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Chapter 2
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There’s a bus you can catch at the diner that will take you right to the Somerset Mall. The mall was named for the county we lived in in New Jersey, one of the nicest and safest in the state, so if I wanted to go to there to get something or just hang out with my best friend Stephanie, Mom didn’t need to worry about me taking the bus by myself.
As it whizzed along, creepy or not I couldn’t help thinking about Cruz. Admit it Kelly, he’s cute. Once you got past the Hispanic thing. And just what’s wrong with being Hispanic? All the girls at Morris practically fainted over Enrique Iglesias. Not to mention Ricky Martin! And Ricardo was one of the cutest boys in the whole ninth grade. Cruz wasn’t dark either like some of them are—smack you Kelly for thinking about his skin color, so being Latino wouldn’t be a problem. But what about the age thing? He’s way too old for you Kell, way too old. Okay, so what if he is? I could still fantasize about him, couldn’t I?
The mall was bustling with people shopping for back-to- school things, and before heading to California Sun I hurried through the crowd to the food court to see if Stephanie was there. If she was, should I tell her about Cruz? No, I decided—the age thing again, but it didn’t matter because she wasn’t at the food court or Mario’s Arcade either. And maybe that was a good thing. What if we hooked up and she asked me why I wanted to get a bikini? What would I have told her? Some lie about needing a new bathing suit for a trip to the beach on Labor Day?
No wonder he gave me so much money! I exclaimed after going into California Sun and picking up the first bikini I saw, just to see how much it was. God, sixty dollars. I couldn’t believe something so skimpy could cost so much! Luckily they were on sale and you could take fifty-percent off the regular price.
I picked out two my size and went into the dressing room to try them on. I really should get a new bra with the money I have left over, I thought after pulling off my top and hanging it on the hook by the dressing room mirror. The bra I had on was totally gross from wearing it every day, and too small. At least I wasn’t a tomboy here!
I couldn’t make up my mind about the bikinis and got both of them, an all-white one that barely covered a thing and a pretty red and blue striped one that wasn’t as skimpy and might show up better against the sheet.
Even after paying for the second bikini I had enough money left to get a nice new bra, with C-cups already. The saleslady noticed too when she measured me, like how developed I was for my age. How old did you say you were? she asked me. Only fourteen? Honey you’re blessed! she said, and I couldn’t help thinking how envious Stephanie was of me in that department. Her breasts were a lot smaller, and she had already gotten her period. I should be getting mine any day now—“Aunt Sally” would be visiting, as Mom so delicately put it, and I just couldn’t wait. Yeah right, Kell.
I still had a few dollars left and got some nice new panties to go with the bra, then waited for the bus that would take me back to the diner.
When I got home I ran up to my room to snip the tags off the bikinis and stuff them and as many pairs of my shorts and tops as I could in the backpack I planned to take along to the photo shoot, even though Cruz said I didn’t have to bring any outfits with me—he had plenty I could pose in in his van. Okay, but what if they weren’t the right size?
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With my backpack at my side I sat with Jimmy in a booth at the diner the next morning waiting for Cruz. He was going to treat us to lunch before taking us to the motel and was bringing something with him for me to sign before I posed, the same thing he had Jimmy sign, a modeling contract or whatever.
“Did you get it Kell, the bikini?” Jimmy asked me after Millie, our waitress greeted us and brought us glasses of water.
“Yep, at the mall,” I answered. “They were on sale so I got two. A white one and one with pretty red and blue stripes on it. And some other things with the money I had left over. I hope he isn’t mad at me for spending it all.”
“He won’t be,” Jimmy assured me. “He said you could keep it if you didn’t get the bikini, didn’t he—and called me three times to make sure you were coming.”
“He did?” I said, and my heart skipped a beat.
“Yeah, the last time a couple of hours ago, to tell me he was on his way.”
If he left that early he should have been here by now, I thought as Millie came over to our booth again, smiling and holding her order pad. We were waiting for someone, Jimmy told her when she asked us if we were ready to order.
“So will you be posing too?” I asked my brother after Millie went off to wait on another booth.
“He said he didn’t need to take any more shots of me unless I was willing to . . . you know, do what we talked about yesterday,” Jimmy answered.
“Pose in the nude?”
“Yeah.”
“You didn’t tell him you would, I hope!”
“Yeah I did,” Jimmy admitted, “like that I would give it a try to make some more money.”
“God Jimmy I can’t believe you. How can you even think of doing such a thing? What would Mom and Dad say if they found out? And now you’re telling me. What am I supposed to do when you’re in there naked? Where can I go? There’s no place near that creepy motel, is there?”
“You don’t have to go anywhere,” Jimmy quickly answered. “You can stay. I won’t mind.”
“Are you serious?”
“Kelly what is your problem? It’s not like it’s dirty. Cruz says the human body is beautiful and you shouldn’t be ashamed of it.”
“Well he does know I’m your sister, doesn’t he? You did tell him that, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, he knows.”
“And brothers and sisters aren’t supposed to see each other naked are they?”
“C’mon Kell, chill out. Modeling’s just like acting. It’s not for real. Don’t be such a priss!”
“Couldn’t you at least keep your shorts on?”
“No Kelly, that’s what they want to see!”
“And you’re okay with that? And who are they, Jimmy? What’s he going to do with these pictures?”
“I told you I don’t know and don’t care!”
“Is he going to sell them to gays? Is that what he’s going to do? Is he gay? Is that why he wants you to pose naked?”
“No Kelly, he’s not gay!”
“Well even if he isn’t I can’t believe you don’t have a problem letting me see you naked!”
“You saw all those guys in his folio so quit thinking everything is always so dirty, okay?”
And you, my greedy brother, better quit thinking there’s nothing wrong with it if you’re only doing it for the money!
Just as I was about to tell Jimmy there was no way I was going with him if he was going to pose naked for Cruz he came in the diner wearing the same things he wore the last time, a tight-fitting black T-shirt, denim jeans held up by a leather belt with a big brass buckle, and around his neck a cross with a sun on it with a weird face inside. My heart skipped a beat again. It had already been pounding from being so mad at my brother and raced even more.
When he spotted us Cruz came over to our booth—and kissed me before sliding into the seat opposite us. “¿Qué passa?” he greeted me in Spanish, and turning to Jimmy, “Y usted, mi amigo. ¿Cómo está?”
“Estoy bien,” Jimmy answered.
Say what? Since when did my brother learn to speak Spanish? Oh that’s right—Cruz had been teaching him a word here and there.
“And how’s mi chica?” Cruz asked.
Me? I’m okay! If I can get my heart to settle down after being kissed by a boy for the first time in my life! Even if it was only on the cheek. I’ll take it. I’ll take it. Hold on Kell. He’s not exactly a boy. Oh God, he’s better. I’m fine! I blurted out.
“You order yet?” he asked Jimmy and me. No, we were waiting for him to get here, we told him. “¡Bueno!” Cruz exclaimed. He had spotted a Mexican place on the way here and wanted to take us there for lunch.
I signed the modeling contract and when we got up to leave, Cruz left a tip for Millie—five dollars, and all she did was bring Jimmy and me glasses of water. I picked up my backpack and struggled with it, trying to get it on. “I’ll help you with that,” Cruz said, and took the backpack from me and held it up so I could slip my arms through the straps. I wriggled into them and he kissed me again, lightly on my hair.
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“Jimmy this is really nice,” I whispered when we went into the restaurant with Cruz. Mexican music was softly playing in the background and the tables had pretty flowers on them. How romantic! I thought as we were shown our table. I brought my backpack along to show Cruz the bikinis if he wanted see them, and put it on the floor before sitting beside Jimmy while Cruz sat opposite me.
“So chiquita, are you as excited to be posing as su hermano?” he asked me after Carlos, our neatly dressed waiter greeted us and placed our menus on the table. As excited as my greedy brother, I assumed, thinking hermano was Spanish for brother. Unlike Jimmy I was totally nervous, but tried not to show it and smiled and nodded my head.
“You get the bikini?” Cruz asked me, and I needn’t have worried about him being mad at me for getting the extra one. “¡Bueno!” he exclaimed when I told him they were on sale at the mall and I got two. Would you like to see them? I asked him. “I will soon enough,” Cruz answered and looked down and stared at my chest. “Qué tetas,” he said in Spanish. “Ay qué tetas.”
I didn’t need a dictionary to figure out what they were! Cruz, would you please stop staring at my breasts? You’re embarrassing me in front of my brother! Jimmy you should say something! But he was busy studying the menu and didn’t see Cruz ogling me, or if he did he didn’t let on. “Mexican food’s pretty hot,” was all he said, meaning hot like the jalapeno peppers they all liked. “How do you say I don’t like it so hot in Spanish?” he asked Cruz.
“No me gusta tan caliente,” Cruz answered.
“So caliente means spicy hot? And hot hot too?” Jimmy asked him again. “Like if it’s a hot day, you say it’s caliente?”
“Sí. And if a girl’s hot she’s caliente,” Cruz answered. “I bet mi chica is.”
Cruz, I’m not your chica. Stop calling me that, okay? You don’t even know me! But I was secretly thrilled by the other thing he said, like that he thought I was hot and couldn’t wait to tell Stephanie. Hot Steph, hot! Can you believe it? As for the age thing, I really wouldn’t have to go there if she didn’t ask me how old he was.
“So what should we get?” Jimmy asked. “I don’t know anything about Mexican food. Nada.”
“¿Y mi chica?”
“Do they have tacos?” I piped up. “Or burritos?” I had them before and they were good. “Or those folded-over things that have chicken in them and come with the green stuff and sour cream.”
“Ay, mi chica wants cream,” Cruz said. “I can give you some.”
Does that mean what I think it does? Jimmy did you hear what he said? You should smack him! But my brother still had his nose buried in the menu and didn’t say a word. Okay, Cruz is cute. And helped me put on my backpack. That was nice of him, but he has a dirty mouth. And hits on you.
“I’ll order for everybody if you like,” he said.
“Sounds good,” Jimmy answered.
Cruz ordering for us was okay with me too, and he got us quesadillas, the folded-over things with chicken in them.
When Carlos brought them I couldn’t help staring at the sour cream. Before Cruz made that dirty remark it was just something you put on a potato instead of butter, but now whenever I had some was I going think of that? I knew it was white from Stephanie telling me it was, but had never actually seen it. Was it really this thick and creamy? And was there really this much of it? It’s good Kelly, Jimmy said after tasting his, I just wish I were hungrier. You can have mine if you like. Noo thank you, Jimmy. Not yours, thank you!
After we finished eating Cruz left another big tip, a twenty dollar bill, I noticed as I stood by the table while he struggled to hook his necklace on me, the cross with the mysterious face on it hanging from a chain he wore outside his T-shirt. His abuela, his grandmother, had given it to him when he was a little boy.
The chain looked pretty new, but the cross was way older, and made out of real gold. The red stones it had on it looked real, too. I had been fascinated by the cross and its strange image, and Cruz totally surprised me by asking me if I would like to have it while we were eating. Cruz I couldn’t take something your abuela gave you! I exclaimed, and protested again when he took off the cross to put it around my neck. You really shouldn’t, I told him, but if you insist I hope it takes forever to get it hooked with the clip thing!
After he got the necklace on me he leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. I felt myself tingling all over and wishing Jimmy wasn’t there. Someone was coming between us, Mom’s little Irish brats, but my brother looked on approvingly when Cruz kissed me again. None of that put-up-your-dukes bravado from Jimmy this time. He knew he was going to lose me to a guy some day—or was he just dreaming about his passbook and that car?
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I rode in front with Cruz, and Jimmy got in back when we set out for the motel in Cruz’s van. Upon glancing down at the cross I thought of Jesus, even though I wasn’t all that religious and never went to Mass like someone named Logan should, like Stephanie said I should or I would burn in hell for all eternity. God Steph, I remembered saying when she told me that. Is that what they tell you?
“Yeah, and you have to confess all the bad things you do to keep from going there too,” she had answered.
“And you believe that?”
“Sure! Don’t you, Kell? You are a Catholic aren’t you?”
“Yeah, but I don’t know if I believe all the stuff they tell you, like if there’s a hell. Going there seems pretty severe if you haven’t murdered anyone or done anything really bad.”
“But you do believe in Jesus, don’t you Kell? You have to believe in Jesus to be saved! To go to heaven!”
“I guess I do,” I had told her, I mean that there actually was a Jesus, but wasn’t sure he was the Son of God.
It was so horrible what they did to him. On this! I thought, and reached up and clutched the cross. How could they nail someone on a cross, raise it up on a hill, and watch the person slowly die?
How people could be so cruel I could never understand, or how Jesus could have forgiven them, but he did, and you wore the cross to show you believed in him, and would be saved, Stephanie would tell you. I cherished the cross because a boy, okay an older guy gave it to me, someone who made my heart flutter like a butterfly when he put it on me, someone so cute I didn’t care what he was, Hispanic or whatever, or that he was way older than me. “I love it,” I said, and let go of the cross. “Cruz it’s beautiful,” I told him.
He smiled at me, and for once there wasn’t a smart-alecky remark out of his mouth, in Spanish or in English. Maybe he’d show me a tender side, a vulnerable side, now that he didn’t have to impress anybody.
“Were you born in Mexico?” I asked him.
“No bonita. I’m a spic from Puerto Rico,” he answered.
God, so much for his vulnerable side!
“The lowest of the low!” he exclaimed. “Lower even than Blacks. Even when they don’t say it we feel it, what people think of us. Even other Latinos look down on us.”
“Well I don’t,” I told him. I mean I’m trying not to, I said to myself. “How old were you when you came here?” I asked him.
“Nine, bonita,” he answered.
“So that’s why you hardly have an accent?”
“Yeah, I can still speak Spanish from hearing it in the barrio, but can’t read it or write it.”
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“Do I have any brothers or sisters? Ha! Would you believe ten?”
“Did they come here with you?”
“No, they’re back in San Juan.”
“Your mother and father are too?”
“Sí.”
“So you came here alone?”
“No bonita. With mi tío, my uncle, to the city. They were supposed to come later but never did.”
“Don’t you miss them? How long has it been since you’ve seen them?”
“Three of my brothers and two of my sisters were born after I left. I haven’t seen any of them in fifteen years.”
That means he’s twenty-four, Kell. That’s not so old. “Wouldn’t you like to go back and see them?” I asked him.
“I’ve thought about it, but never got around to it.”
“Oh Cruz! I can’t believe you haven’t gone back to see the brothers and sisters you’ve never met!”
“I think about them, what they would be like, the others too, but even they wouldn’t know me, it was so long ago when I left.”
“Wouldn’t you like to see San Juan again? They say it’s nice.”
“Not where we lived, chiquita.”
“So how did you get interested in photography?”
“Mi tío gave me a camera when I was twelve—and after that I was hooked. Ay how I loved that camera! The day I got it I ran ’round the barrio snapping pictures of everything in sight, people too, strangers I didn’t know, and couldn’t wait to get the prints back from the drugstore. When I got older I saved all my money to buy a Pentax and read all the photography magazines. In one of their contests I entered a photo of a clown and it won third prize.”
“The clown in the folio?”
“Yeah, pretty Kelly. I was so happy when I won that prize! But I soon learned I couldn’t make any money taking photos like that.”
“I liked the one of the guy all dressed up and taking sightseers around the city in a carriage. And the one of the theater-goers standing together under all those lights, waiting for the play to begin.”
“A dime a dozen. You can see as good on any fifty-cent post card.”
“So now you do this, take pictures of models to show the advertising agencies?”
“Yeah.”
“And make videos of them?”
“Sí. Let me make one of you. You can make a lot of money if you want to. Mucho dinero.”
So I’ve heard! Hundreds of dollars a day! And did he really mean it when he said I was pretty? And did all the bonita chiquita stuff he was saying in Spanish mean I was pretty too? And just what kind of video was he talking about?
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