Chapter Five

Kiev + Not-Horatio

 

When I got home from having dinner with Cole at Kumi’s yesterday, I headed straight to my room and dropped onto my bed. And thought of nothing while watching Pepe nibble at his cage’s bars.

It worked, until I arrived at school today.

Now, Monica Serrano getting Horatio’s part sinks in, making my stomach flatten into a pancake. To top it off, I mumbled the wrong thing to Lia in Government class after the teacher asked her to put her baseball cap away. “I told you so,” I said to her, causing her to shoot me an angry stare.

It’s lunchtime now, so I drag my feet to the cafeteria, where I find Cole sitting at our usual table. As I walk toward him, the smell of fried food wafting in the air makes my pancake of a stomach do a small somersault.

I slide into the seat in front of him and sigh. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Cole pokes a finger at his chest. “I’m not that ugly, Mr. Kiev Jimenez.”

“For real.” I rub my temples. “I feel nauseous.”

“I’d too feel nauseous if I was wearing that t-shirt.” He points at my chest.

“What’s wrong with it?” I ask.

“It’s puke green.” He bobs his head. “My brain fails to understand the words scribbled on it—The Fast and The Crucible. Explain that to me.”

Monica, my archenemy, appears, holding a tray. “Can I sit here?”

Her presence and the burger on her tray make me hurl inside.

“Of course.” Cole puts his elbows on the table and cradles his head in his hands. “Your presence lights up our lives, Miss Monica Serrano.”

She peers at me and bites her lower lip. “¿Me puedo sentar contigo?”

Cole bobs his head. “I’m sorry, but this humble peasant of yours doesn’t speak the language of the royals.”

“Can I sit with you?” she asks me, as if she needed my permission.

I nod.

Setting her food on the table, she smooths down her tight blouse and slides right next to me, smiling with her ruby lips and dentist-perfect white teeth. She blinks at me, blue eyelids going up and down, along with long-long eyelashes—can’t deny she’s attractive.

Monica grabs her burger and nibbles at it, then looks at me. “You’re not eating?”

I want to say: No, because you stole Horatio from me. No, because the idea of food right now makes me sick. “I’m not feeling well.” I gag a little. “Excuse me.” I spring off my chair and dart toward the restroom.

“Think of snow!” Cole shouts behind me. “That should help.”

I rush to the most secluded restroom—the one that’s so far, nobody wants to go to it. Cheap air freshener combines with a hint of crap as I enter the empty restroom. Holding my stomach, I step to the sink, splash my face with cold water, and take deep breaths through my mouth.

I look at the mirror. “Horatio’s part’s taken.”

My reflection rakes a hand through light-brown hair. “It’s just a stupid part.”

“It’s not.”

My double focuses his gray eyes on me. “You’re so dramatic.”

I shake my head, and he does too.

“Drama queen.”

My reflection and I raise brows in unison—that voice wasn’t either of us. I turn my attention to the open door.

Cole stands there with crossed arms. “You’re talking to your doppelganger again.”

“No.” I glance at the mirror. “Yes.”

He joins me and addresses the mirror, “Care to explain the situation, Mr. Doppelganger Jimenez?”

Cole’s doppelganger and mine stand side by side, an eight-inch distance separating them.

“When are you gonna grow taller?” I gesture at Cole’s reflection.

“Never.” He glances down and wiggles his blond eyebrows. “Females like short guys with big—”

I throw a hand up. “Don’t say it.”

“Not big. Huge, super huge—”

I swat a hand at him. “Dude!”

“Big, super huge, hearts.” His reflection bobs his head.

“Oh.”

“Oh, yeah.”

I turn to the paper towel dispenser next to me. “No towels.”

“How is that a problem?” he asks.

I face his mirror image. “Not a problem.” I run a hand down my face, trying to dry it.

He finger-combs his hair. “Miss Monica Serrano said I’m hot.”

“Sure,” I say sarcastically.

He touches my upper arm. “Allow me to explain.”

I give him a nod. “I’m listening.”

“Yesterday, backstage, in the comfort of darkness, she touched my shoulder and said, ‘You feel hot. Are you running a fever?’” He smiles. “And, what could I say, Mr. Kiev Jimenez? That I was running a love fever for her and her hotness? That her curves veer my car off the road?”

Shaking my head, I say, “Sometimes, I think you’re disconnected from reality.”

“What’s reality, anyway?” He grabs an invisible something from the sink and lifts it, holding it with his index finger and thumb. “This blue pill will allow you to stay in your false reality.” He grabs another invisible pill from the sink. “The red one is cherry flavored.”

I smack him upside the head. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Ouch.” Cole massages his head. “That hurt.” He looks at his mirror image. “Right, Mr. Doppelganger Novotny?”

“Enough nonsense. Let’s go.” I turn to leave.

“Wait,” he says as I’m about to push the door open.

I look over my shoulder.

“You never explained the ‘Oh, no, the world is ending, and I want to throw up’ situation,” he says, air quotes and all.

I step back to him. “That’s because you turned the conversation into ADD babbling about girls and colorful pills.”

He crosses his arms. “Girls are our favorite subject, if you recall, Mr. Kiev Jimenez.”

This time I do roll my eyes. “Your favorite subject.”

He puffs out his chest. “What can I say? I’m a male human of the straight kind with a super-huge”—he looks down—“you-know-what.”

“Perv.”

“Perv with a huge—”

I raise a hand. “Dude, focus.”

“I am focused on Miss Monica Serrano.” He pokes my chest. “And she’s playing Horatio.”

I concentrate on the floor for a long second. “Not Horatio for me.”

“Nope.” He stretches his arms to the sides. “Embrace Bernardo, your new part.”

I sigh. “You’re right.”

Cole rubs his chin. “That’s still a shit part.”

“Not funny.” I shove him.

“It’s the truth.” He presses a hand against his heart. “But having one part is better than no part, even if it’s a shit part.” He darts out the door before I can punch him in the nose. I don’t know why Cole and I are close friends—it’s not like we’re super compatible. Oh, well. It’s another life mystery.

I spend the rest of the school day fighting with images of Monica dressed in Horatio’s outfits—a voluptuous Horatio doesn’t compute. But there’s a reason Mr. Butrow chose her.

When school ends, I storm out of the classroom and turn onto a hallway when a girl in tight jeans appears—Monica.

“Are you feeling better?” Her face shows genuine concern.

I freeze.

She steps closer. “Estás pálido.”

I open my mouth but nothing comes out, so I clear my throat. “I-I’m pale—that’s my normal skin color.”

“Paler?” She wrinkles her nose.

“I’m fine.”

She puts a tan hand on my shoulder. “If you ever need help, don’t hesitate to contact me.” She squeezes my shoulder before pulling up her phone. “What’s your Facebook ID?”

“Don’t have one,” I mumble.

She rubs her black eyebrow. “Snapchat?”

“Nope.”

“Okay,” she says. “Twitter?”

“Who uses that nowadays?”

She looks down for a moment. “I understand if you don’t want to talk to me.” She blinks, as if holding back tears.

“I’ll give you my phone number.” The moment I say it, I regret it, but it hurts to see a damsel in distress.

A smile illuminates her face as I dictate her my number. Then we pocket our phones.

“So,” I say, “I guess I’ll see you around.”

She nods. “At rehearsals.”

Again, I imagine her playing Horatio’s part, and my heartbeat slows down.

“Hello, people of the world,” Cole says, joining us. He sniffs. “What’s cooking?”

“Hey, Cole,” Monica says.

“Your humble server is honored with your presence, My Queen.” He bows, but as he raises, his eyes stay glued to her boobs. I can imagine him turning Monica by the shoulders and checking out her butt. He’s that subtle.

She curtsies, lifting a nonexistent skirt, her waist-length, jet-black hair cascading to the front.

He gives her a goofy smile, the kind he produces when he’s in love. Which happens every other day with every other girl—such a big, huge heart.

“Excuse me,” a girl says.

I turn my attention to her—Lia. My cheeks warm up a bit at her sight, and I am petrified and can’t speak, thinking about the cap incident. Cole elbows my ribs, taking me out of my frozen state.

“Can I pass through?” Lia divides a stare among the three of us.

We stay silent until I realize we’re blocking her way.

“Yeah, no problem.” I step out of the way, but Cole doesn’t move. I yank him out of the way, while Monica steps aside.

Lia passes through without a word.

Cole waves goodbye at her. “Have a good evening, Miss Ophelia Abbie.”

She halts and looks up for a moment, then marches down the hallway, fading as she walks away.

“Que enojona,” Monica says, brushing hair from her face.

Cole presses a hand against his heart. “I love it when you talk dirty.”

I glower at him. “She said Lia is grumpy.”

He covers his mouth for a second. “Oh, the revelation.”

I face Monica. “Look, Lia has her days, but she means well.”

She nods. “Okay.”

I nod back. “Okay.”

Cole contributes to the nod-fest with a nod of his own. “You like her, Mr. Kiev Jimenez.”

Monica inclines her head. “Do you?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Good, because she looks boy-ish.” Monica sets a hand on my shoulder. “You deserve better.”

“Don’t.” I shrug her off and stare at her. “Don’t discriminate based on looks. She’s a person and deserves all our respect.”

Thick silence engulfs us.

Cole raises a hand. “Permission to speak freely, Captain Jimenez.”

I inhale and exhale. “Go ahead.”

“Sorry to say this, Captain, but this event is undeniable proof that you have the stomach birds for her.”

I turn my attention to Monica. “Sorry for snapping at you.” I shake my head. “I’m not usually this way.”

Cole pats my back. “I second that.”

She bites her lower lip. “I promise to be more sensitive next time, Kiev.”

“Thanks,” I say.

“Okay,” Cole says. “Now that we’ve signed world peace, would you like to have early dinner with us, Miss Monica Serrano?”

“I’d love to,” she says.

Cole throws a pump in the air. “Awesome!”

“But…” She looks down for a moment. “I was hoping…” She shakes her head. “It’s so silly. Forget it.”

I know that kind of hesitation—she’s fishing. “It’s been forgotten already,” I say.

“Nothing is silly,” Cole says, taking the bait. “Please, tell us. Your wish is our command, Miss Monica Serrano.”

“It’s really silly.” She smiles. “I was wondering if Kiev and I could rehearse our lines at my house this afternoon?” She concentrates on me. “Kiev?”

My stomach drops as my nightmare becomes reality. No. I’m overreacting. I can simply say no. “Er … um … well?” As I say these words, an idea pops in my head: If I help her rehearse, I’ll figure out how she got the Horatio part. It’s a keep-your-enemies-closer kind of thing. “Yes?” I say, ask, whatever.

“Is that a question?” Monica asks.

“Definitely a yes of the question kind,” Cole says. “Which in conclusion is a no.”

I blink and clear my throat. “It’s a yes.”

He shoots me a stare.

I shrug. “I’d invite you to tag along, but you’re working this afternoon.” This isn’t a question, and I hope it’s true.

He crosses his arms. “Meal preparation for grumpy customers starts in two hours.”

Monica adjusts her backpack. “Hey, guys, I don’t want to create a problem.”

Raising a finger at her, I ask, “Can you give us a minute?”

“Sure.”

I take Cole by the elbow out of earshot. “Don’t you see what’s going on?”

He swats a hand at me. “You want premium time with my girl.”

“Your girl?” I scoff. “Dude, that’s your imagination going wild.”

He taps his temples. “My imagination is fine, thank you very much.”

“That’s not the point, Cole,” I say. “I want to figure out if she’s a good actor.”

“Actress.” He frowns. “An actor of the female kind.”

I shake my head. “That’s sexist—it’s actor.”

His frown deepens. “So now we’re going to call chicks dudes, horses unicorns, and green pills red pills?”

Taking a breath, I put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not stealing your love interest, Cole.”

He stares at me.

I throw my hands in the air. “I promise.”

His eyes light up. “I tell you what, Mr. Kiev Jimenez. You get me a date with the hot Latina, and I’ll call this a tie.”

I look over his shoulder at Monica, who’s half-playing with her phone, half-looking at us.

“What if I can’t get you the date?” I ask.

“At least I can say you tried.” He offers me his hand. “Deal?”

I shake it. “I promise no miracle.”

The three of us leave the school and split up to our different cars. I pull up Google Maps and enter the address Monica gave me before we went our separate ways—the app says it’ll take fifteen minutes. “Here goes nothing,” I mumble to myself, turning on the ignition.

As I drive under the scorching sun, I have second thoughts about this situation. Yeah, I need to know my enemy, but on the other hand, what am I trying to accomplish here? I mean, I should, I don’t know, find out her weak points, and then … what?

I stop at a red light. No cars by my side, and nothing anywhere. Sometimes I think I live in a ghost town. I wait for a tumbleweed to cross the road—it doesn’t. The light turns green.

This has been a so-so day. No, who am I fooling? It’s been a very bad day that’s about to turn into a nightmare of a day. Bad not only because Monica got Horatio’s part, but also with the cap incident with Lia. One of these days, I’m gonna ask Lia why she’s so hostile to me. I haven’t done anything wrong—not that I can tell. Maybe I’m just being dense.

The minutes pass by fast, until I enter Monica’s subdivision. Big homes with mile-long front yards line the street. Up ahead, I spot Monica getting out of her BMW. I park next to her and jump out.

“Big house.” I state the obvious.

“Such a waste of space.” She sighs and picks up her backpack. “C’mon.” She heads to the door.

My head is stuck in “such a waste of space” as I follow her

She looks at a silver panel next to the door until there’s a click and the door swings open.

I motion at the panel. “Um, what’s that?”

“Retinal scan.” She shrugs. “One of Mami’s company’s products.”

“Sounds like science fiction to me.” I peer inside—minimalistic, very white décor. “So, how did you end up in this small town?” Really, if her mom is in high-tech, why not live in the Silicon Valley or something?

“She loves the quiet and solitude of West Texas.” Monica enters the house and heads to the right. “My bedroom is upstairs.”

She leads me up, her waist-length hair and perfect rounded butt swinging about—the girl owns quite the physique. No wonder Cole’s gone love-crazy. When we reach the second floor, I stare at the multitude of doors.

“This way.” She jerks a thumb to her right, walks that way, and opens a door to a fairytale of a room. Meaning, canopy bed, shelves with books and stuffed animals lining the walls, a window bay, and a huge desk.

Once inside, she trudges to her bed and sits on the edge.

I stay by the door, still admiring the décor. “My dad is also in high-tech.”

“Cool.” She slides off her backpack and digs out a booklet. “Script.”

“Right.” I walk toward her and take out my phone. “I prefer digital.”

“You’re weird, Kiev.”

I lift a brow.

“You don’t have any social media accounts, yet you use a phone to read the script?”

I shrug. “Does that make me abnormal?”

“No, silly.” She taps the bed. “Sit with me.”

Not sure I want to be so close to her. “It’s so silent here. Where’s everyone else?”

“Mami’s in her office downstairs, thinking about the next biometric wonder.”

“Just you and her?” As I ask, her words, “such a waste of space,” take on another dimension.

“Yep.”

I want to ask her if she’s got other siblings or where her dad is. Instead, I say, “Nice.” So deep.

She taps the bed again. “Come here, silly. No te voy a seducir.” The last sentence in Spanish, “I won’t seduce you,” sounds the opposite. Or maybe I’m just dreaming.

I need to clear things up. “Cole wants to go out on a date with you.”

She winces for a second.

“That bad?” I slump my shoulders.

“Don’t get me wrong.” She sets her script on her lap. “He’s sweet and kind.”

I cross my arms. “Not the kind of bird that flies over your nest?”

“It’s just…” She bites her lower lip. “He’s too infantile, you know?”

As much as I want to say she’s wrong, she’s right. Cole has some serious maturing issues. “All teen boys are infantile.”

Monica stands, script falling to the carpet. “You aren’t.”

“I am.” I take a step back.

She takes a step ahead. “Really?” Another step.

“A-re you trying to seduce me?” I show her my palms.

“Of course not.” She puts her hands on her hips. “I want to know why my getting Horatio’s part has made you so upset.”

“Ho-how did you—”

“Cole told me all about it.”

“Cole?” I echo. “Cole.” I’m gonna kick the shit out of him—the bastard.

Monica giggles. “It’s fine.”

“I have to go.” I turn to leave—can’t take this anymore.

She grips my arm. “Kiev, wait.”

I face her.

“I have something to confess—the reason why I invited you to my house.” She does the lip-biting act again.

I don’t dare say a word.

“Kiev?” She grips my other arm and shakes me. “Say something.”

I inhale deeply and exhale. “Could you let go?”

“If you listen to me first.” She locks her eyes on mine.

I consider this for a second. “Fine.”

She clears her throat. “After Cole told me how bad you wanted Horatio’s part, I felt bad.”

“How’s that?” I doubt she felt that way.

Monica lets my shoulders go and sits on her bed. “You better be sitting.”

This time, I slide next to her. “Is it that bad?”

She nods, forcing a smile. “It’s about Horatio’s pre-audition.”

“Pre-audition?” I echo, feeling as if in an episode of a TV horror show.

“That’s how Mr. Butrow called it.” She sets her hands on her lap. “Ten of us showed up. I was the only girl.”

The number of candidates confirms why the teacher called a special audition for Horatio. “Why did you audition for a male part?”

“Why not?” She pats my knee twice.

“You’re right.” I pat her knee in return, as in atta girl.

She sucks in a breath. “After talking to your friend, I felt bad.”

“What did Cole say this time?” I ask, hoping he didn’t say something stupid.

“It’s not about him. It’s about you.” She shakes her head. “He told me how bad you wanted Horatio’s part.”

Cole and his big mouth. I shrug. “No big deal.”

“He made it sound like a big deal.” She smiles. “I have an idea, let’s switch parts.”

“What?” I think I heard wrong.

She points at me. “You’ll play my part.” She points at herself. “I’ll play yours.”

Although I’m dying to play Horatio’s character, this sounds wrong. “Why give up Horatio?”

She shrugs. “It’s no big deal for me. You want that part more than me.”

My brain swirls with thoughts until I make a decision. “Okay. But I have one condition.”

She inclines her head. “Yes?”

I can’t believe what I’m about to say. “Go out on a date with Cole.”