How to Break a Heart (8 page)

“God, I hope that Thad can cure you of him,” she says. “But right now,
I’m
your best friend, and I’m right next to you, and I need you to focus. We’ve got to get to the real story to even be in the running for the YoJo.”

“Okay, you’re right, I’m sorry,” I say.

“I was telling you the hall was closed—the hall where the window incident happened. It’s all coned off. Mr. Jenkins said it was a safety issue, but this is so crazy.”

Then our conversation is interrupted by “Oh. My. Darling.
Clementine
.” It’s Amelia. She’s been trying to make that expression a thing since sixth grade, but despite the fact that she uses it—and abbreviations of it—a million times a day, it hasn’t really caught on.

We both turn. Amelia is staring up at Madison Buckner, who has stopped by our table to deliver some news.

“Are you serious?” Jordan says to Madison.

“What?” I ask.

Amelia answers. “Madison just said that she heard that the person who broke the window was that sub who always wears the man-clogs—remember him? Mr. Frick? Yeah, guess where he’s been for the last three months. An asylum!
O.M.D.C.
”

At that, Sirina and I exchange a look that says
There she goes again.

The girls make squealing noises, and I can’t help but feel a little adrenaline rush.

“I have an idea,” I say to Sirina, just above a whisper.

“What?”

“Finish your corn dog.”

“That’s your idea?”

“No, dummy.” And then I lean in closer and say quietly, “Let’s go check out the crime scene.”

“But I told you—it’s closed.”

“Yeah, officially.”

She glances around the room. “Like, sneak down there?”

I lift my eyebrows.

She smiles. “Very telenovela. I like it.”

She takes the last bite of her corn dog and we get up from the table and carefully make our way toward the door. But our plan is almost scuttled at the cafetorium exit. “Hey! Where are you girls going?” Mrs. Hurst asks when we’ve almost escaped.

“Bathroom?” I say, but it sounds like a question.

“One at a time,” she says.

“But—” I say.

“You.” She points to Sirina. “You can go now. The other one will have to wait until the first gets back.”

“Mrs. Hurst?” Sirina says. “She needs, uh, something that I have? In my purse? A girl thing?”

“You girls need to be prepared!” she says, and looks right at me. “Have a seat.”

“Well, how am I supposed to be prepared when I’ve never had
it
before?” I ask.

“Oh,” Mrs. Hurst says. Her stern look vanishes. “Your first?”

I nod.

She looks at Sirina and back at me. “Okay, just this once. And, honey?”

“Yes?”

Now she whispers, “Welcome to womanhood.”

When we’re free and into the hall, we can’t help but laugh. I say, “I kind of feel bad about lying.”

“I know,” Sirina says. “Me too. But we won’t be feeling bad when we win the YoJo.”

We pick up our pace and run across the hall, down the stairs, and through the language corridor. We’re almost to the crime scene when we turn the corner and I plow into a ribbon of yellow caution tape, pulling down an orange cone with it.

I am on the way to the ground when something pulls me back to standing. It is the mammothy hand of Officer Dirk.

“WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING,” Officer Dirk asks, in his commanding way.

“Was that the window?” Sirina asks, pointing to a large space now covered in plywood.

“THIS HALLWAY’S CLOSED.”

“But we’re here for
The Vindicator
. Can we take a quick look? We’ll be careful,” Sirina assures him.

I feel the need to add to her plea. “
Please.
We won’t touch anything. Cross our hearts,” I say, drawing an X directly above what’s left of my own.

“NO CAN DO.”

Sirina keeps trying. “Well, if we can’t go look at it, then can we please just ask you a few questions about the incident?”

His arms cross over his chest. “ONE. TWO. If I get to five and you’re still here—DETENTION,” he declares, and rudely skips ahead. “FOUR.”

So we turn and run. Back around the corner. Back through the language corridor. Back up the stairs.

“Well, that was useless,” I say as we reach the main floor. “We
could
talk to Abe, you know.”

“Yeah, like
that’s
reliable,” she says. “That’s like taking the low road.”

Which may be right. But so far, it doesn’t feel like the high road is getting us anywhere.

After school, Sirina and I are about to head to my house for some much-needed
LVR
when I see
Nicolás
down the stretch of the hall in front of me. But Jason Murray does, too. “Hey, Nick,” his voice booms. “Your mom’s outside. She’s got a clean diaper for you.”

And I have a sinking, weighted feeling. Word about his mom and our breakup has clearly gotten out.

I look at Sirina. “Did you hear that?”

But she seems to be focused on the YoJo roadblocks, and is in no mood for any kind of sympathy. “Yeah,” she says.

“Jason’s such a bully!”

“He is, but it’s like my sister warned me. She said three-quarters of the population of any given middle school, at any given time, is trying to get in touch with their inner jackass.” She looks at me. “And, Mabry, before you go feeling all sorry for Nick, remember that only a couple of days ago, that statistic included him.”

“But they’re basically calling him a baby! Nick’s not a baby, he’s just confused. He doesn’t deserve
that
.”

She just rolls her eyes and says, “God, like I said, I sure hope Thad can cure you. I’m counting on it.”

yo vago
tú vagas
ella vaga
nosotros vagamos
ellos vagan

A
urelio is in the desert. He has been for five days—the words
Día Cinco
flash up on the screen. He’s wandering and wandering, with no food or water. There’s really no story line here, besides that. Each day, he gets a little more scruffy and rumpled, and a little more naked.

“How long are they going to drag this out?” Sirina asks.

I don’t even try to answer. She’s still grumpy about the YoJo obstacles, despite the gummy worms I’ve given her, and despite the fact that Hunter has chosen her as his favorite person again. He is curled up at her feet, and she strokes him with her fuzzy sock.

Aurelio is panting and fall-walking, a few steps in this direction, a few steps in that. Every now and then the camera flashes to a lake full of alligators, so I have a distinct feeling that’s what awaits Aurelio.

Then the scene changes. We’re watching Mariela again. Earlier in this episode, she visited her mother, who is being held in prison. Now Mariela’s at the police chief’s office. His feet are up on his desk, and he’s smoking his cigar, making commands on the phone, but when the door opens and she saunters in, he looks up at her, holds his cigar in midair, and becomes immediately mute. The episode ends with the camera zooming in on her gorgeous face, which is doing all it can to look perfectly innocent.

My phone buzzes. Sirina picks it up and looks at it. “Who’s ‘Nacho Face’?”

I take it from her. “Hi, Thad,” I say, putting the phone on speaker. “Sirina’s here with me.”

“So I don’t get it—who’s the old lady?” he asks.

It takes me a minute to realize that we’re hearing the theme song from
La Vida Rica
in stereo. “You’re watching it?”

Sirina’s jaw drops.

“It just happened to be on,” Thad says. “Plus, I wanted to see this Mariela chick.”

“Okay,” I say. He’s watching my show! Maybe he’s not so bad after all. “So, the old lady’s her mom, Señora Trujillo. They locked her up because they think she stole a pig.”

“A pig?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I tell him. “But the thief was really this poor kid from the village. She was covering for him. She’s a really nice lady, but she scandalized the town a long time ago, when she fell in love with a cartel guy and had Mariela. She was totally shunned. But now Mariela will do anything for her mom, and—”

“Yeah, yeah, all right, I get it,” he says. “Anyway, ready to be a heartbreaker? I have your first assignment.”

When I don’t answer right away, Sirina chimes in, “Yeah. What is it?”

“I want to hear it from her.”

“Yeah, I’m ready,” I say, but it sounds wobbly and weak.

“Crap. You still think you love that wad, don’t you?”

Madly. Deeply.
But I can’t say those words anymore. Even though I remain quiet, Thad seems to know what I’m thinking.

“All right, then. Pardon me while I projectile vomit,” Thad adds. He makes some violent gagging sounds and says, “Okay. We’re done here.”

“Don’t hang up,” I say quickly. I remind myself that I need to do whatever it takes to get Nick to ask me to the Cotillion, even if it involves convincing Thad that I want revenge. “I’m listening.”

Now Thad pauses. Then he says, “Sirina? Is this going to be a waste of my time?”

“No, no,” she tells him, but looks at me, giving me quiet commands with her sideways nods. “She’ll do it. She’s in. Just be patient with her. It’s just that she really believes in the L-word. That doesn’t just change overnight.”

“Collins?
Are
you in?”

They can’t see the image in my mind. Nick and me dancing. Slow dancing.
Close
dancing. He dips me, then he spins me around and around and around and—

I take a breath and say it. “I’m in.”

Sirina smiles at me.

“All right, good,” Thad says. “Okay, here’s what I’m thinking. First, I think Sirina was right. Mariela’s got this thing down. She knows the difference between the real stuff and the quote-unquote love.”

He makes love sounds so trivial. Foolish. “‘Quote-unquote love’?” I hear myself saying quietly.

“You know, the thing that passes for love in your world,” he says.

Brutal.

“Glad you agree with me about Mariela,” Sirina says. “Mabry needs to start channeling her.”

“Yeah, Mariela’s a good start. Collins, you have to get him to notice you in some new way—stop being so sappy and needy. No wonder the guy ran in the opposite direction.”

“So I’m sappy and needy.
Thanks
,” I say. “Thad, I have an idea. Why don’t we just forget the plan? Why don’t you just go ahead and give me a list of everything that’s wrong with me. You’d probably
enjoy
that.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you,” he says. “I barely know you.”

Ouch.
Somehow that hurts worse. I mean, we have a history!

“So I guess those three weeks in fourth grade meant absolutely nothing to you.”

He laughs—like he thinks I’m joking!

“Anyway, you’ll be over this ridiculous idea of love soon enough,” he says.

“You sound completely heartless,” I tell him.

“Sometimes I wish I
were
,” he says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he says. “All I’m saying is that the stuff you believe in, it’s all dumb. Love is for chumps. You’ll get that soon enough.”

I fight the urge to put my hands over my ears and hum over his words. I reflexively look over to Sirina for support, but she’s giving me this smug smile. It’s two against one.

“Okay, fine,” I say. “But just for the record, you are the enemy of all things beautiful and free.”

“Aw, you got me where it hurts,” he fake whines. “I better go cry myself to sleep.” Then he makes his voice high and mock pleasant. “Buh-
bye
now!”

“Bye, Burrito Face,” I say, even though he’s already hung up the phone.

Hunter jerks his head up. He must smell A-Bag, because a second later the door opens. Hunter jumps up from under Sirina’s feet and scurries toward the door.

“Hey, loser,” Aaron calls out. “I’m home!”

“Hey, A-Bag,” I call back. “No one cares!”

He comes into the room. “Oh, look, it’s two of the three stooges!”

Sirina launches Hunter’s tennis ball at him. Aaron twists girlishly to avoid the ball, but it hits him in the stomach.

“Smooth move, Ex-Lax,” I say. It’s the best I can come up with.