away.
“I did. I chose down by the river. There are more plants to work with there, and here’s a list of the edible ones that grow in the area.” I hand him the folded piece of paper I’ve had in my back pocket since biology.
When he reaches out to take it, I see an inflamed gash in his arm. It’s peeking out of his shirt with staples, lining up like shoelaces. My eyes go wide when I see it, then I search his expression.
“Construction work. It got caught up on some wood.”
“Oh, Alex.” My hand unconsciously reaches out to comfort him before I realize what I’m doing , and I retract my hand with a start.
He plays off the wound and changes the subject, which makes me think that construction is n’t the real cause. “When do we need to start the project?”
I let him change the subject, considering I would do the same thing . “Tomorrow after school would work for me. What about you?”
He answers with a straight face, “I can move some things around … tomorrow should be fine.”
Chapter Ten
Alex
If someone told me Jasmine would be sitting in my living room today, I would have punched them in the face , but here she is, on my couch.
When I looked out the window to see what all the hooting and hollering was about , I saw Jasmine surrounded by members of my gang, and one of them had their filthy hands all over her, working his way up her waist, and my heart dropped to my stomach. Panic ran through me, followed shortly by anger. I barely remember flying out my door and smashing Jose’s face with my fist.
Jose is a member of my gang, but that gave him no right to put his hands on her. None of them should be touching her.
‘ I should be the only one touching her .’
I shake that last thought from my mind.
When I guide her into the house, her legs are so weak, that I have to support most of her weight. She tries extremely hard to avoid crying in front of me, and I can see that she’s trying to keep up an, ‘ I have everything under control ,’ persona, when in reality, she is just like me – out of control, trying to get by any way she can to keep the past in the past. I know how it feels to move toward a future you can’t even see yet.
She breaks down another small piece of my wall when she apologizes to me. It was my father who killed her brother, her best friend, and paralyzed her father. I should be apologizing to her. She only spoke out of grief against what my father had done to both of our families.
For almost two years , my insides have been dead, dull, and lifeless. The only emotions that remain now are sorrow, anger, and rage, so this protective and overwhelming need to be around her is the last thing I expected. I need to stomp this feeling out before it turns into anything important. I’ve spent the last year and a half forming a barricade around my heart; refusing to let another person in. I will never let myself feel that pain again. I might’ve been able to bare the pain a little more if I’d had my best friend to talk to, but my father killed him too. Some days I’m so angry with him that I’m glad he’s dead, but I don’t mean it; however, I can’t help but think about him being so careless.
Instead of dwelling on these feelings I keep bottled up , I turn on the Navarro charm and become the culo I know I am. I’m leaning far too close to her, a lean that can only be interpreted one way, while she talks about our class project.
The problem with this is that I’m unprepared for the way my body reacts to hers. Her proximity pulls me like a magnet; the closer I am, the closer I want to be to her. I’m not used to wanting things and not getting them, but complicating my life with my dead sister’s best friend is the last thing I need.
“Are you ready for me to walk you to your car?” I’m trying to get her away from me, put distance between me and whatever is causing this reaction when I’m around her.
I fail miserably when I see the nervousness on her
“I did. I chose down by the river. There are more plants to work with there, and here’s a list of the edible ones that grow in the area.” I hand him the folded piece of paper I’ve had in my back pocket since biology.
When he reaches out to take it, I see an inflamed gash in his arm. It’s peeking out of his shirt with staples, lining up like shoelaces. My eyes go wide when I see it, then I search his expression.
“Construction work. It got caught up on some wood.”
“Oh, Alex.” My hand unconsciously reaches out to comfort him before I realize what I’m doing , and I retract my hand with a start.
He plays off the wound and changes the subject, which makes me think that construction is n’t the real cause. “When do we need to start the project?”
I let him change the subject, considering I would do the same thing . “Tomorrow after school would work for me. What about you?”
He answers with a straight face, “I can move some things around … tomorrow should be fine.”
Chapter Ten
Alex
If someone told me Jasmine would be sitting in my living room today, I would have punched them in the face , but here she is, on my couch.
When I looked out the window to see what all the hooting and hollering was about , I saw Jasmine surrounded by members of my gang, and one of them had their filthy hands all over her, working his way up her waist, and my heart dropped to my stomach. Panic ran through me, followed shortly by anger. I barely remember flying out my door and smashing Jose’s face with my fist.
Jose is a member of my gang, but that gave him no right to put his hands on her. None of them should be touching her.
‘ I should be the only one touching her .’
I shake that last thought from my mind.
When I guide her into the house, her legs are so weak, that I have to support most of her weight. She tries extremely hard to avoid crying in front of me, and I can see that she’s trying to keep up an, ‘ I have everything under control ,’ persona, when in reality, she is just like me – out of control, trying to get by any way she can to keep the past in the past. I know how it feels to move toward a future you can’t even see yet.
She breaks down another small piece of my wall when she apologizes to me. It was my father who killed her brother, her best friend, and paralyzed her father. I should be apologizing to her. She only spoke out of grief against what my father had done to both of our families.
For almost two years , my insides have been dead, dull, and lifeless. The only emotions that remain now are sorrow, anger, and rage, so this protective and overwhelming need to be around her is the last thing I expected. I need to stomp this feeling out before it turns into anything important. I’ve spent the last year and a half forming a barricade around my heart; refusing to let another person in. I will never let myself feel that pain again. I might’ve been able to bare the pain a little more if I’d had my best friend to talk to, but my father killed him too. Some days I’m so angry with him that I’m glad he’s dead, but I don’t mean it; however, I can’t help but think about him being so careless.
Instead of dwelling on these feelings I keep bottled up , I turn on the Navarro charm and become the culo I know I am. I’m leaning far too close to her, a lean that can only be interpreted one way, while she talks about our class project.
The problem with this is that I’m unprepared for the way my body reacts to hers. Her proximity pulls me like a magnet; the closer I am, the closer I want to be to her. I’m not used to wanting things and not getting them, but complicating my life with my dead sister’s best friend is the last thing I need.
“Are you ready for me to walk you to your car?” I’m trying to get her away from me, put distance between me and whatever is causing this reaction when I’m around her.
I fail miserably when I see the nervousness on her
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