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one month later
"ooh, oooh, ooooh! needless to say, I keep hm mhh, she was all bad-bad, nevertheless. Callin' it's quits now, baby, Imma—
"Miles!"
"wreck. crash at my place baby you're a wreck. ooh, ooh, oooh..."
"Miles!"
"something's you just can't refuse... she wanna ride me like a cruise—"
"MILES!"
"yeah! y—yeah!" the boy pulled his headphones from his ears, clearing his throat with a cough. "yeah?"
"are you finished packing for school?"
he looked behind him, an empty suitcase. with a nervous smile, he took his notebook off his desk and looked to his closed door, "yeah...?"
"and you'll be left in the dust."
he grabbed his book-bag and shoved it over a stack of books, muffled sentences leaving his mouth. "ye—ah, just ironing my last shirt!"
his mother called from downstairs, urging him to hurry before he was late.
"you're the sunflower."
"c'mon, you're a grown man now, let's show these teachers that."
he pulled his uniform over his head, the song from his headphones still echoing through the background noise of his house.
"Miles!!"
he opened his bedroom door, book-bag over his chest and his headphones still around his neck "then you'll be left in the dust—"
"w—where's my laptop?" he began looking around his house, repeating the question in spanish, "¿donde está mi portátil?"
his mother walked into the kitchen, holding a hand under the spoon of food she was making, "yo no se."
"look, if you want me to drive you, we gotta go now!"
Miles cringed, moving to the couch to throw the covering on the floor. "no, dad, I'll walk."
"okay, personal chauffeur... going once—"
"it's okay!"
Miles walked into the kitchen, running into his mother. her cup of coffee spilling, her looking at Miles with anger, "ay bendito, Miles, ¡esto me está volviendo loco!"
