"He put it in my bag."
Maritza twisted a lock of jet-black hair around her index finger. She tipped her head towards Flaca as they both stared up, trying to imagine a blanket of stars instead of the concrete ceiling.
"I didn't even know it was there. I thought I was carrying heavy ass baby formula until the officer stopped me. Stupid."
"I've met a lot of stupid people. You're not one of them," Flaca offered.
"I never even shot a gun before." Maritza shook her head at the absurdity. "What about you? I know Ian did something to get you locked up. How come you never talk about it?"
Flaca hesitated, not wanting to revisit the memory. Then finally, a tiny smile crept to the corners of her mouth.
"It's not his fault. I knew what I was doing."
——
Back row of the classroom, as usual. Flaca's eyes glazed over as she stared ahead at the blackboard, trying to tune out the idiot brunette babbling on about Shakespeare. Her tolerance for nonsense was low, and high school was full of nonsense. Everyone was so concerned about looking and dressing and being like everybody else. Their faces all blended together into one boring blob.
Flaca reached down through her torn black fishnets and pinched her thigh hard to keep from falling asleep, just as the brunette said, a little too smugly, that Romeo and Juliet was the greatest love story ever told.
Flaca snorted a laugh. Everyone turned to stare.
"Do you have something to add to the discussion, Miss Gonzalez?" The teacher looked down her nose at Flaca through coke bottle glasses.
"Yeah, that's retarded."
The brunette screwed up her face. "Excuse me?"
"It's not a real love story, gringa. It's a warning about bad blood between families. They're trying to say if you have beef with somebody you need to squash that shit or somebody could get killed. They're just like my cousins."
"You're insane. Everybody knows that Romeo and Juliet is the most romantic story there is."
"Then why do they say that he was in love with somebody else like five minutes before he met her? It's like, a pattern of behavior. If he had of lived long enough, he probably would have dumped her and moved on to the next bitch. I'd never fall for that shit –"
"Miss Gonzalez, language," the teacher chimed in.
The brunette was sufficiently flustered. She wasn't letting this one go.
"We're talking about Shakespeare, not your baby's daddy, you freak."
Freak was the one word that always set Flaca off, and the other kids knew it. Ever since she fell in love with goth and black became her signature color, there had been fights every day. She was a black sheep in a flock of, well, sheep.
Her Uncle Tino said she was just like her mother, a hot-blooded Latina who couldn't control her temper. But he always said it with pride, his eyes sparkling and a cigarette bobbing between his grinning teeth, which made Flaca feel it was okay to fly off the handle every now and then.
So it was no surprise when she found herself kneeling on the floor, tearing the stringy brown hair from the brunette's head. But it was unfortunate, because this fight landed her in Special Ed.
——
Flaca stood before his desk with hands at her sides, her fingertips measuring the length of her too-short skirt.
"Frankenstein boots, mini skirt, black lipstick. You're breaking the dress code."
"So?"
Flaca glanced around. Special Education was a joke. Besides herself, the only kids in the classroom were a napping stoner and a kid so slow he couldn't tell you his own name.
"I'm already in here. What else you want to do to me?"
"They said you have anger management issues." He sniffed the air. "And a serious pot problem."
"I didn't do shit and you can't prove shit."
The teacher rose to look Flaca in the eye. At full height, he towered over her just enough to make her nervous. Then his eyes softened.
"Relax. They're not allowed to tell you this, but pot never hurt anybody. And I'm not here to punish you. Whoever had you reading Romeo and Juliet is the one that deserves to be punished."
He kept his eyes trained on her as he moved to the bookshelf and pulled out a copy of Kafka's Metamorphosis. He tossed it to her.
"This should be about your speed."
Flaca glanced around again, convinced that this must be a practical joke.
"We both know you're too smart for this class. Maybe too smart for your own good."
"Then get me out of here."
"Read this, and I'll see what I can do."
The bell rang before Flaca could protest any further. She headed for the door.
"Hey, I just saved you from six weeks' hard labor in detention hall. Don't I get a thank you?"
"Thanks Mr. Murphy," Flaca mumbled, shoving the book in her bag.
"Call me Ian." He smiled. "It'll be our little secret."
YOU ARE READING
How Soon Is Now?
Fanfiction"Freak" was the one word that always set Flaca off, and the other kids knew it. Ever since she fell in love with goth and black became her signature color, there had been fights every day. She was a black sheep in a flock of, well, sheep.
