Everything Within and In Between

by Nikki Barthelmess

  I’m walking out of the classroom, hoisting my backpack up as I go, when I hear someone’s footsteps thudding on the floor behind me.

  “Ri, what’s the hurry? Wait up!” Carlos claps his hand on my shoulder. I slow my pace but don’t say anything. I’m not feeling the cool-girl vibes I usually try to throw Carlos’s way.

  I stop once I reach Brittany at her locker. “Hey.”

  Brittany smiles at me. I told her about my meeting with my mom earlier—what I learned about my grandma—and she was supportive, promising she’d do anything she could to help, like giving me a ride or covering for me with Grandma, if ever needed.

  “Hey, Ri, Carlos!” Brittany greets us, her voice an octave higher than normal. Carlos nods at her before he turns to me.

  “Can we talk?”

  Around us, people shut their lockers and head to class.

  I nod at Brittany. “Go ahead. I’ll see you later.”

  Although I haven’t said anything to Brittany about how I’m feeling, she gives Carlos a Don’t do anything I’ll make you regret kind of look. Once she walks away, my heart starts to pound. I let Carlos take my hand when he reaches for it.

  I follow him through the hallway and out a set of double doors that lead outside behind the school. Our feet crunch the gravel beneath them until we hit a patch of grass. Carlos takes me to the edge of the lawn, and we stop under a great eucalyptus tree, its thick branches providing shade as the leaves rustle in the wind.

  He takes his sweater off and sets it on the ground, gesturing for me to sit. He joins me. “What’s up with you?”

  “Nothing.”

  He looks at me with those deep brown eyes skeptically. He’s not buying it.

  I stare at his muscled arms, his smooth skin that I want to touch. “I just . . . it’s stupid. But I thought things were going good. I thought . . . ,” I stammer, “the other day, when you walked me home . . .” I trail off and push my lips together.

  Carlos’s fingertips stroke my cheek and I shiver. “That’s what this is about?” His full lips turn up. “It is going good. I had to go. I told you I had to meet someone. I’m just not trying to rush into—”

  I try to pull away, but he holds me still, gentle but firm. So instead I look down at my hands. “Me either! I’m all about seeing how things go, but sometimes it feels like you want to hang out, and other times it’s like . . .” I stop myself because there is no way I can finish that sentence without sounding like a needy psycho. We’re not even together.

  Carlos leans in, pushing his lips against mine. His hand moves from my face to my back and pulls me closer into his chest. His warm lips are soft. And I’m light and dizzy, lost in all the feeling.

  Like before, Carlos’s lips travel to my neck, and his hand wraps itself in my hair. I lose all thoughts other than this moment. I go deeper into the kiss, find myself in his lap, my jeans rubbing against his.

  He pulls away suddenly. Gently but quickly lifts me off his lap and sets me back on the ground beside him. He laughs softly.

  Carlos’s voice is husky. “This is good”—he clears his throat—“but not here.”

  I wet my lips, chapped and raw from kissing him.

  “If there was any question that I like you before, I hope that clears it up.” Carlos’s eyes sparkle at me.

  And I smile.

  “Carlos kissed me,” I tell Brittany as she drives me home later. She stops the car at the red light and turns to gawk at me. Brittany pushes my shoulder softly and laughs. “What? When?”

  I lean back into the tan leather seat. “Once when he walked me home the other day, and again at school when we were outside,” I say. “He’s a really, really good kisser,” I add wistfully.

  Brittany coughs out a laugh as the light turns green. “I’m sure he is.” She doesn’t say anything as she pulls onto my street.

  I look out the window, at our little home, the dying grass out front and the cracked sidewalk. I turn back to Brittany. She’s quiet, as though she’s waiting for me to say more.

  “When I’m with Carlos, everything’s more fun and exciting.”

  “So, you’re serious about him?”

  I pause for a second, weighing my thoughts. “I really like how I feel when I’m with him. So, yeah. I think I’m ready to go all the way. I want to know what it’s like, with him.”

  Brittany’s eyes widen so much it’s almost comical. “He’s the one you want to lose your virginity to?”

  I laugh. “When you put it like that, it sounds like I’m giving him my virtue or something.” Although that’s probably how Grandma would see it. I am definitely not taking cues on what to do about my sex life from her.

  Brittany chuckles, but it sounds forced.

  “I don’t feel like my virginity is something I have to hold on to or protect or anything. I just didn’t want to do it before. Things were okay with Eric, but every time he tried to go there with me, I just kind of closed up.” I glance at Brittany—she’s leaning forward, hanging on to my every word. “I couldn’t shut my brain off. I worried about a million things . . .” Like getting pregnant, becoming a teen mom like my mother.

  “But with Carlos, when he’s kissing me, my head isn’t in a bunch of other places. It’s there, in the moment with him. And I like that.” I shrug. “I’m ready.”

  Brittany leans back. She smooths an already perfect sheet of her light brown hair out of her face, seemingly taking her time with a response. “Well, I’m not one to discourage a good time, but . . .”

  My jaw tenses.

  “It just seems like Carlos is . . .”

  “Like Carlos is what exactly?” My face is hot, my fists clenched. “I told you I like him, Brittany. You don’t have to, but I do.”

  Brittany’s face blanches. “Right, right,” she hurries. “I get it, I mean I get that you like him, just sex for the first time . . . I just feel like the person should be—”

  I scoff. Brittany lost her v-card in the back seat of Troy Danton’s car freshman year.

  “Special? Don’t tell me you’re going to say special, because—”

  “No, I mean, yes. I did really like Troy, but I wish—”

  “I really like Carlos.”

  “Right. I know that, but what I mean is, I really wanted him to like me so I . . .” Brittany trails off.

  “You think I’m considering having sex with Carlos to get him to like me?” I scowl. “That’s a great vote of confidence from my best friend.”

  Brittany shakes her head quickly. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. What I’m trying to say is—” She stops talking when she gets another look at me. Brittany nods. “Right, it’s your choice. What do I know? My first was in a smelly car with a guy who wasn’t over his ex. Who would want to take my advice? Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  I take in Brittany’s pained expression. She overstepped, but I don’t want to fight with her.

  I clear my throat. “So, ready to go in? You have your running stuff, right?”

  Brittany grabs her bag from the back seat.

  In my room, as I wait for Brittany to finish changing into her running clothes, I check my phone. There’s a text from Mom.

  Can I see you again this Friday? I haven’t stopped thinking about you, not ever.

  But now especially.

  Without a moment’s thought, I text back, I can’t wait.

  In Spanish class the next day, Carlos drapes his arm around my shoulder when we walk in together. Miguel nods at me, while Nina’s eyes focus on Carlos with what looks like annoyance. Cassie’s staring too. No surprise there, since she’s Carlos’s ex-something.

  Edgar walks in after we sit. His eyes linger on Carlos’s arm, which is still around me. “Ri, how’d the test go?”

  “It was a test.” Like I’m going to tell him that I probably bombed the thing.

  He waits to see if I say anything else, and when I don’t, he turns to sit.

  I realize I’m being kind of a j
erk, so I smile. “Thanks for asking, though. Hopefully we can study together next time.” I nod at his camera, hanging off his shoulder. “How’d the pictures go at your cousin’s basketball game, by the way? You mentioned you were going to be at the middle school a while back. I never thought to ask.”

  Edgar grins. “Good memory. It was great.” He puts his camera on his desk. “I’ve been editing the pictures after school and should have them ready to post online soon, if you want to check them out.”

  “Will do.” I nod enthusiastically. “I was looking at some of the pictures on your feed the other day. You’re really talented.”

  Edgar beams. “Thanks! I definitely could use more practice, though, to get to the level of skill I want to be at.”

  From behind me, I feel someone leaning forward, so I turn. It’s Nina, looking at me. “Do you want to sit with us at lunch tomorrow?” she asks.

  “Hey, yeah,” Edgar says to me. “You should.”

  I feel Carlos’s arm twitch for a second, but he doesn’t say anything, like how I should sit with them.

  I flush. “Sure.”

  Before anyone can respond, Señora Almanza walks in. Carlos takes his arm back. I feel the absence of it as Señora Almanza starts reading sentences from the page we’re on in the book.

  “Ella lo quiso.”

  The class erupts in laughter, particularly Miguel and Jorge behind me.

  Señora Almanza raises an eyebrow, gives the class a look that says, Real mature.

  Not that she can blame everyone. She wanted it. I mean, really? At least it’s not as bad as last week, when Señora Almanza had Carlos read, “Sus labios húmedos,” and the guys behind us busted up laughing. Carlos winked at me. Her lips are wet. Yes, I get it, Carlos, I thought, half annoyed at his immaturity. But I couldn’t pay attention to what Señora Almanza was saying for the rest of the class period.

  “Maria,” Señora Almanza says to me, role-playing the situation out of the textbook, that she is a waiter and is asking me, a diner at a restaurant, if I’m ready to order. “Buenos días. ¿Qué le gustaría ordenar?”

  I read back the response, quickly and quietly, “Buenos días. ¿Me puede mostrar el menú primero, por favor?

  Out of the corner of my eye I think I see Carlos snicker under his breath. I thought my pronunciation was okay, but it seems like he’s laughing at me. I keep my eyes glued to my book for the rest of the hour.

  When the bells rings, I nearly run to my locker. I try to make myself forget about Carlos laughing. Maybe I was imagining things, letting my insecurity get to me. The way to fix that is to just act normal. And things are looking up. Nina invited me to lunch, after all. She didn’t need to do that.

  Brittany approaches and I start talking immediately. “Nina asked me to sit with her and Carlos and them at lunch tomorrow.” I watch my best friend for a response, feeling uneasy.

  Brittany doesn’t look at me right away. Instead, she fixes a piece of her hair in the mirror inside her locker.

  As an afterthought, I add, “You should come too.”

  Brittany visibly swallows before closing her locker and smiling. “Um, you know, I think I’ll just sit with Finn and the guys tomorrow. He gave me a standing lunch invitation a while back.”

  “Okay,” I say, mulling that over. Brittany never told me Finn said that. Normally she’d be gushing over that kind of thing for days.

  Neither of us say anything as we head out to the parking lot together, our silence stretching between us.

  I bring a sandwich to school for lunch the next day and sit at a picnic table on campus with Nina, Carlos, and Cassie. Miguel and Edgar sit on the grass next to the bench, leaning against their backpacks.

  Carlos has his eyes glued to his phone, texting nonstop, and Cassie’s giving him some serious side-eye. He stands and says, “I’ll see you guys later,” before walking away. My turkey sandwich suddenly tastes like cardboard.

  After taking a bite of the tamale she brought from home, Cassie says, “So, Ri, I have a really important question for you.”

  I force my eyes away from Carlos as he walks away and steel myself.

  “Are you on Animal Crossing? Edgar acts like he’s too good for it so we’re clearly looking for someone to replace him.” Cassie smiles.

  I exhale out a laugh. “Oh, um, I guess I don’t play video games much.”

  Cassie looks at Nina and then back at me. “We’re going to have to change that.”

  Nina nods faux solemnly. “For real.”

  Edgar laughs from the grass across from me. “Whatever, you guys are such dorks.”

  Miguel pipes in. “You know you love getting in on some Call of Duty action whenever you come over to my place!”

  I dig into my sandwich, feeling much more at ease. Cassie takes a sip from her water bottle before looking at me. “Ri, have I told you I’m going to have a party? It’s going to be on Halloween, but no costumes or decorations or anything, because who’s got the time for all that? You should come.”

  My stomach feels warm and tingly. At first, I figured Cassie wouldn’t like me because of whatever history she had with Carlos. But she’s been nothing but nice to me. I smile big as I answer her. “Yeah, I would love to.”

  When Friday comes, I head to the library after school. Mom suggested we meet there, rather than at the beach. She chose the branch that’s not closest to my house to make it more likely that no one Grandma knows will see us. This library is just off of State, the main street of Santa Barbara that bustles with tourists spending too much money at fancy boutiques and restaurants. Walking past, I imagine Mom and me shopping together like Brittany and her mom do. But then again, Mom being in my life or not, I doubt we’d have that kind of money very often.

  Inside, I walk around a bit. I’m here early, so I might as well. The computer banks are occupied by a couple of homeless men, one who oddly looks like a pirate with his eye patch and mane full of red, unruly hair. I smile at the librarian and continue forward, my shoes sinking into the worn carpet as I head toward some tables in the back.

  I sit with my bag next to me and peer down at the worn wood’s inscription. Theresa was here, it says. Stupid as it is, I consider taking out a pen and writing my name.

  I look around again, at all the strangers around me. I don’t know any of them, and they don’t know me. No one would know I was here, unless I wrote my name on the wood too. Slowly my stomach sinks as anxiety starts to pulse through me. Mom is little more than a stranger to me, even though it’s not her fault. She wanted to be in my life, to really know me. But Grandma wouldn’t let her.

  And now that I know the truth, it’s like I don’t know Grandma. And Grandma doesn’t know me either. She only sees what she wants to see. She and Grandpa both had dreams of their daughter going to college and being successful, like becoming a doctor or an engineer. But Mom let them down, and now Grandma wants the same kind of thing for me. It’s like I have to make everything she’s done worth it, no matter what I want.

  Surrounded by strangers. I feel so alone.

  At least I have Brittany, I remind myself. She’s like family. She’s not perfect, but she tries.

  My stomach wiggles, and the feeling is getting all too familiar. Does Brittany try, like really try? Because she didn’t sit with me and Nina and all of them at lunch. Not that I particularly wanted her to, because that probably would have been awkward. But she could have at least pretended to consider the idea.

  It’s obvious Brittany doesn’t like Carlos. But does that extend to Nina, Edgar, and the rest of them too? I remember what Carlos said about Brittany when we walked home together the first time: Brittany wants to put me in a box. But then there’s Carlos, who seems to want this down-for-whatever, fun girl, and even though I really want to be her, that’s not me either.

  Edgar’s face flashes to mind, unbidden, unexpected. How he looks at me when I talk. His watchful eye when Carlos says something that makes me question myself. How he tries to get along wit
h Brittany and even Finn when he’s there too.

  My chest tightens as I remember that Edgar has been my locker neighbor for a while, but I never thought of him as a friend. I never tried to be his. After Nina and I stopped talking, I stopped paying attention to most people at school except the ones that Brittany was friends with and that meant, inadvertently, never being around anyone who shared my culture.

  I went along with Brittany for everything. Who knows what offensive shit she’s said in the past that completely went over my head until recently. I’ve probably laughed at jokes people made that I wouldn’t deny were just plain racist now. They were talking about me, too; I just refused to see it. And they did too, because I’m white-passing.

  A wave of nausea washes over me.

  It’s not just Brittany who’s the problem. So am I.

  I glance at my phone. Mom’s still not here and won’t be for maybe another twenty minutes. I take out my journal and write a few of the things I’m thinking. Not all of it, not when I’m here at the public library. But I feel like I have to put some of this on paper, so I’m not tempted to ignore it later. I can’t hide the truth about how I’ve been acting anymore. By the time I’m done, my wrist aches. I have to not only face how I’ve been complicit but, more importantly, I also have to do better. I have to be better.

  That’s all I can do for now. Resolve to change.

  I take a deep breath and pull out my Spanish book, workbook, and a couple of pencils. One for me, one for Mom.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see her walking toward me, her curly hair swinging around her face as she hurries. Mom’s jeans sag off her hips, and her shirt is short and loose enough that I can see part of her stomach and hip bone. She doesn’t seem to notice the way the librarian’s eyes watch her warily as she approaches. I swallow, but then Mom’s smile makes my unease fade as she leans in and embraces me. I cough a bit at the smell of cigarettes.

  Mom pulls away and scurries over to the other side of the table to sit. “I’m so glad to see you, Maria.”