Dieciseis
I check my phone for the time, and I have only a few fucking minutes.
I hustle up the block and move my ass. It’s cloudy out, and the wind is no joke.
It’s gonna rain later today. Now is my only chance to retrace my steps from last night.
I need to see what went on back there. Is that guy really dead?
The back of the shopping center is full of dumpsters, old pallets, and debris. Nothing is standing out to me as I look over the area. I know I ran down toward the back of the tattoo shop and turn my body around. Fuck, where was I last night?
Honestly, nothing looks out of the ordinary back here— same old shit. I keep walking, trying to retrace my steps, when I see it. There they are. My poor orange peanut butter cracker is crushed up on the ground where I dropped it. Seeing it smashed up like this makes me fucking sad. Qué triste.
There’s water on the pavement, and I follow the river trail to a larger wet spot on the concrete underneath and around a dumpster. They were over here, verdad?
It looks like someone washed something away.
I can see darker stains on the ground and feel it in the air.
Aquí es donde ocurrió. This is where I stabbed that motherfucker.
A strong gust of wind causes me to topple over, and I land on my side just as a pallet propped up against the side of the dumpster crashes to the ground to cover the smeared spot. A sign.
Senora úrsula used to tell me that signs were all around us, and I know deep down that this is one now.
I look around to see if the wind disturbed anything else, and spot an overturned garbage bag.
Perfecto. I walk over to it, grab the red drawstrings, and pull it over to the pallet.
I pull my girl outta my pocket, thumb the switch, and slice through it.
Trash spills out, and I make it look messy as hell before throwing the bag away.
I take a few steps back to look at my work, take a deep breath, and hold the morbid energy in my lungs while holding the handle of my switchblade. And then I let it all go, sending protection to those who need it, just as I did last night.
? Gracias, Hecate y Lilith, por protegerme. Thank you, Hecate and Lilith, for protecting me. With this exhaled breath, I add energy to the universe and send strength to our sisters in need.?
I walk down the alley toward the shelter, throw my braided hair over my right shoulder, and readjust my beanie. With my intentions and manifestations flowing through me, I feel safe. I can protect myself. And if I’m going to be alone in this cruel-ass world, I’m glad that I can take care of me.
By the time I got to the shelter, only scraps of breakfast were left.
When Amy saw me, she handed me a wrapped-up piece of banana bread that she had saved for me, along with a water bottle and a look that made me feel so fucking bad that I almost lost my appetite from all the guilt that filled my stomach.
She bends the rules as far as she can for me, but sometimes it’s not enough.
And last night, when I snuck out after hours, I needed to break them.
I rushed to campus and had to settle for brushing my teeth and washing my face in a third-floor bathroom next to the lecture hall where my Medieval Warfare history class is.
When I do this, the other women in the bathroom always look at me in horror, like I’m some sewer rat who made her way above ground.
At this point, I just ignore them and hope that they have the day they deserve.
Me encanta esta clase. I love this class.
It’s becoming one of my favorite courses that I’ve taken.
If I could make enough money to have the life that I’ve been dreaming about since I left New York, as a history major, I would’ve walked into this school ready to go.
But there isn’t, and I never wanna be poor again.
If I like something for more than five minutes, I make it my fucking mission to learn as much as I can about it.
It’s how I ended up here. I took a class on primitive engineering and fell madly in love with my switchblade.
True story. I’ve carried a knife on me since I was fourteen, but it wasn’t until my first semester here when I took that class that I started to appreciate her. I call her my girl for a reason.
This is my biggest class of the semester, with 200 students packed into this lecture hall.
I like to sit in the last row in the last seat, all the way at the top, and I have to get here early to make sure no one else takes my seat.
I would rather sit in the back behind everyone and be invisible than have any of their eyes on me. I also like that it’s next to an exit.
I pull out a blue spiral notebook that I sadly swiped from the dollar store, and pull my pen out of the metal circles. I stole this, too. I think I’m the only one in this class who uses paper to take notes. The sea of laptops is endless. Whatever, I wasn’t about to bring my baby here.
I received a brand new, fancy, expensive laptop from Evie’s parents.
It lives inside Amy’s locked desk for now.
I was too out of it when they came to visit and gave it to me.
Otherwise, I would’ve refused to keep it.
I have a hard time accepting anything from anyone.
I texted Evie about taking it back, and she flat-out said no.
I start to draw a triple moon in the margins while I wait for class to start. It’s loud in here, and I keep my head down. It’s easier than making eye contact with anyone. I’d rather draw shit anyway.
“I think that’s your phone, darlin’,” a husky voice with a southern accent says, causing my whole face to pinch together.
“I hear something buzzing and it ain’t mine.
” I look up from my blue-inked designs and see a red-headed guy wearing a Devils Football hoodie.
Idiota, fucked up my concentration. “Hell, you may be the first girl I’ve ever met who doesn’t dive headfirst every time their phone goes off. ”
He looks familiar, but I’ve also never seen him before. I know this is a packed class, but really? There were no other fucking seats in this big-ass room for him to sit? And he’s talking to me? About my phone? This is why I don’t fucking like to be near anyone. Odio a la gente. I hate people.
My phone vibrates again, and I scowl at him while I pull it out of my hoodie pocket.
I’ve got two texts: one from Amy asking if I’m okay and one from Hunter. What the fuck does he want now? Uh, es muy enfadoso. Uh, he’s so annoying.
Hunter “Pendejo” Wilton:
Where’d you go, Ed?
Fucking, “Ed.” I don’t like that he just up and decided to give me a nickname like that. I fucking hate it. Mostly.
Me:
To class, cabrón.
Try it sometime.
I flip my phone over on top of my notebook and roll my eyes. Why is he texting me?
Hunter “Pendejo” Wilton:
Building? Classroom number? End time?
And I go to class.
He barely goes. He does the bare fucking minimum with everything. He just skates by. Literalmente.
Me:
Are you in class now?
Si, no.
Hunter “Pendejo” Wilton:
No, I’m still at the shop.
Called it.
Me:
You've proven my point, now go away.
I flip my phone over and try like hell to pay attention to the professor who is going over slides that I should be learning about, but he’s got me all distracted now. He needs to go away. He needs to go back to how things were before last night/today, before all the weird shit happened.
Hunter “Pendejo” Wilton:
And you’re avoiding my question, Ed.
Where are you, smartypants?
More like trying to avoid talking to you and pretending not to like it so much.
Me:
It’s questions, because you asked me not one, but fifteen. And say please.
Why am I smiling?
Hunter “Pendejo” Wilton:
Fine, you, menace.
Can you please answer my questions?
Me:
Medieval Warfare.
Today’s all about knives.
Now fuck off.
He’s not getting the hint. He’s like coffee. I don’t want to start liking something I can’t afford to have.
Hunter “Pendejo” Wilton:
You’re lying.
No way that’s a real class.
If you gave a fuck about your education, then you’d know that this class existed, along with a bunch of others that you might find interesting. But you don’t. You just keep taking math courses for no reason. Los hombres son tontos. Men are dumb.
Me:
Yup, and it’s girls only.
??????
Hunter “Pendejo” Wilton:
Too bad, make room for me. I’m coming to find you.
I keep reading his text over and over again. Too bad, make room for me. I’m coming to find you. I can hear every word coming outta his mouth with his rough voice and bossy tone.
Too bad, make room for me. I’m coming to find you.
He’s being bossy, but not in a controlling way.
Not like the OG’s and the pandilleros . This isn’t anything like that.
He’s dominating, and it makes me start to sweat.
No one ever cared enough to notice that I was gone.
I scroll up and read his previous messages.
He’s acting like he wants to see me. Like he has to see me.
It has my stomach flipping. I did a perfectly executed cartwheel once. It feels just like that. I grab a handful of sweatshirt over my chest and fan myself to get some air. My deodorant is no match for this hot-ass man and these words. Does he even know how he sounds in my head right now?
I don’t know why I’m expecting him to magically teleport and appear in the doorway, but here I am, turning my head towards the closest exit, and feeling all disappointed and shit that he’s not there. Of course he’s not, because none of this shit is real.
He probably says shit like this all the time. He’s got me out here acting like all the other girls on campus. I need to get a hold of myself. I need to remember who the fuck I am.
Me:
Sorry, no pendejos allowed.
Hunter “Pendejo” Wilton:
What’s that mean anyway?
Me:
That you’re a fucking idiot.
Disrespectfully speaking.
Hunter “Pendejo” Wilton:
I am.