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  Angelita wished Kennin hadn’t had such an effect on her. Maybe from the play she would learn something helpful.

  Marta was quiet until the class ended. But as soon as the bell rang, she turned once again to Angelita. “Going to lunch?”

  “No, why would I?” Angelita replied, although she already knew why her friend had asked.

  “Don’t play dumb with me,” Marta said. She had reddish brown frizzy hair and was short on height but long on sass. Even though Angelita had little to say to her about Kennin, Marta was smart enough to read the signs.

  “Okay, you’re right,” Angelita admitted. “But what’s the point?”

  “You know you want to see him,” Marta said.

  “And like I just said, what’s the point?” Angelita repeated.

  “You got two months left of high school, girl,” Marta said. “Maybe it’s time to let yourself have a little fun.”

  True, Angelita thought. Why not have a little fun? But not with Kennin. He wasn’t a boy you had “fun” with and then left and forgot about.

  “I’ll think about it,” Angelita said.

  “Liar,” Marta shot back with a grin.

  They parted at the classroom door. Marta headed for the cafeteria and Angelita for auto tech. A quiet lunch with camshafts and fuel injectors was preferable to the noisy cafeteria filled with rude girls and troublemakers. She took her time walking. Soon the hall started to empty. And there he was, at his locker, propped up on his crutches, his black hair falling into his eyes, a green backpack hanging off one shoulder. Angelita instantly felt a familiar nervousness spread over her. It was so strange. She could have walked down this hall a dozen times wishing he’d be there, and he wouldn’t be. But this was the one time she wasn’t looking for him, and there he was.

  Kennin wasn’t exactly amped about being back in school. With his leg in a cast and his arms handling crutches, the only way to carry books was in a backpack, and he wasn’t used to it. The pack fell to the floor with a thud, and the sound of his annoyed muttering echoed softly down the empty hall as he tried to bend down and pick it up, the long blue cast clearly getting in the way.

  “Wait,” Angelita called.

  He straightened up and looked surprised to see her.

  “Don’t they usually give you an escort?” she said as she picked up the backpack.

  “I didn’t want one,” he said, taking the backpack from her.

  “That’s so like you,” she said.

  “What is?” he asked.

  “Not wanting any extra attention. I bet you wish sometimes you were invisible.” Although, it would be a crime for a boy so good-looking to ever be invisible.

  “I’d rather be invisible than have to carry books in a backpack like some fifth-grade dweeb,” he said.

  “It’s not like you usually carry that many books,” Angelita observed.

  “I’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” Kennin said, shoving several thick textbooks into the backpack.

  “Since when do you care about catching up?” Angelita asked.

  Kennin held her with those piercing dark eyes, and for a moment Angelita worried that she’d made him angry. But then he grinned. “Don’t believe everything your brother says about me.”

  “Oh?” Angelita said. “And what do you think he says?”

  “That I’m some kind of goof-off slacker.”

  “In school, or life in general?” she teased.

  “What do you think?” Kennin asked.

  “Maybe that’s not what my brother says,” Angelita said. She heard the teasing lilt in her voice but was unable to stop herself. Whenever they were alone and talking like this, it just seemed to happen naturally.

  Suddenly Kennin hung his head, and the mood changed. “I’m still really sorry about the car. I mean it.”

  Angelita understood. But as much as she missed the 240 SX, she missed his lighthearted banter even more.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” she said.

  He lifted his head. “Any idea what would cause the wheel to break like that?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve stayed up more than one night wondering.”

  For a moment they were both lost in thought. Kennin suspected that she was thinking back to the day of the crash. Earlier at school things had been tense. In the band room, it seemed like Kennin had blown her off for Mariel, but later he’d said that things weren’t what they’d seemed. And then, just before the last tsuiso, they’d kissed. And that, except for the visit to the hospital, was the last time she’d seen him.

  Kennin broke the silence. “So I hear you’re graduating in December.”

  The lines between her eyes deepened. She’d only decided a few days before. “Tito told you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “If I declare residency there I can qualify for the in-state tuition. It’s the only way I can afford to go.”

  “Then you should do it,” Kennin said. “California’s got one of the best state university systems in the country.”

  Angelita nodded. They both knew it was the right thing to do, but part of her wished he’d ask her not to go. But if he did ask, what would she do?

  5

  Kennin got to the cafeteria that he realized he had another problem. As long as he was on crutches, there was no way to carry a lunch tray. He glanced at his regular table near the window. Tito wasn’t there.

  “You look puzzled.” Mariel appeared out of the crowd wearing a loose white blouse and tight jeans. She gave him her coyest smile.

  “Trying to figure out how to get lunch,” he replied.

  “Simple,” Mariel said. “I’ll get it for you.”

  Kennin looked at the table where Chris Craven and the other gearheads normally sat. While Chris usually didn’t sit with Mariel at lunch, Kennin had a feeling the guy wouldn’t be too keen on seeing them together. But Chris wasn’t with the gearheads.

  Tito was.

  “If you’re looking for Chris, he’s not here today,”Mariel said. “Not that it would make any difference.”

  “So you’ve said before,” Kennin replied. He was actually more curious about what Tito was doing at the gear-head table. “Only it seems sometimes that Chris would disagree.”

  “That I’m helping an injured person get lunch?” Mariel said innocently.

  Was it strange to see Tito sitting with the gearheads? He was definitely friendly with some of them, like Mutt and Megs, but then there was Ian, who had a major problem with anyone who wasn’t Anglo.

  “Hello?” Mariel said.

  Kennin looked back at her.

  “So what were you planning on having?” she asked.

  “They serving fries today?” Kennin asked.

  “Tater Tots,” said Mariel.

  Kennin winced slightly. That wasn’t his favorite meal. “Guess they’ll have to do.”

  “And?” Mariel said.

  “That’s it.”

  “Tater Tots for lunch? Now that sounds like a healthy, well-balanced meal,” Mariel said.

  Kennin just shrugged.

  “You’re looking a little thin since the crash,” Mariel said, putting her hands on her hips. “Why don’t I treat you to something?”

  Kennin was hungry, and he could rarely afford to treat himself to a full lunch. Mariel smiled knowingly. “Okay, go sit. I know what to do.”

  Kennin sat down at an empty table and propped the crutches beside him. Over at the gearhead table, Tito glanced at him, then looked away. A few minutes later Mariel arrived carrying a tray with a chicken burrito, a baked potato, green peas, a salad, and peach slices.

  Kennin thanked her. The food sitting inches from his face proved irresistible. Until that moment he hadn’t realized how hungry he was. Or maybe he’d just gotten used to being hungry. Anyway, once he started to eat, it seemed like nothing could stop him.

  “Somehow I don’t think Tater Tots would have done the job,” Mariel said with a smile when Kennin had finished.

  “That was gre
at,” Kennin said, dabbing his lips with a paper napkin. “Thanks.”

  “Guess the hospital food wasn’t gourmet?” Mariel asked.

  “It wasn’t bad,” Kennin said.

  Mariel scowled. “You mean, compared to what you usually eat?”

  Kennin shrugged.

  “I hear you live alone,” Mariel said.

  “With my sister,” said Kennin.

  “Does she go to school?”

  Kennin shook his head.

  “She works?”

  “In entertainment,” Kennin said.

  “Where’re your parents?” Mariel asked.

  Kennin made a gesture with his hands. He didn’t want to appear impolite, but he didn’t enjoy being interrogated.

  “I’ve also heard you’re kind of private,” Mariel said. Her eyes were lively and bright and she had an engaging way of chatting. The top three buttons of the white blouse were open, and Kennin had to fight to keep his eyes from wandering when she leaned forward.

  “Who are you hearing all this from?” Kennin asked.

  “Various people.”

  “I didn’t think I was such a topic of conversation.”

  Mariel raised a doubtful eyebrow. “You sure? Or is the mysteriousness just a way of keeping people interested?”

  “There’s a difference between being mysterious and not wanting to talk about certain things,” Kennin said. “Everyone has things they don’t like to talk about.”

  “Okay, what do you like to talk about?” Mariel asked.

  “Cars.”

  “Even after that crash?” Mariel asked.

  Kennin shrugged. “Stuff happens.”

  “Have you heard about the new drifting team the Babylon might start?” Mariel asked.

  “I know there’s been some talk,” Kennin said.

  “A bunch of guys are going to try out.”

  “Including Chris?” Kennin asked.

  “Of course,” said Mariel.

  “You must be happy for him,” Kennin said.

  Mariel rolled her eyes. “If Chris Craven ever wants to have a steady girlfriend, he’s going to have to figure out that women require more attention than cars.”

  “You can’t just fill the tank and expect them to go anywhere you want?” Kennin joked.

  Mariel smiled back. “I have a feeling you know better than that. And I bet you also know that when it comes to women, unlike cars, you don’t have to ask the owner’s permission before you take one for a spin.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind,” Kennin said.

  “So what about you?” Mariel asked. “I mean, in terms of the Babylon drift team?”

  “Hard to say.” Kennin rapped his knuckles against the cast. “It’s a little soon to be thinking about it, you know?”

  Kennin wasn’t sure Mariel had heard him. Suddenly her face hardened as she stared past him. “What?” she snapped.

  Kennin twisted around, Ian was standing behind him, with his baseball cap on backward, as usual. He was a short, stocky red-haired guy on the football team with Chris, and liked to think of himself as a big gangsta thug.

  “Look who’s back,” Ian said with a smirk.

  “Get lost,” Mariel snapped.

  “Now, now,” Ian said in a teasing, scolding voice, “I don’t think Chris would want to hear you talk that way.”

  “I don’t give a crap what Chris wants to hear,” Mariel said. “I said, get lost, loser.”

  Ian winced slightly. Kennin noticed that the cafeteria had grown quiet. People were listening and watching. Tito and a couple of the other guys from the gearhead table had gotten up and were coming over.

  “You’re calling me a loser?” Ian spit. “Look who you’re sitting with.”

  “Crashing isn’t losing,” Mariel shot back. “Besides, I seem to recall that he handled you pretty easily, both in a car and with his fists.”

  Ian’s face began to flush. “You ever notice how few races this guy actually finishes?” he said contemptuously.

  “That’s funny,” Mariel replied. “Every time he races against you he not only finishes, but wins.”

  By now Tito, Megs, and the others had arrived. A couple of guys heard what Mariel said and chuckled.

  Ian’s face was bright red. “That’s bull. The first time he didn’t even drift. And the second time he frickin’ tried to run me into a solid rock wall.”

  “Excuses, excuses,” Mariel said with a dramatic sigh and a wave of her hand, as if she’d heard it all before. “Let me ask you something, Ian. Have you ever actually won a drift battle? Because I can’t remember one.”

  “You know, Chris isn’t going to be real happy when I tell him you bought gook-a-look here a three-course lunch,” Ian shot back.

  Kennin placed his hands flat on the table and tried to launch himself up, but the long stiff cast on his left leg hit the edge. He almost lost his balance and had to grab the table to steady himself.

  Ian laughed. “What are you tryin’ to do, Chinaboy? Kung fu with a cast? Hey, maybe they call it cast fu!”

  If Ian thought he was going to get some laughs, he was wrong. The crowd around him was silent.

  “Take that back,” Kennin warned him.

  “Or what?” Ian said.

  Instead of answering, Kennin reached for his crutches, sliding one under each arm. By now the cafeteria had gone dead silent.

  “Kennin, don’t,” Mariel said.

  “You gotta be kidding,” Ian sputtered nervously, glancing at the guys around him. “You think I’m gonna fight a guy with a cast and crutches? I’d look like an idiot.”

  “I have news for you,” Kennin said, planting the crutches on the floor and inching toward him. “You already look like an idiot. I’m tired of telling you to cut that racist crap. You take it back right now, or else.”

  Ian twisted his head from side to side. “You hear that?” he asked the guys around them. “He’s calling me out. I’m not starting this, he is.”

  No one answered.

  “Kennin, stop,” Mariel said.

  But Kennin didn’t stop.

  “You don’t stand a frickin’ chance,” Ian said.

  “He’s right, Kennin,” Tito said.

  But Kennin still didn’t stop.

  “Come on, guys,” Ian practically pleaded. “Someone call this nutcase off before he gets hurt.”

  No one called Kennin off.

  “Okay, Chinaboy, you asked for it.” As Ian started to lift his fists, Kennin flipped one of the crutches around and shoved the wide end into Ian’s stomach like a battering ram.

  “Oof!” Ian let out a grunt and doubled over.

  Kennin was raising the crutch over his head with every intention of bringing it down hard on Ian’s back when Megs grabbed it.

  “Don’t, Kennin,” he said. “You’ll get expelled.”

  At that moment Kennin didn’t care, but Megs held the crutch tight and wouldn’t let go. Ian was still doubled over, gasping for breath. He looked like he’d had the wind knocked out of him.

  “What’s going on here?” It was Mr. Winchester, Kennin’s geometry teacher.

  “Nothing,” Tito quickly said.

  Mr. Winchester, who had the world’s worst comb-over and some of the bushiest gray eyebrows ever, raised one of those eyebrows dubiously. “Tito, it’s obvious something is going on. Ian’s doubled over, and it appears that Kennin wants to use that crutch in a non-medically-approved way.”

  “Guess you could say something was going on, Mr. Winchester, but it’s over now,” said Mariel.

  Holding his stomach, Ian slowly straightened up. His face was still red, and he was still breathing hard.

  “You okay?” Mr. Winchester asked.

  He nodded.

  “Where do you usually sit?” Mr. Winchester asked.

  Ian pointed at the gearhead table over by the windows.

  “Why don’t you and your friends go back over there?” Mr. Winchester said, “I see you on this side of the cafeteria again
and there’ll be a problem.”

  Ian shot Kennin an angry look and muttered something Kennin couldn’t quite understand.

  “That’s enough,” Mr. Winchester said sternly. “Get back to your table.”

  Ian and the others left, but Mr. Winchester stayed. He crossed his arms and studied Kennin. “Don’t see much of you in class these days.”

  “I have to take a bus to school in the morning,” Kennin said. “Sometimes it’s late.”

  “You work after school?” Mr. Winchester asked.

  Kennin nodded.

  “How late?”

  “Midnight, usually.”

  “And then you have to take a bus home from there?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Mr. Winchester made a face. “There’s no point in coming to school on five hours’ sleep, Kennin. Studies have proven that the brain can’t retain information on that little amount of rest.”

  Kennin raised his hands in a helpless gesture.

  “You really have to work?” Mr. Winchester asked. “It’s not like you’re doing it just for a hot set of rims?”

  “I had to buy him lunch today,” Mariel said.

  “Well, try your best to get to class, Kennin,” Mr. Winchester said. “I can cut you some slack, but you’re going to have to make up what you missed and show up a little more often.”

  He walked away. Kennin sat down again with Mariel. Her eyes were wide and gleaming. “Tell me something,” she said. “Is there anything you’re actually afraid of?”

  “Plenty,” Kennin replied.

  6

  not, Kennin had to get back to work. After school he caught a bus downtown to the Babylon Casino and hobbled into the valet parking garage on his crutches. Tito, in his khaki car-washing uniform, looked up from a silver BMW 760Li he was washing.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  Not the friendliest greeting, Kennin thought. “What do you think?”

  “You gonna wash cars with a broken leg?”

  “Unless someone pays me not to.”

  Tony, the head of valet parking, came out of the office to greet him.

  “Hey, look who’s here!” Tony gave Kennin a hug. “How’s the leg?”

  “Still there,” Kennin said. “How’s the kid?”