1. Joaquín
Chapter 1
Joaquín
T he chaotic symphony of the ringing bell, echoing locker doors, and the suffocating crowd in the hallway amplifies the irritation I feel as I stare at her. Everything about her fills me with a furious rage. Gabriela stands with her group of friends, giggling about their summer highlights. Does she not hate what happened to her family? How I hate what happened to mine?
The divorce went a lot smoother than my dad was expecting. My mom didn’t want anything except the piece of paper that said she was free. She didn’t fight for alimony or the house—nothing. All she wanted was Santiago. Puta.
She left me.
Full custody went to my dad, and while I’m happy that’s how it turned out, it still hurts. The bitch just has to pay child support for nine months since I’m eighteen but still in school. Then she’s basically wiped her hands clean of me, she went no contact. I wonder if she has a relationship with Gabriela. Does she pretend to be her mom when she’s around? How does a mom just dip out on her kid?
Leaning back against my locker, I glare at her, and as if she can feel my eyes on her, she looks over at me. She gives me a half-hearted smile, as if to silently tell me she’s sorry. I slowly raise my hand as if I’m going to wave. Instead, I give her the middle finger. Gabriela’s smile falls, and she swallows hard, then averts her eyes from mine.
“Joaquín, carnal , the fuck! We’ve been waiting for you.” Thiago’s grip on my shoulder tightens as he tries to pull me away, but my gaze remains fixed on Gabriela.
Her friends, having noticed the tension between us, are now staring at me with scowls on their faces. I can feel the weight of their judgment, but I couldn’t care less. All I can think about is how Gabriela’s presence reminds me of everything I’ve lost. Fuck them, and most of all, fuck her.
As Thiago drags me towards the exit, memories of my parents’ divorce flood my mind. The bitterness and resentment I feel towards my mother is overwhelming. How could she just walk away from me, leaving me in the care of my father? He’s a brokenhearted mess and does the bare minimum at parenting. He keeps himself occupied with work, leaving me to fend for myself most days. It’s a wound that hasn’t healed, and seeing Gabriela only intensifies my anger.
Thiago’s voice breaks through my thoughts, trying to snap me out of my rage. “Come on, Joaquín. Let’s go, man. She’s not worth it.” His words register, and I reluctantly tear my gaze away from Gabriela. Taking one last glance at her, I see the hurt in her eyes, but I can’t find it in myself to care. What he doesn’t know is that everything I’m going to do to her, to make her suffer worse than I’m suffering, will all be worth it.
We make our way outside, away from the suffocating hallway, and into the fresh air. Thiago’s presence is a comforting distraction, and I try to focus on his words as he talks about our plans for after school. But my mind keeps drifting back to Gabriela and the unanswered questions that consume me.
Does she even understand the pain I’m going through? Does she know what it’s like to have a parent abandon you? Well, she does, but that’s besides the point. I wonder if her father’s absence has affected her in the same way. Is she just putting on a brave face, pretending everything is okay?
Not that I give a fuck about how she feels.
The unanswered questions gnaw at me, and I can’t shake off the urge to confront Gabriela. My anger and resentment towards her are consuming me, clouding my judgment. But for now, I try to focus on Thiago, and once we meet Nathan at the front of the school, we head out toward the park and our neighborhood.
* * *
“Bro, that shit’s fucked up,” Nathan says, coughing after taking a hit from the joint Thiago’s been passing around. He holds it out to me and I take it, needing to relax.
“Yeah, they just shipped me off to my grandparents, went through the divorce, and then my dad picked me up, alone, three days before registration. Meanwhile, that puta has been with Gabriela’s dad the whole summer, probably whoring it up with him and playing mommy to his kids.” Taking a hit from the joint, I let the smoke fill my lungs, numbing me.
“You really think she's been hanging out with your mom? I mean, I don’t want to play the devil’s advocate here but what if she is just as pissed about it as you are?” Thiago chimes in.
I glare at him. “You’re seriously taking her side?”
“No, but I’m just saying, carnal , what if she’s hurt just as much as you are already? You really wanna make it worse?” He grabs the joint from me, takes the last drag, and then stubs it out.
“Joaquín, I got your back, bro. What’s the plan? How are we gonna fuck with her? Tell me you’ve got something cooked up.” Nathan rubs his hands together, a malicious grin on his face.
I pause for a moment, contemplating Nathan’s question. The anger and hurt inside me are still raw, but Thiago’s words strike a chord. Maybe there’s more to this situation than I initially thought. Taking a deep breath, I gather my thoughts.
“Guys, I’m just fucking angry right now, and I want to make her feel what I’ve been feeling,” I say.
Nathan raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean? I mean, you can’t make her dad disappear or anything like that.”
I shake my head. “No, I can’t do that. But I can make her feel like complete shit. Her dad likes whores, so she must be one too. So let’s treat her like one.”
Thiago leans forward, his eyes filled with curiosity. “Don’t you have the biggest crush on her?”
I take a moment to gather my thoughts before continuing. “Yeah, I do,” I admit reluctantly. “I mean I did, but things have changed.”
That hasn’t changed. I still think she's the hottest girl I’ve ever seen. But all of those feelings are in a battle with all the hate I feel inside.
Nathan and Thiago exchange glances, unsure of how to respond. They know the pain I’ve been through, but they also understand the importance of not crossing certain boundaries. We’ve been tight since we were just little kids, and since they know me so well, seeing me like this must make them uncomfortable. I’ve never been the type of person to hurt someone, but this girl, what her father did to my family, is making me rethink things. I’m just too angry to give a shit.
I check my watch, and it’s already a quarter to five, and Dad hates it when I’m late. “Fuck,” I mumble, “I have to go or my dad’s gonna be pissed. I’ll text you guys later.”
* * *
The sight of Dad’s work truck in the driveway has me ready for a lecture on being late. To hide the scent of weed, I quickly spray myself with body spray from my backpack before entering the house. Not that he doesn’t know already, but still. I silently shut the door behind me, hoping he is already asleep from a busy day.
“ Mijo ?” his voice carries from the kitchen.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath and turn the corner into the open kitchen. Dad stands in front of the fridge, pulling out the leftover pizza.
Guess that’s what’s for dinner: pizza, three nights in a row.
“What’s up?” I ask, standing in the doorway that leads to the back of the house and my room.
“What took you so long?” He looks at his watch as he sets the bags of leftovers on the counter, then cracks open a can of beer.
Great. Now he’s gonna get drunk.
“Sorry, I got caught up talking with the guys in the park on the way home. I lost track of time.” I cross the room and grab a plate to put some pizza on.
Dad gives me a disapproving look but doesn’t say anything. I can tell he’s not buying my excuse, even though it’s not an excuse. I quickly take a bite of the pizza, hoping to divert his attention.
As I chew, I can feel his eyes on me. The tension in the room is palpable, and I know I need to say something to diffuse the situation.
“So, how was your day?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
Dad takes a swig of his beer before answering. “Long and exhausting. Work was a nightmare today,” he grumbles.
I nod sympathetically, knowing that he works long hours to provide for me. It’s not easy for him. He works on the irrigation crew for the city, and he had me apply as a temp worker at the end of summer. So now whenever dad needs help, he has me.
Silence settles over us as we eat our pizza. After a few moments, Dad breaks the silence. “Listen, mijo , I know things have been tough around here lately, but I need you to take some responsibility. You being late and smoking is not okay. I know the divorce hit you hard, and I know I’ve been working, so I’m not around to parent you. You’re a good kid, mijo . Keep it that way.”
I nod, grabbing my plate and a soda from the fridge. “Can I eat in my room so I can start my homework?”
“I guess. Just make sure not to leave the plate and can in your room.”
I grunt at him in response.
Once I’m in my room, I fire up my computer. Logging into the group chat with the guys, I lean back in my chair and eat.
As I eat and chat with my friends, the overwhelming feelings of relief and frustration take over. Dad’s lecture on responsibility always hits a nerve, reminding me of the mistakes I’ve made. The one’s I continue to make, that on his worst nights he reminds me how much of a screw up I am. All I do is remind him of my mother. The divorce took a toll on both of us, and I understand that he’s doing his best to provide for me. But sometimes it feels suffocating, like I’m constantly walking on eggshells.
I dive into my assignments, and the sound of Dad’s footsteps thudding down the hall and the faint clinking of his beer can remind me of his presence. I wonder if he’s disappointed in me. The weight of his expectations hangs heavy in the air.
Hours pass, and I finally finish my homework. Exhaustion washes over me, but a sense of accomplishment also lingers. I quietly put away my school supplies and tiptoed to the kitchen to return my plate and can. Dad is nowhere in sight, presumably already in bed. I feel a pang of guilt for not spending more time with him and for not being the son he needs me to be.
With a heavy sigh, I retreat to my room and prepare for bed. Now that I’m showered and lying in the darkness of my room, I’m on my phone doom scrolling social media. I type her name into the search bar, and her picture pops up. Clicking on it, all of her pictures from the summer fill my screen. None of them have my mom in them, or her dad, for that matter. She’s in barely there bikinis, showing off her curves. I click on one where she is wading in the ocean waist-deep, her tan skin glistening with water.
My dick doesn’t seem to get the memo that I hate her because it is painfully hard and straining against my boxer briefs. I groan, looking over to my bedroom door to make sure it’s locked. I set my phone down and opened my nightstand drawer, taking out a bottle of lube and squirting some into my hand, pulling my underwear down, and coating my dick.
I zoom in on her tits in the picture and stroke myself, slowly at first. Stroke after stroke, I thrust my hips into my hand, imagining that it’s her I’m getting ready to blow my load on. Her body is perfect—curvy in all the right places, full tits that would fit my hands easily, and a round ass that I would love to hit from the back. “Fuck,” I hiss through gritted teeth, “you stupid bitch. Why do you have to be so fucking hot?” I moan her name, dropping my phone on the bed and picking up the pace, mercilessly edging myself toward coming. I let out a string of deep, guttural moans as ropes of cum hit my stomach and cover my hand.
Cleaning myself off with my shirt, I chuck it into the hamper across the room. I pick my phone back up, and just as I am about to exit the app and put a movie on to lull me to sleep, a notification pops up, saying I have a message. My thumb hits the icon, and her picture sits in my inbox.
Hey, I don’t know why I’m reaching out to you. I just want you to know I’m here if you ever want to talk about the situation. I kinda already get the feeling you hate me, and I just thought maybe if we cleared the air between us, I dunno, there wouldn’t be any animosity. Just know that I don’t hold any ill feelings toward you because it was your mom, not you. Well, I guess good night and see you at school. -Gabby.
I should just close the message and lay there in my post-nut bliss, but fuck this. I quickly typed out a response and hit send.
Speaking aloud, “See you at school, Gabby .”