I Don't Want to Lose You (3 page)

             
“Oh no, she's about to kick his butt,” Liliana said quietly.

             
“So what were you about to call me?  It didn't sound like my name.”  I moved a ring off of my left hand to my right hand to ensure my punches could do damage. 

             
“Crazy is what I'm going to call you,” he had the nerve to reply.

             
“No, crazy is me pulling my Lysol out of my bag and going to town on your face.  What's up?”  I threw my arms up to let him know that we could do this right here, right now.

             
Tracy leaned over.  “Girl, what's wrong with you?”

             
“He's on my list.”

             
“Teodoro, will you please get off of her list so we can get this work done?” she asked him.

             
“I don't know what list she's even talking about,” he replied defensively confused.

             
I pointed two fingers at my eyes and then back to him to let him know that I had my eyes on him. 

             
“Will you do something to get off of the list?” an irritated Liliana asked him.

             
He shook his head oblivious to the list.  I just stared at him with nostrils flaring like a bull that's been cooped up too long that was ready to attack.  “Fine.  Monica, I don't know what I did to get on your list but I’m sorry.  And if you want to, you can call me Theo.”

             
All eyes turned back to me to see if the crisis had been averted.  I took the ring off of my right hand and put it back on the left. I wiped the Vaseline off of my face and took my hair out of the ponytail.  I grabbed my hoops and put them back into my ears and picked up my pencil.  “So how are we going to work these problems out as a group?” I asked.

             
There was almost a collective sigh between my three classmates.  We could now get back to business.

             
Tracy said, “I'll do number one.  Liliana, you can do two. Monica, three is yours and Theo, you can do four.”

             
“It's Teodoro,” he said to her.

             
I smiled as I looked at my problem.  In my peripheral vision I could see he wasn't working on his.  I glanced up at him and he just stared at me with a smirk on his face.

CHAPTER THREE

              It was a week before I was supposed to start my sophomore year of high school and it was the day they wanted all tenth graders to come to the school to take care of our school identification and to get our class schedule.  Nothing eventful happened over the summer and I was eager to see my classmates again.  I put on a nice outfit but tried to make sure it wasn't too showy.  For the last three years I had been getting called “rich girl” because of how nice my clothes were.  While I didn't necessarily live in the hood as far as my neighborhood was concerned, I still lived in the hood.  Even though the high school was literally a six minute walk away, I had to be careful.  I tried not to dress too nice because I didn't want to get jumped for what I had on and find myself walking home shoeless, shirtless or less something else needed to not be arrested for indecent exposure.

             
When I walked through the prison gates of the school, I immediately saw Oscar standing nearby and he started walking towards me.  Everyone called him “Puppy,” but I never knew the history behind it. He was cute in his own way.  He was stocky but his wavy, dark hair and deep dimples were a nice distraction with his darker skin from his Honduran background.  Until we had math class in ninth grade, we didn't know each other very well.  I just knew him as a comedian among his friends.  But we had the misfortune of having a math teacher who was there to collect the pay more than to teach and so that allowed us plenty of time to get to know each other for me to see there was more to him than being the funny guy.

             
“Buenas dias,” he greeted me.

             
“Hola, Oscar.  Como esta?” I replied in Spanish.  I had taken Spanish I in ninth grade.

             
“Buen, buen.  Y tu?”

             
“Eso es lo que hay,” I replied meaning “It is what it is.”

             
“Do you know where to go for your picture and schedule?” he asked.  The school was trying out a new way to do this before the first day of school.  In the past, the schedule was mailed and the ID picture was taken sometime during the first week of school.

             
“No, but I'm sure I can find it.  I'm in no hurry.”

             
He started walking in front of me.  “Come on, I'll walk you.”

             
We made our way to the gym, which was where I thought I needed to go, but Oscar obviously thought I needed an escort.  We stopped a few times for me to hug classmates and ask them about their summer.   When we got to the gym, we broke off because others were taking my attention and I didn't think he needed it.

             
After I got my identification card and stood in line for my schedule, I decided that I would go back home.  I was hungry.  As I was walking out of the prison gates to freedom, Theo rushed up to my side.

             
“Hey, Theo.”  I had to do a double take.  He had a crew cut.  “Theo?”

             
“Yeah, I chopped it off.”

             
“It looks cool.  It looks spiky.” Sounding like a little girl asking to pet a bunny, I asked, “Can I touch it?” 

             
“Go ahead.”

             
“Boing, boing, boing,” I said as I let my hand bounce up and down on top of his hard hair. “Cool.” I moved my hand to the side of his hair to feel the softness of it. It felt like rubbing on a teddy bear.  “That feels so soft.  I like it. I could do this all day.”  I started walking again and he walked with me.

             
“So how was your summer?” he asked.

             
“It was okay.  I spent most of it reading books and watching television. Nothing exciting to report.  And yours?”

             
“It was all right. I hung out with my friends and practiced a lot with my band.”

             
“You got a band?  Who's in it? What's it called?”

             
“I'm on guitar. Ralph doubles on bass and guitar. Puppy plays guitar.  Jonas is on keyboards and Edgar is on drums. We haven't agreed on a name yet.”

             
“That's cool.  Hard rock?”

             
“Pretty much.  We do some soft rock, too.  Nothing of our own yet, but we just started.”

             
“You got to start somewhere.”

             
“Yeah.”  There was a long pause before he spoke again.  “You know, you're name came up quite a few times over the summer.”

             
“Really?  All good I hope.”

             
“Of course.  There's someone who's planning to ask you to be his girlfriend if you aren't with someone now.”

             
I wondered who in the world in his circle of friends would be interested in me. “I'm not with anyone, but who are we talking about?”

             
“Puppy.”

             
Puppy?
“Are you serious?” I asked.   My eyes popped out from surprise, although there was a little disappointment.

             
“Yeah, he really likes you.  He's nervous about asking you because he's never had a girlfriend and he's afraid you'll say no.”

             
Puppy?
  I had never thought of him in that way and I was shocked that he thought of me that way.  Then my mind flashed back to something that happened freshman year.  I had a crush on a boy named Guillermo and I knew he had no experience with a girl liking him ever before because he was a total bookworm and, to be frank, a nerd.  I went to a mutual friend, Octavio, to help run interference and see if there was any possible interest there.  This “friend” scared Guillermo away from me and then confessed adoration for me.  That's when I realized that these dumb boys were becoming half-witted young men.

             
Theo continued, “He's scared, but he's a great guy.  And you know he's funny.  He thinks you're pretty and smart and easy to talk to.”

             
I stopped walking and looked him in his eyes as I stepped closer to him and totally invaded his personal space.  “Is he the only one that thinks that?”

             
Standing in front of him, my eyes were level with his Adam’s apple.  I could see it in his neck go up and down as he took a hard swallow. After a moment he answered, “No, he's not.”  He looked away and continued. “He's my friend and...but-” he trailed off.

             
I thought I knew what he wanted to say, but couldn't let come out.  I even had mixed thoughts and feelings as well, not believing my own audacity to ask that question and get in his face to confront him, but knowing the games boys were starting play I had to ask.  One part of me wanted to tell him that he was a good friend to Puppy.  The other part of me wanted to shake him to his senses to grow some cojones.  But since he was unable to finish saying how he felt, I refused to assume anything more.  I would only go with what was concrete.  The only thing solid was that Puppy liked me according to him.

             
“He can ask me.  I won't say no,” I said calmly and evenly.  A look of relief washed over his face because he did duty as his friend and didn't have to betray him for his own selfish gain. “It should be said, though, that the person that feels that way about me should be the one walking me home.”  His face fell.  “I can get home by myself the rest of the way.  I'll see you when school starts.”  I walked the rest of the way home alone.

             
Two days into my sophomore year Puppy asked me if I “would be romantically inclined” with him.  I prayed to God that my yes meant that I was agreeing to be his girlfriend.  I'm not sure why I even said yes in the first place.  The feelings Puppy had for me weren't shared.  Less than two weeks later, I  tired of the incompatibility and constant comedic lifestyle and broke his heart with the “F” word before he even had his first kiss, or mine for that matter.

              One day while waiting for Geometry class to start I heard a few of the guys talking about trying out for the football team.  I turned to a few of my female classmates and got on my soapbox.

             
“I think a girl should try out for the football team.  In the history of this school there has not been a girl on the football team,” I stated.  “I think I’m going to do it.”