I return the grin like an idiot. “For real?”
“Memorize Robin’s lines.” He pulls out his phone and checks it. “I have to go. Stop by next Thursday to talk more about it.”
“Yes, Mr. Butrow.” I almost drop to my knees and kiss his hand. He may not be Mr. Butt Row after all.
He turns to leave, but stops and looks over his shoulder. “Don’t forget tomorrow’s freshman play prep.”
“I won’t.” Man, I’d already forgotten we have to help get the stage and everything ready for the freshman play.
After he walks away and turns a corner, I throw a fist in the air. “Yes!” I say. “Yes, yes, yes. Yes!” The detail is—Robin Goodfellow is Puck, the character I’ve been dying to play. I’m tempted to text Cole, and Lia, and the world. This is so huge—I decide to tell Lia in person.
At lunch time, I stroll to the open area by the cafeteria and find Lia sitting on the floor across from the soda machines.
“Have you been avoiding me?” a girl says behind me, grabbing my arm.
I spin around to where the voice came from. “Monica.”
She crosses her arms. “Well?”
Should I lie to her? No. Man up, Kiev. “Yes, I have, but not anymore. What do you want to talk about?”
Monica takes in a shaky breath. “You were right, Kiev—about everything. I had a crush on you, but I’m over it now.”
Over it in a few days—she moves on fast. “Okay,” I say. “Anything else?”
She nods. “I can’t be friends with you—not now,” she says, which means, she might not be quite over me.
“Good to know.” I point in Lia’s direction. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I gotta join my friends.”
She looks down at the floor, then raises her chin and gives me an almost imperceptible nod. “See you around, Kiev.”
“Later.” I pace toward Lia without looking back.
Lunch with Lia, Barnabas, and Sophie turns into an awkward situation because, well, I’m a guy and want to be alone with Lia. Right before the bell rings, I quickly pull Lia to the side and tell her about how I got the Puck part—short version. She gives me a big smile in return. Man, I could kiss this girl right here, right now, except I’m not sure if she’s down for PDA.
At the end of the school day, Lia rides with Barnabas back home, so I text her as soon as I get in my car.
Me: Pick you up at 8.
Lia: That’s the plan.
As I pocket my phone, I feel a sense of anticipation, as if this were my first date ever. I wonder how our relationship went from not-on-each-other’s-radar to kissing. I guess my subconscious had a thing for her, and perhaps the same happened to her. Only thing I know is, I can’t wait to be alone with her.
When I arrive home, I stop by Dad’s office and open the door a crack. He’s typing fast on his computer. I clear my throat so he can notice my presence, and when he stops typing, I say in Spanish, “Good afternoon, Papá.”
He spins in his office chair to face me. “Buenas tardes.”
I step toward him. “Any news from Mom?”
He shakes his head and lets out a soft sigh.
“Hey.” I tap his hand. “We’re also in shock,” I say in Spanish. “I just wanted you to know Vi and I appreciate you taking care of us.”
He stands, towering over me, and places his hands on my shoulders, giving me a strong squeeze. “Give it time,” he says in Spanish. “Everything will get better.” He looks in the door’s direction and smiles. “Vienna is speaking Spanish again.”
That catches me by surprise—she’s coming around fast, a thing that’s not that easy for me. “Que buena noticia,” I say. It’s indeed great news.
Dad gives me a knowing nod.
Leaving the office, I pace toward my bedroom and stop at Vi’s opened door. Her room is organized and the bed is made, which is a strange sight. I wonder where she is—hopefully out of trouble. I step into my room and drop onto my mattress for a quick nap.
A scratching noise makes me open my eyes—it’s Pepe squirming in his cage. I quickly check the time on my phone—it’s already past seven. I’m sure he wants to go out. I get up, grab his leash, and show it to him. “Ready for your daily walk?”
I open his cage, and he crawls out, pointing his snout at me, as if replying, “Bring it on, Master.”
After placing the leash around Pepe’s neck, we exit the house and start our daily stroll through the neighborhood as the sun starts to set over the horizon. Half a block later, sweat trickles down my back, which makes me think of my date with Lia. I chuckle in my head at this thought. I mean, the Piggy Palooza’s tasks made us sweat like, well, pigs.
Today, Pepe seems in a rush with his little feet moving like blender blades, his snout pressed to the pavement. We turn a corner, then another one, until we reach the vast area Pepe loves. There are yards and yards of knee-high, thorny bushes with pine trees at the back. Pepe whiffs at their little leaves, tugging at the leash this way and that way.
While I wait for him to finish his exploration, I look up. Thin clouds navigate up there like white sheets over a soft blue, shades of red in the background—the usual West Texas early-evening sky. My mind goes elsewhere with thoughts of what’s happened since last week—the punch, community service, getting fired from the play, a girl wanting to date me no matter what, Lia and I turning into something, Mom showing up, being recruited to play Puck, and Cole saying he’s focusing on one girl.
Although half of these events are cringe-worthy, overall I feel okay. Yeah, there’s the mother situation and all that, but at least Vi seems to be coming around, and hopefully not hating the world anymore.
Pepe stops tugging. I shift my eyes down and spot the leash going inside the bushes. “Get out of there, Pepe.”
I pull the leash my way.
It feels too light.
The far end appears by itself without Pepe.
My blood drains to my feet.
Dropping to my knees, I push the bushes apart. “Pepe?” I ask as I crawl forward, thorns poking through my jeans. “Pepe?” I stand and squint around, trying not to freak out. “Pepe!”
Nothing.
There are so many bushes. Damn it! I whistle at him to no avail.
Raking a hand through my hair, I shout, “Pepe! Come here!”
A car pulls up beside me, window rolling down, and an old lady with crimson hair leans my way. “Are you okay, young man?”
I shake my head. “I lost my arm—” I stop mid-sentence because saying armadillo could make this lady think I’m crazy.
“Arm?” She cocks her head to the side. “You seem fine.”
“Dog—I lost my dog.” I point at the bushes. “He went in there.”
The old lady presses a hand against her heart. “My goodness. Those bushes aren’t for pets. Poor thing. Do you want me to call the SPCA?”
“No!” I blurt because they’ll confiscate Pepe for sure. I force a smile. “I think I can manage. Thanks.”
The old lady raises a brow for a second, then drives away.
I glance around, searching for movement. Again, nothing, as if the bushes swallowed him whole. But, no, I won’t give up that easily. I walk into the shrubberies, their thorns pricking at my jeans again like little needles. “Ouch.” I stop.
Don’t be a puss.
Pushing my way forward, I ignore the pain and stop to glance around—it seems like a mile of bushes and trees. Frustration takes over me because finding Pepe here is like searching for a marble buried in the sand. I grunt and put my hands behind my head.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I shout in deep frustration.
I won’t forgive myself if something happens to Pepe. I mean, I domesticated the little dude, and now he’s here, out in the open with bobcats, coyotes, and who knows what else. I pull out my phone and quickly search for armadillo predators. I groan as the list includes bobcats and coyotes, extending to bears, foxes, dogs, and even raccoons—damn Internet. At least there aren’t bears o
r foxes down here, are there? Don’t want to think about that. I pocket my phone and walk deeper and deeper into the bushes. As time ticks by, my hopes of finding Pepe diminish, but I have to keep trying.
Sweat covers my body as I keep on searching. I can’t do this by myself. I walk to the pavement, pull out my phone, and text Cole.
Me: You busy?
I wait a while, but he doesn’t reply.
Then I call Dad.
“Kiev?” he answers.
I explain to him the whole ordeal with Pepe and tell him where I am.
Minutes later, Dad shows up, striding fast. “¿A donde se fué?” he asks, squinting in the distance.
I point ahead. “He went down there.” I point to the right. “Or there.” I point to the left. “Maybe there.” I shake my head. “I don’t know anymore.”
Dad wraps an arm around my shoulders. “We’ll find him,” he says in Spanish.
We come up with a plan where I’ll explore the area on my left, while he’ll try the opposite side, but I get this weird feeling that this search will be futile.
No. I will not give up.
As I enter the bushes again, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I fish it out and unlock it.
Lia: 10 after 8. Thought you nerds keep track of time to the second.
She added a smiley emoji.
Man, with all of this going on, I forgot about the date. But I can’t leave Pepe alone with predators roaming around.
Me: Something came up. Won’t be able to make it.
Lia: You okay?
I imagine her typing that with a frown.
Me: I lost Pepe.
My phone rings and I answer, “Hey.”
“Do you need help?” Lia asks. “I can be an extra set of eyes if you need it.”
Concentrating on the phone, I think about it and decide against it. “Dad’s already helping me. We can manage.”
“Are you sure?” She sounds disappointed.
“Yes.” I let out a breath. “Rain check on the date?”
“Okay. Just call me when you find him, or if you need my help.”
“I will.”
After hanging up, I turn my attention to the vast bushy area, thinking, how I’m going to find Pepe? Darkness covers the sky and lampposts illuminate the pavement. I don’t want to stop, so I use my phone’s flashlight and walk into the woods.
Half an hour later, Dad calls me to say we should head back home, pick up flashlights, and drive around in the car to look for Pepe. I agree and stumble my way to the street.
We rush home and come back in his SUV. While he drives very slowly, I point my flashlight at the bushes and the trees that seem to never end. I’m unable to spot anything, and after a while, the whole scenery looks mostly the same and almost blurs.
“Kiev,” Dad says after a while, pulling by the curb.
I turn my attention to him. “Yeah?”
“I don’t think we’ll find him,” he says in Spanish, his forehead a sea of wrinkles.
I don’t want to give up, but at the same time I know he’s right. It’s my fault Pepe is lost, and I know he’s just an armadillo, but I feel like he’s my responsibility. Man, this sucks.
“Kiev?” Dad asks.
I sigh. “Okay.”
When I get home, I shower, get into my pajamas, and drop onto my bed to text Lia.
Me: We couldn’t find Pepe.
Lia: Oh, no. Dumb question, but how are you feeling?
Me: Like crap.
Lia: Anything I can do to make you feel better?
Her words are already making me feel much better.
Me: How about a kiss?
She sends me a kiss emoji, followed by a pie emoji.
Me: Bacon pie?
Lia: Yes!
Me: Our next date should involve pie.
Lia: Tomorrow?
I’m about to type, “Yes,” when I remember I have something to do tomorrow afternoon. I take a deep breath—here goes nothing.
Me: Need to arrange props for the freshman Shakespearian mashup play tomorrow afternoon. Come to the opening with me Sunday evening?
She takes her time to reply. I sit on the edge of my bed, anxiety rolling through me.
Lia: You know how I feel about Mr. Shakespeare, but I’ll go since you’ll be there.
Exhaling, I’m tempted to tell her that I could go to her house after helping with the props, but I have no idea when I’m going to be done. So I leave it at that.
As soon as I close my eyes, I see Pepe’s little face. I flip my eyelids open. It’s like he’s sending me an S.O.S. or something. I spring off the bed to put on clothes, and rush outside to a very dark night.
Half a block from my house, I spot Mr. Corey parked on the other side of the street. Maybe Cole got my text and is waiting for me. I walk toward his car, and as I inch closer I spot Cole in the backseat.
Wait.
Is he with a girl?
He is, and they’re making out, kissing fiercely. I take cautious steps back, because, really this is not my business. But from the corner of my eye, I spot the girl’s tan skin and jet-black hair.
No way.
“Vi!” I yell and try to open the door, not believing my eyes. I knock on the window. “Get out, Vi!”
She glances up at me and tugs at her shirt, followed by Cole, who looks at me with wide eyes. As soon as Vi exits the car, I pull her by the arm.
“Seriously?” I ask, and before she answers, I turn my attention to Cole as he scrambles out from the car. “Dude, I told you not to mess with my sister.”
He throws his hands up in surrender.
Vi shrugs me off and stares at me. “You think you own me?”
I roll my eyes. “It isn’t like that.” I point at Cole. “He is…” I pause, because he’s my best friend, but he’s so immature, and I want someone better for Vi.
She huffs. “He was the only one who really helped me when everyone else turned their backs on me after…” She pauses.
After Mom left us, I complete her sentence in my mind. “You mean how you shut everyone out? Plus, that’s isn’t true. What about Chris?”
Cole opens his mouth and says nothing.
“Chris is my friend—it’s not the same,” Vi says, grabbing Cole’s hand. “Cole helped me—helped Dad, you, and me—find Mom. Don’t you see that?”
Peering at Cole, who’s become a statue, I ponder about Vi’s words. Yeah, he did help us find Mom, but that has nothing to do with what’s going on now. I scoff. “And as token of gratitude, you made out with him.”
“You are wrong, Mr. Kiev Jimenez,” Cole breaks his silence, his voice deep. “If there’s anybody to blame, it’s you.”
“Are you fucking out of your mind?” I growl.
He pokes a finger against my chest. “You told me to focus on one girl.” He pokes my chest again. I want to push him away, but he frowns at me in a way I’ve never seen before. “You told me to investigate about your sister and Chris.” He stabs a finger to my chest again. “And you, Mr. Kiev Jimenez … you…”
“I what!” I shout after a minute.
Vi motions her free hand down. “Tone it down.”
“Tell me, Cole,” I demand.
He relaxes his expression. “You should understand my situation better than anyone in this town.”
“Why’s that?” I ask.
“You are head-over-tennis shoes with a hot gamer.” He puffs out his chest. “Just like me, with the exception that the girl of my dreams happens to be your hot Tex-Mex sister.”
I shove him hard. “Dude, don’t call Vi that.”
“What’s wrong with being called hot?” Vi takes a step closer to Cole. “He’s nothing but sweet and gentle.”
“Are we talking about the same Cole here?” I ask. “The one who flirts with all the girls?”
“There is only one girl in my eyes, Mr. Kiev Jimenez,” Cole says, “and that is my Mexican goddess.”
I roll my eyes again. “Whatever—I swear, if yo
u screw over my sister you’re dead. And I don’t want to see any kissing shit in front of me.”
Cole exchanges a glance with Vi, as if asking for agreement. “We shall try,” he says. “Right, Miss Vienna Jimenez?”
She nods. “I like when you call me Mexican goddess better.”
“I don’t want to hear about this anymore.” I can’t picture these two together anymore. It’s like BBQ on a cinnamon roll. But as I think of this, my mind shifts to Pepe. I gesture at Cole. “Did you get my text?”
“Yes. You asked if I was busy.” He glances down for a second. “Er, I was in the middle of—” His face practically bleeds red. “I was indeed busy.”
“Pepe is lost,” I say, grinding my teeth at Cole’s response.
Vi gasps. “Wait, what?”
I explain to them what happened, and the search I went on earlier.
“We’ll help you find him,” Vi says.
“Right-o,” Cole adds.
We dart to the bushes and the trees. This time, we divide the search into left, center, and right. After more searching without result, I step out of the woods and push my way through the bushes toward the street.
Cole waves me over from the sidewalk.
“I should’ve told you about Vi and me,” he says, as I join him.
I stare at him, “Were you really tutoring her?”
“That, I indeed did, Mr. Kiev Jimenez.”
I give him a glare that death itself couldn’t even match.
He blushes under the streetlights. “We took a few breaks.”
“Dude.”
Cole turns even redder. “I’m sorry for that … and that … and—”
“Stop it.” I shake my head. “We have to find Pepe.”
He nods and rushes into the bushes again, flashlight in hand.
Vi comes toward me, grabs my upper arm with both of her hands, and says, “Sorry. I can’t find Pepe.”
For a second, I picture my armadillo lying on the ground, dead. No, no, no. “He’s got to be out there.”
She shakes her head. “No lo vamos a encontrar.”
We never speak to each other in Spanish but this time, for a strange reason and as ominous as her words sound, it feels right.
Looking down at the pavement, I nod, and then I look up at her. “We won’t find him,” I echo what she said in Spanish. “Let’s go home.”
Bacon Pie Page 23
