by Mara White
“Don’t make fun of me,” she says, moving her hands across her chest.
“This is good. Stay like that,” I say and move around behind her. I wrap my arms around hers and squeeze her in a tight grip. She’s so small and her hair smells good enough for me to want to nuzzle my face in it.
“How’d you shake me if I had you like this?” I ask.
Belén tries to pull her arms apart and groans at the effort. She doesn’t move an inch even though she’s trying as hard as she can. I can’t help but smile at how cute she is.
“Do it to me and I’m gonna show you how to get out of it.”
Belén wraps her arms around me and I laugh at her size. She knees me in the butt and we both start to laugh at the situation. I shoulda shared the joint with her to loosen her up.
“You’re gonna bend your knees fast and twist out of it. He’s not expecting you to go down, so his grip is centered on you breaking free from the front.” I show her a couple of times. “Get it? Now you try.”
Belén slips around front and her ass brushes my groin. I fight with everything inside me to ignore it and move on. She slips through my arms easily the next couple of rounds. I’m letting her win, because it’s all I can do to keep my dick from getting hard.
“It’s hot in here,” Belén says, brushing a stray bit of hair from her cheek.
“Yeah,” I say, looking at her flushed face and thinking about how pretty she is.
I teach her the same surprise technique to roll your arms in and under when someone grabs both of your forearms. She gets that one quick and giggles at her own ability. I smile as I watch her confidence rise.
“How’s it going in here?” Tía Betty asks, coming in to observe.
“Belén’s a natural. They gonna be sorry they ever laid hands on her.”
“God forbid!” Betty says. “Well, she’s got a great teacher.” My aunt nods her head, looking at me affectionately. Her compliment makes me feel good, like I’m useful to them. Belén’s a goddamned natural at everything. Sometimes I feel like a loser in comparison.
“The last thing I’m gonna show you is how to get out from under a straddle. I know it sounds impossible, especially when you’re small, but there’s a trick to it.”
Belén looks nervous and casts her eyes to the floor. She doesn’t want me to straddle her. I don’t want to straddle her either and at the same time, alls I want to do is fucking straddle her.
“Lie down on the floor,” I tell her. She does as I ask. She looks scared stiff. I stand over her, one foot on each side of her waist. She’s playing with her fingers nervously. I kinda want to say something to get her to calm down, but at the same time her nerves are adorable. I know she’s thinking about the kiss right now, but I can’t let my head go there.
“Belén!” I say, and she looks up to my face. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.”
“I know,” she says, so quietly it’s almost a whisper.
I kneel over her hips and then lower my weight onto her. I grab both of her arms and lift them above her head. I put pressure on her wrists and stare into her face. Jesus Fucking Christ I want to kiss her!
“Try to throw me off,” I say. Belén struggles pathetically. She doesn’t move an inch. It’s not that she’s not trying but it’s the most vulnerable possible position to be in. I learned this in wrestling and I know you can throw someone twice your size if you use the right leverage.
I try not to feel the area where our thighs come together. I try hard not to notice the heat that radiates out from her center. I try even harder not to notice that my dick is twitching. She’s trying too, pretending that she doesn’t feel it either.
“Move your feet in, up closer to your butt,” I command. Belén’s face is flushed and her eyes tell me she’s somewhere else. But she still responds to the call of my voice. She lifts her feet and I pretend I don’t notice the roll of her hips under mine and how innocent and sweet she feels trapped underneath me.
“Now you got stronger leverage, so you’re going to thrust with your hips up and to the side; at the same time use the force of your arms together to bring your whole body up. Understand?”
She nods and our eyes catch. She doesn’t want out of this position. I don’t either. My cock starts to grow just from making eye contact with her.
“Push me off,” I say and Belén does her damnedest. She follows the directions and she does have a little bit of power. But for some asshole reason I can’t let her win this one. I stay right the fuck on top of her.
Her breath is coming fast and she thrusts again, this time rolling her hips to the right. I press in harder with mine and force her hands to the floor again. At this point I’m just fucking with her.
“I can’t do it, Lucky!” she says, still exerting fierce little Belén energy.
“One more time!” I say and she pulls her feet in closer to her butt and thrusts, lifting her pelvis up. I roll off of her still holding her wrists. She ends up on top of me, our positions reversed. But instead of getting off, she lets go of my arms and then slaps me.
“What the fuck?” I say, grabbing my face. I scramble to get her wrists and I roll this time, faster, yanking her under me. I’m back on top and she’s breathing so hard her chest is heaving. I can see her nipples through her sports bra and now my stupid cock is fully at attention.
‘Why’d you slap me, Belén?” I ask, all out of breath.
“’Cause you deserve it! You’re an attacker,” she says, and I smile a little.
“I’m gonna teach you how to really hit. You can’t go around bitch-slapping people.”
I get her up against the wall and adjust my crotch.
“Make a fist like this, Bey,” I say, holding my fist up to her face.
She mimics my fist and hers is tiny. She puts both fists up like she’s ready to box me. She is not a tough girl at all and I almost start laughing.
“Come up from underneath, just like this, toward my jaw.” I wrap my hand around her fist and guide it in an upper-cut to my face. Belén looks at me with so much trust that it guts me. Her eyes are wide, her cheeks pink, her hair messy. She chews on her lip while she traces the line in the air with her fist.
“Go ahead, hit me.”
“I don’t want to,” she says, looking frustrated.
“Yes you do!”
“I don’t want to, Lucky.”
“Fucking hit me, Bey. I need to know that you can take care of yourself!”
“No!” she says and I force her back hard. I grab her arms again and pin them to the wall. I don’t think we’re talking about hitting anymore; we’re talking about that kiss.
I want to grab her chin and force her to kiss me again with all that she’s got. I want to shove my body against her and show her just how fucking crazy she makes me.
But instead I lay my forehead against hers and the tips of our noses touch. I close my eyes and nod my head ever so lightly.
“Game over!” I say and spring back from the wall. Belén’s face goes into shock as I simultaneously abandon all of the points of contact between our bodies.
“I’m done!” I say and stride to my bedroom.
I slam the door in case they don’t understand just how fucking done I am.
Chapter 8
Belén
I use a bristle brush and a little bit of gel to slick my hair up into a high ponytail, then work out the bumps by brushing it flat and pulling it tight until it’s all perfectly uniform. It’s two weeks until my birthday and I can’t wait.
Luciano probably forgot and he won’t even show up to cut the cake at my party. He’s been avoiding me ever since the day he gave me the self-defense lesson and it felt like we might kiss again. He only sticks around if our moms force him. He doesn’t even want to fight with me. I guess he’s mad o
r he thinks it’s gross, that time when we really did kiss. But I don’t think it was gross—and I’ll never forget it.
I know I feel guilty though, because when we went to church that Sunday, the day after it happened, I prayed for forgiveness and asked God to give me another chance. I promised him I’d remain pure until marriage. Kissing isn’t something I will ever take lightly. It made me feel like I’d have a heart attack when it was happening and then covered me with a layer of guilt so thick it took four candles, three Hail Marys and two rosaries to scrape it off. I guess that means the kiss was worth something.
After I finish all of my homework, I flip aimlessly through the TV channels with my feet on the coffee table. Mami won’t be home until dinnertime and Yari is at the dentist. Usually I’d go find Luciano but I’m scared to see him. He’ll say something about what happened and then I’ll die of embarrassment. But it’s hot in the apartment and my skin is itching to leave. Maybe I’ll just go sit on the stoop for a little bit and people-watch. See if anybody is out there.
I check my hair once more and then I fly down the stairs. I can smell all of the neighbors’ dinners starting to cook and the odors fill the stairwell. Mami will bring something home with her because on the nights she works late she has to cook for the old man she takes care of. She’ll fix extra and then bring it home for us. His has to go into the blender because he has no teeth left to chew with.
Mami wears turquoise scrubs to work and she takes care of two different people who can’t take care of themselves. She says she’s got practice already from my dad and then laughs like it’s the funniest joke. My dad hasn’t been around at all, he left when I was one. Luciano’s dad left too, and now he’s the only boy in our family if you don’t count Hemi’s boys, and believe me, nobody does.
But I got my eyes from my dad and my mom says all of my skinny bones came from him too.
She says, “Look at my hips!” when we stand side by side in the mirror, and she’s right, my hips don’t look like hers.
Luciano looks like his dad—that’s where he got freckles and his smile. His hair was even blondish when he was little, but it’s gone dark now like mine. Luciano looks strong and muscular and he also looks tough. Guys don’t mess with him much on the street because word got around that Luciano isn’t scared to fuck anybody up. But at home we can’t talk like that or even act like we’re street. Our moms would have our heads on sticks and feed us our own two feet for dinner if they knew how differently we acted outside of the house, especially Luciano. Titi would send Luciano to military school and to DR for the summer. It’s like at home he’s still a son and on the corner he’s a man. And not just a regular man, but a man who gets whatever he wants. Luciano wants to be just like Jaylee. I’m not dumb; I know what he does.
I plop my butt down on the top of the stoop; I like to steer clear of the last stairs. That way I can pop up quick and run inside if anything bad happens. Not like people are getting shot on the sidewalk every day, but it happens enough for me to always keep my guard up.
The sun is hot and sticky even though I’m wearing a halter top. I wander over to the bodega and buy myself an orange soda. The guy behind the counter hands me a straw and a bag, bypassing the line of people waiting to purchase lottery tickets or beer and loose cigarettes.
“Hey, Belén, how are you?”
I put two quarters down on the little counter in front of the Plexiglas window. I smile and say thank you and he hands me a pack of gum. I always get stuff for free at my corner deli. I think the guy has a crush on Mami. I can kind of tell from the way that he looks at her. I blow the paper off my straw and stick it in the can, but I keep the bag around it just because that’s the way Luciano does it.
He’s standing on the corner with friends when I head back to the stoop. I look down at the ground so I can pretend I didn’t see him and that I don’t care what he’s doing. They are speaking mostly in Spanish. There are a lot of FOBs around here, or hicks, like we call them. They don’t know how to ride the subway when they get here or even which way is downtown. Luciano and I both speak English better than Spanish. But Luciano is pretty good at talking to other people in either language.
We look up at the same time and our eyes meet. I look down quickly and I can feel my face turn red. Maybe I shouldn’t be embarrassed—he’s the one who kissed me. But I really wanted it, and when he had me against the refrigerator I was begging for the kiss. When he was teaching me to fight, I didn’t want him to ever stop touching me. But I didn’t know that it would be so awful afterwards and that it would make him hate me. And I feel guilty too, but I know for a fact at school that a lot of girls kiss their cousins—so it can’t be as bad as he’s acting.
I feel like his eyes are telling me a story and I just want to keep listening. I think there is so much inside of Luciano and I’ve seen a lot of it since we were kids, but I get the feeling it’s even bigger and I wish I could see inside of him to light up all of those dark corners. I know he wishes we had more money or that we had our dads around. I know he worries about the future and about his mom holding onto her job. I’ve heard them fight about him staying in school, and I’ve seen Titi cry when he says he wants to get a job so that he can support her.
“Hey, Belén!” one of the boys calls, and I look up to see them all staring in my direction. I put my drink down and stand up and then slowly walk over. I hope they’re not playing a trick or teasing me and I’m the punch line of their joke. I don’t know how Yari can hang out with them—I just don’t trust boys their age. Boys in the neighborhood are bad news, especially these ones who practically live on the corner.
“Leave her alone,” Luciano says and looks at me sharply, jerking his head toward our front door. He wants me to go inside and not be the victim of their fun. But I want to show Luciano that I’m tough, I can take it—show him I can be like other girls. I want him to see that maybe other boys have crushes on me too.
“Belén, go upstairs,” he says as I walk closer to their group.
“Let her stay, Lucky,” one of them says. “She looks just like Eva Mendes.”
“Hey, Lucky, does your cousin suck dick?” another one says, and now I know I should turn around. But my feet keep on walking and bringing me closer.
My mom once told me that men can smell fear just like horses do, so you have to pretend when you’re around them. Show them you’re tough and that you won’t back down for anything. If they get a whiff of your fear they might go crazy and attack you.
Luciano grabs my arm and pulls me right through the center of the group. I sort of slam up against his side from the momentum and a smile slides up my face even though I don’t want it to.
“Even if I went all the way with a boy—like I’d ever tell you guys,” is all I can think of to say in retaliation. I want to be one of the girls who aren’t afraid. I want to be cool.
“Holy shit, Belén!” one boy directly behind me says.
“Oh, fuck!” says another one and now they’re all laughing.
I’m smiling and blushing because I’m not sure what they’re all getting at. Luciano grabs my arm and yanks me toward our building.
“Let go!” I say firmly. “I want to stay out until later.”
“No, you don’t. Come. Now,” he says, and I can’t say no to him. He’s too pissed off and I can tell he won’t take no for an answer.
“What are they all talking about, anyway?” I ask as he drags me toward home again.
“Wait till we get upstairs,” Luciano says still forcefully pulling me.
“What’s your problem—” I say but stop short at the stoop when I look down to see my soda and the dark smear next to it on the cement steps.
“No!” I gasp and then take off running toward my apartment.
This can’t be happening to me right now. Not in front of those boys, not in front of my cousin.
I’m making noises that are kind of like sobs all filled up with regret. But Luciano has caught up to me on the stairs and is trying to comfort me.
“My mom’s at work,” I say, hiding my face from him.
“Is this the first time?” he asks.
“I don’t want to talk about it!”
We’re on his landing and he fishes for his keys. I just stand still, sobbing, wishing I could erase this whole stupid day.
“Come in, Belén,” he says, gesturing with his head to the apartment. He’s got the key in the door and is holding it open. I follow him in, holding my own shoulders. I feel like I don’t have a choice and I’m not really sure why. I should go upstairs to my own apartment, take off my dirty clothes and wash myself in the bathtub. He tosses his keys onto the table and disappears into the bathroom. He comes out with sanitary napkins and holds the green package out to me.
I’m dying of embarrassment; I couldn’t possibly feel more humiliated. I take the pads from him without saying anything and head into the bathroom. I pull my pants down to inspect and it doesn’t even really look like blood. It looks dark and kind of scares me and I just sit on the toilet. Luciano opens the door a crack and I scream in protest.
“Cálmate, Belén!” he shouts and tosses a pair of Titi’s underwear and some black leggings into the bathroom. He comes back a few seconds later and pushes a plastic bag around the corner.
“Put the dirty clothes in here. We can send them to the laundry.”
“Okay. Thanks,” I manage, feeling absolutely mortified.
I stuff my dirty clothes in the bag and attach a pad to the underwear. Then I pull on Titi’s leggings and carefully wash my hands, looking for traces of blood everywhere.
When I finally work up the nerve to step out of the bathroom, Luciano is on the couch watching television like nothing out of the ordinary happened.
