Michael didn’t know how Carlos did it, half carrying him, half dragging him. His friend wound their way down a couple hallways, through the boys’ locker room, another hallway, the kitchen, and then out the loading dock. In minutes, they were in the school parking lot, and Michael was holding a bag of ice against his face.

“You drive today?” Carlos asked.

“Yeah, but –“

Michael was trying to focus on the cars in front of him: the three blue Toyotas, the three Chevy pickups, the three yellow bugs past that.

“But what?”

“I don’t know which one is my mom’s.”

“Didn’t you drive her bug?”

Michael rubbed his eyes and squinted.

“Yeah, but there’s three of them.”

Michael felt Carlos’ hand dig into his pants’ pocket.

“Maybe I should I drive.” Sounding a little distant, Carlos added, “just walk toward the middle one.”

Without his friend’s support, Michael took an unsteady step forward. The adrenaline of the fight was wearing off, and his head began to spin. His stomach felt like he had just spent all day at the fair, getting whipped around and around and around on rides. He gulped back the zesty flavor of spaghetti sauce that filled his mouth.

“You look like you’re going to lose your lunch,” Carlos laughed.

“Shut up!”

Michael lurched forward to his mom’s car and used it to steady himself. Then he walked around to the passenger side, expecting Carlos to unlock the doors.

A sound like a chalk against a chalkboard made him shiver. He looked back, and Carlos was leaning against the Chevy pickup as he walked toward Michael. One hand was in his pants’ pocket. The other, held close to his thigh, dragged along the side of the pickup. A thin silver groove trailed behind that hand.

“Shit, Carlos!” Michael exclaimed. “That Darren’s truck.”

Carlos just kept walking, smoothly, like nothing had happened.

The locks to the bug beeped.

“Get in,” he said, opening the driver-side door. I don’t think anyone saw me.”

Carlos was calm enough not to even squeal the tires as he shifted the car into drive.

That’s what Michael liked about Carlos. Even in the thick of things, he kept his cool. He told Michael it was machismo, facing the bull as it charged and showing no fear, showing it that you’re a man. Michael often suspected the “bull” Carlos referred to was actually his father.

A few years ago Carlos’s father had just disappeared. Neither Carlos nor his mom talked about what happened, but the rumors were that he was illegal and got deported.

No matter, Carlos changed over night from a kid who shouldered his way down school hallways to the guy Michael now knew. And that was right about the time Darren and his friendship started to become strained by the high school pulls of popularity. And then there was Kelly . . .

“She’s playing you, man.”

“Huh?”

“Kelly, she’s playing you,” Carlos repeated. “She knows how much you like her and . . .”

Michael didn’t want to hear it and tuned his friend out, wishing he could do the same for the pain. He fingered his lip to feel if it was swollen yet. It had grown to the size of a watermelon.

- last revised 01/15/09 -