I was in the lunchroom cleaning up with a broom. Chris, if that's his name, was cleaning up with a mop. We were both covered in food, and food in our hair. I have my earphones on and my music turned up to the max. I didn't wanna hear anything he had to say about arguing with his little girlfriend of his. He tapped me on the shoulder. I look up at him and take my earphones off.
"You got a minute?" he asks.
"Can't you see I'm cleaning? And you're supposed to be too."
"The lunchroom's clean."
I look around. Damn, I've been cleaning up so much, I didn't realize.
I sighed. "What's up? If it's about your girlfriend, I don't wanna hear it. I'm sorry if I came off wrong, but I have ticking bomb that doesn't have a time."
"Yeah, well you need to control that."
"And you're no help cause I'm gonna explode again," I say putting the broom up.
I start to walk out. Before I do.
"Why did you take up for her? She could've paid the consequences."
"Because I knew you guys would end up fighting again if you two were in here together. And I didn't want her pretty face to be rearranged."
I scoff. "You must really be in 'love' with her," I say in quotation marks.
I left out.
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*At home*
I'm so glad I don't have to go to that school for a whole week. Spring Break is here. It's 6:00pm. I hope my mom's not off work yet. I got off my motorcycle and took of my helmet. I hope her car isn't in the garage. I secretly try to open the door. I close it. She's in there cooking with the TV on. I try to tip-toe up the stairs. I'm homefree! When I get halfway up there, my mom called me out.
"Raquel Kathleen Ganzolez ."
I stop, look down and sigh. "Mam," I call back out.
"Get down here and tell me what happened."
I walk back down the stairs and walk pass the living room. My twin sisters, Maria and Mariah, were on the couch watching Disney Channel.
"Oooh, you're in trouble," Maria said.
"Como siempre," Mariah said.
"Both of you shut up," I say walking in the kitchen.
She said "like always'. They look exactly alike, but one thing different about them is Maria knows more English than Spanish, and Mariah knows more Spanish than English.
My mom was cutting tomatoes. "What's going on at school," she asks with her Latino accent. She has beautiful brown hair with plump lips and light brown eyes. And, hey, she maybe 37, but she looks like she's in her 20's.
"Two preps were kissing in the middle of the hallway, so I told them off. But the girl tried to get froggy with me, so I jumped with her. And it turn into a food fight-"
"Which is why you have spaghetti in your hair," she says picking it out.
"Yes. And when we got in trouble, her boyfriend took up for him. And I dislike him for that."
"Why?"
"Because she should've got what she asked for. Not him. Plus, he had the nerve to tell me I should control my anger after I told him I was sorry."
My mom laughs. "Is he cute?"
I made a noise like I was going to barf. "A prep? Cute to me? You tweaking, Ma?"
"What's tweaking?'
"It means are you high, Ma."
"No, hun. And why do you call them preps like they're not human?"
"They act like they're not! They act like they're like some perfect Barbie and Ken dolls with shiny Corvettes and Jeeps and big mansions on a valley hill. And wouldn't be caught dead wearing the same thing twice." I sat on top of the counter.
"And Ma, he makes me so mad. Se cree que es tan perfecto porque su novia es prácticamente una muñeca Barbie y las niñas tiene sobre él. Y que él es un atleta de fútbol y Caan conseguir lo que quiere ...." I rammed on in Spanish.
My mom slid the tomatoes into the bowl and started cutting red peppers.
"Raquel, calm down, honey."
I still rammed on speaking my mind in Spanish.
While I was noticing, my mom claps her hands together in my ear. She knows I hate that!
"Maldita sea mamá!" I said holding my ear.
"Ooooh!" the twins said. They're 10.
"Girls calm down. That profanity, Raquel," Ma said.
"I know, but it slipped. You know I hate that. But I guess it was for my own good."
"Mm-hmm. Oh, Raquel. You know we're going on vacation tommorow, right?"
"Yeah." Uh-oh, I feel something coming on.
"Well, my best friends since high scool are coming with us. And they have a teenager of their own."
"A girl or boy?" I ask cautiously.
"A boy," she said.
"Jesus. He better be a bad boy, or else I'm not talking to him."
"And if he isn't give him a chance, okay?"
I sigh and nod. "Okay, Ma. When's Dad coming home from work."
"Late."
"Please don't tell him about today?" I say in a pleading voice.
My mom smiled. "I won't. "
"Promesa?" I say smiling.
"Promesa," she says while crossing our pinkies together. She pats my thigh. "Come on. Get off the counter and help me cook."
I jump off and start cutting. "After this, I'm washing my hair."
"Hey, it looks good in your hair. It matches your highlights."
We both laughed at that comment.
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