“You know how to drive this thing?”
“Of course I do. It’s easy.”
I was skeptical but intrigued. I hopped up and took the seat beside her. She fired up the engine and we took off, bouncing and jostling toward the avocado grove.
“I’ll give you a tour,” she said, “of the entire Diaz Ranch.”
It was an enormous property, even bigger than I’d imagined after working there for two weekends. Acre after acre of beautiful unspoiled central California landscape. The most interesting part for me was driving through the avocado grove, though. The single avocado that brought me to the Diaz Ranch in the first place was just one tiny grain of sand in a sea of the green fruit. And that’s another thing—the avocado is a fruit, not a vegetable, according to Bettina. Sure, it tastes and looks like a vegetable but it’s technically a berry, so there you have it. Full cycle from the grapes, which are also berries, to the source of my favorite snack, guacamole, another berry.
Bettina was loaded with information about avocados.
“In some parts of the world, they’re called alligator pears,” she said. “Because they’re shaped like a pear and the skin looks like an alligator.”
And later on . . .
“Do you know they’re loaded with fat? But it’s the healthy kind of fat so it’s guilt-free.”
Her face lit up when she talked about avocados in a way I hadn’t seen before. “We grow two kinds,” she explained as we bumped our way between two rows of trees. “Hass and Fuerte. Which do you like best?”
I shrugged. “The kind my mom brings back from the supermarket.” I honestly didn’t know there was more than one kind.
“Most people like the Hass because that’s the one the stores usually carry. But my favorite is the Fuerte.”
“What’s the difference?”
“There’s a huge difference.” She pulled the tractor up close to a tree and put it in park. She stood on the driver’s seat and reached up to pluck a large bright green avocado. “Take it home and let it ripen for a few days,” she said. “Then you can try it and let me know what you think. The skin is a lot thinner than the Hass so scoop it out gently with a spoon. Or peel it with a fruit peeler and eat it with a fork.”
“I can’t wait to try it,” I said. “Although I usually like mine mashed and smothered in salsa.”
“Just taste it before you do that,” she said. “It’s like heaven—so smooth and buttery, Nana uses them for baking cakes. Even making chocolate mousse.”
I examined the avocado in the sunlight. It was a thing of beauty, really. Nature’s perfect masterpiece, so simple and yet so tasty. Bettina put the tractor in gear and we chugged away.
“Fuerte means strong in Spanish,” she continued. “That’s how this variety got its name, because it can withstand freezing temperatures.”
“It’s hard to get used to that whole berry thing—first the grapes and now the avocados.”
“Technically a persimmon is a berry too,” she said.
“I knew it! I knew you were going to say that. Just please don’t tell me a hamburger is a berry or you’re going to ruin my entire day.”
And then an incredible thing happened. She laughed. Bettina Diaz laughed, and I was the one who made her laugh. I wasn’t so conceited to think I was the only one or the first one to ever make her laugh. But I was the only one to make her laugh in my presence since I’d known her.
“Okay, I won’t,” she said. “I wouldn’t want to burst your bubble.”
I looked at my watch and realized how close it was to noon. “We’d better get back,” I said. “Your dad will be home soon.”
“I know.” And she sounded a little wistful. Maybe even a little sad. “You know what I think about sometimes when I’m walking alone in this grove?”
“I have a feeling it’s not guacamole.”
“It’s not. I don’t even like guacamole,” she said. “But seriously . . . I think about how amazing it is that the fruit won’t ripen as long as it’s on the tree. If you left it on the tree forever, it would never get ripe. I think that’s how people are. They have to leave home in order to grow up, and that makes me sad because I love this place and I don’t ever want to leave it.”
And I could see how bad it made her feel just saying it. “You can always come back,” I said. “After you’ve done whatever growing up you need to do.”
She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I will. I could never stay away for long.”
By then we’d arrived at the spot where Ray kept the tractor parked. She turned off the ignition and we climbed out.
“Thanks for the tour. It was really great, and I had a nice time,” I said. “I learned a lot too.”
And then I remembered the question I wanted to ask her, and it felt like such bad timing. It didn’t seem like the right moment and it didn’t seem like the right question, but I’d promised myself and I didn’t want another night of tossing and turning because I neglected to ask. We were almost to the side gate, but I hadn’t heard any cars driving across the gravel yet. No car doors slamming or garage doors opening. No voices other than our own.
“Last time we were talking,” I said. “Right before the lunch. You said something about how the kids at school turned you into a beast. And when I asked why . . . ” I glanced over at her and had the strange sensation she was drifting away from me like a helium balloon floating up into the sky. “When I asked why,” I forced myself on, trying to grab at that balloon string to pull her back to me, “you said it was because maybe you are a beast. I know that’s not true, so what did you mean?”
We’d arrived at the side gate and I opened it and paused to let her enter first.
“Beau, remember how this morning you asked if I did the dishes? Well, I didn’t, and if I don’t do them right now before Nana gets back, she’s going to have a fit.”
And she took off down the granite stepping stones like Bambi, disappearing into a maze of persimmon, apricot and cherry trees smothered at their roots by that insane colorful riot of flowers. I remember thinking then how people answer the question they wish they’d been asked instead of the question they’re actually asked. And I remember standing there counting how many days it would be until I returned to the Diaz Ranch. And the last thing I remember thinking was . . . that it was the first time she ever called me by my name.
Thirty-One
Weekdays and weekends were like living in two different worlds. In one sense, it’s always like that. For Maman, weekends meant not going to work unless Khalil’s parents were out of town. For Papa, it meant having people around instead of lying on the couch by himself all day. But ever since I started working at the Diaz Ranch, it felt like two completely different people occupied my brain depending on the day of the week. Pre-Diaz weekends consisted of hanging with friends, playing with the twins, doing chores for Maman and Papa, catching up on homework, and most recently, hanging out at home while Angie and Maman went on and on about the wedding. Post-Diaz weekends consisted of hard manual labor. And Bettina.
Monday morning was a ride-my-bike day instead of a pick-up-Khalil day, and I was grateful for that. I didn’t know how I was going to refuse Masie if she asked to go along now that she and Khalil were technically friends. With Ethan out of the picture and Khalil’s almost certain offer to treat us at the diner, I figured even picking him up from school would be an attractive option for her. We kids from Bridgegate didn’t get over to the Castlegate area very often, so it could almost qualify as a semi-adventure.
Another thing I dreaded was seeing Bettina at Castlegate with or without Masie in the seat next to me. Maman said I could drive her car on the days I needed to get Khalil. It was easier to maneuver through the school parking lot than the truck, used a lot less gas, and—I was hoping—would disguise me from Bettina in case our paths should cross. She wouldn’t be looking for Maman’s car, at least I hoped not. I hoped she wouldn’t remember it from the ac
cident, but I doubted it—there were thousands of cars that looked just like Maman’s on the road, but the truck was a one-of-a-kind.
That morning, after locking up my bike and catching up with my friend Ned in the parking lot, I practically wasn’t surprised when Masie came into my field of vision, traveling in the same direction toward our lockers. I practically wasn’t surprised that she was walking with Ethan the Goose—or at least he was walking and she was rolling along beside him on her skateboard. And I practically wasn’t surprised they were holding hands and taking turns nuzzling each other’s necks.
To be honest, I did register a moment of disappointment—I don’t know whether it was disappointment in Masie or the general situation—but it didn’t take me long to recover and I felt no outrage toward either one of them. Maybe they belonged together, I thought. Although Masie had limped through the past week using the crutch Krissy and I provided about her being too good for Ethan, clearly she didn’t need it. Or believe it. And maybe Ethan wasn’t such a goose, after all. Or maybe he was a Canadian goose, and those were considered somewhat handsome in the avian world. And who said a Canadian goose and a Persian cat couldn’t coexist? After all, someone had written a love poem about an owl and a pussycat and how different could that be? So by the time I got to my locker I was already talked down from the ledge and ready to carry on as Masie’s friend. You could never have too many friends, after all.
“How was your weekend, Beau?” Masie asked at our lockers after Ethan dropped her off. Apparently, she didn’t remember what I was doing with my weekends lately. “Did you have fun?”
“It was fine.”
“Guess what?”
I didn’t have to guess. I knew what was coming, but I was going to make her work a little for it. I wasn’t just going to hand it to her on a silver platter.
“What?”
“Ethan and I are back together.”
“Really? Wow. No kidding. Good for you.”
“Yeah, I mean, I didn’t expect it, but he called Friday night and asked if we could talk and . . . well, you know. One thing led to another.”
Yeah, I knew.
She slipped her skateboard into her locker in a move I knew pretty well by then, slammed the door, and spun the dial.
“I’m happy for you, Mase,” I said and realized I kind of was. “If you’re happy.”
“I am. So, hey, are you still going to pick up Khalil? Maybe I can go with you and we could hang out sometime.”
But I found the idea to be not very appealing after the last time.
“I’m not really picking him up anymore,” I lied.
“I still want to help with Angie’s wedding. I can do flower arrangements and table settings, you know. I’m not letting Ethan take over my life like he did last time. This time I set boundaries, so I get some me time and don’t neglect my friends.”
“I’ll mention it to Maman, but I don’t think we’ll have flowers.” I hoped I didn’t sound too under-enthused, but I realized at that point she was more interested in girl-crushing on Angie than boy-crushing on me. That was fine. I’d already accepted my non-relevance in her life in just the short amount of time it took me to cross the parking lot. But it didn’t mean I had to love it just yet. And she wasn’t the only one who could set boundaries and demand me time. “Anyway, I’d better get going . . . don’t want to be late for chem.”
“Okay, Beau. Tell your mom and dad hi from me. I love your family. They’re so adorable and nice.”
And Masie really was a good girl. A sweet girl. A beautiful girl. A girl any guy would be proud to have as a girlfriend. But she just wasn’t interested in me. Not only did Ethan’s reappearance in her life deliver that message loud and clear, but I couldn’t think of one instance when Masie asked a question about me and then listened intently like she really wanted to hear the answer. She never took me somewhere to see something I hadn’t seen before. She never helped me do something I didn’t want to do that wasn’t any fun. And to be fair, I never did any of those things for her either.
I didn’t blame her for any of that. She probably did all that stuff with and for Ethan. But she wasn’t into me and that was okay. I thought I knew someone who was. And what’s more . . . that day, I thought I knew someone I was into as well.
Thirty-Two
“Beau, my man!” Khalil slid into the passenger side of Maman’s car. “Long time, no see brah.”
“It’s only been five days, Khalil. Quick, get in and shut the door.”
“Why?” The cool disappeared from his smile. “What’s going on?”
“I just wanna get out of here before we get caught up in traffic.”
The truth was I wanted to get out of there before I saw Bettina. It wasn’t that I was afraid of seeing her like before. It was just that I didn’t know how she’d react if she saw me at her school, and memories of our last encounter there still haunted me. We’d progressed to a new level in the video game of life, and I didn’t want to start all over again at Level One.
“And before you say it, don’t tell me to chill out,” I added for good measure as I pulled into the through traffic lane.
“I want everyone to see you, that’s the whole point,” Khalil said, and then turned around like he half-expected to find Masie hiding in the back seat. “Where is she?”
“If by she, you mean Masie . . . she has a new boyfriend. Or an old one who’s back in the picture.”
Khalil unwrapped a Jolly Rancher and offered it to me.
“Oh, hey, sorry about that man. I know what a bummer it is to get your heart squeezed like that. Been there.”
I wondered if Khalil really had been there, but who knows. It is possible to have your heart broken without the other person even realizing you exist—I knew that much.
“We were never together,” I said. “She’s just a friend.”
“For real?” Khalil squealed. “If I’d known that I’d have put the moves on her. Then maybe she wouldn’t be back with the old boyfriend.”
“I guess anything’s possible, lover boy,” I said. “Anyway, she liked you . . . your company . . . as a friend.”
I was clear of the school by then so there was no chance of a close encounter with Bettina.
“Guess what happened in school today? You’ll never guess,” Khalil said. He was transitioning back to the real Khalil as we moved further away from Castlegate.
“I give up.”
“No, guess. You gotta guess.”
Khalil unwrapped another Jolly Rancher. He’d accumulated a pile of empty wrappers in his lap just since we’d left school. Personally, it took me a good ten, fifteen minutes to finish even one, so I wasn’t sure how he did it.
“Okay, space aliens invaded your cafeteria.”
“No, seriously. C’mon, guess again.”
He rolled his window down even though I had the air conditioner blasting.
“I give up. How the hell am I supposed to know what happened at your school when I can barely keep up with what’s going on at mine?”
“The Beast. She came up to me today after lunch.”
He looked over at me with a huge grin. I felt my skin prickle just underneath the surface. I felt a hot rage, but I did my best to tamp it down.
“Please don’t call her that, Khalil. It’s not very nice.”
“She’s The Beast, Beau. The Beast!”
“Why do you say that?”
We were nearly at Khalil’s house by then and I wanted to finish the conversation before I got him home. The last thing I needed was Maman listening in and then cross-examining me about Bettina Diaz. I pulled over to the side of the road in front of some random mansion.
“It’s not just me. Everyone calls her that,” he said.
“Okay, well, you’re not everyone. Not in my car. Not if you want me to keep picking you up. Or you can go back to having L-Mom pick you up five days a week.”
One of the police cars that pa
trols Khalil’s neighborhood passed by going in the opposite direction. The car slowed and then stopped. It reversed until it was even with us and the cop stared out his window at me.
“Hello, Officer Yamaguchi,” Khalil leaned over and waved out my window.
“Hey there, Khalil, didn’t see you. How ya doing?” He waved and drove off.
We were alone again except for a guy mowing the lawn who stared every time he passed us.
“Why are you like that, man?” Khalil said. “What’s up with you and Bett Diaz?”
The air smelled fresh, like summer. It was that mowed grass smell we didn’t get too much of in California because of the drought. At least not in my neighborhood.
“Nothing’s up. But since you were so anxious to tell me what happened, why don’t you finish. She came up to you and then what?”
“She asked me if I knew that I’d made her trip and drop all her books that day. And if I knew I broke her sandal.” Khalil laughed nervously. “Like that happened a month ago. I don’t know why she’s bringing it up now.”
“And what did you tell her?”
“I told her, no.”
“Did you know?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Then why didn’t you say so?”
“It creeped me out when she asked me out of the blue like that. Like what’s she going to do after all this time—sue me or something?”
“Khalil. When it happened . . . did you help her pick up her books or apologize for tripping her?”
“No, but—”
“Why not?”
“All my friends were there, and everyone was laughing. I was kind of . . . the hero, you know. She’s The Beast.”
“You know what, Khalil? That sucks.”
He looked down at his lap and I could see he was twisting his hands together the way Claude does when he’s anxious.
“I know,” he said at last.
“So, what’re you going to do about it?”
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