My outfit does not help. Just a plain black T-shirt that fits a little too tight across my stomach and oversized khaki cargo shorts that hang off me in the most embarrassing way. I'm not trying to stand out. I'm trying to disappear. Blend in. Be the kind of guy nobody notices walking across a hot Miami campus with sweat already gathering at the back of his neck.
Diego knocks lightly on the bathroom door. "You ready, cuz?"
"Yeah." I tug at my shirt again, hoping it doesn't cling too much.
When I step into the kitchen, the smell hits me right away. Strong Cuban coffee, eggs, chorizo, and the faint greasy smell of toast hitting the edge of too-hot butter. Aunt Val is movingaround the stove like she owns the whole block, hair pulled back, one slipper half on, half off, talking while she cooks.
"Mornin', Ma." Diego kisses her cheek on his way to the counter and reaches around her for two plates. He hands one to me so I can dish up breakfast.
Aunt Val is a fantastic cook, which would be great if I hadn't been stress-eating and smoking and basically turning myself into a soft, sweaty version of a human beanbag chair. I've definitely put on weight living here. Maybe a little too much. Every time I even hint at it, she pinches my cheek and says, "Mijo, that's just baby fat. You're growing."
My eyes drop to the chair at the kitchen table. The one I last saw Dad sitting in. The last time I saw him was on the Fourth of July, and even then it was only for a few minutes. He sat there with Aunt Val, handing over money like that was supposed to make everything else okay. Like cash could fix the fact that he'd basically dropped me off and left her to raise me.
I swallow hard and look away before anyone can catch my face shift, like it always does when I get too sad or too angry. I rinse my plate, grab my backpack, and follow Diego to the car.
By the time we get to school, the Miami heat is already mean. The parking lot shimmers. Car windows flash in the sun. Somebody has their music up too loud with bass rattling through the open doors, and the whole courtyard smells like sunscreen, hot pavement, perfume, and somebody's fried breakfast from a paper bag. Kids in polos and khakis move in messy clumps through the courtyard, loud and half-awake, like none of them are as nervous as I am.
We walk in together, but we have to split up right away since our first periods are on opposite sides of campus.
I take a deep breath and touch the little urn hanging from the chain around my neck. Just for a second. Like if I hold on tight enough, I can keep myself from falling apart before first bell.Pressing a gentle kiss to the cool metal, I tuck it back into my shirt.
The next few hours fly by in a blur of fluorescent lights, squeaky chairs, and teachers talking too fast. Everyone already seems to know where they fit except me. I keep my shoulders tucked in and my eyes down, pretending I'm not counting every laugh that happens behind me.
Between classes, my phone buzzes:
How's the day going, cuz?
It's okay :)
I lie.
In my last class, I hear two guys behind me snickering under their breath. They keep calling me "big boy." One of them actually laughs hard enough to snort. I don't turn around. I just sit there burning up, wishing I could sink into the desk and disappear. Diego doesn't need to know that. He already does too much for me. I don't want to be another problem he has to carry.
A few minutes later, another text comes through:
Find me at lunch?
I send back a thumbs-up and shove my phone into my pocket. Then I look up and lock eyes with one of the guys from class. He's staring right at me with this ugly little grin like he knows exactly how to get under my skin. My stomach drops.
Fuck.
It's only the first day, and I'm already getting clocked as the weird fat kid who doesn't know anybody. The one who still shows up like he belongs there even though half the school probably already has him figured out.
Lunch is next, so at least Diego will be with me soon. Thank God.
Still, even that makes me feel pathetic. My cousin being my only friend. My only safety net. My only person. I hate how much I need him. I hate how obvious it probably looks. I hate that I feel like a codependent leech, like I'm always taking and never giving enough back.
Shaking off the self-pity, I shove my notebooks into my backpack as the bell rings. I can feel eyes on me while I hurry toward the door. My pulse kicks harder with every step.
I'm already heading down the stairs when my balance shifts all at once. I look down too late, just in time to see a foot in my path. My leg shoots out, I lose my footing, and then I'm tumbling down several steps before I can catch myself.
"Oops," one of the guys from earlier says with a shrug and a laugh.
"Watch where you're going, big boy," the other one chimes in, laughing too.
My leg burns, and I already know it's going to be bruised later.
"Hey!" Diego's voice cuts through the noise overhead. "Leave my cousin alone, you fucking freaks. If you even look at him again, I'll fucking kill you!"
