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- “What are you going to do today?” It sounded like a challenge. “I’m going to join a gang.” “That’s not funny.” “I’m Mexican. Isn’t that what we do?” “Not funny.”
- And it wasn’t even all the comments about how I was turning into a man right before their eyes. I mean, I knew bullshit when I heard it.
- One of the guys yelled at me, “Hey, Mendoza! Hanging out with all your friends?” I waved, pretending to be a good sport, ha ha ha. And then I flipped them the bird.
- Maybe all that silence about my brother did something to me. I think it did. Not talking can make a guy pretty lonely.
- All on my own. I was in love with that phrase.
- “My name’s Dante,” he said. That made me laugh harder. “Sorry,” I said. “It’s okay. People laugh at my name.” “No, no,” I said. “See, it’s just that my name’s Aristotle.” His eyes lit up. I mean, the guy was ready to listen to every word I said. “Aristotle,” I repeated. Then we both kind of went a little crazy. Laughing.
- And then I pronounced my grandfather’s name with this really formal Mexican accent, “Aristotiles. And my real first name is Angel.” And then I said it in Spanish, “Angel.” “Your name is Angel Aristotle?” “Yeah. That’s my real name.” We laughed again. We couldn’t stop.
- ahahaha omg what were his parents thinking when they named him that?
- Dante became one more mystery in a universe full of mysteries.
- I was darker than he was. And I’m not just talking about our skin coloring. He told me I had a tragic vision of life.
- I was mostly invisible. I think I liked it that way. And then Dante came along.
- “Maybe if you didn’t have so many things.” “It’s just stuff,” he said. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have stuff.
- I got to thinking that poems were like people. Some people you got right off the bat. Some people you just didn’t get—and never would get.
- One thing I’d learned about getting into fights. Move fast, take the guy by surprise. It always worked. It was the first rule of fighting.
- I was harder than Dante. I think I’d tried to hide that hardness from him because I’d wanted him to like me. But now he knew. That I was hard. And maybe that was okay. Maybe he could like the fact that I was hard just as I liked the fact that he wasn’t hard.
- wow this could easily be taken out of context
- And I wondered what my dad looked like when he was my age. My mother had told me he was beautiful. I wonder if he’d been as beautiful as Dante. And I wondered why I thought that.
- In a strange way, my friendship with Dante had made me feel even more alone.
- I didn’t think it was my job to accept what everyone said I was and who I should be. Maybe if you weren’t so quiet, Ari . . . Maybe if you could just be more disciplined . . . Yeah, everyone had suggestions as to what was wrong with me and what I should become.
- The only thing I was worried about was trying to speak perfect English. I made up my mind that year—when I was ten—that I wasn’t going to sound like another Mexican. I was going to be an American. And when I talked I was going to sound like one.
- No wonder I stopped keeping a journal. It was like keeping a record of my own stupidity.
- I hated my mom for a minute or two because she told me I didn’t have any friends.
- I think that if Dante really knew me, he wouldn’t like me.
- “Maybe you’ll be a writer,” she said. “A poet.” It sounded like such a beautiful thing when she said it. Too beautiful for me.
- “Where did you come from?” “My parents had sex one night.” I could almost imagine his parents having sex—which was a little weird. “How do you know it was night?” “Good point.” We busted out laughing.
- Boring game, Dante. Are we interviewing each other?” “Something like that.” “What position am I applying for?” “Best friend.”
- He smiled and then, I don’t know, there was this look on his face and it was so hard to tell what he was thinking or feeling, which was strange because Dante’s face was a book that the whole world could read.
- When she left the room, I broke down and sobbed. I had never been this sad. I have never been this sad. I have never been this sad.
- And I was glad for my mom and dad because I think it was me who was making the house sad.
- You’ve already hurt me. That’s what I wanted to say. Those were the words that entered my head. Those were the words I wanted to slap him with. The words were mean. I was mean.
- is that resentment?
- Gina was getting mad. The last time I’d seen that look on her face, she’d thrown a rock at me.
- Gina and Susie gave each other the look: This guy is fucking unbelievable. That look.
- This is the deal, Ari, I’m not going to get on your case about writing back. I promise. If I want to write you, then I’ll write to you. And if you don’t want to write to me, you don’t have to. You have to be who you are. And I have to be who I am. That’s the way it is. And anyway, I usually did most of the talking.
- There were a lot of guys in the world that would have killed to have what I had. So why wasn’t I more grateful?
- That’s exactly what they were: good girls who wanted to pretend they were bad girls but who never would be bad girls because they were too decent.
- My life was still someone else’s idea.
- “My mom struggles with that too, you know? She doesn’t naturally display her feelings. That’s why she married my dad. That’s what I think. He drags it out of her, all those feelings she has.” “Then it’s a good match.” “Yeah, it is.
- All you have to do is be loyal to the most brilliant guy you’ve ever met—which is like walking barefoot through the park. I, on the other hand, have to refrain from kissing the greatest guy in the universe—which is like walking barefoot on hot coals.” “I see you still have the barefoot thing going on.” “I’ll always hate shoes.”
- “He’s so cute. I’d have thrown myself in front of a moving car for him too.”
- “We don’t always make the right decisions, Ari. We do the best we can.”
- Sometimes, you do things and you do them not because you’re thinking but because you’re feeling.
- No swimming. He couldn’t do much, really. He could lie around. But Dante liked lying around. That was the good thing. He was different. Sadder. The day he came home from the hospital, he cried. I held him. I thought he would never stop. I knew that a part of him would never be the same. They cracked more than his ribs.
- WAAAAA please DON'T. don't say that dante is sad cause i just cant take it, not dante. i can only imagine things he'll have to go through for being gay, this being the first to have happened, and he's such a good sweet boy it's not fair or okay for bad things to happen to him. aaaaah im crying, please dont hurt dante
- I made a bad joke one day. “Why does summer always have to end with one of us all beat to hell?” Neither one of us laughed at the joke.
- “Can I tell you a secret, Ari?” “Can I stop you?” “You don’t like knowing my secrets.” “Sometimes your secrets scare me.” Dante laughed. “I wasn’t really kissing Daniel. In my head, I was kissing you.” I shrugged. “You got to get yourself a new head, Dante.” He looked a little sad. “Yeah. Guess so.”
- aaaaaah please don't break my heart :((((((
- We all fight our own private wars.
nov 25 2014 ∞
nov 25 2014 +
nov 25 2014 +