Simone Elkeles - [Perfect Chemistry 03] Page 5

  I can’t delay the truth any longer.

  I don’t look into either of their faces as I cry in a soft whisper, “I’m pregnant … and I think something’s really wrong.”

  Now I can see blood trickling down my leg.

  Mom gasps, then holds on to the railing for support.

  My dad stares at me with eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He’s completely stunned for a second, as if time has stopped, but quickly snaps out of it as reality sets in. “All right. Let’s get you to the hospital,” he says, not in a panic but like a doctor with a purpose. He picks me up and carries me down the stairs while Mom calls our neighbor and asks her to come over to stay with Ben.

  My parents help me get in the front seat while the pain increases with every second that passes. In the car on the way to the hospital, I glance at my dad. I’ve never seen him look this worried or sad. When I started hanging out with Marco almost daily, he warned me to stay away from him. That boy is nothing but trouble, he’d said one day when he came home to find us making out in the pool in our backyard. I don’t want you hanging around with him. He’ll get you into trouble. Mom agreed with him.

  I thought they were judging Marco just because he lived on the south side. I was wrong.

  I look over at my dad. He’s got a death grip on the steering wheel, and he’s focused on the road.

  “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” I say over and over as the pain gets sharper and sharper.

  He sighs heavily. “I know.”

  “Do you hate me?” I hold my breath, waiting for the answer.

  “I’m disappointed in you, Nicolasa,” he says, calling me by my formal name he never uses unless he’s really upset. He doesn’t say anything more than that.

  “No matter what, we love you,” Mom says encouragingly from the backseat. “How did this happen? When? Where? We don’t condone—”

  “Maria, not now,” Dad tells her.

  Mom stops her questions, but they linger in the air between us.

  At the hospital, Dad makes sure I get admitted immediately. They do all these blood tests, and the specialist, Dr. Helene Wong, orders an ultrasound. I’m trying to hold in my tears, but it’s no use. After the ultrasound, Mom holds my hand. She doesn’t say much. I think she’s too scared and shocked to say anything, so she lets Dad and the other doctors do all the talking.

  After Dr. Wong orders a second ultrasound and I’m put on an IV, Mom sits on one side of my hospital bed and Dad sits on the other. The doctor is standing next to them with my test results in her hand.

  “You have an ectopic pregnancy,” she says, then explains why I need to have emergency surgery because they suspect my fallopian tube has started to rupture. Mom has her hand over her mouth as tears fall down her cheeks. Dad nods stiffly as he listens to Dr. Wong.

  “What’s going to happen to my baby?” I ask in a panic.

  Dr. Wong touches my shoulder. “There’s no way to save the baby,” she explains.

  I start crying again. The second I realized that I was really and truly pregnant, I’d hoped that the pregnancy wasn’t real. Did my negative thoughts make my body reject the baby? Deep sorrow and a mountain of guilt that I know I’ll carry around forever settle in my gut.

  Another wave of pain hits, and I grab my stomach.

  As my parents sign the waivers, the reality of what’s happening is making me shake.

  “Will I still be able to have kids in the future?” I ask Dr. Wong before she leaves the room to prep for the surgery.

  She nods. “One tube will be damaged, but your other one is healthy. You should be able to conceive without too much trouble.”

  After the IV is in, and they’re ready to wheel me into surgery, I look over at my parents. I want to say something to them, but I know if I do I’ll burst into sobs.

  Mom gives me a small, tight smile. She’s disappointed in me. I don’t blame her.

  Dad holds my hand until I’m wheeled into surgery. “We’ll be right here waiting until you come out.”

  The operating room is cold and smells like canned air. I’m being hooked up to monitors and Dr. Wong tells me I’m going to be feeling sleepy as they put something in my IV. As I fall into a deep slumber, I vow to forget about Marco and forget about our baby who never had a chance.

  Luis Fuentes reminded me that I’m still vulnerable. If I’m emotionally unavailable, then I don’t have to worry about ever getting hurt. When this nightmare is over, I’m going to be a different person … Nikki Cruz will no longer be vulnerable.

  9

  Luis

  TWO YEARS AND TWO MONTHS LATER

  Fairfield, Illinois.

  If you would’ve told me two weeks ago I’d be moving back to Illinois after fleeing this place when I was eleven, I’d have laughed. In all that time I came back to Illinois once, for my brother’s wedding more than two years ago.

  Now I’m seventeen and back for good.

  I’m about to start my senior year. I know every teacher, every student, and every inch of Flatiron High in Colorado, where I went for the past three years of high school. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t have come back to Fairfield. But I’m Mexican, and my culture is all about loyalty to family.

  Duty to family brought us back. Alex and Brittany are living here with my little nephew, Paco. We saw them last night, as soon as we arrived. Brittany’s pregnant again, and mi'amá says she’s not going to miss out on watching her grandchildren grow up.

  We’re standing in front of the old house we used to rent. It’s a two-bedroom house, bigger than a shack but smaller than most homes on my block. It’s clear that the Latino Blood don’t have as big a presence in Fairfield anymore. The spray-painted tagging of buildings and street signs is gone, and nobody is looking at cars driving down the street as if they might be rival gang members about to do a drive-by. The presence of a police car parked in the street makes me question my initial observations, though.

  I know why mi'amá wanted to come back and live in this town, in our old house. It’s not just because Fairfield is close to Evanston, where Alex and Brittany live. It’s because of the past … the memories of mi papá she’s desperate to hold on to.

  I watch as mi'amá puts the key in the lock, takes a big breath, then opens the door. She sent in a deposit and a check for the first month’s rent while we were still in Colorado, for fear that someone else would snatch it up. I didn’t tell her she had nothing to worry about, that nobody would be standing in line to rent the dump we used to call home.

  I was wrong.

  We stand in the small living room, and I do a double take. The old, ripped carpeting has been replaced by new hardwood floors. The walls have been freshly painted a bright white. I hardly recognize the place.

  “Luis, look!” mi'amá says as she steps into the kitchen and runs her hand over the new granite counters and stainless steel appliances. She smiles wide, then hugs me tight in excitement. “It’s a new beginning for us.”

  A loud knock on the front door echoes through the house. “It might be Elena. She said she was going to stop by after work,” mi'amá says, hurrying to open the door.

  I’m about to check out the old bedroom I used to share with Alex and Carlos when I hear mi'amá exclaim, “Can I help you, officer?”

  Officer?

  The cops are here?

  The only experience I’ve had with Fairfield cops was when my brothers got into trouble or when they’d question us about gang activity when I was younger. When most of your family have been gang members, the last thing you want is a police officer knocking on your door. Even though Alex is in grad school and Carlos is in the military, old habits are hard to break.

  I walk into the living room and watch as a cop in uniform smiles wide at mi'amá. He’s got dark brown hair in a short military cut and is standing in one of those cop stances that means business. “I saw you pull up and wanted to introduce myself,” the guy says, then holds out his hand. “I’m Cesar Reyes, your landlord
and next-door neighbor.”

  Mi'amá reaches out to shake his hand, then pulls it back quickly as she eyes the gun strapped to his holster. “Thanks for introducing yourself, Officer Reyes,” she says.

  “Call me Cesar.” The cop looks down, noticing what she’s focused on. “I didn’t mean to intimidate you, Mrs. Fuentes. I was about to go to work, and I didn’t know the next time I’d catch you home.” His eyes dart to me. “Is that your son?”

  She opens the door wider and steps back, so now I’m in full view. “Officer Reyes, this is Luis—my youngest.”

  Reyes nods in my direction. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”

  “Thanks,” I mumble, not thrilled to suddenly be living next to a cop who happens to be our landlord.

  “I’m having a barbeque at my place Sunday night. You both should hop on over if you get a chance.”

  Neither of us answers.

  He shrugs. “All right. I guess I’ll see you around then.” He pulls a business card from his front pocket and hands it to mi'amá. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

  He walks to his car, then drives away.

  “Glad that’s over,” I say.

  Mi'amá closes the door slowly, then sighs as she leans against it.

  “You all right?” I ask her.

  “I’m fine. Just … let’s get started unpacking.”

  On Sunday, Alex calls to say he got me an interview at the Brickstone Country Club in Evanston, which is a twenty-minute walk from our house. I need a job to help out and told Alex to be on the lookout if he hears of any openings. My cousin Enrique has a body shop, but Alex works there already a few days a week, and since the economy turned to shit Enrique doesn’t have enough work for two extra employees.

  At four I head over to Brickstone. It’s a huge place with a private eighteen-hole golf course, Olympic-sized indoor and outdoor pools, and an exclusive dining room solely for club members.

  The interview process doesn’t take long. This lady, Fran Remington, calls me into her office after I fill out an application.

  She puts her hand on her desk and gives me a once-over. “I see here that you’re a straight-A student and were on the soccer and swim teams at your old high school. Tell me, Luis, why do you want a job here?”

  “I just moved here from Colorado and need to help my mom with bills. I’ve got college applications due in a few months, and those cost a lot of money.”

  She lays the paperwork on her desk. “Where do you want to go to college?”

  “Purdue University. They’ve got an aeronautics program,” I tell her. “After my bachelor’s I plan on applyin’ to NASA’s astronaut trainin’ program.”

  “You’re ambitious.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She looks over my application again. “You don’t have any serving experience. I really need a server for the dining room.”

  “I can do it,” I tell her. “It’s not a problem.”

  “Our members expect top-notch food and the best service Illinois has to offer. I don’t tolerate any bad attitudes, tardiness, or slovenly employees. When members walk into the club, they’re treated like royalty by each and every person on my staff. Our members pay a tremendous amount of money to be part of this club. They’re demanding, and so am I.”

  “I can handle it.”

  The woman hesitates just a few more seconds before smiling at me. “I like a young man with ambition like yours. Even though you don’t have experience, I’ll give you a shot. You’ll start as a busboy for a month, then move up to server if you have what it takes. You can start on Saturday.”

  “Thank you for the opportunity, ma’am,” I tell her. “I won’t let you down.”

  “Good. It’s settled then.”

  Back at home, I find Officer Reyes standing on our front stoop, wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He’s got a Budweiser in his hand, and he’s talking with mi'amá. I wouldn’t think anything of it, but the guy has a big grin on his face, and he just touched her elbow as she laughed at something he said.

  Oh, man.

  I know how a guy acts when he’s flirting with a girl, because I do it all the time. There’s no doubt in my mind that our neighbor/landlord/cop has the hots for mi'amá.

  How the hell am I gonna explain that one to my brothers?

  10

  Nikki

  Ugh, I couldn’t sleep last night. It’s the first day of my senior year, and I’m so ready for it. I’m ready to graduate, get out of Fairfield, and start my life.

  I take a shower, get dressed, then head downstairs for breakfast.

  “You look nice,” Mom says, eyeing my jeans and turquoise silk tank she bought me when she went shopping in downtown Evanston last week. “Here, I made some eggs for you and Ben.”

  My brother walks into the kitchen, his hair practically falling into his eyes as he reads some gaming magazine. It’s his first day of freshman year and he’s wearing ripped jeans and a T-shirt that has seen better days. You’d think he’d at least dress up for the occasion, but no.

  “Ben, you need a haircut,” I tell him.

  “No, thanks,” Ben responds absently as he reads an article about some new combat game coming out with digital graphics. I only know this because I glimpse the title of the article, which says “Combat Forces II—Stunning Digital Graphics!”

  “Ben, you do realize that you’re in high school now, don’t you?”

  “So?”

  “So you should take care of your appearance.”

  He sets his gaming magazine on the kitchen table. “I put on a shirt that didn’t have holes in it. That should count for something.”

  “It says MAY THE FORCE BE WITH YOU!”

  He looks down at his shirt. “I know … cool, huh?”

  I look at Mom for support in this.

  “Everybody has their own definition of cool, Nikki,” Mom says.

  Ben gives Mom an exaggerated wink. “Don’t you think it’s time to tell Nikki the truth—that I’ll be a self-made millionaire by the time I’m twenty and Nikki will probably be asking me for loans?”

  Mom sets a plate in front of him and starts heaping eggs and toast onto it. She even pours orange juice into his glass. “The truth is that you better sit on your butt and eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

  “Social skills count for a lot, you know,” I tell him.

  “Social skills are overrated,” my brother says right before he takes a huge bite of bread.

  Mom pats Ben on the shoulder. “Stop antagonizing your sister.”

  “She makes it so easy,” Ben says, then leans back in his chair. “So who wants to name my next Queen of the Dragon Empire in the game I’m in the middle of coding?”

  “How about you name her Nicolasa after your sister?” Mom suggests.

  “I need a tougher name than that,” Ben tells her. “This is a queen who can yield a sword and wear chain mail.”

  “Why not Bertha?” I jokingly suggest. I hate when Ben starts talking about cartoon characters as if they’re real … I hate it more when he sucks me in and I actually validate his obsession.

  “Queen Bertha? Nope, doesn’t work for me.”

  “Well, I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Mom gets her keys out. “Oh, I almost forgot. Nikki, you can’t take your car today. Your father took it in for repairs this morning when he realized that it was leaking oil. Why don’t you two walk to school? Start off the year being active instead of lazy and spoiled.”

  “I’m proud of my laziness,” Ben says, amusing himself. “And what’s wrong with being spoiled?”

  “Everything.” She turns around just as I’m about to finish the last bite of my food and says, “I’ll tell you what … I’ll drive you both to school because I have to go to work anyway, but you can either walk or take the bus home.” She smiles serenely.

  Having your mommy drive you to school as a senior? “If Dad took my car, let me take his.”

  “Not going to happen,” she say
s. “Unless you get all As, you’re never getting hold of the keys to his Lexus. It’s a goal to work toward.”

  Ben rolls his eyes. “Mom, Nikki has never gotten all As.”

  “Yes, she has,” Mom says.

  Ben laughs. “I’m not talking about kindergarten.”

  I kick my brother under the table. Just because he doesn’t try, hardly studies, and gets all As doesn’t mean he has to be arrogant about it.

  “I’m having dinner with some clients tonight, so I won’t be home. I’m decorating their house using all antiques,” Mom says excitedly.

  “Have fun,” I tell her, knowing she will. My mom is an interior designer who loves turning boring spaces into themed rooms she calls “eclectic showstoppers.” Each room in our house has a theme and has been turned into one “eclectic showstopper” after another. My life is inundated with themed rooms.

  At school, Kendall is waiting for me by our lockers. At the end of junior year we got to pick any locker in the senior hallway for the next year, so Kendall and I made sure our lockers were right next to each other. That was before she started dating Derek. The two of them have been inseparable since the last day of school, when he showed up at her house with a dozen roses and a song he’d written about her.

  I don’t trust Derek. I know he likes Kendall, but I also know a lot of girls flirt with him and he flirts back. In a moment of male weakness, he can crush Kendall’s trusting heart.

  “Just an FYI,” Kendall says, wincing as if she’s about to share some bad news. “Marco’s locker is right across from ours.”

  A wave of anxiety rushes through me. “Please tell me you’re lying.”

  “I wish I was.”

  After we broke up, Marco got in really deep with the Latino Blood. I know he’s been selling drugs and getting in fights a lot. Something happened last year to the guy who ran the gang, and the LB presence in the south side of Fairfield got broken up. I heard Marco started hanging out with other gangs besides the LB. He’s gotten meaner and tougher. I used to think he had a hard exterior but was sweet once you really got to know him. Marco is anything but sweet now.