The Education of Margot Sanchez

by Lilliam Rivera

  “Wait,” Moises says. “Hold up.”

  “Fuck you!” I pull but nothing happens. I’m stuck on a roof with a guy who hates everything about me. “Open the door so I can get out.”

  “Hold up.”

  “No, open it!”

  “Before I open it, give me a sec to explain,” Moises says. “I’m sorry, Margot. For real, I’m sorry. That shit wasn’t right. I said it because . . . I had no right to make you feel bad. I’m a jerk. Just because you got money doesn’t mean you have everything. I fall into that mind-set, I want to decimate everyone around me.”

  He wants to peg me with everything evil. If you don’t live like him then you’re trying to be white or rich or something other than what you are. I don’t even know what I am yet. I’m just maintaining, just like him.

  “Look, I was surprised when you reached out,” he continues. “I figured you’re into playing games and I’d play along. I was wrong. I like you and although we come from different worlds, I want to connect. What I’m failing to say is that . . . let’s hit the rewind button.”

  With that, he starts doing some crazy maneuvers. He walks backward. I try hard not to laugh but it becomes difficult when he starts to mouth words in reverse. After a while, I give in. I won’t forget his hurtful actions but watching him act the fool eases things a bit. A tiny bit.

  Instead of going back to the sleeping bag, he walks over to the edge of the roof. I join him but leave a sizable gap between us.

  “My name is Moises.”

  He sticks out his hand. I should cut my losses and leave. I don’t shake his hand but I accept his apology for now. His display is funny but I don’t have to buy all of it.

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m some clueless person,” I say. “I’m not looking for guidance from you or any guy, for that matter. This isn’t a war and I’m not trying to attack you.”

  “Fair enough,” he says. There’s a pause filled with popping firecrackers. “Then what is it you want?”

  Whoa. I thought I was placing boundaries like a mature person. Didn’t think I would have to participate in real talk with him.

  “Nothing. I don’t want a thing,” I say. My initial plans of using Moises to get back at Papi and Junior float away. “I just want to talk.”

  “Talk?”

  “Yeah, don’t be so shocked. Some girls just want to talk. I guess I’m different.”

  “A little,” he says. “Did you read any of the poems by Julia de Burgos yet? There’s a poem titled ‘Yo Misma Fui Mi Ruta.’ That poem sort of reminds me of you.”

  “Oh. Is that a good thing?”

  “She writes about being her own person. How people try to push her in one direction because she’s a woman, because of her class, but she refuses it. She’s doing her own thing. I can see that in you,” he says. “I’m surprised you’ve never heard of Julia de Burgos. I guess your school is too busy teaching you the same played-out subjects.”

  “Somerset is a great school,” I say. “They offer a bunch of subjects regular public schools never do. What school do you go to?”

  “I don’t,” he says. “I’m getting my GED.”

  He’s not in school. At home, we have no option but to graduate and go to college.

  “Not everything can be taught at school. You learn more from interacting with people.” Moises tucks his chin in and then slowly looks up with a slight smile. “So, you want to make out? Naw, I’m kidding. Seriously, though, if you want to I’m here for that. I’ll be your ‘practice’ until Nick sees the light.”

  My laugh is so loud, anything to cover my nervousness about him wanting to kiss me. There’s definitely something about him. I can admit that. We look up and an explosion of fire takes over the sky. There’s another explosion too. Elizabeth blows up my phone with texts. She wonders where I am.

  “Your family knows you’re with me?” Moises asks.

  “Of course,” I lie.

  “And your brother is cool with it?” he asks.

  “Junior is not my warden.”

  “Warden. That’s a funny word choice.”

  “He’s not always like that.” It’s one thing for me to be pissed off at Junior but I don’t like it when others rag on him. So here I am mouthing the same excuse Oscar gave me a couple of days ago. “Sometimes Junior can be sweet. He’s just stressed out.”

  “I can tell that you care for him, despite him being a dick.”

  “Don’t call him that.”

  What is it about Junior that compels Moises to speak so strongly? I won’t deny that my brother was a jerk to him but he is still my blood.

  “Why do you hate him? Junior won’t tell me a thing. What is it about you two?”

  Moises turns around and leans against the edge of the roof. He’s hesitating and that only increases my curiosity.

  “In a roundabout way, Junior reminds me of my past and of my brother,” he says. “And I probably do the same to him. Remind him of things he’d rather forget. Anyway, sometimes people just don’t mix.”

  Before I can ask more questions, my phone vibrates again.

  Change of plans. I’m so sorry I can’t make it. Will explain everything tomorrow! Talk later. Have fun, I text back. Elizabeth doesn’t respond and I know somewhere in the city she is angry with me. But I push that thought away.

  We stay up on the roof and talk some more. Sometimes Moises goes off on a tangent about the injustices in the world but I reel him back in. He’s used to fighting. We eventually move the conversation back to the sleeping bag, and the butterflies roll in my stomach. I’ve made it very clear. I’m here only to talk. Moises doesn’t try to kiss me but why is it that I still want him to?

  • • •

  The sun shines brightly. Moises’s arm is wrapped around me. He snores. There’s no way of knowing how long we’ve been like this. I remember that the conversation moved from one path to the next. My eyes grew heavy but we kept on until I couldn’t keep them open anymore and the fireworks no longer startled me. And now it’s morning and I can see his scar and the stubble on his chin.

  Moises opens his eyes. He groans and inches toward me. Very slowly. So close that I feel his breath on my cheek, until his lips are on mine and I’m forced to close my eyes too. His lips are soft and tangy from the mango. For a few seconds, I allow myself to enjoy being this close to him. This is new but I’m not supposed to feel anything for Moises. Not this kiss. Not a thing. His hand trails along the side of my neck, down to my back, and inches its way underneath my blouse. My virgin alarm rings for him to stop. Once he goes further I pull away.

  “I can’t,” I blurt out.

  “We can take it slow,” he says. “I want to be with you and if that means holding hands, I’m cool with that. If it means more, I’m cool with that too. You feel me?”

  “No, it’s not that.”

  He stops cupping my face.

  “Your boy Nick,” he says. “Right?”

  He’s right about Nick. Moises doesn’t hold anything good for me. He’s just a dare.

  “I need to go.” I stand and take in his serious face, which glows against the rising sun. He gets up and rolls the sleeping bag. I help him clean.

  “I’ll walk you to the train station,” he says. If he’s upset about what just happened he doesn’t show it.

  “You don’t have to,” I say, but I’m glad he does because maybe that means I’m not a total jerk.

  The streets are covered with firecracker remnants. Crazy thoughts spin through my head: that I spent the night with him, that Elizabeth is pissed off, and that I’m going to get busted.

  When we reach the train station, Moises pulls his MetroCard and swipes it for me before I can stop him. When I tell him he doesn’t have to wait he shakes his head as if I’m talking nonsense.

  The train approaches the station. I don’t know how to end this. What do I say without sounding like an idiot or a coldhearted person?

  “Thank you for walking me,” I say. “And for last ni
ght. It was fun.”

  The doors to the train open but before I step in, Moises leans in and gives me a kiss on the cheek.

  “I’ll see you around,” he whispers in my ear.

  I stare at him as the train pulls away.

  Chapter 11

  Mami lines up empty bottles on an outside table in front of the garage. It’s eight in the morning and she looks refreshed. A determined woman on a mission to clean in tight jeans and heels. There must have been some kind of get-together last night with the neighbors. I tiptoe toward the front door.

  “Margot, come here.” Her hair is in a bun, a style I’ve tried to copy many times but never achieve. My curly hair refuses to be controlled. She’s about to grill me. When I texted her the lie that I spent the night at Elizabeth’s, she responded with orders for me to be home no later than eight. It’s a test to remind me that I’m still paying for my crimes but I passed because I made it back on time.

  “How was it?” she asks.

  “Fine.” I adjust my sunglasses. I wish they could conceal my whole body and not just my eyes. I have to get to my room. Elizabeth didn’t respond to any of my texts or phone calls this morning. I’m nervous that she’ll turn up at the house and blow my cover. I need to reach her.

  Mami motions to the housekeeper to tackle the other side of the yard. She always complains how Yolanda is never quick enough but Mami doesn’t give her a chance. She has a gift of reaching disasters first. Mami sniffs the air around me and crinkles her nose. Then she sniffs again.

  “Have you been smoking?” she asks. “I can smell it from here.”

  “What! Are you crazy? Smoking is disgusting. It’s Junior you’re smelling.”

  She crosses her arms.

  “It’s probably incense or firecrackers,” I say. “There was a fireworks display last night.”

  “Well, it stinks.”

  “I don’t stink. Anyway, we didn’t do much of anything.” My fingers twirl my charm necklace. I can’t let her trip me up. “We checked out the concert and went back to her place. If you want, you can call her mother and ask.”

  Mami would never phone Elizabeth’s mom. She hates to appear like an oppressive dictator compared to Elizabeth’s parents. And how could she not? They allow Elizabeth to work in the city whereas I’m on lockdown.

  “Leave that alone,” Mami says, motioning for me to stop fidgeting with the necklace. “Your papi and I want to go over that whole boy problem. . . .”

  “There’s no boy so there’s no boy problem.” I hate being the topic of discussion.

  “Princesa, I want you to listen very carefully and try to understand where we are coming from. There’s an old saying in Puerto Rico: Dime con quién andas y yo te diré quién eres. Do you know what that means?” she asks. “It means you can judge a person by the company he or she keeps. If you hang out with bums that makes you a bum too. Me entiendes?”

  “I’m tired and I stink.” I try to cut her off. “I need to take a shower.”

  Mami refuses to drop it.

  “I understand how it happens,” she says. “You meet a boy and maybe he’s nice-looking. Maybe he notices you, pays you compliments, but those statements are only temporary. Don’t be fooled. These sinvergüenzas only want one thing.”

  What is Mami talking about? Both my parents have a warped sense of reality, where girls are clueless fembots who will blindly follow any guy and boys are predators out to attack every single girl. Sometimes I feel like I’m living in a Mad Men episode.

  “We sent you to Somerset so you can focus on school. You have a great opportunity. This summer job, although it wasn’t my idea, it’s for you to pay off your debt,” she continues. “Don’t mess up your future with one boy who decides to pay you some attention.”

  Little does she know how much Serena and Camille have influenced me on this evil path she keeps mentioning. Mami and Papi would straight-up kill me if they knew I’d spent the night with Moises. I can’t stand here and listen to her give me advice on how to retain my angelic reputation when I reek of sin.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” I say. “I have to go.”

  “Margot, don’t walk away from me. We need to talk.”

  The clinking of the bottles lets me know that she’s not following me and that’s a good thing. My heart thumps so hard I guzzle down a whole bottle of water to push the rhythm back to normal. I leave Elizabeth a fourth message. I need her on my side. Before I can send a follow-up text, there’s a knock on my bedroom door.

  “Princesa, it’s me.” Papi’s voice sounds like gravel.

  I run around the room and open windows. “Yes?” I need to mask any lingering odor from last night.

  “Open.”

  “I’m about to take a shower.” I hold the door only slightly ajar.

  “The door. Ahora.” He enters with a steaming cup of black coffee. His face is puffy and there are bags under his eyes. There must have been some heavy drinking last night while I was on a roof with Moises. Papi removes the clothes tossed on my bed and carves a space to sit.

  “Did you enjoy yourself last night?” he asks.

  “I did.” I position myself next to the window and pray that Moises’s musk oil evaporates off me. “I have to take a shower.”

  “Oh.” Papi stands up, confused. He still holds a dress in his hand. “Bueno, I came to talk to you about that boy.”

  “Forget it. I spoke to Elizabeth about it. He’s not from around here so I shouldn’t talk to him. No big deal.”

  “Good. I’m proud of you. That’s a sign of maturity,” he says. “You’ll eventually see that we were right.”

  Papi is pleased. The world is right now that Princesa is back to being his innocent daughter and that pesky boy is no longer a menace. If he only knew. Weird how my mango kiss happened only a couple of hours ago but a kiss is nothing. And that kiss in particular was a mistake.

  “Margot, Elizabeth is here!” Mami yells from outside. Finally! I hope Elizabeth keeps her mouth shut. We’ve been so out of sync. I can’t expect her to keep track of my lies.

  “Hurry up and come upstairs,” I yell back, and then turn to Papi. “Do you mind? Privacy, please.”

  Elizabeth arrives out of breath and sweaty in jogging clothes. I try to read her but she offers nothing but a blank expression. Since Mami hasn’t screamed murder, I think I’m in the clear.

  “Princesa won’t tell me what she did last night,” Papi teases. “What secrets are you girls keeping?”

  Elizabeth laughs nervously. I watch as she opens her mouth to respond but stops. She needs to keep quiet.

  “It’s good seeing you girls together. Elizabeth, help Margot out. She’s having a rough week at work.”

  “Ay, Papi, Elizabeth didn’t come over to talk to you. Go already!”

  I push him out of the room. Then I lock the door.

  “Where were you last night?” Elizabeth asks. “I sent you so many texts.”

  I shush her. Papi could still be by the door. I can’t take any chances. Besides, what is the big deal?

  “I couldn’t make it,” I say. “Don’t look at me like I killed someone.”

  “You should have told me,” Elizabeth says. “I was freaking out. I almost called your parents.”

  She chews on a strand of blue hair. Elizabeth and I have never done anything bad. Good girls for so long. The boldest action she’s taken is this recent dye job. When I told her I got caught stealing Papi’s credit card, she couldn’t believe it. She didn’t understand why I would do such a thing, especially since Papi is never stingy with money. It was wrong to even tell her.

  “I was with a friend,” I say. “I’m sorry. I just lost track of the time.”

  “Who? Someone from Somerset,” she says in anger. She can’t hide her disgust. This is why I keep my two worlds separate.

  “No, not Somerset.”

  She eagerly waits for details but I hold back. I don’t know why. Maybe if I share my moment on that roof the event become
s tarnished. Misunderstood. Or maybe I don’t want to be judged by my actions, good or bad.

  “First you make me lie and now you won’t even tell me what happened,” Elizabeth says. “Why do I bother?”

  She gets up to leave.

  “It was some stupid boy and nothing happened,” I blurt out. “We talked, that’s it.”

  Elizabeth is disappointed that I didn’t share any of this with her until after the fact.

  “What boy?” she asks. “Do Serena and Camille know about last night?”

  I shake my head. Not telling them earns me some points but not enough.

  “Why weren’t you up-front with me? I would have covered for you no matter what,” Elizabeth says. “Sometimes you act as if we’re strangers.”

  “If I had told you I was planning to hang out all night with some boy you’ve never heard of you would have told me I was crazy.”

  “You are crazy,” she says, then pauses. “But I would have covered for you. We’ve got each other’s back, no matter what. Remember? Or has that changed?”

  I don’t bring up that time she abandoned me for her new friends during those first weeks at Somerset. Elizabeth had an immediate circle of friends while I couldn’t figure anything out, not even how to open my new locker. I don’t mention that. She thinks I’ve stopped being her friend but it was Elizabeth who pulled away first.

  “I didn’t make up this whole story while your mom grilled me with questions for nothing,” she says. “I want details.”

  “It’s just a guy who lives near the supermarket. Nothing serious,” I say. “And we weren’t alone. It was more of a block party with people I didn’t know. My parents don’t want me to talk to anyone from that neighborhood. I needed to make something up.”

  She squints at me. “Well . . . was he at least cute?”

  “Yes, but he’s definitely not my type.” At least that part is true. “Sorry I wasn’t up-front with you.”

  Elizabeth lets go of some of her disappointment. I don’t want her to be mad. I know we haven’t been close for some time but I still care about her.

  “Well, you owe me twice now. The Boogaloo Bad Boys are playing later this week. Come with me,” she says. “I’m dying to see them live. It will be fun.”