The Fight

“F

aggot.”

I heard the word at the same time I heard the clang of metal. I was coming around the corner, rushing to get to English before the bell. I saw Jay pushing someone against a locker.

“Faggot, bet you like it,” he said and reached down, I think, to grab the guy's crotch. I gasped. Jay looked at me, and I saw that it was Dominic he was on.

“Bet you want some too,” Jay said to me. Then Ms. Weller stepped out of the classroom, about to close the door. My brain wasn't moving fast enough to even understand what was happening.

“Everybody, get to class,” Ms. Weller said sharply. “The bell's about to ring.” She jerked her head toward the classroom for me. The bell made its horrible noise. I obeyed without thinking. My eyes stayed on Dominic, crumpled against the locker.

I totally expected Ms. Weller to step out into the hall and deal with Jay. I thought that “get to class” was for me. Like for confidentiality reasons or whatever it is that teachers are always trying to get rid of everyone else when someone's getting in trouble.

But she followed me into the classroom. The door shut behind her. Dominic and Jay were alone in the hall.

My feet kept moving to my desk in the front row. I slid into my seat. I couldn't believe it. It must have showed on my face.

“What's wrong?” my friend Jenny whispered, leaning across the aisle.

“Take out your papers and pass them to the front,” Ms. Weller said from her desk. “We're starting a new unit today.”

I shook my head at Jenny,
not now
. I dug into my bag looking for my paper. My hands were shaking.

Jenny kept staring at me. She mimed writing and raised her eyebrows. I held up a finger. Lester poked me in the back with a stack of papers. I took them and added mine. Ms. Weller was striding along the front of the classroom, picking up the stacks.

“Thank you, Isabel,” she said as I handed her the stack. I could tell she was trying for a normal voice. I didn't think I could look at her. At the last minute we locked eyes. It took my breath away like always—she had the most beautiful eyes ever. At the same time, I couldn't read her expression.

As Ms. Weller started talking about our new unit, Harlem Renaissance poetry, I wrote a note to Jenny. I told her what had happened in the hall. I told her how Weller did
NOTHING
.

“Remember how she was all over that guy who called Keesha the n-word during passing time?” I wrote. “Weller took him to the office. He got suspended! But she just LEFT Dominic in the hall with that a-hole. I'm worried about him. :( It was really scary.” I tossed the note on Jenny's desk.

“RU sure she saw/heard it?” Jenny wrote back.

“She had to see it, and I'm sure she heard him say FAGGOT. She was RITE THERE!” I scribbled.

Jenny thought a minute before writing back.

“Im sorry, Bella. Sucks. Specially since you love Wellie so much. Dom's prolly ok, though,” I read.

“I hate this school,” I wrote back. “I can't wait to be done with Southside High FOREVER.”

W

hen I got home from school, my brother Matteo was home for the weekend. Probably more to see his friends than us, his family.

“Kids cook!” my mom announced. “I'm going to yoga. Use that half an onion in the fridge and whatever else you want. Let's eat at six. Papi and I will both be home then.”

Matteo shook his head. “I come to see you all from working so hard at college, and all I want is a good home-cooked meal….” He pretended to wipe away tears.

“Whatever,” I said. “I still have to cook on ‘kids night,' but I'm doing all the work alone now. So start chopping. You're doing dishes too.”

While we worked, Matteo talked, like always. He was always a pretty nice big brother to me. Sure maybe it was only because I'd spent my entire life hanging on his every word and thinking he was perfect. But this time, after Matteo ranted about some political stuff and raved about his philosophy class, he actually asked me how school was going.

I didn't know how to answer. I was still upset about Dominic, but I wasn't quite ready to talk about it.

Without waiting for an answer, Matteo said, “What are you reading in English? It's too bad you don't have Watson. She was so cool.”

“Umm, I think we're starting the Harlem Renaissance next,” I said.

I didn't mind not having Ms. Watson. She looked like a guy, and she talked in this abrupt way. Not like the beautiful Weller, who wore the most amazing clothes. I loved staring at her in class. Anyway, Watson had left Southside after Matteo graduated.