Chapter 35
The next day, Daisha texts me, reminding me that our Spanish final presentation is tomorrow and we haven't even started. It's a video diary we have to make about food, and we have to get some authentic props at a nearby tienda. I pick her up in my van since the store is closer to her house.
“All right, let's get this done and then vamos,” I say.
It's a bright December day, so once again the sun is all in my face on the entire ride there. Daisha grimaces after a few close calls with my impaired driving. The parking lot is almost full, so I have to squint my eyes to back into the one space that's available while the sun blinds me.
The store bell rings when I tug the door handle and let Daisha in first. I'm hit with a wave of delectable scents: fresh fruits and spices.
Row after row of various sizes and colors of chili peppers greet us.
The sound of Mexican music is quickly interrupted by a familiar gaggle of giggles coming from the other end of the store.
There's Byron, dressed up as Frida Kahlo, replete with a traditional Mexican dress, flower crown, and painted unibrow.
Next to him is Carsten, as Diego Rivera, wearing an old suit that feels too big for him, and his hair oiled back like in the old days.
Darren films them from five feet away in front of the produce section.
Byron pulls a pineapple from a bin with both hands and runs at Carsten.
“?Ay, Diego! ?Eres un demonio!” He swipes it across his face in slow motion.
“Ow, stop! That scratched my nose,” Carsten says.
“?Dios mio, drama at La Michoacana!” Darren says, then notices me and Daisha. “?El cocodrilo!”
Daisha says hello to them. Byron explains that they're just finishing up their AP Spanish project, which is a film about a fight between Frida and Diego at the produce store.
“Speaking of famous couples,” Byron says. “Where's your other half?”
I realize he's talking to me and not Daisha. “You mean Felix? We're not a couple.”
The three of them bust out laughing.
“Sure you aren't,” Darren says, putting his phone back in his pocket.
Daisha looks surprised. “Wait, you aren't?”
“Why do you think we're gay?” I ask. “What if we're not?”
The In Crowd laughs even harder.
“On that note, we'll be going,” Carsten says, and they disappear.
Daisha and I get to work on finding different fruits and spices as props for our skit. We don't talk until Daisha brings it back up.
“I am gagged to the tenth power. I seriously thought you were boyfriends all this time. Everybody did!” I give her an exasperated look and turn down the aisle. She asks, “Well, are you or aren't you? If you think I'm judgy, you really don't know me at all.”
“Maybe just drop it!” I say, looking at the boxes of fruits I have never seen before. “You know, if Felix was gay, his dad would probably kick him out on the streets. So drop it.”
When I turn around, Mr. Alfaro is behind me with a basket in his hands, looking to pass.
“Hi, Felix's dad,” I say with a gulp. Daisha musters a nervous grin. The chill of embarrassment tickles down my neck. If he heard that last comment, I might have ruined Felix's life forever.
“Afternoon, Wade. Cooking something for your aunt tonight?” he asks.
“It's a project for Spanish class,” I say.
He tells me he's doing some bulk shopping for his restaurant since he and his family are going to Argentina for Christmas.
“Oh. Felix didn't tell me,” I say. Alone on Christmas with Dinah and Clint. Great. “Well, have a good trip!” I pull Daisha's hand and speed off before the situation gets more awkward.
When we've selected our fruits and spices, we pay for them at the counter. Mr. Alfaro stands behind us.
The guy behind the counter sitting on the stool eyes me in a strange way, then looks back at the TV on the wall. There, on the Spanish-language channel, is my big face, screaming as I'm chased by Brandon in the costume.
I flip around and yank a glass jar out of Mr. Alfaro's basket, then toss it down the aisle, where it crashes.
Mr. Alfaro burns red. “What the hell did you do that for?”
“Sorry, I just remembered there was a news story about a recall for these jars due to salmonella. I don't want you to get sick,” I say.
Mr. Alfaro goes over to the aisle with an employee to look at the damage.
“?Es él!” one of the employees exclaims, pointing at me with a shaking finger. “El chico del video del Pie Grande homosexual!”
Soon, the entire family of employees comes rushing out from the back of the store, their eyes wide with shock and excitement. They talk to each other in rapid-fire Spanish, gesturing wildly in my direction.
“?Es él? ?Estás seguro?” one of them asks.
“?Sí, es él! ?El chico que fue atacado por el Pie Grande!” another replies.
I look at Daisha, who stares at me with a mixture of confusion and amusement.
“Do they know you?” she whispers.
“I have no idea,” I reply, hoping Daisha doesn't see the news.
Before I can say anything else, the grandmother of the family comes rushing toward me, holding a Jesus candle in her outstretched hands.
“?Toma esto!” she cries, thrusting the candle into my arms. “?Te protegerá del Pie Grande!”
I stare at the candle, my mind racing. I can tell from the urgency in her voice that she thinks I'm in mortal danger.
“Uh, gracias,” I say, backing away slowly.
Daisha and I make a beeline for the exit, leaving a trail of confused employees in our wake.
We jump into my car and peel out of the parking lot, the tires screeching against the pavement. Daisha turns to me, her eyes wide with disbelief.
“What was that all about?” she asks, but I can't tell her.
“Daisha, I'm in love with Felix. I love him and want to be with him forever, but he doesn't know it. And it's eating me alive. Every second of the day.”
“See! That wasn't so hard. You can trust me. This should be so easy. Just tell him. The only way out is through.”
“But I don't want to destroy our friendship. It's all I have. But also, he might secretly like me, too. I saw a picture of us in his diary and it said, ‘I'll run away with you.' I don't know, I don't know!”
“Stop the car,” Daisha says. I pull over.
“Breathe. Did we not just talk about how everybody already thought you were a couple?
It would be weird if you didn't have those feelings for each other.
I can help you, okay? Let's figure out a time and place, and I'm going to help you break the news to him.
I'm a master matchmaker, baby. I've set so many people up at my church, you have no idea.
There's been so many babies that attendance has doubled.”
“Okay, but I don't want a baby with him just yet,” I say.
___________
In his bedroom, Felix holds his head in his palms. “What do you mean they know we're gay? What did you tell them?”
“I didn't say a word! They automatically assumed you and I were together.”
I guess now isn't the best time to tell him how I feel.
“The worst part is,” I say, voice shaking, “your dad happened to be right behind me.”
“AND HE HEARD YOU?”
I shrug. Felix collapses on his bed face-first.
I tell him that's not the only problem. He groans into his pillow. I grab his remote and turn on the TV. There I am, on the local news, being chased by Brandon, the chyron scrolling the words “Fundraiser for Local Teenager Attacked by Gay Monster.”
“I'm afraid to look,” Felix says. “Do I have to look? Please don't make me look.”
When he does, he groans even louder. “What the fuck, Wade?”
“The cold snap knocked my power out and I couldn't submit the film to the contest. I didn't know what else to do. This was our only chance left to raise money,” I say, pacing around his bedroom.
“You told me you submitted it! So what's going to happen now?”
“We wait and see how much money we raise.”
“This is just going to backfire the same way the Roland plan did,” he says.
“Listen, Brandon Barton Blobfish is the one who's running around in the costume and stirring up shit. He started it,” I say.
“He's outing himself. If this works and Pansgender!
happens, the agent will come, and that means we're one step closer to California. Also, we can start looking for an apartment!”
“Are you going to tell Ms. Easterling you got the money from scamming a bunch of conspiracy-freak gay bashers?”
“In a way, that's kind of poetic, isn't it? I wouldn't say the money came from me. Maybe a private donor who wants to anonymously donate a check to the production,” I say. “To keep the scandal down to a minimum.”
“How much money have you raised?”
“Two hundred dollars. That's a start!”
“This is all too much for my brain right now,” Felix says.
“Why didn't you tell me you were going to Argentina for Christmas?”
There's a knock on the bedroom door and his dad opens it. I fumble with the remote to turn off the TV. Felix jumps out of his bed.
“Wade, for god's sake, get out of my house,” he says. “And don't break anything on your way out.”
I hurry out, fearing the worst for Felix.