“Yeah, we’re good.”
Her brother and sister come back, but this time, Mattie sits beside me and Emmett is on the other side of Millie.
“Alejandro is looking good out there,” Mattie says, watching the field.
Since I haven’t taken my eyes off Millie, I don’t miss the way she sits up, ramrod straight.
“He sure does,” I reply, but I wouldn’t know. I haven’t been able to concentrate on the game at all, and the scoreboard is no help: 0-0. At least the Lions are holding the Rams at bay.
“His offensive game is amazing,” Mattie says, sounding awed. “So intense.”
Millie watches her sister with hawk-like attention, but Mattie appears clueless.
I’ve forgotten all about Mattie’s crush on my brother. “Do you two have any classes together?”
At my question, Millie brings her bird of prey glare to me. I answer it with a wordlessWhat?Her mouth tightens like a purse string, and she narrows her eyes,Stop it!her clear reply.
Mattie sighs. “No, but he has AP Bio in the lab right before I do,” she says with a kind of dreamy regret.
I’d offer to introduce her to Alex, but I like having my head firmly attached to my neck, and the look Millie is giving me is all the warning I need. But I don’t understand.
Millie telling me she has no room in her life for a relationship is one thing. I don’t like it, but knowing what she’s dealing with, I can accept it. But what’s wrong with Mattie crushing on my brother? They’re both good kids. Smart. Talented. Focused. I don’t mean I want to see them eloping, but why get all worked up about an innocent crush?
I reach into my back pocket for my phone because I have to know.
Me: Is it because we’re Latino?
Maybe this is something I shouldn’t be asking, but if this is the reason, it would be better to know now. Know the situation for what it really is.
Back in high school, I wasted time once with a white girl who was all kinds of sweet. She laughed at my jokes. Flirted back. Gave me all the green lights until I asked her out. And then Mary Catherine Turner told me her father would choke her to death if she dated a Mexican.
I will never forget it. We were sitting on a bench under the big oak tree in the quad. Right here at Lafayette High. I bet I could leave the bleachers and find the exact spot in less than ten minutes. It was junior year. School had only started a couple of weeks before. The day was hot and damp, even under the trees. But when she said that, I felt a splash of cold hit my face.
I’m American,I’d told her.I was born here in Lafayette.
She’d smiled, but it was the way you smile at a little kid. With pity. Then Mary Catherine Turner put her hand on my knee and squeezed.We can mess around Friday night at my house. My parents have a bridge tournament. They’ll be gone for hours,she’d said, her smile turning wicked.You just can’t tell anyone.
I’d stood up. My legs moved as I walked away, and the rest of me did too. But it felt like I’d left my stomach right there on that bench.
I didn’t even hit on another white girl until college and that was after a few of them had hit on me.
Millie doesn’t have a father’s disapproval to worry about. But if she has her own biases, it’ll hurt—I’m not gonna lie. It’ll hurt like a mother. But I already know how to walk away from that.
Millie’s phonepings,and I keep my eyes on the game, even though all my attention is on her.
She gasps. I don’t move.
Mattie turns. “What’s wrong?’
“Nothing,” Millie says, tapping on her screen. “Just a miscommunication with a friend.”
My phone vibrates.
Millie: GOD, NO!
I let my lungs move. I’ve been holding my breath without even knowing it.
Jesús, María, y José. Gracias.The relief makes me swallow. Realization hits me like a wave. If Millie had been another Mary Catherine Turner, I would have left more than my stomach this time.
