by Ali Merci
“I actually came in here looking for an empty classroom to skip History, but now that it’s been infested with the two of you, I guess I need to find another place to hang out now,” he called over his shoulder, sounding slightly annoyed, before stepping out the door and disappearing from their sights for the rest of that day.
Silence. The silence was deafening, and it crawled up Asa’s spine like an unwanted insect, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
The air was filled with so many unsaid words and jumbled thoughts, but none of them uttered a word, and to Asa’s horror, he could feel a barrier come up between him and Carmen. As if she was pulling away and placing rocks with jagged edges in the place where she used to be, right by his side.
Jagged edges that was cutting into him when he kept trying to step closer to her while she continued to stagger away.
“Carmen, listen—”
“You need to leave.”
The words were a punch to his gut, and it took everything in Asa not to double over in pain and heave for air.
“What?” he asked after a few breaths, uncertain if he’d heard what she said.
Carmen cleared her throat and stepped further away from him and closer to the canvas she’d been working on. “You were heading somewhere else for your spare, right?” she asked, picking up a brush and fidgeting around with a paint palette nearby. “Before I caught up with you in the hallway? So you better get going before you have no time left to be wherever you’d wanted to be in the first place.”
“This is where I want to be, Carmen,” he told her, clenching his fists by his sides.
“No, it isn’t,” she said calmly, slipping into her unfazed state. As if there was nothing that could shake her.
“How would you know?” he shot back, glaring at the back of her head.
He heard her let out a deep sigh as she carried on painting. Asa had a strong urge to tear the canvas in half and force her to look at him. “Fine then. But you know what I do know, Asa?” she asked. Asa noticed her knuckles whiten as her fingers gripped the brush tighter. He noticed the strokes in her painting become angrier, more forceful. “I know that art is my thing. It’s my state of peace, and I don’t like sharing it with anyone. If you would please be so kind as to let me have my alone time, I’d really appreciate it.”
Asa swallowed, keeping his feet planted to the ground and not letting her push him away. “You’re the one who dragged me into the art room with you, Carmen. You wanted me here, in your state of peace.” He took a few steps closer, holding his breath. “So, what happened within the space of a few minutes?”
“I changed my mind,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Don’t do this,” he said quietly, his voice almost getting lost in the space between them. “Don’t push me away.”
“You should probably let Willa know that I won’t be able to make it today after school,” she continued, ignoring his plea.
Asa scowled, the hurt now being replaced with annoyance. “Are you really going to be like that?”
Carmen didn’t respond, but her hand grew more frantic as she painted, her shoulder shaking violently with each stroke, as if she was pouring everything she was feeling into a painting that Asa’s eyes and mind could never decipher.
His eyes followed her hand, landing on an ocean the darkest shade of blue that it was almost black, which met with the sand that was a shade of gold he’d never seen before. He hadn’t the faintest clue what Carmen was intending to paint but a part of him could swear the ocean reminded him of Carmen’s midnight hair, and the golden sand, his skin.
Shaking his head and hoping it’d also somehow rid his mind of the thoughts that revolved around her, he grabbed his bag and walked out the door.
•••
Lunch was painfully awkward.
Asa was seated at his usual table with all the other swimmers and athletes surrounding him as they engaged in their own conversations. Some of the guys were laughing boisterously and slapping high fives, while the girls were huddled around a mobile screen, grinning about something they saw there.
Isla was at the other end of the table, playing around with her food as if there was no more energy left in her, as she just nodded along to whatever the vice-captain of the cheer team was saying.
Hunter was nowhere to be seen, so maybe that was one thing Asa could be grateful for.
But the air was still tensed, because everyone at the table knew Isla and Asa weren’t on the best terms right now, and it appeared as if everyone was forcing themselves to cover up the awkwardness by having unnecessarily loud conversations.
It also certainly didn’t help that a few of them kept sneaking glances at Asa and Isla every now and then.
“So, when’s the meet going to start?” Hayden, one of the basketball players, asked.
“What meet?” Isla frowned, looking at Hayden with confused eyes.
“The swimming meet,” Carson Williams replied. He was one of the lead swimmers, always on a tight competition with Asa.
Asa had enjoyed it at first, having found someone who was as good as he was, someone who he knew was a worthy competitor and made the sport all that more thrilling for Asa. Until he realised that the good-natured rivalry was only one-sided and that Carson hated him with all his guts.
Carson was a darn good swimmer but had a very poor sportsmanship. Last academic year, when the interstate swimming meet was held, Asa had hoped it would be himself and a swimmer from another school who’d be on the lead. Unfortunately, the meet allowed more than one swimmer from a school to participate, and it ended up with both Carson and Asa fighting for the championship.
Their strained acquaintanceship only hardened and turned bitterer when Asa had won the title.
“As in, the interstate one?” Isla inquired, snapping Asa out of his thoughts.
“Yeah,” Carson nodded, before his eyes met with Asa’s. A slow, spiteful smirk crawled over his face. “Didn’t you know already? That’s funny, you know, considering you’ve been to all of Asa’s competitions and meets.”
The chatter around the table came to an abrupt stop, like a truck forced to pull the brakes before a red light whilst driving in full speed.
“Shut the hell up, man,” Wyatt muttered in a bored manner, but Asa noticed the way his friend’s shoulders tensed, as if bracing himself for all hell to break loose.
“What?” Carson blinked in feigned innocence. “It was just an observation. I mean, come on. Who else at this table isn’t shocked at the fact that the lovebirds are having a little spat?”
“Shut your face, Carson,” Isla snarled, stabbing her plate with the fork in her hand, letting the sound rip through the cafeteria. “We’re not lovebirds.”
“Cool, you’re not going out then.” He shrugged. “Just rolling around in the sheets with each other.”
Asa curled his palms into fists on his lap, taking in deep breaths and reminding himself not to cause a scene—that he couldn’t give into his impulsive nature and pound his fist into Carson’s face as he liked.
“Shut it,” Asa warned. “or I’ll make you.”
“Stop it now,” Lyra, one of the players from the girls’ basketball team, spoke up with a scowl on her face, placing her palm on Asa’s balled up fists in an effort to calm down. “And leave Isla alone.” Despite Lyra and Wyatt knowing each other all their life, Asa had only began interacting with her during the end of junior year. So it was safe to say it came as a pleasant surprise for Asa to hear her put Carson in his place.
Ronnie, point guard of the boys’ basketball team, chuckled. “What? It’s no secret Isla’s made her way through half of the guys in this school, probably even the teachers. You really think she hasn’t done it with Asa of all people?”
Why wasn’t Isla fighting back?
Asa’s eyes landed on her, and something twisted in his gut when he noticed the exhaustion in her eyes. It made him angry—not at her, but for her. It made him want to react in a way that
would surely earn him another detention.
“Well, Ronnie,” Carson started again, but there was the edge to his voice that got under Asa’s skin the wrong way and made his blood simmer. “Maybe she didn’t bang him just yet. Maybe she never will. Maybe—” Carson’s grin widened, “—it’s just that she prefers a certain type.”
The air went still, and it was as if everybody just froze in their place, even in their miniscule actions. As if all their lungs had taken a break while they held their breaths for whatever came next.
“What,” Asa’s voice was steely, his narrowed eyes lethal enough to turn anyone into stone, “is that supposed to mean?”
“Just that she must like guys with a certain allure, you know,” Carson replied in nonchalance. “For example, guys who actually are from this country.”
Nobody spoke.
Nobody moved.
Heck, nobody even seemed to be batting an eyelash or blinking.
They were all just waiting, waiting, waiting. Preparing themselves, bracing themselves for something they all knew in their minds was going to unfold pretty soon.
“Is there something you want to say, Carson?” Asa’s deathly calm tone was that moment just before the storm roared to life. It kept everybody’s feet planted to the spot, rendering them too afraid to even twitch.
“Yeah, Asa San Román,” he spat out the name like it was poison on his tongue. “I have something to say—”
Wyatt butted in. “Okay, Carson, you need to calm the heck—”
Carson ignored Wyatt, pinning Asa down with a venomous glare and getting out into the open what he probably was itching to spit out ever since their rivalry began to grow into something more malicious.
“I am so sick of people like you walking into this goddamn city like you actually belong here, as if this is your fucking home,” Carson snarled. “Stealing our jobs, stealing our titles, our scholarships. What? The hellhole you come from isn’t good enough for you? Is that why you infest our—”
Whatever else was spilling out of Carson’s mouth was drowned out by the protests of the others at their table, which in turn caused all the other tables in the eating area to look in their direction with bewilderment and nervousness.
All those who Asa was sitting with were chastising Carson, bombarding him with angry remarks and telling him that they no longer lived in an era where people were separated by their race or the colour of their skin. But it all fell on Asa’s deaf ears.
He was too busy staring at Isla who’d just shrunken further into her seat, unable to meet Asa’s eyes, choosing to be blissfully ignorant.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Hayden thundered at Isla, his grey eyes narrowing in disgust at her. “You’re not even going to say something?”
“What’s there to say, Hayden?” she asked in a bored tone. “If Asa wants someone to pacify him and tell him it’s all going to be all right, he can go running to his mother.”
Lyra snorted, making Isla’s eyes snap towards her while all the others were too busy putting Carson in his place.
But Asa didn’t care about Carson. He didn’t care about putting the asshole in his place.
All that kept bouncing around in his head was that nobody had ever dared to say anything of the sort to him in front of Isla, and on the rare occasion that they did, she’d have given them a sharp piece of her mind. But now she just remained seated there, as if there wasn’t even an atom of her being that cared about Asa anymore.
A part of him knew this was just Isla being her defensive, detached self when she was feeling particularly nasty. But he was beginning to wonder if the cruelty was justifiable after the numerous times he’d had her back and punched the shit out of anyone who’d ever shamed her.
He didn’t need her to stand up for him, but knowing that she wouldn’t defend him made him falter in his resolve to defend himself.
“You ungrateful piece of shit,” Lyra spat at Isla. “The number of times he’s had your back even when you weren’t around to defend yourself!”
Isla cocked a brow. “Yeah? Well, did I ask him to?” When Lyra didn’t reply, Isla just scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I’m out of this stupid place.” She pushed her chair back and walked away, her heels clicking on the floor as the commotion around the table only grew louder.
Watching her walk away snapped something inside Asa. Gone was the hurt. All he felt now was anger simmering at the pit of his stomach—red hot anger that was quickly growing into a raging inferno.
Anger at Hunter’s words earlier that’d made Carmen push him away; anger at Isla’s lack of courtesy to apologise instead of continuing to give him the cold shoulder; anger at Carson’s inability to digest not being as great a swimmer as Asa and using that bitterness to kick him below the belt instead.
“Well, I’m sorry that you’re too much of a sore loser, Carson,” Asa found himself saying as he turned his attention back to the idiot, causing everyone else to stop yelling. “I’m sorry that you can’t take a loss with dignity. Sorry that you expected to win—”
“What I expected, you unwanted piece of trash,” Carson bellowed, “was to never see your fucking face in my city again when they said a wall was gonna be built.”
And all hell broke loose.
It was as if Wyatt already knew what Asa was about to do, as he moved to jump in front of him to block his way. But Asa was faster, and he lunged at Carson, one hand wrapped around his neck, as he slammed the other guy’s back on the floor.
All the screams and yells from behind him did nothing to sway his anger or his growing need to use Carson as a punching bag. Blinded with rage and years of torment, he drove his fist into whichever part of Carson he could find.
Pow. Pow. Pow.
He was sick of the hate, sick of the judgments. Because if he wasn’t the Mexican in a very conservative city that had the lowest amount of people of colour, he was the popular athlete who whored his way around school.
Asa was more than that. He will be more than what they told him who he was.
So he let his anger fuel every bit of his impulsive nature, letting them know that he won’t be beaten down to nothing so easily.
Pow. Pow. Pow.
And the blood trickling down Asa’s knuckles actually felt good.
36.
Fighting Hate With Hate
Asa’s knee bounced as he tapped his foot nonstop on the tiled floor outside the principal’s office, where he was told to be seated ‘till Mr. Hendrickson could see him.
A barely conscious Carson had been taken down to the infirmary with two guys having to support him from either side.
Asa knew that if it had been Hunter, the outcome wouldn’t have been the same. Hunter wouldn’t have needed to be taken to the infirmary and would’ve probably done equal damage to Asa.
Carson, however, despite being built, wasn’t as skilled at throwing punches the way Hunter was. Asa barely had any bruises except for those on his knuckles that he knew would be more evident by tomorrow morning.
“Hey.”
Asa stopped shaking his leg and looked up as Wyatt approached him, dropping down on the seat beside Asa.
“Hey,” Asa muttered, throwing his head back until it hit the wall and stretching his legs out in front of him.
“Feel any better now?” Wyatt asked, sarcasm evident in his tone. “Now that you’ve all but bashed his face in?”
Asa snorted. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“Get down to the infirmary and take a look for yourself,” Wyatt snapped.
“What the hell is your problem?” Asa sat up straight and whipped his head towards Wyatt, glaring at him. “What, you’re mad because Carson was one of us? Part of the swim team? Sorry that I attacked someone that you seem to care so much about—”
“You unbelievable asshole.” Wyatt scoffed, shaking his head as he stared at Asa with incredulity. “You’re such a goddamn prick sometimes, you know that?” He shot up from his seat and glared down at Asa. “I don’t g
ive two shits about Carson! You think I’m here for him?” He balled up his fists. Asa stared at them wearily, not really fancying another round of punches. “I’m here because I happen to care about you, dumbass. And I wanted to see if maybe you needed me to be here or even accompany you inside when they called you in. But, seeing that you’re behaving like some rotten brat, I think I’ll leave.”
“Then leave!” Asa retorted, eyes flashing with all the anger that’d been building up ever since Isla had turned up at his locker this morning with the sheer audacity to ask him if he was going to the beach get-together, as if things were perfectly fine between them.
There was a flash of hurt in Wyatt’s eyes, but it was gone as soon as it had appeared.
Asa’s heart sank to his stomach. He wanted to take those words back because he was pretty certain he didn’t want his friend to leave.
“I get that you’re dealing with feeling hurt by turning it into anger,” Wyatt said quietly. “But I can’t be your friend if you’re not going to let me be one. And yeah, Asa, you still got friends, in case you don’t remember. So when you’re ready to realise that you’re too focused on Hunter and Carson and the other idiots like them that you’ve become completely blind to Lyra and I who’ve always been nothing but good to you, come find me.”
Wyatt threw Asa one last glance over his shoulder and began walking away, turning around the bend in the corridor, leaving Asa by himself with nothing but silence as company.
This was different than watching Isla walk away. This was different that standing helplessly while Carmen pushed him away. This time, watching Wyatt leave, Asa knew it was no one’s fault but his own. And maybe it was a wake-up call for him. Maybe something was trying to tell Asa that he needed to stop losing himself to all the hate and start focusing on all those who loved him instead.
•••
Asa had entered Principal Hendrickson’s room, waiting and sitting in awkward silence for about eleven minutes or so, when his parents had walked in. Asa felt his heart—which had dropped to his stomach when he’d made Wyatt leave—sink further down to his feet.
