch it if he was
home and she didn’t want to ‘disturb’ him. Besides, she was never
home to watch it between her two jobs. If she wasn’t washing
clothes at the dry cleaners, she was cleaning office buildings. So
that pretty much left me, and Nando I suppose, to take care of the
apartment.

That was the other thing—I liked to keep my
room immaculate. I used to try to keep the apartment as clean as
possible but when Nando came back it was pointless. Every time I
cleaned something up he would drop ashes from his joints on the
floor or drop his bag of chips or spill his beer. It was always
something. He got it in his head that I was his maid and started
ordering me to clean stuff up. That ended pretty quickly after I
whacked him with the mop.

Nando sat with someone in the living room,
but I didn’t have the time or the energy to worry about what they
were doing in there. It smelled like pot, but that was pretty much
an every day occurrence.

“Hey, Ariceli, what are you doing?” Nando
yelled.

“Leave me alone, Nando, I have work to do.” I
growled back, hoping he would take a hint that I wasn’t in the
mood.

“Is there any pop in the fridge?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you bring me one?”

“No.”

“Aw, come on, just be nice for once,” he
said.

Realizing it would be easier to just bring
him the pop, I grabbed a can and tossed it at him, just missing his
crotch. I’ve gotta work on my aim.

“Heya, Ariceli, your brother is a rude-ass
dick,” the other person said from the couch. I knew that voice.
Nando’s best friend, Javier. He hadn’t been out here since Nando
had moved from the city.

“Hi Javier, what brings you to the ‘burbs?
Selling out like us?” I asked. Javier was always attractive, but
there was something rippling underneath the surface that I couldn’t
quite read. When I glanced at his warm caramel skin and light eyes
I still couldn’t totally fall for it.

“I’m no fucking sell out!” mumbled Nando from
the couch. He sipped his Pepsi. “I keep it real.”

“You’re so right Nando. So real. Where’s this
real job you speak of?” I jabbed back.

“Nando is working, he’s working for me.”
Javier smiled at me.

“No offense, Javi, but I would hardly call
what you do work. Selling dope to pot heads is not a real job.” I
snorted.

“Oooo, Ariceli, that hurts, right here,” he
said, covering his heart with his hands. “Come on baby, why you
gotta be so mean? And something that pays this kinda green has got
to be a real job.” He shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out
a fat roll of twenties.

“Whatever Javi.” I cringed when he said baby
and rolled my eyes, but was slightly mesmerized by the wad of cash.
“You two are idiots.”

I headed back in my room, locking my padlock
and turning up the TV. It must be nice to do nothing and make a ton
of cash. But dreaming about money I didn’t have wasn’t going to
finish my homework or get my applications done. Back to work.

I jolted awake, nearly falling out of bed. My
door and picture frames rattled and someone, or something was
banging against the wall of my room. The glowing numbers of the
clock showed six-thirty in the morning. My brain was full of
cobwebs—it was Sunday. Mom was at work and Nando usually didn’t
come back this early. I figured anything was possible, so I rolled
over and attempted to go back to sleep. The noise didn’t stop.
Great. He was either drunk or high or god knows what and was
trashing the place.

I fumbled with the lock, trying to steady my
quaking fingers. I mean, someone could be totally robbing the place
and I didn’t really want to walk out into that. To be sure I
grabbed my cell phone and dialed Nando’s number. His ridiculously
loud Jay-Z ringtone “Big Pimpin’” rang outside the door.

He slammed his fist on my door.

“Why the fuck are you calling me Ariceli?”
His voice sounded tense.

I unlocked the door peeked my head out, my
eyes roving around the apartment to see what he was doing. There
were piles of clothes and DVDs on the floor and Nando was throwing
everything in the hall closet out onto the floor.

“What the hell are you doing? I called you
because I was worried someone was robbing the place and I didn’t
want to get shot. Excuse me, but I’m not the one tearing up the
place at six-thirty on a Sunday morning.”

“You don’t understand Ariceli. I gotta get
the fuck outta here,” he whined, sounding a bit like a caged
animal. No puffy eyes this morning. Wild, calculating eyes that
were wide-awake.

“Why don’t you calm down and tell me what’s
going on. Maybe I can help you,” I said, trying to keep my cool.
Jesus, if he had to leave, did it mean I had to go too?

“I got arrested last night, but they let me
out!”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand how that is a
problem. Isn’t it a good thing when they let you go?” I asked.

“No. In my situation it’s bad. Really bad.”
He sat down for a minute, his head in his hands. “Look, I have to
report to Javier, and Javier reports to the Big Boss. Now Javier
knows I’m not a rat, but the Big Boss, well he doesn’t know me that
well. They’re gonna think that the 5-0 let me go because I named
names or some shit, even though I didn’t say a word. Those pigs are
just fucking with me. So they let me go on bond but I’m supposed to
go to court next month. The boss will kill me before then.”