“That stinks,” I say. I’m grateful for Mrs. Rivera, though. For real. A few months ago, Oscar reached into the front zipper compartment of my backpack looking for a pencil and ended up finding my stash of pads. I was mortified. Oscar might be my BFF, but he’s still a boy. Thanks to Mrs. Rivera, who’s a nurse at the Valentine Urgent Care, Oscar knew almost more than I did about periods and didn’t think it was a big deal.
“I know. And she called the girl’s parents, so Luis is definitely out for blood right now.”
“I’ll be fast,” I say just as my mom’s office phone goes to voice mail. “Hey, it’s me,” I say. “I’m hanging out at Oscar’s for a little while, and then I’m walking home.”
After I dial Dad and leave him the same message, Oscar grabs two watermelon-flavored fizzy waters from the fridge and we run down the hallway to his bedroom.
He swings the door open and there’s Luis, stretched across his bed, waiting.
Luis laughs like an old-timey villain. “You didn’t think I’d let you sneak in here without going through me, did you?”
Oscar launches his backpack at Luis, but he catches it like he knew all along to expect a flying backpack to the head. If he weren’t Oscar’s brother, I might even think he was kind of... cute? Which is weird... because he looks a lot like Oscar.
“It was an accident!” Oscar moans. “Come on. You know it was.”
“You got Reyna in serious trouble,” Luis says. “And we weren’t even doing anything!”
“I didn’t say you did.”
Luis turns to me, noticing for the first time that I’m here too. “What’s up, Sweet Pea?”
I don’t really get how to answer that question. Like, do people really want to know what’s up? The longer I wait to answer, the warmer my cheeks get. “Nothing,” I say. “Just,like, the usual divorced-parents stuff, I guess.”What? Why am I so weird?
“Cool,” he says. “Sorry your parents are still divorced, by the way.”
“Oh, it’s okay. I think they’ll probably stay divorced forever.”
“Makes sense.” Luis shrugs and then tosses the backpack at Oscar. “Watch your back. The only reason I’m leaving you alone is because Sweet Pea’s here.”
I bite down on my lips so I don’t smile too hard.
Luis walks out and down the hallway to the living room.
Oscar exhales. “You cannot go home before my mom gets here. I forbid it.”
I giggle.
“You laugh,” he says. “But you’ve never had two older brothers.”
“He’s notreallygoing to beat you up,” I tell him. Oscar’s brothers are rough sometimes, but they don’t really hurt each other.
His nose wrinkles. “No, but he will fart on my head. Twice. At least. Death by fart attack.”
“Don’t worry.” I pat his arm. “I’m here. You’re safe from the fart fumes for now.”
We spend the next few hours watching episodes ofAmerica’s Most Haunted, and it’s easy to forget I’m hidinganything from my best friend until the next episode starts, and Cliff VanWarren in his spooky yet somehow game-show-announcer voice says, “Secret identities. Not just for comic books, and perhaps more sinister than you may think. You think you know someone only to find they’re living a whole other life... as a whole other person. The paranormal world—”
I grab the remote and hit the power button. “Sorry,” I say. “I gotta go and didn’t want it to get any further and spoil the episode.”
Oscar throws himself back against the cushions. “Leave me to the fart dungeon, I guess.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I sing over and over as I rush out the door.
“Later, Sweet Potatoes!” calls Jorge from where he still sits on the porch with his friends.
“Still Sweet Pea,” I shout back. “You’ll run out of produce eventually!”
On my way to Dad’s, I check on Miss Flora Mae’s place. Inside, I plop down on the floor of her plant room and turn on the radio. I sprawl out with the most recent pack of letters from Mr. Joe Salazar and find myself reading through every last one of them.
