𝐺𝑈𝐸𝑅𝑅𝐴

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗦𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻: 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗚𝗮𝗺𝗲

Cuziema

"How many tickets?" Asked the lady in the booth.

"Two." Andrés answered, "One student and one adult."

"That'll be 8 dollars." I went to give the money that I brought to buy our entrances when Andrés stopped me.

"Woah, woah, woah, what do you think you're doing?" He turned to look at me, stopping my arm mid-pay.

"Uhm, paying for our tickets?"

"Why?" He looked at me, dumbfounded.

"So we can get in..?" I say the obvious, putting my arm slightly down.

"Save your money," he told me, reaching into his pocket. "I'm paying."

"But I'm the one who invited you. It only makes sense that I pay."

"I'm the adult."

    "I'm the one that goes here," Before he could take out his money I paid, quickly grabbing the tickets and his wrist, dragging him away from the booth.

"Hey!" He whined.

"If you want to pay for something you can pay for the food." I compromised.

I gave the tickets to the gate lady who quickly checked them before letting us pass. Instantly, we are surrounded by people waiting in line for food. I held his wrist tighter as we passed through the crowd to get to the bleachers. Just as the players were let out I let go of his wrist. We sat in the middle of the fifth row.

The sun had set and the stadium lights beamed a blinding light onto the field. The October wind blew cold past my ears and nose as I hid my hands in my jacket's pockets in an attempt to keep them warm.

"Who do you think will win?" Asks Andrés.

"Their games are always close, hard to guess."

***

    It was the 4th quarter of the game. It had gotten colder and I had felt as if my face had gone numb from the icy breeze. My teeth chattered and my body trembled. Andrés must have noticed because he gave me some money to buy him a hotdog and enough extra money to buy myself a hot chocolate.

    The lines had gotten shorter compared to earlier. It took no longer than a couple of minutes to get to the front.

    "One hot dog and one hot chocolate," I ordered.

    "Coming right up." The man quickly grabbed a hotdog and filled me with a cup of hot chocolate. "5 dollars." I handed him over the money, grabbing the hot dog and the boiling cup. I tried to hurry over to Andres before the skin of my fingers began to melt but, of course, someone was in my way.

    "Angela," I say, staring into the eyes of the witch, her friends standing behind her.

    "Cuziema." She slumped to her side with her arms crossed. She wore her cheerleading uniform as well as her hair tied in a high ponytail topped with a bow.

    "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be on the field? You know, cheerleading?" The hot chocolate seemed to be getting hotter and hotter.

    "The dance team is on right now and I wanted a drink. Coach permitted us to get some water."

    "How kind of her," I gritted as my hand overheated. I wiggled my fingers trying to let them cool off for a split second. "Well, if that's all, I have to get going." I make my way to pass through but these girls wouldn't budge.

    "Did you start my part of the project?" Angela asked, stepping forward. She placed her hand on her hip and her chin up high as if trying to demonstrate dominance.

"No, because I'm not doing it." She's really starting to piss me off and my hand is beginning to burn.

"Why are you making such a big deal out of this? Why can't you just do it? Make it easier for the both of us." Her mouth seems incapable of shutting up as she goes on and on. But then, she said something that crossed the line. "Be more like your mother, taking orders from customers." I threw the hot chocolate at her face causing her to scream. I dropped the hotdog and the empty cup and swung at her face.

She fell back due to the impact of my punch. I got on top of her and kept swinging. She waved her hands around like a madman in desperation to hit me. It was so embarrassing.

"Somebody get her off of me! She's crazy." She screamed, using her arms to block herself. Everyone was watching. The scene even caught the attention of those on the bleachers.

"Somebody call the principal!" I hear one of her friends yell. That didn't stop me from hitting her. She disrespected my mom. That's a line one should never cross.

    I feel a pair of arms wrapped around me and pulling me off of her. "Let me go! I'm not done!" I yell at them. Just then the principal emerges from the crowd. He looked at me then at his granddaughter who was pulling one hell of a show. She was crying her eyes out, her ponytail was ruined and she acted as if she couldn't breathe.

    "Grandpa!" She gets up and runs into his arms, "she's crazy! Look what she did to me!" She looked up at him, her face stained with blood and light bruises that were bound to get worse. The principal then looked back at me and he seemed beyond pissed.

    "What the hell is wrong with you? Attacking a fellow student like this?!" He huffed before beginning to walk over to me, "you're coming with me." He says, stretching his arm out to grab me but not before I feel a pair of hands place themselves on my shoulder, pulling me back.

    "Don't fucking touch her." He says. It was Andrés. He glared at the principal with such a menacing gaze that even I was scared. He looked as if he was capable of murder. The principal stepped back, obviously intimidated by him.

    "Fine. But I expect her to be in my office."

    "You can shove the expectation up your ass because we're leaving. Let's go." He grabbed me by the hand and began dragging me out of there. The crowd split, letting us pass through.

***

    The car ride was quiet. Neither of us spoke for a while. I looked out the window, counting the street lamps as we passed them. I checked the time on the car's clock, 8:53. Mom's shift ends at 10. She'll probably get a call from the principal.

    "Where'd you learn to punch like that?" I looked over to Andrés who kept his eyes on the road.

    "Mom taught me," I answered.

"You pack a punch. You made her fall on the first swing." We both laugh.

"Yeah, I'm pretty strong." It quieted down again but the air became serious.

"Why'd you punch her?"

"She disrespected my mom," I say, firmly. I looked over to see his expression only to see him grinning from ear to ear. "Why so smiley?"

"Nothing," he says. "Just proud." I felt this feeling of happiness wash over me, but it felt as if it was a different kind of happiness.

"I hope my mom feels the same."

"I think she'll understand..." he pauses, "eventually."