FastSaying

Carajo!" Paco says, throwing down his lunch. "They think they can buy a U-shaped shell, stuff it, and call it a taco, but those cafeteria workers wouldn't know taco meat from a piece of shit. That's what this tastes like, Alex."
"You're makin' me sick, man," I tell him.
I stare uncomfortably at the food I brought from home. Thanks to Paco everything looks like mierda now. Disgusted, I shove what's left of my lunch into my brown paper bag.
"Want some of it?" Paco says with a grin as he holds out the shitty taco to me.
"Bring that one inch closer to me and you'll be sorry," I threaten.
"I'm shakin' in my pants."
Paco wiggles the offending taco, goading me. He should seriously know better.
"If any of that gets on me--"
"What'cha gonna do, kick my ass?" Paco sings sarcastically, still shaking the taco. Maybe I should punch him in the face, knocking him out so I won't have to deal with him right now.
As I have that thought, I feel something drop on my pants. I look down even though I know what I'll see. Yes, a big blob of wet, gloppy stuff passing as taco meat lands right on the crotch of my faded jeans.
"Fuck," Paco says, his face quickly turning from amusement to shock. "Want me to clean it off for you?"
"If your fingers get anywhere close to my dick, I'm gonna personally shoot you in the huevos," I growl through clenched teeth.
I flick the mystery meat off my crotch. A big, greasy stain lingers. I turn back to Paco. "You got ten minutes to get me a new pair of pants."
"How the hell am I s'posed to do that?"
"Be creative."
"Take mine." Paco stands and brings his fingers to the waistband of his jeans, unbuttoning right in the middle of the courtyard.
"Maybe I wasn't specific enough," I tell him, wondering how I'm going to act like the cool guy in chem class when it looks like I've peed in my pants. "I meant, get me a new pair of pants that will fit me, pendejo. You're so short you could audition to be one of Santa Claus's elves."
"I'm toleratin' your insults because we're like brothers."
"Nine minutes and thirty seconds."
It doesn't take Paco more than that to start running toward the school parking lot.

Simone Elkeles

Related Quotes

Paco is walking out of the bathroom and I rush past him.
"You might want to wait before you--" Paco's voice fades as I close the door, locking myself in. Wiping my eyes, I gaze into the mirror. I'm a complete mess. My mascara is dripping and . . . oh, it's no use. I slide down and sit on the cold tile floor. Now I realize what Paco was about to tell me. The place stinks; it really reeks . . . almost to the point where I want to throw up. I put my hand over my nose, trying to ignore the offending smell.

***

After locking the door behind him, he crouches beside me and takes me in his arms, pulling me close. Then he sniffs a few times. "Holy shit. Was Paco in here?"
I nod.
He smoothes my hair and mutters something in Spanish.

***

She, too, sniffs a bunch of times. "Was Paco in here?"
Alex and I nod.
"What the fuck does that guy eat that it comes out his other end smelling so rotten? Dammit," she says, wadding up tissue and putting it over her nose.
— Simone Elkeles
alex-fuentesbathroomeat
What would it take for you to go out with me?
— Simone Elkeles
alejandro-fuentesalexalex-fuentes
I brush a strand of hair from her face, then move beside her. When she wraps her arms around my neck, all I want to do is protect this girl for the rest of my life. I ease her jacket open and lean away. A pink lace bra stares back at me. Nothing else.
"Como un angel," I whisper.
"Is our game over?" she asks nervously.
"It's definitely over, querida. 'Cause what we're gonna do next is no game.
— Simone Elkeles
alex-fuentesbrittany-ellisgame
Why can't you call me Alex?" I ask, my head down while I stare at the food in front of me.
"If I wanted to call you Alex, I wouldn't have bothered to name you Alejandro. Don't you like your given name?"
My muscles tense. I was named after a father who is no longer alive, leaving me the responsibility of being the designated man of the house. Alejandro, Alejandro Jr., Junior . . . it's all the same to me.
"Would it matter?" I mumble as I pick up a tortilla. I look up, trying to gauge her reaction.
Her back is to me as she cleans dishes in the sink. "No."
"Alex wants to pretend he's white," Carlos chimes in. "You can change your name, bro, but nobody'd mistake you for anythin' other than Mexicano."
"Carlos, collate la boca," I warn. I don't want to be white. I just don't want to be associated with my father.
"Por favor, you two," our mother pleads. "Enough fighting for one day."
"Mojado," Carlos sings, egging me on by calling me a wetback.
I've had enough of Carlos's mouth; he's gone too far. I stand, my chair scraping the floor. Carlos follows and steps in front of me, closing the space between us. He knows I could kick his ass. His overblown ego is gonna get him in trouble with the wrong person one of these days.
"Carlos, sit down," mi'ama orders.
"Dirty beaner," Carlos drawls at me in a fake deep accent. "Better yet, es un Ganguero."
"Carlos!" mi'ama reprimands sharply as she comes forward, but I get in between them and grab my brother's collar.
"Yeah, that's all anyone will ever think of me," I tell him. "But you keep talkin' trash and they'll think that of you, too."
"Brother, they'll think that of me anyway. Whether I want them to or not."
I release him. "You're wrong, Carlos. You can do better, be better."
"Than you?"
"Yeah, better than me and you know it," I say. "Now apologize to mi'ama for talkin' smack in front of her."
One look in my eyes and Carlos knows I'm not kidding around. "Sorry, Ma," he says, then sits back down. I don't miss his glare, though, as his ego got knocked down a peg.
— Simone Elkeles
alejandro-fuentesalex-fuentescarlos-fuentes
Do you think about making love with me?"
I lie awake most nights, fantasizing about sleeping next to her ... loving her. "Right now, muneca, makin' love to you is the only thing on my mind.
— Simone Elkeles
alex-fuentesbrittany-ellisfantasize