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.

What would it take for you to go out with me?

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.

Elena opens the door and yanks me through the house, stopping only when we reach the backyard. She lets me go only to grab the microphone from the lead singer.
"Paco!" she announces loudly. "Yeah, I'm talkin' to you," Elena says, pointing to Paco talking to a bunch of girls. "Next time you want to take a dump, do it in someone else's house."
Paco's entourage of girls backs up and giggles, leaving him alone.

I'm not starting any fights. I might finish one though.

Come here and lie on your stomach. I know how to give Swedish massages. It'll relax you."
"You're not Swedish," I say.
"Yeah, well, neither are you. So if I do it wrong you'll never know the difference.