Rules Of Attraction (5 page)

sit in front, next to her. I’ve never lived in a place where you’re not

judged by the color of your skin or your parents’ bank accounts, so I’m

wary of Madison’s immediate interest in me. Hell, I put on the charm

for Kiara before Heavy Shevy’s class and she didn’t even bat an eyelash

or attempt to loosen those pursed lips. All I got was a disgusted gasp.

Although yesterday she invited me over for cookies. Orange-marmalade

cookies. Who the hell invites someone over for orangemarmalade

cookies? The funniest part about it was that I think she was serious.

Today she walked me from class to class without saying a damn word to

me. I even tried to goad her into talkin’ by making fun of her, but she

refused to take the bait. Madison punches in the address to

McConnell’s on her GPS.

“So, Carlos,” Lacey says, leaning between the seats as Madison

starts driving. She taps me on the shoulder as if I didn’t hear her. “Is

it true you got expelled from your last school for beating someone up?”

I’ve only been in school three days, and already people are talkin’.

“Actually it was three guys and a pit bull,” I joke, but I think she takes

me seriously because her mouth opens in shock.

“Wow!” She taps me again. “They allow dogs in school in Mexico?”

Lacey is dumber than a beanless burrito. “Oh, yeah. Pit bulls and

Chihuahuas only, though.”

“Wouldn’t it be great if I could bring Puddles to school!” She taps

me on the shoulder again. I’m tempted to tap her back a ton of times so

she knows how annoying it is. “Puddles is my Labradoodle.”

What the hell is a Labradoodle? whatever it is, I bet my cousin

Lana’s pit bull could eat Puddles the Labradoodle for lunch.

“So is your brother the guy who brought you to school on Monday

when you registered?” Madison asks.

“Yeah,” I answer as we pull into the parking lot of the auto body.

“My friend Gina told me she saw the two of you in the office. Were

your parents out of town?”

“I live with my brother. The rest of my family is back in Mexico.”

No need to go into my whole life story about how my father died in a

drug deal when I was four and how mi'amá practically kicked me out

and shipped me here.

Madison looks shocked. “You live with your brother? No parents?”

“No parents.”

“You’re so lucky,” Lacey says. “My parents are around all the time,

and my sister is a complete psycho, but I escape to Madison’s most

days because she’s an only child and her p’s are never home.”

Madison is looking in her rearview mirror. At the mention of her

parents, she stills for the slightest moment before smiling again.

“They’re always traveling,” she explains while reapplying more of that

shiny lip gloss. “But I like it, because I can do whatever I want with

whoever I want without any rules.”

Considering my life has been full of people tryin’ to rule it, her life

sounds bueno to me.

“Omigod, you and your brother look like twins,” Lacey says as Alex

approaches the Mustang.

“I don’t see the resemblance,” I tell her as I open the door.

Madison and Lacey get out, too. Do they expect an introduction? They

stand in front of me with their flawless pale skin and their makeup

sparkling in the sun. “Thanks for the ride,” I say. They both hug me.

Madison gives me an extra-long squeeze. It’s definitely a sign that

she’s interested.

I can tell Alex isn’t exactly sure what I’m doin’ with these two

chicks. I drape my arms around Madison’s and Lacey’s shoulders. “Hey,

Alex, this is Madison and Lacey. The two hottest chicks at Flatiron

High.”

Both girls nod at Alex and flash their bright smiles. They like the

compliment, although I think they know they’re smokin’ and don’t need

to be reminded.

“Thanks for givin’ my brother a ride,” Alex says, then turns around

and heads back inside. After the girls drive off, I follow him into the

shop and find him working on the front bumper cover of an SUV that’s

obviously been in an accident.

“You the only one here?” I ask.

“Yeah. Help me remove this thing,” he says as he tosses me a

Phillips. Alex and I used to work on cars together at my cousin

Enrique’s auto-body shop. It was one of the few things we did when we

were actually tryin’ to stay out of trouble. My brother and cousin

taught me everythin’ they knew about cars, and whatever they didn’t

teach me I figured out on my own when I took apart junkers in the

back of the shop. I get under the hood of the SUV and work on the

inside screws. The sound of metal clinking on metal echoes through the

shop and for a second I feel like we’re back in Chicago at Enrique’s.

“Nice girls,” my brother says sarcastically as we work side by side.

“Yeah, I know. I was thinkin’ about askin’ both of them to

Homecoming.” I shove the Phillips in my back pocket. “Oh, and before I

forget to tell you, Kiara invited me over for cookies yesterday.”

“Why didn’t you go?”

“Besides the fact that I didn’t want to, she uninvited me.”

Alex turns his focus from the bumper to me. “Please tell me you

weren’t a complete pendejo to her.”

“I just had a little fun, that’s all. Next time you want to arrange an

escort for me, make sure it’s one who doesn’t wear oversized shirts

with stupid sayings on them. Kiara reminds me of a dude I knew back in

Chicago, Alex. I’m not even sure she’s female.”

“You want me to p-p-prove it?” my ex–peer guide’s voice echoes

from the doorway. Oh, hell.

SIX :
Kiara

“Yeah,” Carlos says, challenge and amusement written all over his

face. “Prove it.”

Alex holds up a hand. “No. Don’t.” He shoves Carlos against the car

and mutters something in Spanish. Carlos mutters something back. I

have no clue what they’re saying, but neither sounds happy.

I’m not too happy either. I can’t believe I just stuttered. I’m so

pissed at myself for letting Carlos get me so emotional I stumbled over

my words. That means he has power over me, and that fact makes me

angrier. I can’t wait until Friday, when Operation Cookie will finally go

into effect. I have to wait until the cookies are good and stale in order

for it to work right. At least he won’t be expecting it.

A frustrated Alex stomps away from Carlos and pulls a box from

behind the cashier’s desk. “I tested your radio, and I think a spring is

missin’. I don’t think it’s gonna work, but I’d like to give it a try. Give

me your keys and I’ll pull your car in.” He turns to Carlos. “Don’t say a

word while I’m gone.”

The second after Alex leaves, Carlos says, “So if you still want to

prove you’re not a dude, I’m game.”

“Does being a jerk make you feel better about yourself?” I say.

“No. But pissin’ off my brother does. And pissin’ you off pisses my

brother off. Sorry you’re the one caught in the crossfire.”

“Keep me out of it.”

“Not likely to happen any time soon.” Carlos crouches in front of

the car they were working on and pulls on the bumper cover.

“You need to unhook the clips first,” I tell him, pleased to prove

that I know more about cars than he does. “It won’t come off until you

unhook the clips.”

“You talkin’ bras or bumpers?” he asks, then flashes me a cocky

grin. “’Cause I’m an expert at unhooking both.”

I shouldn’t have done it. It was immature. It was that sexy and

stupid comment Carlos made. That, combined with him making fun of

the way I say ‘marmalade,’ was what pushed me to make him eat his

words.

It’s Friday. Tuck and I came to school early this morning to rig

Carlos’s locker. Tuesday after school Tuck and I made over a hundred

double-chocolate chip cookies. When they cooled off, we glued a small

but powerful magnet to the back of each one. Now they’re stale cookie

magnets. When Carlos opens his locker this morning, the inside is going

to be decorated with a hundred little cookie magnets.

When he tries to pull each magnet off, the cookie will break into

pieces and crumble in his hand. I got superstrong little magnets the

size of a dime. It’ll be messy, that’s for sure. So he’ll have two options:

keep the magnet cookies stuck inside his locker, or take them off one

by one and be showered with little broken cookie pieces.

“Remind me never to get in a fight with you,” Tuck says as he acts

as a lookout. School won’t start for another forty-five minutes, so

there are only a few people passing in the hallway. I open Carlos’s

locker using the combination that was written on top of his schedule,

which Mr. House gave to me. I feel guilty, but not guilty enough not to

do it. I place a few cookies, then look at Tuck. He’s on the lookout for

Carlos or anyone else who might get suspicious. Each time I place a

cookie, the clink of the magnet against metal makes Tuck laugh. Clink.

Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink.

“He’s going to freak,” Tuck says. “He’ll know it was you, you know.

When you punk someone, the goal is to do it anonymously so you don’t

get caught.”

“Too late now.” I attach more magnet cookies, but wonder how I’m

going to get all one hundred of them inside. I’m placing them on the

top, back, inside door, sides . . . I’m running out of space, but I’m almost

done. It looks like the inside of his locker has brown measles. I reach

into the bag. “Only one left.”

Tuck peeks his head inside. “This could be one of the best pranks

ever at Flatiron High, Kiara. You could go down in the history books. I’m

proud of you. Put the last one on the outside, right in the middle.”

“Good idea.” I close his locker before anyone catches us, attach the

last cookie, then check my watch. Homeroom starts in twenty minutes.

“Now we wait.”

Tuck looks down the hallway. “People are coming. Shouldn’t we

hide?”

“Yeah, but I have to see his reaction,” I say. “Let’s hide in Mrs.

Hadden’s room.”

Five minutes later, as Tuck and I peek through the square window

in the door, Carlos comes walking down the hall.

“There he is,” I whisper. My heart is beating furiously in my chest.

His eyebrows furrow when he reaches his locker and sees a big brown

cookie on it. He looks left and right, obviously looking for any sign of

who did it. When he pulls the cookie off, it crumbles in his hand but

leaves the magnet stuck to his locker.

“What’s his reaction?” I ask Tuck, who’s taller and has a better

view.

“He’s smiling. And shaking his head. Now he’s tossing the crumbled

cookie in the garbage.”

Carlos won’t be smiling when he opens his locker to find ninety-nine

more cookie magnets.

“I’m going out there,” I tell Tuck. I emerge from the safety of

Mrs. Hadden’s room and walk to my locker as if nothing is out of the

ordinary.

“Hey,” I say to Carlos as he eyes his open locker with all the

cookies.

“I’ll give you an A+ for originality and execution,” he says.

“Does it bother you I get good grades in everything, even pranks?”

“Yes.” He cocks a brow. “I’m impressed. I’m pissed off, but

impressed.” He closes his locker, the ninety-nine cookies still attached

to the inside. As if the cookies don’t exist, we walk side by side to his

first-period class.

I can’t help but smile while we walk down the hall. He shakes his

head a few times, as if he can’t believe what I did.

“Truce?” I ask.

“No way. You may have won this battle, but this war, chica, is far

from over.”

SEVEN :
Carlos

I can’t get rid of the cookie smell. It’s on my hands, it’s in my books

. . . hell, it’s even in my backpack. I tried taking a few of them off my

locker, but it was such a mess I gave up. I’ll keep ’em in until they get

really moldy . . . then I’ll collect all the crumbs and shove them into

Kiara’s locker. Or better yet, superglue them to the inside.

I have to get my mind off cookies and Kiara. Nothing beats

mi'amá’s cookin’, but as soon as I get home from school today I take

whatever I can find in Alex’s apartment and attempt to make us an

authentic Mexican meal. It’ll get me to stop thinking about those damn

doublechocolate chip cookies. That, combined with the fact that I’ve

been here almost a week and have yet to eat authentic, spicy Mexican

food, is drivin’ me nuts. Alex leans into the pot of stewed meat and

inhales the scent. I can tell just by the expression on his face it

reminds him of home.

“It’s called carne guisada. It’s Mexican.” I say the words slowly as

if he’s never heard of it.

“I know what it is, smart-ass.” He replaces the lid, then sets the

table and goes back to studying.

We sit down to eat an hour later. I watch as my brother inhales his

first serving and takes a second.

“Eat much?”

“Nothin’ as good as this.” Alex licks his fork. “I didn’t know you

could cook.”

“You don’t know a lot of things about me.”

“I used to.”

I push around the food on my plate, suddenly not hungry. “That was

a long time ago.” I keep my eyes focused on my food. I don’t even know