Boycotting Blue

08/Blue

Blue

 

I had never cared for learning anything but the ropes of how to run a gang, but learning Lou was better than that. There were three types of Lous I had come across so far: reserved Lou that didn’t touch me or talk to me, hyper Lou that squealed and hugged a lot, and then just Lou that laughed, argued, and fought with me for the hell of it. I liked the last one best. She was stubborn, feisty, and those smiles made me want to throw her on top of a bed and have my way with her.

   In just a few weeks, I had found myself quickly falling for her. She still wasn’t sure if I genuinely enjoyed her company, or if I was just hanging with her to hurt her later, and I tried my hardest to prove I actually wanted to be with her. She had this way of slapping me on the shoulder coupled with this little look in those ojos that made me laugh, even though she was trying to be mean to me. She had a laugh that ranged from cute to donkey in about four seconds, depending on how funny it was. She teased me back, told me I was muy feo, and then came back a few minutes later and told me I was the sexiest boy she had ever seen. She flirted with me, teasingly, always telling me she would never back up her words. And I didn’t push her to.

   Lou refused to be anywhere with me alone. If Tio was not home, we sat on the front porch, or went to her casa, where people were cleaning/cooking. If he was home, we sat in the living room and did homework, or we played baloncesta in the backyard. She was careful not to do any touching that could be thought of as her encouraging me to take it further. She didn’t wear clothing that intentionally put her best curves forward—although, I prayed to Dios she would—and she was always a lady. Mis ojos strayed to her so many times when we were around, it was weird how I had noticed anything else.

   Hell, Lou had me with straight A’s on my report card.

   And that red lipstick was driving me fucking loco.

   I hadn’t even thought about that life lately. Five weeks was all it had taken for me to find something to consume my life with, so I didn’t think about them anymore. I hadn’t stayed up in the wee hours of the morning playing baloncesta in about three weeks. Nada seemed more important than whatever Lou had told me.

   Soy no es estupido—I knew I was in love. If it wasn’t for me noticing it on my own, Tio and Lou’s padre would’ve let me know. First came Senor Brown. He stopped one night when I was listening to music on my iPod, and told me, “If you hurt my daughter, I will break your neck. I don’t care where you came from, or what you did, but I will break your neck.” I was partly amused, partly afraid. Hurt Lou? Si, as if that would happen. But his dark voice, coupled with the fear of padres already, left me shaking.

   Next, came Tio. He stopped me on my way from leaving her casa and threw me on the sofa, shouting at me that I was to be her amiga, not try to get in her pants. And I, smartassedly, remarked, “But she was wearin’ a dress today, Tio.”  And he made me stop visiting her and letting her come over for two weeks—until he saw we both looked pitiful without the after-escuela visits.

    I wouldn’t have touched her anyway. I couldn’t. Lou was sweet, innocent, and virgin. I couldn’t bring her into my life like that. She would be strong enough to handle it, I was sure, but I didn’t want to introduce her to mota guns, and gangbangers. She already caught hell from Roberto y su chicos. But I couldn’t touch them, no matter how badly I wanted to. I couldn’t get suspended or expelled, and leave her there by herself. Everybody was just realizing that I was going to fuck up their caras if they did.