Model Ricans

Marga's Beef

Mom is asking me why I am bringing her ice water.

Why am I bringing her ice water?

I am not nice. I am not kind. I just want her to say yes, I can go to Marga's house without yelling at me for sneaking out last night.

I stress.

I blink.

I think.

I used to be kind. I used to be nice. In New York, my teachers always wrote, "Such a sweet girl," on my progress reports. But I'm not sweet. I am mean. I am bad. One time Diana Rodriguez kicked me in the lower back when I was sitting on the curb waiting for the recess bell to ring. "I call you out!" she said, and we threw punches at each other until we both ended up in the principal's office. And then we became best friends. Oh God, I miss her sooooo much!

Mom is snapping her fingers in front of me. "Desiree, wake up, you look zoned out, where are you?"

I blink-blink-blink. "Um, what did you say?"

Mom laughs. "Ay. I asked why are you bringing me water? What do you want? Just spit it out."

Woah. She doesn't seem to know anything about last night. Quick. Ask what I need to ask. "Can I go to Marga's house? To prepare for math? The next summer session starts next week."

Mom smiles. "Yeah, of course. I love that Marga. She's so smart. Tell her I said hi. And don't come back too late."

"Ok, thanks, ma," and I run to the shed to fetch my bike before she can stop me.

Oh my gosh. I can't believe it. I can't believe it. I can't believe it.
She doesn't know.
She doesn't freaking know.
Should she know?

Should I tell her? Mallory Keaton in Family Ties asked her mom about sex. But Mom is NOT Elyse Keaton. I gotta tell Marga. Gotta get to Marga, Marga, Marga, quick quick quick.

I hop on my bike and notice right away how sore my whole...area is. Ugh. I'll get through it. Ride through it and out to University Boulevard. Who the heck designed these massive six-lane roads between subdivisions with names like Winter Glen and Arbor Glen and Glen East?

Gotta get to Marga's house, she will know what to do, she always knows what to do, keep pedaling.

As I ride on the sidewalks of University Boulevard, cars swishing past, at 88 miles per hour, the stress of wondering if Mom was going to rip my heart out combined with Sky Bowman potentially not calling plus biking uphill in the heat puts me into that zombie state again. The same phrase keeps repeating over and over outside my body.

"I am not a virgin. I am not a virgin. I am not a virgin."

If I am not a virgin, who am I now?

A slutty girl on a bike.

I stop pedaling as I go downhill. The bike chain tick tick ticks and I am sitting in Mrs. Lanny's English class behind Sky Bowman, staring at the chalkboard with the numbers 1988 underlined with the question: "Who are you?"

How did I get here? I thought I was riding my bike to Marga's house but now I am sitting behind Sky Bowman, staring at the back of his head until boom. I'm on the ground. I must have fallen off my bike. I must be going crazy. My knee is so sore. I look down. It's covered in blood. Immediately I get up and keep pedaling, ignoring the pain on my knee, between my legs, and inside my chest.

When Marga opens the door, my knee covered in dried blood, I immediately start talking. "You're never going to believe this, oh, don't worry about my knee, I'm fine, and I really missed you all these months, it's so good to see you, I actually passed by your house last night, I wanted to stop by but I didn't know if you were still mad at me, but anyways, I couldn't stop because I was in a taxi cab and it picked me up in the middle of the night and I time traveled to the past but then I ended up at Sky Bowman's house, and he told me he loved me, he's had the opportunity to have sex with other girls but he decided not to because they weren't special like me, and now I'm not invisible anymore. Or a virgin."