I drive into the high school parking lot with my mind more on my sister than on the road. My wheels screech to a stop when I almost hit a guy and girl on a motorcycle. I thought it was an empty parking space.
"Watch it, bitch," Carmen Sanchez, the girl on the back of the motorcycle, says as she flips me the finger.
She obviously missed the Road Rage lecture in Driver's Ed.
"Sorry," I say loudly so I can be heard over the roar of the motorcycle. "It didn't look like anyone was in this spot."
Then I realize whose motorcycle I almost hit. The driver turns around. Angry dark eyes. Red and black bandana. I sink down into the driver's seat as far as I can.
"Oh, shit. It's Alex Fuentes," I say, wincing.
"Jesus, Brit," Sierra says, her voice low. "I'd like to live to see graduation. Get outta here before he decides to kill us both."
Alex is staring at me with his devil eyes while putting the kickstand down on his motorcycle. Is he going to confront me?
I search for reverse, frantically moving the stick back and forth. Or course it's no surprise my dad bought me a car with a stick shift without taking the time to teach me how to master driving the thing.
Alex takes a step toward my car. My instincts tell me to abandon the car and flee, as if I was stuck on railroad tracks with a train heading straight for me. I glance at Sierra, who's desperately searching through her purse for something. Is she kidding me?
"I can't get this damn car in reverse. I need help. What are you looking for?" I ask.
"Like…nothing. I'm trying not to make eye contact with those Latino Bloods. Get a move on, will ya?" Sierra responds through gritted teeth. "Besides, I only know how to drive an automatic."
Finally grinding into reverse, my wheels screech loud and hard as I maneuver backward and search for another parking spot.
After parking in the west lot, far from a certain gang member with a reputation that could scare off even the toughest Fairfield football players, Sierra and I walk up the front steps of Fairfield High. Unfortunately, Alex Fuentes and the rest of his gang friends are hanging by the front doors.
"Walk right past them," Sierra mutters. "Whatever you do, don't look in their eyes."
It's pretty hard not to when Alex Fuentes steps right in front of me and blocks my path.
What's that prayer you're supposed to say right before you know you're going to die?
"Watch it, bitch," Carmen Sanchez, the girl on the back of the motorcycle, says as she flips me the finger.
She obviously missed the Road Rage lecture in Driver's Ed.
"Sorry," I say loudly so I can be heard over the roar of the motorcycle. "It didn't look like anyone was in this spot."
Then I realize whose motorcycle I almost hit. The driver turns around. Angry dark eyes. Red and black bandana. I sink down into the driver's seat as far as I can.
"Oh, shit. It's Alex Fuentes," I say, wincing.
"Jesus, Brit," Sierra says, her voice low. "I'd like to live to see graduation. Get outta here before he decides to kill us both."
Alex is staring at me with his devil eyes while putting the kickstand down on his motorcycle. Is he going to confront me?
I search for reverse, frantically moving the stick back and forth. Or course it's no surprise my dad bought me a car with a stick shift without taking the time to teach me how to master driving the thing.
Alex takes a step toward my car. My instincts tell me to abandon the car and flee, as if I was stuck on railroad tracks with a train heading straight for me. I glance at Sierra, who's desperately searching through her purse for something. Is she kidding me?
"I can't get this damn car in reverse. I need help. What are you looking for?" I ask.
"Like…nothing. I'm trying not to make eye contact with those Latino Bloods. Get a move on, will ya?" Sierra responds through gritted teeth. "Besides, I only know how to drive an automatic."
Finally grinding into reverse, my wheels screech loud and hard as I maneuver backward and search for another parking spot.
After parking in the west lot, far from a certain gang member with a reputation that could scare off even the toughest Fairfield football players, Sierra and I walk up the front steps of Fairfield High. Unfortunately, Alex Fuentes and the rest of his gang friends are hanging by the front doors.
"Walk right past them," Sierra mutters. "Whatever you do, don't look in their eyes."
It's pretty hard not to when Alex Fuentes steps right in front of me and blocks my path.
What's that prayer you're supposed to say right before you know you're going to die?
( Simone Elkeles )
[ Perfect Chemistry ]
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