Down to the Bone (7 page)

Soli and I have always loved goofing off. Introspective as I may be, I’ve always been an extrovert, like her.

But Soli doesn’t get that right now I need silence and peace, something I’ve never craved. The day-to-day rowdiness that comprised our happy lives seems like something of the past. I just can’t get into the playful banter we always had going. I don’t want to push her away, but I’m in no mood to fool around. Still, I’ll do my best to make her feel I’m okay.

I unexpectedly pinch her left boob and she lets out a ballistic laugh. I push her off me and rake my dripping wet hair back with all ten fingers. I pass the arched entrance into the bright orange kitchen filled with spider plants and hanging copper pots.

A gringa-looking girl with shoulder-length strawberry-colored hair, green eyes, and long arms and legs follows Soli into the kitchen. “Shyly, this is Rynn. She’s a lezzie.” She turns to the girl. “Rynn, this is Shai, but you can call her any nickname you want. She has dozens.” That’s true. It all started the day CC proclaimed, “No one without a nickname will be accepted into our Honorable Ho’s Club. Nicknames for everybody!” The club was started by Aracelys. She wanted to befriend girls who wouldn’t lie or gossip (what a crazy idea, since that’s what girls normally thrive on). That day, everyone had a different nickname for me. They had no clue I was the only one in our group who’d withheld information that kept them from getting a real glimpse into my true life, or I might not have been considered an “honorable” enough member to join.

I guess I can see why they’re so pissed. But then again, how praiseworthy and respectable is it to shun a friend simply because she likes girls? Well, maybe it’s because I lied, but a fib can be easily forgiven. I have an inkling it’s all about my sexual preferences.

I couldn’t help lying. I didn’t mean any harm. Even if Marlena hadn’t been so terrified of my telling anyone about her, I probably wouldn’t have told my friends about me, either. Who cares how I spend my private time, anyway? So
what
if I invented a boyfriend in Spain who expressed his undying love for me by Skype and e-mails? They should forgive me and get that I was scared to tell them about me for fear of losing them. I knew enough about them to know they were always making fun of dykes and making grotesque faces and remarks if they thought a girl liked them.

“Hey.” We kiss each other hello. Rynn stands up against a wall with arms folded over her chest. She barely moves and reminds me of a lamppost.

I have a gut feeling Soli’s bringing her here so I can start having lezzie friends to chill with. Rynn is really attractive. I have trouble looking straight into her eyes.

I pour ground Café Bustelo into the coffeemaker and before I can ask her about herself, Soli begins:

“Shyly’s a trip. She loves to paint. She can’t live without e-books, nerdy romantic music, and she turns old men’s golfing polyester checkered pants into shorts and bandanas. She’s Green and visits homeless and sick kids at shelters. She’s going to change the world and is antichemicals, against pollution, hates pesticides and she rarely eats meat,” she tells La Gringa, as if she gave a royal raccoon’s whisker.

“I eat everything, but I’d rather spare some animals’ lives when possible,” I tell Rynn and turn to Soli. “How would
you
like it if people roasted
you
and had
you
for dinner?”

“I wouldn’t mind. I’m sure you’ve grilled Marlena up good and taken a few bites out of her.”

When Soli and I are with a bunch of new Facebook friends, or just someone I’ve never met, she makes me the center of attention. The first few times, I didn’t know where to hide. Eventually, though, when I realized everyone got a kick out of it, I ran with it. Now, she’s starting with her mischief. She’s never talked openly about Marlena and me to anyone. I guess what happened today gives her the license to do so. She knows word’s already spread all over Miami about my lascivious acts and she feels free to loosen her tongue and say what she wishes.

“Shyly’s thinking of becoming a nun.”

“Really?” La Gringa has question marks in her eyes.

“Yup.” I try to keep on a serious face and ask if they want fruit but they don’t. I grab a plum from the fridge and bite into it with a snap. “Ninety-nine percent of nuns proclaim the right to withhold information about their sexuality. In fact, most nuns lead underground romantic lives. Right now, if we were to peek into a convent bedroom, we’d see them embracing and getting down, way down. It’s a party every night at the convent. I’m headed there tonight. Want to come?”

La Gringa chuckles.

The plum is so sour I make a face and throw it back in the fridge.

I prepare
café-con-leches.
The smell of freshly brewed percolated espresso fills the duplex. Soli takes a sip and adds more espresso to her cup. “Dark is better.” She’s talking about her clove-colored skin.

Rynn’s face beams brighter than a flashlight. I can tell she’s fallen for Soli. Too bad Soli’s not into girls. Rynn seems like a great catch.

We’re interrupted by a sky filled with rioting hawks in flight, and we gaze up through the bay windows in awe. They leave our sight and I catch a glimpse of mandarin and lemon trees basking in the sun. Why is there so much chaos in this world when life could always be this beautiful?

They sit on the living room floor as I grab one of my archaic CDs from my shoulder bag on the couch. I put on my favorite song,
ever:
“Girl from Ipanema,” by Astrud Gilberto and Stan Getz.

I go to the fridge, take out a box of
churros,
and throw it on the coffee table. I always feel at home when I’m here. In some ways, I feel as if Soli is my sister and Viva my second mom.

Soli rips open the box. “¡Grrrr .
. . qué rico!”
She sticks a
churro
in her mouth and nudges La Gringa in her skinny ribs as she crunches away. “I told you she’d put on geeky, three-hundred-year-old music, didn’t I?”

Rynn grins and her adorable, slightly buck teeth stick out.

“Where did you and Soli meet?” Her eyes dart around, checking out the wall-to-wall plastic framed paintings of saints, colorful goddess figurines, tall plastic banana plants, the mural I drew two years ago of the ocean and plastic pink chandeliered lamps (Soli’s mom decorated the place).

We answer at the same time, “La Virgencita de Guadalupe Elementary, the worst Catholic grammar school in the history of the universe!” Soli slaps her right thigh, and lifts an eyebrow
.

I dunk a
churro
in my
café-con-leche
, stick it in my mouth, and munch on it. “We met in first grade. Her mom cleaned the school, and she got free tuition. Soli was the only black kid in school. She was really shy to ask others to play with her. I befriended her. We played at recess and had a blast.”

I remember all the fun times Soli and I had in elementary school, and the trouble we’d get into simply because of our rebellious nature and fast-paced brains. We were the two in class who always raised our hands first, with such enthusiasm we nearly pulled a muscle and practically fell off our seats. “I know! I know the answer! Pick me!” we’d say in unison. We’d spend all day studying together at Soli’s house after school (the bus dropped us off here, and then my mom picked me up after she got home from work) and so we were confident we knew all the answers.

Then there were the times I disagreed with teachers when they weren’t prepared. If I got told to go to the back of the room for disrupting the class (informing educators their research was way off), Soli joined me on her own accord. “I agree with Shyly.” At the end of the day, teachers took a liking to us and never really punished us or gave us detentions. How could they? We always handed work in on time and were too eager to learn, please and get good grades.

She smiles proudly as she texts a few of her boy toys. “Shyly’s my closest friend.”

“It’s good you had Shai for a friend.” La Gringa sips her
café-con-leche
slowly, as if scared of finding a goldfish in it.

Soli dives in. “Shyly just got thrown out of school
and
her house.” She explains the reason my mother kicked me out. My stomach starts to burn something terrible. Rynn listens calmly.

I feel vulnerable as Soli talks about my texts in vivid detail. I don’t want to think about what happened anymore. I avert my eyes to the windows, gaze up, and see the aqua sky floating by as if it were an ocean of clouds.

Rynn doesn’t even bat an eyelash. “No big deal. Those texts were sweet. You should see the ones my ex and I sent each other.” She turns to Soli. “Shai’s uncomfortable. She’s looking away from us. Let’s talk about something else.”

I’m impressed by her sensitivity.

The conversation twirls to the fact Rynn is single. She likes to date many girls without getting attached so one day she can find the right one. “I’ve never been in love,” she says. She’s got a lot in common with Soli.

Rynn spins the subject around and speaks about the ultrachic haircut she wants Soli to give her. I’m in my own world, thinking about my day, when Rynn touches my shoulder and my thoughts dissolve and shift to her. She wants to tell us a “story.” Soli and I prick up our ears.

“Last year on spring break my mom came to visit us from Oregon. After their divorce, she and my dad still get along. We went to Kingdom COMEedy, a teen street drag show with my drag queen brother Joaquin. Our mom dressed him up and he performed as ‘Tatiana Titi.’”

Soli and I burst out laughing.

“Tatiana Titi and her gag partner, Temper Tantrum, dressed to kill. They wore outrageously colorful feathered outfits and tall, thick wigs. They performed the funniest comedy act you’ve ever seen. The crowds were in stitches, until Tatiana Titi changed her tacky clothes and transformed into Joy, an elegant girl.” She looks away from us, then down to the floor. “The audience became dead silent when Joy sang a love song whose lyrics she wrote.” She pauses a moment, then goes on. “She got the biggest standing ovation. Then, out of nowhere, Reina appears from the back of the stage. She hugged her so hard and told the audience she wanted Tatiana Titi to be on her next
Drag Me Down
TV show!”

“Yeah, Bitches!” Soli and I honk. That’s our favorite program, the only one we never miss.

La Gringa clears her voice. “Joy started doing serious underground drag shows when she was twelve. That’s how she made her money.” She throws out a sweet smile then looks down at her long skinny fingers with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen. “I’m so relieved she’s got a chance for a better life now.”

I put my hand on her shoulder. “Yeah. I hope she wins. We’ll be rooting for her.”

A deep silence fills the room. Suddenly, Soli and I realize Joy was leading a really hard life and now has her first chance for a future.

Rynn abruptly changes the subject. “What high school will you be transferring to?”

“I’m quitting school forever.” I take a hot slurp of
café-con-leche
; it goes down smooth. “And you?”

“After my parents divorced, I told my dad if he didn’t transfer me to Delphi High, I’d go live with my mom in Oregon.”

We talk more about her dating life till Soli spins the focus back on me. “I can’t believe what Fart Face did to you.” She takes a few slurps of
café-con-leche
, then bites into a
churro,
and the sugar crystals shower the floor
.
Neruda licks the floor clean.

“That’s so horrific.” Rynn’s a great support, which is amazing.

“If teachers at your school had found texts like mine, wouldn’t they have kicked you out, too?”

“No way. Our principal is trans. Your instructor’s behavior, then expelling you, would never be permitted in my school. In fact, I think it’s against the law. That’s a cause for hiring a pro bono attorney. That teacher and principal need to be fired.”

She’s right. But then I’d need to tattle on my mother. She’d get in serious trouble for throwing a minor out of the house. When loving parents who make one wrong move are involved, it’s hard to know what to do.

“I can’t snitch on my mom. I need to walk away and forget about it,” I tell her. “Your school sounds incredible.”

“It’s an expensive private school for intellectually gifted and non-ignorant genius kids.” She goofs off and throws me a suave smile. “Like
moi.
”

Soli says, “Shyly’s wicked-smart. A straight-A student. I make A’s and B’s, but her grades never waver. Wish she could afford to sue their ugly asses first, then go to Delphi. If I were wealthy, I’d pay for her tuition there.”

Rynn’s expression turns droopy. “If I had money to use as I wanted, I’d help you out, too.”

I really like this girl. She’s a person with a heart. I want to open up to her, but feel a little shy about it.

Rynn wipes her line-of-a-lip with a napkin. “Delphi is a great school. It’s because you were at a Cuban private school that you were treated that way. Conservative teachers suck so bad.”

She clears her voice. “My parents are the best, though. They’re totally open-minded. My uncle is an ignorant Republican, like all the right-wing assholes here. He hates gays, blacks, environmentalists and shit like that.” She shakes her head. “He’s twisted. And to top it off, he lives with us because he lost his job. I can’t wait till tomorrow. I’m heading to Oregon for summer vacation to be with my mom. I’m like my parents. My uncle, your mom and your teachers are ignorant fools. You’re a million steps above them all.”

Soli changes the conversation. She always does just when things start getting intense. She hates talking politics, or anything serious, for too long. She says, “It cramps my style, Shylypop.”

She starts advising me. “Today, all the hoodrats who made fun of you or did you wrong need to be erased from your mind. Don’t you
dare
give them the time of day again.”

I start leafing through pages of a magazine, catching every word she’s saying, without seeming sad.

Right before the Incident, Soli and I had been spending some of our spare time at the beach, swimming, rollerblading and things like that. We never had the need to give each other guidance or vent about problems. We were too busy having fun.