Model Ricans

FoxyRicans

A month later, as I am fastening the halter top of my polka dot dress for the first day of school, my armpits are dripping with nerves. The mirror isn't cooperating. I can't see myself clearly without my glasses which are totally screwing up the look I'm going for. Applying thick, black 1960s style eyeliner with one hand while holding up my glasses with the other is messy. Plus, a new zit is forming on my chin. 

I don't look anything like Lady Miss Kier, I look like Mom. That's not a bad thing. Mom is a Foxy Rican. But maybe Sky Bowman will see that I am trying too hard. This dress looks like I'm going to a dance club instead of the first day of school. I change into a pair of jean shorts and a white t-shirt. Now I look like a bum, like I definitely do not want Sky Bowman to talk to me. 

What would a Mickey Rican wear? 

For a split second, I imagine fastening blue triangular stars to a headband in place of Mickey Mouse ears. No way. Sky Bowman will see me and think I've gone completely nuts since our night of...I don't even know what to call it now.

Little Brother bursts through my bedroom door. "C'mon! We're gonna miss the bus!" Even though he is in middle school, our buses always arrive at the same time. 

"Get outta my room," I yell before slamming the door in his face. Looking at my closet, feeling stupid that I spent so much time rearranging it but I still can't even choose the right outfit for the first day of school,  I change into an oversized Ultra Pink military jacket and Guess jeans.

When the bus pulls up to The Flagpole, I see Marga. My mouth drops open. My best friend, who used to look like a boy, has somehow transformed into a total supermodel in a single month. Staying at her dad's beach house for the rest of the summer has clearly had an effect on her. She is wearing a black crop top with black leggings that make her look even taller than she was before. Her hair has grown out into a beautiful, fluffy afro and her blue eyes are lined with black eyeliner.

"Wow," I say. "You look...amazing." 

Marga smiles bashfully and rolls her eyes. "Shhh, don't embarrass me," she says, as she hooks her arm into mine and heads toward the Rican Hallway without saying a word about my carefully chosen outfit. But I don't have time to feel ignored. I can't stop looking at her, I am so jealous of her look, I decide I have to tease her so she doesn't think she's better than I am. "Are you going to stop being a prude now that you're looking so hot? Maybe this is the year you're going to lose your virginity!" 

Marga chuckles. "I finally got my period," she says. "Dad's new girlfriend took me shopping and I decided it's OK to grow out my hair even if my mom prefers it to be short."

Even though I'm supposed to be a person who listens, and even though I'm supposed to be person who came back from the dead with the freedom to be and do anything I want, I can't help myself because Bobby is walking straight toward us. I pat the top of my hair and tear off my glasses. "I look so gross. My hair is so frizzy."

Marga starts narrating for me as she always does when I take off my glasses. Her tone is dry. "He's walking toward us. Shoving his hands in his pockets. Looking stupid, as usual."

I hold my glasses tighter in my hand as I watch the blurry blob of a boy approach. Marga stops narrating as soon as he is in listening distance.

"Hey," he says stupidly at me, not Marga. How can he be talking to me instead of her? She is clearly the better looking one out of the two of us, but here is Bobby, the best friend of Sky Bowman, whose lake house that made me not invisible anymore, talking to me.

I lean up against the lockers, trying not to look beyond his head, in search of Sky Bowman lurking nearby. But I don't see him, so I just say, "Hey. How was your summer?"

Bobby pushes his black hair to the side and nods while saying, "It was good, it was good. Yours?"

"Oh, um...fine," I lie. "Did some traveling, went to the beach."

"Cool, cool," he says. 

There is an awkward silence so I look at Marga, hoping she will say something smart or funny, but she doesn't. She keeps rearranging the books in her locker like it's the most important thing to do on the first day of school. "Crazy we're already back in school," I say. The sound of my voice annoys me. I sound dumb. I am so dumb.

Bobby nods. "Yeah, I know, that's why I wanted to ask you...there's a back to school party at Sky's house on Friday night. Are you going?"

"No," says Marga, slamming her locker and pulling my elbow to leave. "We're not popular or anything."

"Popular? What do you mean by that?" Bobby's eyes shine. He is cuter than I remember.

"Like everyone wants to hang out with you or be your friend, duh," I say for Marga. "Don't you know what popular means?"

"Oh. Maybe you're popular then. Cuz all the guys want to hang out with you. And I want to make sure I am the winner." Bobby's smile shines.

Marga rolls her eyes. "We have to go."

My feet are planted into the ground. "Wait. What are you saying?"

Bobby's face turns red.

Marga says to me, "Maybe you should ask Sky."

The message finally hits me and my legs move forward before I can feel anything. I don't look left or right as my body moves straight ahead to class. I sit. Slump back in my seat. The classroom buzzes with different conversations at each cluster of desks. Brandi C and Stacey Quinn seem to talk louder than the others.

"Summer was so boring but it's better than being here," says Brandi.

"At least there's Sky Bowman's party on Friday night," says Stacey Quinn. "Are you going?" 

Brandi C laughs and then looks over at me. Even though she is whispering, I can still hear her say, "I heard he paid her to have sex."

My English teacher is out in the hallway, talking to another teacher, telling kids in between classes to hurry before the bell rings. The world is spinning. My body is frozen. There are no feelings. Just stillness. Is this death? Yes, I must still be a dead person living like a robot in the future with a mad scientist tinkering with my memories. 

Sky Bowman told everyone he paid me for sex. The memory of him giving me cash flashes through my mind as the classroom scene moves in slow motion. Twenty-five dollars each way for my cab rides. Fifty bucks. I am a fifty-dollar prostitute in tenth grade.  I do not hear most of the lecture on Tess of the D'Urbervilles. 

My mind and spirit leave my body. They swirl upward into a time vortex to into La Ceiba where it is safe. I am time traveling. Where am I going? When am I going? I close my eyes.

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