Romeo and the Angel: Impossible Crush Chronicles

by Leeann M. Shane

  I made sure to never breathe it in again.

  After school, I’d never been more grateful to see my mother. I hadn’t run for the car as fast as I did since my first day of elementary school. I ran full force and wrenched the front seat open, falling into it with a heavy, relieved sigh.

  “Woah,” my mom gasped, startled. She grabbed for her belly, which was adorably growing. With a high-risk pregnancy, every inch her belly grew was a blessing. “I’m afraid to ask how your day was.”

  “Then don’t.” I put my seat belt on. “Save us both the trouble.”

  She touched my face, rubbing her thumb along my cheek. “I know things are difficult now, but you’re an amazing girl, Rya. You’ll make friends. Hopefully only of the female type,” she added, super anti-dating.

  She wasn’t worse than my dad. Whom just assumed Kenzie and I were still five and not seventeen. To him, we didn’t even know boys no longer had cooties. Well, at least not all of them anyway.

  “Where is your sister?” She looked into the throng of bodies, most of them getting on the bus, some of them hopping into the line of cars out front. Mom was only driving us because it was our first week. Next Monday, we’d have to take the bus with the rest of our block. I dreaded that the most. Packed in a yellow sardine can with strangers who hated me for no reason.

  “Probably getting her tiara and gown from the janitor.”

  “Don’t tell me she’s already queen of high school?”

  I snorted. “She sure is.”

  “Did she at least include you?” She touched my hair.

  “No, but it’s okay. She’s never been a friend to me.”

  “Rya,” she sighed sadly, but only because she knew I was right.

  My sister Kenzie and I, though identical twins, did not have the best relationship. Growing up, it was almost like I had a roommate sharing a house with me, rather than a best friend. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want that with her. A best friend. It was my birth right, but she’d never seemed interested.

  I watched her walk out of the school, jeans hung low, skinny waist on display. She was smiles and popularity, waving at people like she was their best friend. When she got into the car, she popped her gum.

  “Can we go get some fro-yo?” she greeted.

  Mom turned around to stare at her. “What are you wearing?”

  “What?” Kenzie looked at her pulled-up top and jeans.

  “Pull your shirt down and there is no need to wear your jeans so dang tight. I can see your inhibitions, Ken.”

  I stared out my window.

  Kenzie snorted out a laugh. “What inhibitions?”

  “Not funny. And no. We don’t have money to blow on fruitless excursions.”

  “Fro-yo is an excursion now?” Kenzie sighed dramatically. “How pathetic we’ve become.”

  “Not pathetic. Frugal. When your father gets home from work, maybe we can all try to give him a little less to worry about.”

  “Like what?” I asked. “Fight over his legs?”

  Both Mom and Kenzie laughed warmly. As children, when Dad came home from work, we’d both fight over his legs. I wanted his right leg, and of course so did she. We’d grapple for them, one of us would settle, and then he’d drag us through the house hanging from his legs and we’d laugh until we couldn’t hang on anymore.

  “I get his right,” Kenzie warned.

  I turned around, meeting her eyes. Though we looked similar, I never felt similar. Even sharing physical traits didn’t make us tight. “We’ll see.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “Game on, dweeb.”

  Mom pulled into the stained driveway of the two-bedroom bungalow home we now lived in. So much different from our four-bedroom colonial home. My sister and I had never shared a room together until recently, and I think we both hated it. The paint was a lackluster gray, and the walls were paneled in wood and the kitchen was so small we couldn’t all be in there at the same time.

  Even Mom’s car was different. A used Honda with a missing hubcap was a drastic change from the SUV she’d been driving before we left New Hampshire.

  “Whose turn is it to help with dinner?” Mom asked as soon as we went inside.

  At least we still had air conditioning. The cool air kicked on as soon as we came in and we all three sighed in relief. The summer in Texas wasn’t anything like it had been in New Hampshire. Broiling, senseless heat that made it impossible to think. It was the first week of August and it didn’t feel like it was letting up any time soon.

  “Rya’s,” Kenzie lied, taking off for our room.

  Mom rubbed her belly, leaning against the wall with her face pinched. “Go lay down,” I told her. “I’ll do dinner tonight.”

  Concern turned her lips down. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course.” I smiled. “Want me to bring you some tea?”

  She reached over and kissed my cheek. “I love you, Angel.”

  Mom had been calling me by my middle name for as long as I could remember.

  Probably because Kenzie had hogged all the air during our birth, and they’d thought I wasn’t going to make it.

  But I did.

  Proof that my sister and I had warred since the day we were born.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ROMEO

  Hot billows of clear steam rose eerily from the asphalt.

  I watched it rise for the night sky, creeping up until it disappeared.

  Squeaks from sneakers on the basketball court broke up the sounds of the city. Couples fighting, kids playing in the street, cars going too fast, and the faint boom and echo of a gunshot firing in the distance.

  It sounded like my home. A messy, tangled, terrifyingly beautiful mess. I could see Mama on the front porch talking to the neighbor, a widowed older woman who babysat the twins.

  Sweat dripped down my temples and I itched to get back into the game. Making the basketball team wasn’t a senseless hope, but a primary necessity. I needed an out. Any out. I was a good player. The team at school sucked, but that wasn’t the point. The point was having the excuse. Maybe I was grasping at straws, but still, I reached.

  I spotted Sergio and his crew chilling at the end of the cul-de-sac. My brother Diego was among them. He was a few years older. He’d been in the Kings since he was thirteen.

  He’d done it for me.

  Done it so I wouldn’t have to.

  But I was almost eighteen. My time was running out.

  I’d have to join the Kings soon or get the hell out of Texas. Maybe even the United States. No one disrespected the Kings, one of the most notorious gangs to make it out of Mexico. And choosing not to join was a huge slap in the proverbial face. Especially since Sergio and my father were like brothers themselves. They insisted I was an asset. I could make them stronger.

  I pretended to understand. I went along with the rules.

  But inside, I was afraid. The life expectancy in my city for males in my neighborhood was nineteen. The fact that guys like Sergio and Diego had made it to their early twenties at all was because of the younger kids losing their lives to protect them.

  The streets were hot.

  The West Snakes were overtaking Kings River at an alarming rate. Turf wars were mounting. Blood was shed. The streets were scorched scarlet.

  Sergio needed me to join, said the numbers weren’t large enough for a war. But I wanted out. I wanted to go to college. Give my Mama and my siblings a better life. Maybe not riches, but better than blood and starvation.

  I felt the insurmountable pressure. The intense desire to be… better.

  The only problem was no one made it out of Kings River. I’d never seen anyone leave alive. Or free.

  A heavy hand came down on my back, and Raf spit on the cracked pavement. “What are you thinking about so hard?”

  I shrugged out of his touch. “Nothing.”

  “You sure it’s not that chica blanca? Because she’s got a bangin’ body. You think she shaves?”

  It took
me a second to remember who he was talking about. All right, that wasn’t entirely true. Kings River was predominantly Hispanic. The two new white girls at school were creating a lot of buzz. Mostly because they were twins, and another because they were as Raf so eloquently put it, bangin’. “No.”

  “No, you’re sure it’s not her, or no, she doesn’t shave?”

  I shrugged away from him. Raf could be annoying as hell sometimes. Which was funny most of the time, but only when he wasn’t on me.

  Behind me, he chuckled. “I’m going to try and get at that. I’ll let you know how it is.”

  I didn’t listen, focused on the ball. These pickup games were the only practice I could afford to get. I worked after school, much to Sergio’s chagrin. He often tempted me with wads of cash. I could have it if I slung dope to the kids at school. But if I sold drugs for him at school, eventually I’d end up on the corner risking a felony while his wad of cash got bigger, and he could tempt the next dumb, poor starving kid with it.

  On the surface looking in, I knew it appeared like Sergio wasn’t the bad guy. These operations always had a leader. Even the White House had the president. It was no different. One leader was one leader. They wanted to be on top, run the city, make the money and reap the benefits while guys my age fell to the streets. They masked their intentions with tempting lies. Promising family, brotherhood, and security, but in reality, they were stealing those things right out from under us to serve themselves.

  “Dang, Rome, chill out.” Raf glared at me, rubbing his side from the elbow I dropped on my way to the hoop.

  I brushed past him. “She won’t go for it.”

  “Who?” he grumbled.

  “Rya.”

  “What the hell’s a Rya?”

  “The girl we met this morning.”

  His eyes brightened. “Oh, you know her name already? What’s this? You two getting married?”

  I ignored his idiotic mumbling. “She won’t fall for your bullcrap.” Frankly, I couldn’t respect anyone who did. He had no game, no respect, and he wasn’t half as good-looking as me.

  He grinned, as if he could read my thoughts. “Wanna bet?”

  “A hundred bucks?”

  He whistled. “You think you know her so well?”

  “Nah, I don’t know her, but I know her type. She’s a good girl. Her sister, on the other hand, she’s the loca one.”

  “Oh yeah?” He rubbed his jaw. “How do you know?”

  His ignorance made me aggravated. Anyone could look at Rya and see her insides. Glowing, pure white. That’s why I offered my services this morning. I’d never done it before and didn’t really know where the idea came from. All I knew was she was going to get eaten alive with or without my help, but at least if I were around, she’d suffer less scars. She reminded me of my sister, Gabby. Gabs had the same eyes. Pure, unblemished. I’d do anything to keep my sister that way. But I wasn’t an entirely good guy, and if I were going to offer to help Rya, I needed payment.

  “I just know. Take it or not.” I skirted around him, dunking the ball and landing on my feet with a triumphant glower.

  He swatted the ball away. “What’s the bet?” he relented.

  None of us were in a position to risk one hundred dollars. But we were also just stupid enough to do so. “If she goes for you, I pay up. If she doesn’t fall for your whack ass BS, then I win.” I held out my hand. “Deal?”

  “What if she does?” he asked, face serious.

  I frowned. “Then I pay you.”

  “No, I mean really, what if she does fall for my crap? What if she’s so into me, she doesn’t see you at all?”

  I tightened my grip on his hand. “Why would I care what she does?”

  “I don’t know, but I know you’d care.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you can’t name one other girl’s name at the school besides Rosa. Which doesn’t count because you two dated for a million years. What’s her sister’s name?”

  I gritted my teeth. I didn’t know her sister’s name, but it didn’t matter. He was making something out of nothing. Like he always did. “Do you ever stop talking? Are you taking the deal or not?”

  He grinned slimily. “Deal.” Something over my shoulder caught his eye. “Speaking of Rosa.”

  My spine straightened. Breaking up with Rosa Sanchez had been one of the hardest things I’d ever gone through. But it wasn’t tough in the way one would think. I wasn’t broken hearted. I didn’t have a heart to break and Rosa wasn’t strong enough to do that. It was hard because she was always there. She was a part of my past and present. Her friends were my friends. Her story was my story. And I didn’t hate her. Not the way she hated me.

  She didn’t understand why we broke up. But I did. That was the problem.

  I understood my own desire to cut ties with anyone that could keep me in Kings River. It had been six months since we split, and she made it her point to come into my sights at least once a day. Thankfully, we’d managed to only get one class together this year, and she was seated on the other side of the room.

  It didn’t stop her from spinning all the way around in her seat to drill me with her magnetic, dark eyes.

  It also didn’t help that my attraction to her hadn’t entirely lessened. She was sexy. Fall to your knees and kiss her feet fine. Caramel skin, dark chocolate eyes and mahogany hair that was always wavy and smelled like roses. She had a curvy, full body that drew attention no matter what she wore. Sweats or a bikini, people looked.

  But she had deep ties to the Kings that she couldn’t shake, wouldn’t shake. Sergio was her cousin. Before Sergio, her father ran the Kings.

  Today, I could honestly say I wasn’t sure how I could ever think it could be different with her. I always saw her and I having the same thoughts. But the older we got, the more she became what I at one point thought we were both running from. The night she told me she thought it was a good idea for me to join the gang was the same night I fell out of love with her.

  How could she want that for herself? For me?

  How could she love me if she was willing to risk me?

  I paid her no mind, putting my energy into the game. When the guys called it quits, it was almost midnight. The streets were no less alive, just with a darker energy. The kids were all inside, Mama too, and the summer heat had dissipated, leaving behind a faint hint of cool air tinged with summer.

  I jogged across the street, surreptitiously looking down the cul-de-sac. There were a lot of people at Sergio’s place. My brother’s car was parked amongst the others. A party maybe. They partied a lot. Or a meeting. Either way, I felt the shift in the air, and so did the neighborhood.

  I opened and closed my front door, feeling no better. My skin crawled all day and all night. I was in a constant battle, even when I was sleeping. And the messed-up part was, I wasn’t even sure I could have what I was fighting for.

  What if there was no getting out of Kings River?

  What if the gang was all I could become?

  Mama was asleep on the couch when I came in. I turned off the light and threw the blanket over her, leaving the TV on low. I stuck my head in the kid’s room. Gabby was passed out wild animal style. Antony was under his covers, a light peeking through his blanket.

  I stared at his tiny huddled body for a few seconds. “What part are you at?” I whispered.

  He didn’t remove the blanket from over his head. “He just fought the pterodactyl and now they’re going into the cave.”

  “You’re already on book two?” I asked, surprised he’d already finished the first book. I’d gotten him the entire series last night.

  He peeked out of the blanket, his dark hair ruffled, small face eager. “It’s so good, Rome.”

  Gabby and Antony were the only two people in the entire world who’d ever made my heart constrict. They were fraternal twins and from the moment they were born they’d been my world. Five as of last week, they had both recently started kindergarten. They hat
ed it, Gabby mostly, but I loved knowing that they were at school instead of at home playing in the dangerous streets.

  “One more chapter and then lights out. You need to sleep before school.”

  He sighed but nodded, pulling his covers back over his head. Ant was a good kid, born in the wrong neighborhood to the wrong family. He was far too smart, both emotionally and intellectually. He could read by the time he was three and keeping his book hunger fed was partly why I’d taken a job after school. I wanted him to read, cram his brain with other options than the ones I had. Gabby was smart too; she had a killer memory and a love for numbers. She watched me do my math homework and constantly had me quiz her with math problems.

  They were the strangest, specialist kids I’d ever met.

  Mama worked too much to see it. She worked two jobs. One at the bakery downtown, and the other at the nursing home across town. She worked her butt off and never broke even. I felt hollow on my way to my room in the garage. Our place only had two rooms, and Mama deserved to have the other. I crashed in the garage; I needed to have my own space anyway.

  With people.

  With the world.

  It felt like me, and then them.

  The alarm on my phone woke me early the next morning. I groaned, reaching over blindly to thumb the button on the side. My head hit the pillow for a few more seconds before I had to face the music and get up.

  First thing I did was take a piss and brush my teeth, same as every morning. Next, I woke the kids up and then got started on breakfast. As they fought over the bathroom sink, I did my homework and fried some spicy sausage, jotting down answers and hoping they were right.

  “Rome!” Gabby hollered. “Antony won’t share the toothpaste.”

  “Ant,” I warned, not taking my eyes off my textbook.

  “She’s not waiting her turn. If we lived in my book, I’d cut your head off and toss you in the dragon’s den.”

  From in the bathroom, I heard her tiny, indignant gasp. “You’d cut off my head?”

  “Just like that.”

  “That’s gross. And mean.” Her voice started wobbling. “I like my head. Don’t you like my head?”

  “Rome!” Ant hollered. “Gabby’s doing her crying breathing thing.”