Prologue
Xavi
He hated Mr. Garcia. Likehatedhim-hated him with a vengeance that sometimes burned him up from the inside. And Xavi wasn’t a kid prone to hate. There was already enough hate going around in the world to last all 6.9 billion people a lifetime or two. But if there was one thing Xavi couldn’t stand, it was when people were set in their ways. If they insisted on something just for the sake of doing so. Like their neighbor, Mr. Amaral, when he insisted on deadnaming Xavi’stiaTelma every chance he got, when no one else ever did. When she’d been Telma for as long as anyone could remember or care at least, and then thatcabróninsisted on calling her by a name that had never fit and never would. Telma was Telma, just like Xavi was Xavi, and people like Mr. Amaral and Mr. Garcia got him going like no one else did. For different reasons, but still. That’s why Xavi was fuming by the time he reached the school library, ready to just yell at the next best person who got in his way.
“Hey.” A kid his own age waved at him from the library front desk next to a door with a sign that saidArchive.At least he looked to be around Xavi’s age, although he was a lot shorter. He’d seen him around school, always smiling and bouncing around like a piñata on a string, his loud voice ricocheting off the bare walls in the long corridors. Xavi lifted his hand, waving back, as he shuffled closer.
“Hey.” Xavi’s voice hung in the space between them for a few seconds, then the kid’s face split into a broad smile, his rich brown eyes lighting up with something that could only be defined as trouble.
“I’m Joe.” The kid continued to smile, his eyes sparkling with genuine interest, something that didn’t happen too often in Xavi’s life. He was one of the more invisible kids at school, but he mostly preferred it that way. Invisible at least meant that you weren’t an obvious target, and that you could blend in with the dull gray walls. “You’re Xavi, right? You’re Abe’s brother?” Joe blushed, shifting on his feet,the tips of his white tennis shoes scuffed and way past their expiration date, just like Xavi’s own.
He wasn’t surprised that Joe knew Abe; everyone did. His older brother was, after all, the star on the school swim team and everything Xavi wasn’t. Athletic, popular, accepted. And most days, Xavi was okay with that because he loved Abe, but sometimes, when he’d had a really shitty day, and he was feeling really low and was doubting himself, it was hard to have a brother two years older and who was the embodiment of everything classically masculine and handsome. Abe was a tall, dark, and exceptionally good-looking kid who belonged with the popular kids, whereas Xavi was the weird kid with two fingers missing on his left hand and probably would’ve been bullied every single day of his life if it wasn’t for Abe’s high status at school. Xavi already dreaded next year when Abe would start high school and Xavi would be left alone to fend for himself at the D’Youville-Porter Campus public school for another two years.
“Yeah,” Xavi swallowed, as his gaze remained locked on the notice board behind Joe’s head. Something was different since last week when he’d last been in detention, but it took him a few seconds to realize what it was. Then his eyes registered the large pink flyer smacked right in the middle.Cabaret,the header said in bold black letters against the hot pink paper. The D’Youville-Porter Drama Club was putting upCabaretas their yearly Christmas show? Xavi frowned, and now Joe turned and looked at the board too, still smiling.
“That’s fucking bold,hermano,” Joe laughed, his voice way too loud for the quiet library, and yet it wasn’t the volume Xavi got stuck on but the casually spokenhermano.Xavi just nodded, because yes, it was in factboldto put upCabaretas a school performance, and Xavi couldn’t help but wonder how the drama club had gotten away with that when it was usually something lame and safe likePeter PanorSinging in the Rain.
“Yeah,” Xavi agreed, thinking that maybe he’d actually go watch the play this time. He lovedCabaret.He’d lost count of the times he’d watched it with hismami, Veronica, and his twotias,Angelica and Telma. They were all equally obsessed with Liza Minelli and knew all the songs by heart. Abe would usually lock himself in their shared bedroom when it was musical night at the Bernal residence, or go hang out with his friends at the Front Park.
“Mr. Pérez and Mr. Bernal. Now why am I not in the least surprised?” Ms. Hatcher’s raspy smoker’s voice sounded behind them. They both turned and simultaneously took a step back, bumping their backs against the wall behind them. Every kid at D’Youville-Porter knew better than to be caught in the nicotine maelstrom that was Ms. Hatcher’s secret weapon of mass destruction. The school librarian tilted her head, eyeing them both, then sighed languidly, her stale breath wafting along Xavi’s chin. He held his breath, trying not to look at the prominentwart on her nose, but it was as impossible as trying not to stare at a traffic accident. It just sucked you right in, that black hair in the middle of the wart waving at you.Look at me. Look. At. Me.“To what do I owe the pleasure?” she continued. “Two of my favorite delinquents on the same day. Maybe I should get a lottery ticket later, too.” She cleared her throat, which quickly escalated into a coughing fit.
Joe eyed Xavi nervously, probably thinking the same; that on an already epically shitty day, the last thing they needed was for the school librarian to expire on them. Then her words registered, and Xavi had to agree it was rather strange that he, as a frequent user of the school’s detention facilities, had yet to run into Joe if the kid was in fact a fellow juvenile delinquent.
Finally, it seemed like Ms. Hatcher was over the hill as her coughing fit subsided and changed into a low gurgling sound.
“Where’s Mr. Cisnero?” She wheezed, her pale fishlike eyes trailing over the attendance protocol she was holding in her claw-like fingers.
“Dunno,” Joe replied, relaxing next to Xavi now that the apocalypse had decided to do a rain check. “Never heard of him.”
Xavi hadn’t either; then again, it was a large school, and since Xavi wasn’t a social bird and mostly kept to himself, he mainly knew the students in his own class or those who really stood out one way or another.
“Well, let’s get on with it so we can all go home,” Ms. Hatcher sighed, failing to hide how big of an inconvenience this was, as she moved to the archive and unlocked the door.
The dusty, moldy odor hit Xavi as soon as he entered the small room right behind Joe. He hated it here; the stuffy, tight air made his brain fuzzy, and the fact that there were no windows gave the room a claustrophobic feel. For a few terrifying seconds, he was thrown back to that night when his entire world had drowned in thick, impenetrable clouds of smoke. His chest automatically clenched, while his lungs struggled for his next breath, until his brain caught up with his body and reminded him it wasn’t that night. That he’d made it out.Hehad.
Like he always did when he entered the room, Xavi swore that this would be the last time, although he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep that promise. He would be here again, if not next week, then definitely before November turned into December. He needed to learn how to keep his mouth shut, but it was hard when you’d always been taught by yourmamiand yourtiasthat your voice was just as valid as the next person’s. And with a case of chronic ignorance going on around most of the teachers at school, it was a near-impossible task.
“Take a seat, gentlemen.” Ms. Hatcher waved at the area behind the archive cabinets that had been converted into a wannabe classroom with a row of worn desks and mismatched chairs. Xavi went straight for his favorite table in the front, closest to the door, and Joe surprised him by plopping down right next to him.People usually kept their distance in detention, so Joe was breaking all social cues by initiating some sort of connection between them, but for some reason, it felt nice not to be ignored. Joe smiled at him, then shook his head, his near-black bangs tumbling onto his forehead. Xavi found himself smiling back, a warmth spreading in his chest as he slowly let his guard down. He knew he shouldn’t. Letting your guard down amongst your peers could be dangerous, but still, there was something disarming and genuine about the smile that spread widely across the other boy’s face.
Xavi’s gaze dipped to the table, the surface adorned with carved and written profanities, some bolder than others, creative variations of both the English and the Spanish language. There was the usual piece of paper and pen too, which was really just pro forma because none of the teachers ever checked if you’d listed all your trespasses and sins against the Buffalo Public Schools District by the end of detention. Xavi knew he was a sinner, but no way was he going to put it down on a piece of paper. Because what good would it do to confess all your sins and ask for forgiveness and redemption, when Xavi’s existence in itself was—and always would be—considered an abomination to many so-called God-fearing people? When, by being himself, being the person he was always meant to be, he was a freak to some and a sinner to most. It didn’t matter that hismamiheld great respect in the Latin-American community. He knew that when—because one day there would be a when—he came out as a boy who liked other boys, their neighbors and friends would pity his mother, although she never, not once, made him feel he was anything but perfect in her eyes. People would look at him differently too. He would no longer just be Xavi Bernal, the kid who lost his father and two fingers in a fire. He would be Xavi Bernal, the gay kid. He’d seen it happen over the years, young men and women in their community who came out. Very few were actually ostracized; no, it was more of a subtle condemnation. Some moved away and rarely visited their families, while others stayed but were frowned upon and called names behind their backs. He saw it happen to his belovedtiaTelma. The subtle whispers and the disapproving glares.
Xavi’smamiwas different, though. She didn’t find it the least bit contradictory to still worship her god while at the same time loving her gay son with all her Cuban heart. Xavi had always felt loved and wanted, and coming out to his family last year when he was ten hadn’t changed that. He was still, along with Abe, her reason for getting up in the morning and busting her butt downtown as a cleaning lady in restaurants so posh and expensive she would never be able to afford even an entrée.
So no, Xavi wasn’t about to confess his sins when his greatest was just being true to himself. Besides, he was onlyoutat home.
Ms. Hatcher started reading from the familiar set of detention rules, her monotone voice doing wonders as an afternoon sedative. Xavi leaned back in his chair,crossing his arms in front of his chest as Joe mirrored him and did the same with a long, drawn-out sigh. “Coño,” he mumbled under his breath, and Xavi couldn’t help but chuckle, liking his newfound partner-in-crime more and more by the second.
Then, when Ms. Hatcher was just about to round off her speech, the door blew open, slamming against the wall with a loud bang, raising dust from the tables and the cabinets like tiny whirlwinds. In a cloud of pinks and purples and glitter—yes, it was glitter—a boy entered, spreading out his arms like the wings of some rare, exotic bird. Then, without further ado, he started singing.
“‘Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome!’”
“Mr. Cisnero!” Ms. Hatcher jumped into action, and Joe started laughing next to him, a “this is gonna be good” slipping from his lips.
“‘Fremde, étranger, stranger!’” The boy continued to sing as he strode elegantly into the room, twirling around in an elaborate display of colors and shimmering fabrics. A pink scarf was wrapped around his long neck, and the scent of something sweet and orangey hit Xavi like an avalanche of impressions. Images of walking past Mr. De La Fe’s flower shop on his way to school in the morning flashed through his mind, along with memories of watching the huge blue peacock strut around down at the city zoo.
“Will you be quiet and sit down!” Ms. Hatcher tried to intercept the boy but got caught in his dramatic twirl instead, like a bug sucked in by the breeze from a ceiling fan.
“‘Glücklich zu sehen, je suis enchanté!’” The boy floated toward their table, smiling wickedly at them, and Xavi couldn’t help but wish detention would last all day and all through the week if he could just continue to stare at this wondrous creature. Joe continued to laugh, his voice loud and genuine, and not filled with even a hint of ridicule or contempt. Something pushed at Xavi’s ribs, something which grew and grew, longing to burst through his chest, and before he knew it, he was laughing too. Then the boy winked and did an elaborate bow in front of them.
