12. Friendship Goals
12
FRIENDSHIP GOALS
A week or so had passed when Alberto woke up in class to Mrs Paquin shouting at him again. She asked him a question, then another. Were they still doing Rousseau?
Rousseau? In English Lit?
Alberto recalled the way Mathias’s lip had curled…
“ Did you even do your homework?” Paquin asked, relentless.
Alberto flicked open his notebook with a haggard expression. There was nothing in it but a few decent doodles of Mathias’s hands and wrists, which she unfortunately noticed, resorting to shrieks. That’s when he decided he’d had enough. He abruptly got up, sending his chair flying backwards and shocking the classroom into silence.
Unimpressed, Mrs Paquin scoffed at his tall figure. “What is it? What excuse are you going to give me this time?”
Alberto had never given any excuse; he usually accepted her wrath with indifference. But he recently went from sleeping too much to not sleeping at all, and the blood rushing in his veins felt like so many crawling vipers, rendering him fretful. “I’ve got a condition,” he said coolly.
She gave a mocking laugh. “Listen to that, everyone, Alberto has a condition. How about this: prove it, and you can stay. Otherwise, get out of my class.” She paused and added, “And for that little display, I’m calling your parents over for a visit. Today. ”
That last bit irritated Alberto enough that he held her stare until she threatened him with a month of detention.
Mrs Paquin never engaged in empty threats. While Alberto was finishing class in detention — mercifully free of Cher’s company — she found two minutes to call home, and when the bells announced the second half of lunch break, Alberto could only watch as Mamma stormed Colette in her high heels with a dark expression he had rarely seen. He felt himself shrink at the sight, and he cast his eyes down and waited for her to scold him, but she only took his arm and said, “Let’s go, Tesoro .”
When they entered her classroom, Paquin rose from her chair and thanked Alberto’s mother for coming so quickly. Mamma shook her hand impatiently. Judging from her simple attire — jeans and a soft cashmere jumper — and her hair hanging loosely on each side of her face in its most natural state, she had most likely been forced out of a nap by Paquin’s phone call and wasn’t happy in the least.
“I don’t understand why I have to be here,” she said coldly.
Alberto’s teacher blanched a little. Despite her formidable appearance, Mamma had always been sort of shy when faced with the typical macho man, but she wasn’t afraid to use her power over women she disliked. She towered over Paquin, all supermodel like, and didn’t look at all friendly. On the other hand, Alberto’s teacher was a veteran, and she couldn’t afford to be intimidated by parents. She said her piece in a haughty tone, explaining in detail what had happened this morning, not forgetting to blame Alberto for a pattern of abject rudeness and indifference to authority .
“And when I asked him why he constantly falls asleep,” she concluded, “he claimed he ‘had a condition.’”
Mamma had listened without interruption, only slipping Alberto a quick glance, who turned his attention to his shoes.
“As a matter of fact…” she said, taking a seat in — coincidentally — Zak’s chair. “… he does have a condition.”
Her words made Alberto look up in surprise. Paquin also blinked, momentarily speechless.
“W-Well…” she said, “in that case… if I could see a doctor’s certificate, then I might be willing to?—”
Mamma’s eyelashes fluttered angrily. “Excuse me? Are you suggesting I should share my son’s medical history with you?”
Paquin turned ashen. “But I need to see proof he has a condition.”
“Then I need to see the headmaster right away, to ask him since when it is legal for teachers to request private medical information about their pupils.” Mamma crossed her legs and pointed at the door. “Go on, go get him. I’ll be waiting right here.”
Paquin was getting paler and paler. Alberto could understand why: nobody would want to spend more time than necessary with a man who was rumoured to have become a headmaster in order to torment students and staff indiscriminately.
“I see no need to bother Mr Van Bergen, Mrs Gazza.”
Mamma’s eyes narrowed. “Why? I’m sure he’d love to be bothered by me.”
Paquin seemed to hate hearing those words just as much as she disliked Alberto, but it worked anyway: she readmitted Alberto into her class without Mamma having to divulge any kind of information.
Alberto and his mother walked back to the car together. Mamma had driven herself in the Jaguar. The sight of it reminded Alberto of Mathias, of how they’d met, of that silly story he had made up about their parents’ affair. He affectionally brushed his fingers against the roof of the car.
Despite holding the key in her hand, Alberto’s mother didn’t open the door. She was gazing back at the school with a frown. “You’ll be homeschooled from now on so I can keep an eye on you.”
Alberto’s heart lurched in his chest. “No! No, I don’t want to.” He took her hand. “What about Ma— my friends?”
“Fine, then. Let’s meet these friends .” Mamma tilted her head toward the gate. “Introduce me to them right now, and we’ll see.”
Alberto stared at her, dumbstruck. What should he do? He didn’t have any friends, and he really didn’t want to be homeschooled, or Stasia would likely be the end of him.
As they walked past the gate, Alberto scanned every corner of the yard for someone — anyone — who could pass as a friend. Xavier’s face popped into his mind, but he was nowhere in sight, and with the risk of having that bastardo Kayvin creeping after his mother, Alberto would have never gone for it.
Then, a childlike laugh exploded throughout the schoolyard, catching his attention. Alberto’s gaze fell on Eric, on Zak nestled into his arms, on Arthur and Camille standing arm in arm next to them, and on Mathias hovering behind them with his head down. He realised he had no other option. Between the idea of embarrassing himself in public or spending more time with Stasia, the choice was easily made.
“They’re over there,” he told Mamma .
When they saw them approach, the lot stared at Alberto as though he’d just come flying down on the back of some winged horse with glittery hooves.
“Hello, everyone!” he said, using every ounce of his acting skills, knowing he was probably red to his ears from cringing. “So, Mum, these are my friends .”
Arthur let out a loud snort, prompting Camille to elbow him in the ribs. If Zak seemed shellshocked, Eric’s lips were pressed together so tightly, they had disappeared altogether, and Mathias looked like a wooden toy with his hands buried in his pockets.
Mamma inspected each one of them carefully, then sort of smiled. “It’s so nice to meet you all at last.” She shook everyone’s hands.
Alberto spoke before someone — Eric — could say anything stupid. “We did the movie together this summer.”
“The movie?” Mamma’s brow furrowed lightly. “You mean the part you didn’t get?”
“Yes!” A weight lifted off Alberto’s shoulders. “Eric got the part,” — Mamma gazed at Eric as though he owed her son an apology — “and this is Zak. He was playing the leading role.”
Zak looked petrified. “How are you, Madame?”
Mamma barely spared him a glance. She seemed perplexed, as though she could feel, deep down, that she was being strung along, but she couldn’t be certain of it. When Alberto accidentally met Eric’s eyes, he helplessly blinked at him to urge him to play along and received a puzzled look back.
“I wrote the movie!” Camille said, helpful at last, “and Arthur here did the camera work. It was really fun!”
“And what did you do again?” Mamma asked, turning to Alberto.
“You know, this and that…” His cheeks grew hot when he recalled he mostly spent his time running after Michael, whom he didn’t even like.
“Alberto was the director’s assistant,” Camille said. “He was very important.”
“Assistant?” Mamma said, a note of disappointment in her voice. “What can I say? He’s always been too shy.”
There was a silence. It was clear no one here believed Alberto to be shy, but more like he was a great arsehole. Thankfully, Mamma didn’t notice, being too heartbroken over her son’s crippling timidity.
“There’s just one thing I’d like to know,” she said, breaking that heavy pause. “Which one of you slept over the other night, then? ”
While the others all stared at her, wide-eyed, Alberto’s stomach dropped like an anchor. How could she possibly know about Mathias staying over, if it weren’t for Stasia? She really would be the death of him. Alberto’s eyelids fluttered shut, because he couldn’t get out of this, and even if he lied and said it was someone else, it was going to be impossible to prove. If only Xavier were here, but he wouldn’t be able to cover for Mathias anyway, because that poor soul was thicker than a neglected sheep’s fleece and… God! It really was the end, wasn’t it? It was over. Alberto was done for.
“It was me,” Eric said out of the blue.
Another awkward silence followed his statement. Mathias had turned as red as sin, and Alberto hoped he was the only one who’d noticed. Camille and Arthur’s expression had turned completely blank, and Zak said nothing, but his eyebrows drew together in an ominous frown.
“Oh,” Mamma said. She gave Eric a thorough once-over, including the hand he had wrapped around Zak’s waist. “Next time, why don’t you stay for dinner or… breakfast? Whatever’s coming next.”
Eric turned a perfect shade of pink, while Zak’s face darkened and darkened. Mamma turned back to Alberto.
“Let’s go, Tesoro .”
Leaving Zak and the others behind, Alberto let out a sigh of relief and followed his mother toward the exit.
“Who is this Eric?” Mamma asked once out of earshot.
“He’s a… he’s a football player.”
She wrinkled her nose. “A football player?”
“Yes. He’s… nice.” Alberto grimaced at his own lie.
“But why is he touching that little boy?”
“Little boy? Wh— Oh! No, Mamma, that’s Zak! They’re… they’re a couple.”
Mamma stopped right in front of the gates. “Excuse me, what?”
Alberto looked all around in fright. “What?”
“Why isn’t he with you?”
“I… ahem… What?”
“Why would he pick that little boy over you?”
Alberto’s mouth fell open. He shook his head so fervently, he almost unscrewed his head from his neck. “No, Mamma… I don’t want him.”
“You don’t want him? Then why does he visit you in the middle of the night?”
“Huh…? ”
“Stasia said someone came in the middle of the night, some handsome young man. It’s him, isn’t it?” She tilted her head. “I could have sworn she said his name was Alex…”
Alberto sucked in a breath. He didn’t want to admit to drinking and having poor Mathias take him home. “It was him! Eric, Alex, sounds about the same, right? Stasia was probably confused.”
Why did that sly, evil monster have such a good memory, when his own was like a malfunctioning old copier that would only start when kicked repeatedly?
“I brought him home because… he was drunk, and he didn’t want his family to know because they’re… they’re American Mormons! They don’t believe in alcohol and… ahem… swearing and stuff.”
Alberto’s mother didn’t seem convinced. “So, you were never a couple?”
“Mamma, I can promise you that. He left in the morning, and he was embarrassed. He still is! You saw how pink he was out there.”
She nodded and brushed her hand against his cheek. “He was pink. Okay, my love, that was kind of you to help him. You’re a good friend.”
I’m really not , Alberto thought, now hating that he owed Eric a debt — Eric, of all people. Now, he would have to be called best buddy and have his hair ruffled and… God, no! He’d rather move to Iceland.
“I’m relieved, I’m relieved,” Mamma said with a sigh. Before Alberto could ask, she added, “It was obvious he likes that little boy!”
“Please, stop calling him that. Zak’s only a year younger than me.”
“And you wouldn’t be a good match, obviously.” She lowered her voice. “A football player, it’s already questionable… But a Mormon , really?”
“Come on, Mamma…” Alberto turned his face away. “Don’t discriminate.”
“And look how tall you are, compared to him.”
He let out a nervous laugh. Did he really need to find someone taller now? It would be hard enough to find someone who liked him. Now size mattered? He only knew one man taller than him, and it was the freakish headmaster. Alberto’s thoughts turned to Mathias, his 180 ? cm? 1 , his rough hands, his aggressive lips, and the size of something else that arguably mattered. He let out an anguished groan, and Mamma put her hand on his arm.
“What is it? Are you embarrassed? Did you think I didn’t know? ”
“What? No. Though… am I really so obvious?”
The words predictably queer rushed back to his head, forcing a grimace out of him.
“I’m your mother, Tesoro . I know you’re not interested in girls, or we’d be swimming in them by now.”
Alberto gave a dry laugh. “It’s not like we’re swimming in men either.”
“And I like it just this way,” Mamma said with a smile. “They’re all so… brutish at this age. Just wait a little, don’t be hasty. When a good man presents himself, we’ll assess him together.”
“Yes, Mamma.”
But Alberto knew boys could be brutish, and they could also be worthy. Like Mathias, who wanted to snuggle during the night.
Mathias and his ceaseless kisses down his neck.
Mathias and his fingertips dancing, featherlike, across the skin of his back, causing even the smallest of his hairs to stand on end.
Ma-tyas .
No matter what it’d take, Alberto couldn’t wait to be alone with him again.
“Alberto.” Mamma held his face in her hands. “How fast you’ve grown… You’re taller than me now.” She stared into his eyes, but was probably faced with a reflection of herself; she looked unhappy when she released him.