Categories > Original > Drama > Chicana
A/N: I don't know how to go about this. Any ideas?
I woke up around five in the afternoon when I heard my dad's car pull up into the driveway. I could smell the Chinese take-out that Sydney bought for diner waffing through the air. She never was a girl for cooking. That bitch could burn water! She was not, in anyway, a wife type. Considering my culture and ehtnic background, a woman that could not cook is not worth marrying, because the best food is always homemade. Occasionally, I would make something for dad, but Sydney would never eat it. Mainly because all the food I know to cook is spicy and she would never accept anything from me. Not even blood to safe her life. She's too "proud". I don't even know what she's proud about.
"Hello!" I heard Dad holler. I got up and jogged downstairs. I saw Dad and Sydney making out in the kitchen. I just roll my eyes and go back upstairs quietly. I close my door and turn my stereo on, plug in my iPod and it automatically plays Besame by Camila. Now laying on my bed I start thinking about how I've never had a boyfriend, but want someone to hold me and kiss me and love me. But there is no one in school that I find all that attractive and to my liking. Someone who is smart and funny and muscular. Someone with color and beautiful hands. Someone that is deep and promising. Someone I could trust with my life. So far not any of those adjectives have rung a bell.
Lost in the music I close my eyes and clear my head, blocking everything out that I didn't hear my dad come into my room. "Raquel?"
"Yeah?" I asked opening my eyes.
"Are you gonna come and eat?" Dad asked. His suit and tie turned into sweats and a tank top.
"No, I ate once I came home so I'm still full." Truth was that I didn't want Chinese. I wanted a homecooked meal. Not take-out. But I didn't say that. I don't even know why I didn't. All I knew was that I wanted to be left alone.
"Okay. Night." He smiled and closed my door. Soon I fell asleep listening to The Script.
The next morning I got up and did the usual, and headed off to school in my car. First period flew by, but second period was slow. The new kid was late and then we started working. And all of a sudden the words fly out of my mouth. "How do you like Glencoe?" He just shrugs and taps his pencil on his sketchbook. I just nod and keep working. Talking to this kid was harder than I thought. He doesn't say much. "What's your comic about?" I ask. He just slides his sketchbook infront of me. This kid was really talented. Everything was laid out and very detailed.
His comic was about a little kid who loses his brother to gang violence. He watched as they shot a bullet through his skull, and he watched as his body just doubled over on the road in the ghetto where they lived. I wanted to ask if this really happened to him, but that was too personal for me to ask. "You don't talk much do you?" I ask as I slide his book back to him. He shakes his head.
During lunch I grab a chicken burger and a bottle of water and head to the library, but as I head out the kid from second period is sitting at a table outside by himself. I take a deep breath and start towards him. "Do you have anybody to sit with?" He shakes his head again. "Do you mind if I sit with you?" He scoots over and clears a space on the table for me and I sit. "How's the move coming?" I ask just to be polite. He shrugs. "Make any new friends?" He shakes his head. I just sigh. "I know you have a better answer than that." I break apart a piece of my burger and stick in my mouth.
"What do you say to someone you don't want to talk to?" He asks.
"Fair enough." I frown and get up to leave for the library.
"Bye." I don't say anything but walk away.
At work I take so many orders and give away full bags of greasy foods through the drive-thru that I feel exhausted after my first two hours of work.
During my break I think about what that kid said to me. It was rude and so like those cholos. I hate him already.
Back to work, it's around eight and a beat up old Cadillac pulls up in the parking lot. A bunch of cholos pile out of it. When they finally make it inside they're loud and swearing up a storm. "Welcome to McDonald's! How may I help you today?" I smile to them. In the crowd I see the kid from my second period.
"Yeah, I want some...." Their order was big that it took a while to get it all ready and out for them to pick up and eat.
"Ay! Mami!" One of the cholos called out as I was cleaning up the left overs from the last customers. I look up. "Can we get some more ketchup?" He smiles.
"Sure." I come back and hand them a handful of ketchup packets.
"Thanks, mami." He smiles and as I turn away he slaps my ass.
"Hey!" I turn around and slap him across the face. He stands up.
"B'cuz you's cute Imma let that shit slide." I points at me. "But if it happens again Imma pimp slap that pretty little face of yours, mija." He licks his lips. I scoff and push him back down in his seat.
"It won't happen again because you are no longer welcome here." I say harshly.
"You kickin' me out, cuttie?" He smirks.
"Yes." I walk away and he finishes his meal then leaves with the rest of his friends. The last to leave was the kid from my art class. I stare him down and he laughs.
I close up for the night and drive myself home. At home my dad and Sydney are asleep and I start making some corn dogs for me. After eating them I stirp down to my bra and underwear and just fall on my bed.
The whole week passes with no sight of that kid and his friends at work or at school. I felt more at ease and more relaxed.
This weekened I spent studying and working and avoiding home all together. And since I don't have any real friends I can't stay over anyone's house. It astonishes me how I am such a loser. I don't have a single friend. I've never made a best friend in my whole seventeen years of life. I'm such a failure.
Monday morning comes and I'm starting to come down with a cold. But I need to get to school. With my morning jog in PE done with I can get on with the rest of my day. Second period he came in and sat down next to me quietly. I made no attempt to make any contact with this kid. He was just trouble. I didn't need or want that. My life was fucked up as it was and I didn't need anything else in the mix.
"How was your day?" He asked.
"Que te importa?" I asked.
"Nada, no mas preguntando!" I don't even know why he was asking for anyway. I hated his guts!
"Pues no me preguntas nada. Ni me hablas para nada!" I snapped back and went back to my work.
"Okay, pues." He just sighed. "Did you like Nardo?" He asks. I growl. "Jus asking."
"No, he's a fuckin' asshole!" I spat.
"Well, he liked you." He laughed. I just grimaced and continued with my work.
I was dozing off in AP US History, which I never do. But today I was especially tired. But I didn't know why. I had gotten more than my six hours of sleep last night. I can even make it through school on four hours. I didn't know what was wrong with me. "Rachel?" I heard my teacher, Mr. Feral, asked.
"What?" I looked up at him.
"Are you okay?" He asked as I rubbed my eyes.
"Yeah, just tired that's all." He nodded and got back to the Cold War. I willed myself to stay awake and I did. And once home I crashed on the couch not even making it to my full bed upstairs. It would take up too much energy.
"Rachel!" I heard Sydney's obnoxious voice yell.
"Hmm?" I mumbled into the white couch pillows.
"Get up! You're smearing your eyeliner all over my white couch pillows!" I slurped up my drool and sat up. Sydney screamed. "Look what you did! Do you know how expensive these are?" I looked at the black smudges I left on the pillow.
"Five bucks?" I smiled.
"Ugh!" She stomped off with the pillow still in hand. Those damn pillows are seven bucks at Target! What is she stressing over? She didn't buy them! My dad did!
I rolled my eyes and dragged myself upstairs and washed off all my make-up and studied for a while. Dad came home late, but I was too busy to go out and greet him on his late arrival. Partly, because Sydney had already attacked him with complaints about the pillow I trashed earlier. I heard my dad tell her to send it to the dry cleaners or put it in the wash. I laughed. She doesn't even know how to turn the damned thing on. She doesn't do the laundry, Maria does (our maide).
I ate the McDonalds Dad brought and them went back to my room. I grabbed my sketchbook, pen and turned on my stereo blasting some My Chemical Romance. Listening to music always helps me with my drawing. It's like the music flows through me and onto my paper and it's beautiful!
After I drew for a while I laid my sketchbook aside and thought about that kid in my cartooning class. I didn't even know his name. And why was I thinking about him all of a sudden? Was it his off-and-on contact with me? Was it his eyes? Was it beacause I thought he was cute? Do I even think he's cute? This was all confusing me.
Walking from the student parking lot the school I heard a bass ratling the frame of a car. I looked back to see who it was and saw it was that guy and his friend from McDonald's. "Damn, Mami!" He made kissing noises at me. I just turned around and walked into Glencoe where I was safe. Safe from traviesos like him.
Cartooning:
"Hey, Mami." The guy said to me as he came to sit next to me.
"I'm not your 'Mami'." I frowned. He just laughed and sat down. I stared at his binder. It was decorated in Sharpie and pictures of muscular, tan cholos with the dark shades, Dickies and baggy shirts. Then, I saw a name on the corner of the binder. "Smiley? Who's Smiley?" I asked.
"Me." He smiled.
"Why? I don't see you smile a lot." I said.
"I don't smile at people I don't know." He explained.
I woke up around five in the afternoon when I heard my dad's car pull up into the driveway. I could smell the Chinese take-out that Sydney bought for diner waffing through the air. She never was a girl for cooking. That bitch could burn water! She was not, in anyway, a wife type. Considering my culture and ehtnic background, a woman that could not cook is not worth marrying, because the best food is always homemade. Occasionally, I would make something for dad, but Sydney would never eat it. Mainly because all the food I know to cook is spicy and she would never accept anything from me. Not even blood to safe her life. She's too "proud". I don't even know what she's proud about.
"Hello!" I heard Dad holler. I got up and jogged downstairs. I saw Dad and Sydney making out in the kitchen. I just roll my eyes and go back upstairs quietly. I close my door and turn my stereo on, plug in my iPod and it automatically plays Besame by Camila. Now laying on my bed I start thinking about how I've never had a boyfriend, but want someone to hold me and kiss me and love me. But there is no one in school that I find all that attractive and to my liking. Someone who is smart and funny and muscular. Someone with color and beautiful hands. Someone that is deep and promising. Someone I could trust with my life. So far not any of those adjectives have rung a bell.
Lost in the music I close my eyes and clear my head, blocking everything out that I didn't hear my dad come into my room. "Raquel?"
"Yeah?" I asked opening my eyes.
"Are you gonna come and eat?" Dad asked. His suit and tie turned into sweats and a tank top.
"No, I ate once I came home so I'm still full." Truth was that I didn't want Chinese. I wanted a homecooked meal. Not take-out. But I didn't say that. I don't even know why I didn't. All I knew was that I wanted to be left alone.
"Okay. Night." He smiled and closed my door. Soon I fell asleep listening to The Script.
The next morning I got up and did the usual, and headed off to school in my car. First period flew by, but second period was slow. The new kid was late and then we started working. And all of a sudden the words fly out of my mouth. "How do you like Glencoe?" He just shrugs and taps his pencil on his sketchbook. I just nod and keep working. Talking to this kid was harder than I thought. He doesn't say much. "What's your comic about?" I ask. He just slides his sketchbook infront of me. This kid was really talented. Everything was laid out and very detailed.
His comic was about a little kid who loses his brother to gang violence. He watched as they shot a bullet through his skull, and he watched as his body just doubled over on the road in the ghetto where they lived. I wanted to ask if this really happened to him, but that was too personal for me to ask. "You don't talk much do you?" I ask as I slide his book back to him. He shakes his head.
During lunch I grab a chicken burger and a bottle of water and head to the library, but as I head out the kid from second period is sitting at a table outside by himself. I take a deep breath and start towards him. "Do you have anybody to sit with?" He shakes his head again. "Do you mind if I sit with you?" He scoots over and clears a space on the table for me and I sit. "How's the move coming?" I ask just to be polite. He shrugs. "Make any new friends?" He shakes his head. I just sigh. "I know you have a better answer than that." I break apart a piece of my burger and stick in my mouth.
"What do you say to someone you don't want to talk to?" He asks.
"Fair enough." I frown and get up to leave for the library.
"Bye." I don't say anything but walk away.
At work I take so many orders and give away full bags of greasy foods through the drive-thru that I feel exhausted after my first two hours of work.
During my break I think about what that kid said to me. It was rude and so like those cholos. I hate him already.
Back to work, it's around eight and a beat up old Cadillac pulls up in the parking lot. A bunch of cholos pile out of it. When they finally make it inside they're loud and swearing up a storm. "Welcome to McDonald's! How may I help you today?" I smile to them. In the crowd I see the kid from my second period.
"Yeah, I want some...." Their order was big that it took a while to get it all ready and out for them to pick up and eat.
"Ay! Mami!" One of the cholos called out as I was cleaning up the left overs from the last customers. I look up. "Can we get some more ketchup?" He smiles.
"Sure." I come back and hand them a handful of ketchup packets.
"Thanks, mami." He smiles and as I turn away he slaps my ass.
"Hey!" I turn around and slap him across the face. He stands up.
"B'cuz you's cute Imma let that shit slide." I points at me. "But if it happens again Imma pimp slap that pretty little face of yours, mija." He licks his lips. I scoff and push him back down in his seat.
"It won't happen again because you are no longer welcome here." I say harshly.
"You kickin' me out, cuttie?" He smirks.
"Yes." I walk away and he finishes his meal then leaves with the rest of his friends. The last to leave was the kid from my art class. I stare him down and he laughs.
I close up for the night and drive myself home. At home my dad and Sydney are asleep and I start making some corn dogs for me. After eating them I stirp down to my bra and underwear and just fall on my bed.
The whole week passes with no sight of that kid and his friends at work or at school. I felt more at ease and more relaxed.
This weekened I spent studying and working and avoiding home all together. And since I don't have any real friends I can't stay over anyone's house. It astonishes me how I am such a loser. I don't have a single friend. I've never made a best friend in my whole seventeen years of life. I'm such a failure.
Monday morning comes and I'm starting to come down with a cold. But I need to get to school. With my morning jog in PE done with I can get on with the rest of my day. Second period he came in and sat down next to me quietly. I made no attempt to make any contact with this kid. He was just trouble. I didn't need or want that. My life was fucked up as it was and I didn't need anything else in the mix.
"How was your day?" He asked.
"Que te importa?" I asked.
"Nada, no mas preguntando!" I don't even know why he was asking for anyway. I hated his guts!
"Pues no me preguntas nada. Ni me hablas para nada!" I snapped back and went back to my work.
"Okay, pues." He just sighed. "Did you like Nardo?" He asks. I growl. "Jus asking."
"No, he's a fuckin' asshole!" I spat.
"Well, he liked you." He laughed. I just grimaced and continued with my work.
I was dozing off in AP US History, which I never do. But today I was especially tired. But I didn't know why. I had gotten more than my six hours of sleep last night. I can even make it through school on four hours. I didn't know what was wrong with me. "Rachel?" I heard my teacher, Mr. Feral, asked.
"What?" I looked up at him.
"Are you okay?" He asked as I rubbed my eyes.
"Yeah, just tired that's all." He nodded and got back to the Cold War. I willed myself to stay awake and I did. And once home I crashed on the couch not even making it to my full bed upstairs. It would take up too much energy.
"Rachel!" I heard Sydney's obnoxious voice yell.
"Hmm?" I mumbled into the white couch pillows.
"Get up! You're smearing your eyeliner all over my white couch pillows!" I slurped up my drool and sat up. Sydney screamed. "Look what you did! Do you know how expensive these are?" I looked at the black smudges I left on the pillow.
"Five bucks?" I smiled.
"Ugh!" She stomped off with the pillow still in hand. Those damn pillows are seven bucks at Target! What is she stressing over? She didn't buy them! My dad did!
I rolled my eyes and dragged myself upstairs and washed off all my make-up and studied for a while. Dad came home late, but I was too busy to go out and greet him on his late arrival. Partly, because Sydney had already attacked him with complaints about the pillow I trashed earlier. I heard my dad tell her to send it to the dry cleaners or put it in the wash. I laughed. She doesn't even know how to turn the damned thing on. She doesn't do the laundry, Maria does (our maide).
I ate the McDonalds Dad brought and them went back to my room. I grabbed my sketchbook, pen and turned on my stereo blasting some My Chemical Romance. Listening to music always helps me with my drawing. It's like the music flows through me and onto my paper and it's beautiful!
After I drew for a while I laid my sketchbook aside and thought about that kid in my cartooning class. I didn't even know his name. And why was I thinking about him all of a sudden? Was it his off-and-on contact with me? Was it his eyes? Was it beacause I thought he was cute? Do I even think he's cute? This was all confusing me.
Walking from the student parking lot the school I heard a bass ratling the frame of a car. I looked back to see who it was and saw it was that guy and his friend from McDonald's. "Damn, Mami!" He made kissing noises at me. I just turned around and walked into Glencoe where I was safe. Safe from traviesos like him.
Cartooning:
"Hey, Mami." The guy said to me as he came to sit next to me.
"I'm not your 'Mami'." I frowned. He just laughed and sat down. I stared at his binder. It was decorated in Sharpie and pictures of muscular, tan cholos with the dark shades, Dickies and baggy shirts. Then, I saw a name on the corner of the binder. "Smiley? Who's Smiley?" I asked.
"Me." He smiled.
"Why? I don't see you smile a lot." I said.
"I don't smile at people I don't know." He explained.
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