Romiette and Julio (9 page)

“Yes, son, but
real
people, not voices on a computer screen. You need to get out in the world more.” Luis just couldn’t understand Julio’s fascination with the chat rooms. Computers were for calculations or file gathering—for work. Chat rooms were a waste of time, as far as Luis could tell.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Papa! You don’t ever listen to me! This girl I met on the Internet is a real person. She goes to my school. And I like her! Is that real enough for you?”

“I’m sorry, Julio. I’m glad you’ve found someone to take away the loneliness.”

“Papa, she has some golden retriever puppies. She’s giving them away. Do you think maybe … since I had to leave King …”

“Perhaps. Ask your mother. Our place here is so small. What is this girl’s name? You brighten up when you speak of her. She must have made quite an impression in so short a time.”

“Yeah, she did. Her name is Romiette.”

“Is she … ah … French?”

“No, Papa. She’s black.”

“Black?”

“Black. African-American. Black.”

“Oh. Uh, is that … wise?”

“Wise? What do you mean?” Julio felt his jaws begin to tighten.

His father sat down on the bed and sighed. “Well,” he said slowly, “we hear so many terrible things on the news, and you know what problems we had back in Corpus Christi with the black gangs, and it seems like we just escaped from all those problems, and now, the first person you hook up with is some black kid.”

Julio’s anger erupted. “She’s not just ‘some black kid’! She’s smart and nice, and she’s one of the few people in that whole school who’s been friendly to me since I’ve been there. Have you forgotten that gangs of Mexican kids roamed our school and were fighting with the black kids back home? And on the news at home, who were the bad guys, Papa?”

Julio’s eyes were challenging and fiery. His father decided not to push the fight. “You’re right, son. I’m sorry. I overreacted. It’s not as if you’re going to marry this girl. I’m glad you’ve found a friend. And sure, let’s get a puppy. Perhaps it will make this place feel like home.” But his father sighed once more as he left Julio’s room, as if he sensed trouble ahead.

I met Julio at lunch yesterday again. He wasn’t standing on the table this time, but he was there before I was. He grinned and looked really glad to see me, and suddenly, I felt shy. I wondered if my hair was smooth, or my breath was smelly, or my shirt was wrinkled. But as soon as we started talking, I forgot all that. His voice has a soft lilt to it that makes me feel comfortable and safe. He told me all about his home in Texas, and his grandfather’s ranch, and his friends there.

I found myself wondering if he had a girl back in Texas. Surely someone as good-looking as Julio would have a girlfriend. But he never mentioned it, and I didn’t have the nerve to ask. I wonder why I even care. He’s just a guy at school, but he’s so much more than that. I look forward to seeing him, talking to him, being with him. I think about him when we’re not together and wonder what he’s doing. This is not like me, and I don’t even mind.

All through my morning classes I found myself
thinking about that stupid surprise he talked about. When I got to lunch, I found on the table a small stuffed lion. It was furry and soft and the color of caramel pudding. I looked at him hesitantly and smiled.

“For you,” he said simply. “Keep it close to you, and think of me when you touch it.” He looked suddenly embarrassed and pretended to be fixing the bright orange bow around the neck of the little lion. I’d never been given a gift that was so thoughtful and wonderful. I felt all shy and embarrassed again, like my thoughts were naked or something.

“I love it,” I said quietly, hugging the little lion close to me. “I’m going to call him Pudding.”

He said, “Keep him in your book bag, and when you reach in to get a notebook, or lunch money, or a peppermint, I’ll be there with you.” How did he manage to make a stupid piece of golden fuzz seem like a million-carat diamond?

I wanted to give him something then—something to show I was interested, but not too personal. I dug down in my book bag and came up with my little gold key chain. It had my initials—RRC—engraved on it. I got it for my birthday last year. I wanted him to have it. I told him as I gave it to him, “Hang on to this until I get some car keys, OK?” He rubbed it shiny with the tail of his T-shirt, hooked it onto a loop of his jeans, and said he’d be glad to be “the keeper of my keys.” Somehow he made that sound sexy.

We sat there grinning at each other, ignoring the rest of the cafeteria, the rest of the school, the rest of the world. Then the trouble started. Halfway through lunch Rashad and Terrell, two dudes who hang with the gangbangers, stopped by our table. I remember both of them from kindergarten—they used to be silly and sweet, but they scare me now. It’s like they’re angry all the time. They walk around the halls with matching purple jackets and frowns. They never do homework, but even the teachers seem a little scared and don’t bother them about it. I’m not sure if they’re in the gang, because nobody comes out and says so, especially to somebody like me, but they all hang together on the corner by the bus stop after school. They take kids’ bus money and sometimes even push kids around or knock them down.

Anyway, they stopped at our table and just stared at us. They didn’t say anything. They just looked. Julio glanced at them, started to say something, but changed his mind and decided to ignore them. They left after a few minutes, but they looked real hard at me, as if to give me some unspoken message. They left a chill behind them.

The silly, friendly mood of our lunch conversation had been ruined. We finished quickly and promised to write tonight on E-mail. Neither one of us said much. It’s hard to know what to be afraid of when you don’t even know what the threat is.

The final bell rang. All the band equipment was put away, and Julio and Ben headed out to catch their bus. Julio stopped by his locker to get his history book, and Ben, hair buttercup yellow today, put his history book away.

“Don’t you ever do homework, Ben?” Julio asked as he tossed his book into his bag.

“Not if I can help it, man. Homework goes against everything I believe in, like freedom and independence. How am I going to start a revolution like Sam Adams and his boys did back in 1776 if I don’t practice now?”

“But you get good grades anyway,” Julio noted in admiration.

“Ah, my friend who needs his nose pierced, I read all the time—much more than the teacher assigns. I go to the library and I get so involved with the stories and the lives of the people in the history book that I end up knowing enough to teach the class. But I’d never tell the teacher. He thinks I’m Ben the weirdo. That’s cool with me.”

“You’ve got enough body piercing for both of us. Is that a new one on your eyebrow?”

“Yeah, I was bored, and it drives my mother crazy. You know, I’ll probably end up being the corporate lawyer she wants me to be, but I’m gonna have fun on the journey!”

“Like the safety pins in your ears?”

“Why buy jewelry? I believe in self-expression.”

“For real. I bet little old ladies on the bus get up and move when they see you coming.”

“Yeah, I love it! Here I come—leather jacket, dog collar on my neck, blue or pink or green hair, and all my visible body parts pierced. I sit down next to one of them, and look real slowly over at her, and then I grin—showing lots of teeth.”

“Why you do that, man?” Julio asked, laughing.

“Why not? Life’s a trip—enjoy the ride. So, speaking of trippin’, how was dining with Miss Dynamite today,
mi amigo?

Julio grinned at the thought of Romiette, then frowned as he remembered the rest. “Lunch today with Romi was great, at least at first. We laughed and rattled on together like we’ve known each other for years. We talked about her mom’s shop and her dad’s TV show. That Nannette Norris is a real trip.”

“Yeah, I saw it last night! She kept stumbling over words like ‘maintenance’ and ‘metropolitan.’ It would have been funny if it weren’t so embarrassing. Old Nannette is my kind of girl! Pretty—and stupid!”

Julio added, “It looks like Romi’s dad tries real hard to keep a straight face, but in those little sections just before the commercials when they have to make small talk on the air, you can see he’s straining to act like he likes her. It must be rough.”

Ben and Julio walked down to the corner, past the little store where kids bought chips and soda and illegal cigarettes. The weather was cold, but the sun was shining, letting them know spring would show up sooner or later. They had missed the early bus, so they knew they had at least a twenty-minute wait. They stood in silence for a few minutes, Ben’s corn-bright hair blowing in the chilly breeze. Ben said finally, “So, tell me, did you give Romi the lion?”

Julio laughed. “Yeah, I was scared at first, but I think she liked my little surprise. And even though it was just a small stuffed lion, she treated it like it was a gift from a king!”

Ben bowed down in mock reverence and announced, “All hail, King Julio!”

Julio punched his arm, chuckling. “Cut that out, Ben!”

“Oh, sire, tell me. Did the Princess Romiette honor you with a gift as well, or have you changed your initials to RRC and decided to advertise it on the loop of your jeans?” He wouldn’t stop bowing. Other students at the bus stop smiled, but they were used to Ben’s antics.

“Yeah, she gave me the key chain,” he admitted.

“Aw. How sweet.” He was still bowing, only
now he looked more like a penguin than the subject of a king.

“I wasn’t sure if I should take it at first,” Julio began.

“Why?” Ben finally stood straight up. “You think too much, man!”

“But it seemed like she really wanted me to have it, so I thanked her and hooked it onto my own key chain, this one with the Texas Rangers logo on it.”

“Good man. Wise choice. So, a perfect day?”

“Not exactly. The Family is still in the house.”

“This ain’t good, Julio.”

“You telling me? Me and Romi were just finishing the last of the cafeteria chocolate milk, which is probably the only thing they can’t mess up, and these two dudes came up to our table and stopped. I looked up to say something, thinking they were friends of Romiette’s, but they didn’t smile. And they had on purple.”

“What did you do?”

“There was nothing to do. They just stared at me. I don’t think they liked me talking to her. They didn’t say anything; they just looked at me, looked at her, and walked away.”

“What you gonna do?”

“Wait and see. And watch my back—for now.”

“What does Romi think?”

“I don’t know. I thought I had escaped that stuff. She looked as scared as I was. I think she knew them, but they weren’t friends of hers. Why
should anybody care who I have lunch with? Romiette is the only girl in the whole school who’s been friendly to me, and now we’re threatened because of it?”

“What did she say?”

“We didn’t talk about it after they left. We both left the cafeteria in a hurry. We promised to write each other on E-mail, but I wonder what she thinks about all this. I wonder if this will spoil something that hasn’t even had a chance to start yet. And I wonder if she’s as scared as I am.”

“Don’t let the Purple Panthers sweat you, man. Maybe they’re just showin’ off.”

“I don’t think so. They’ll be back—I’m sure of it.”

“Just chill, and ignore them. You coming to jazz band tryouts next week? You’re pretty good on the saxophone.”

“And you’re not bad on the drums!” Julio returned.

“Percussion is my life!” howled Ben as he pounded on his book bag like a drum. “I just love to make noise!”

“Do you play other instruments?” Julio asked. The bus, finally, could be seen in the distance lumbering slowly toward them.

Ben shrugged. “Clarinet, vibes, bongos. And I’m a drummer in a rock band on weekends. What can I say—I’m a musician extraordinaire,
Señor
Julio! You play anything else besides that sax?”

“I can play the mandolin,” Julio admitted
sheepishly. “Not much use for that in a marching band.”

“For real? You got one?”

“Yeah, I brought it with me from Texas.”

“That’s phat. How good are you?”

“Whenever you have an opening in your rock band for an extra mandolin payer, I’m your man, Ben! Actually, I’m pretty good. I played a little on weekends with a small Tejano band in Corpus Christi. I miss all that stuff.”

“It must be rough moving so far from home. I’ve lived here all my life. Maybe that’s why I try to liven things up around here. Everything’s the same, especially in the winter—kinda …”

“Gray!”

“You got it. So I wear yellow hair and safety pins and nobody knows all I want to do is make music.”

“You’re OK, Ben. I’ll bring my mandolin one day and show you how to play it.”

“Don’t worry about me—that’s the kind of thing that melts a girl’s socks off. Somebody like Romiette would think it was sooo romantic!”

“You make good sense even if you do have a ring in your nose!”

“It only hurts when I sneeze.”

“Or when somebody knocks it off your face!”

“Don’t remind me. Here’s my bus. Catch you tomorrow!”

“Later, man. Here’s my bus pulling up in the rear.”

Romiette sometimes complained to her friends, but she loved working at her mother’s store. She’d take the short bus ride from school to the shop, and always, just before she went inside, she’d stand a few yards from the door and watch the people who passed by, those who looked, and those who went inside. Downtown sidewalks were always busy with shoppers, commuters, and the thousands of nameless people who worked in the offices. Romi called them “the suits” and “the shoes.” “The suits” were the men in the office uniform—dark jacket, dark slacks (khaki on Friday), reddish tie, white shirt. They all carried briefcases and all of them believed themselves to be much more important than they really were. The really important ones didn’t have to walk where they needed to go. Someone drove them. “The shoes” were the women who wore variations of the men’s uniform, only they wore huge, white athletic shoes with their blue suits. They carried their stylish shoes in a bag, and walked purposefully in their play shoes to their destination,
where they did not play. They were serious and focused, these women, determined to make it in a man-made world. Romi admired them.