The Temptation Of Demetrio Vigil Part 13

"I don't understand why this is happening to me," I whined.

"It's a blessing." Kelsey put her arms around me. "The sooner you get away from Logan, the better. I have never trusted that guy."

"Why didn't I see it?"

"Because he's hot, and popular, and your mom loves him. You care too much about what your mom thinks."

"I know."

A few minutes later, once I'd composed myself, we returned to the gymnasium just as the team from one of the most impoverished schools in the city - a school that was 98 percent Hispanic and 100 percent laughing stock at my school - took the floor. Not wanting to interrupt, Kelsey and I stood against the wall, near Demetrio. Amazingly, I could feel his heat and electric energy, even though he was a good ten feet away. I felt safe around him. At ease. Like nothing could go wrong, even as everything was going wrong.

The team from South Valley High had boys and girls in it, about half and half, and they were all dressed much as Demetrio dressed, but in a more theatrical way. They looked like a scary gang, and their opening formation had each of them striking a very violent or intimidating pose.

"Ladies and gentleman," said the announcer, "this year the South Valley High team will be performing to the song 'From Heads Unworthy' by Rise Against, with ch.o.r.eography by new coach Miranda Ulibarri, a graduate of South Valley High who recently returned to Albuquerque after graduating from Julliard and performing with the Metropolitan Ballet of Philadelphia for five years. Put your hands together."

Kelsey and I exchanged a look of total surprise. Julliard? Metropolitan Ballet? What on earth would drive a woman with that kind of success to come back to Albuquerque to teach at the most ghetto of all the schools? I didn't wonder about this for long, however, as the opening strains of the punk rock song revealed her intentions.

We are the children you reject and disregard These aching cries come from the bottom of our hearts You can't disown us now, we are your own flesh and blood And we won't disappear just because your eyes are shut In stark contrast to the hardcore punk-rock music and the gangster gear, the team performed a stunning mixture of perfect cla.s.sical ballet punctuated with mind-bogglingly furious tumbling and gymnastics. The juxtaposition of these disciplines, plus the ghetto clothes, was wholly unexpected. Thomas's word came back to me: Verstehen.

I gasped, and held my breath. They were amazing. The message - that looks can be deceiving, that kids like them are underestimated - was so clear, and so exactly what I needed to hear right now, that all I could do watching them dance was quietly start to cry again. Kelsey must have felt something similar because she reached out and looped her arm through mine, her mouth hanging open in awe. I scanned the crowd and saw that almost everyone was having the same ashamed, shocked, emotional response I'd had - as though we all wondered how kids like - from there - that could dance like this. Everyone, that is, except my mother and Logan, who were too busy talking to one another, and looking at me shaking their heads in disappointment, to notice what happened on the floor.

As the song went on, Demetrio inched along the wall until he stood next to me. We looked at one another, smiled, and did not need to speak to communicate the attraction and rightness of what we felt. We just knew. I could tell.

This happens almost never, but it happened once to me And things will never be the same I'm not after fame and fortune, I'm after you When I've served my time, I swear I'll come back for you "This was supposed to happen, right?" I asked him then. He smiled peacefully, and squeezed my hand.

"G.o.d's way of staying anonymous," he said with a wink. "Like I said."

"Speaking of religion, we saw your cross," I told him.

"Oh?" he asked, taken aback, shifting uncomfortably and averting his eyes.

"Is it true? You, you had an accident there? You're - you know. For a year. That's what it said." It felt foolish to ask a living, breathing, warm-blooded human being if he were dead as he stood next to you and smiled at you.

"Let's talk about this later, mamita. This ain't the right time."

"Are you - is that your name on it? I mean, is that supposed to be for you?"

"It's complicated. But yes. Basically, yes. Please don't freak. It's not what you think."

"No, no. I totally understand! I figured it out last night." I dropped my voice to a whisper and moved toward his ear. He smelled like earth and sunshine, healthy. "I know it's your way out of the gang. It's okay. I won't tell anyone you faked your own, you know. Your secret is safe with me."

Demetrio backed off with a confused grin. "Wow, Maria. You Prep girls are smart; in fact, you think too much for your own good." He tousled my hair affectionately. "But I like the way you be thinking." He winked, and I mentally congratulated myself for being an excellent detective.

The South Valley High team's routine ended, and the crowd rose to their feet for the day's first and only standing ovation.

"I gotta jet, mami," he told me gently, his eyes betraying a certain amus.e.m.e.nt and patience. He turned toward the door. "If you need me, call me. I'm around."

"You don't have to go, do you? You should come with us. We're going to Dion's for a pizza party with the team, to celebrate."

"Bet your boy Logan there would love if I was there," he said sarcastically. "And that lady he's talking to. She'd c.r.a.p her pants for joy."

"That's my mom."

"Yeah? Well, I don't think she digs me, mamita. She keeps looking at me like she wants to throw a ninja star at me or somethin'."

I hesitated a moment before saying, "You're right. They don't like you. And - and I think I'm done caring what they think. I am. I'm done caring. I like you. That's all that matters." It felt good to say it; good, and scary. I felt taller, lighter, but more exposed, somehow.

He watched me for a long moment, with a small grin lifting the edge of his mouth.

"That's cool, Maria. I appreciate that."

"So are you coming?"

He shook his head. "Thing is, Maria, I gotta work today. Otherwise, hanging out with you and your friends and family sounds cool to me."

"You have a job?" I asked.

He scoffed. "Uhm, yeah. Is that so hard to believe, mamita?"

"No. I just, you never talked about it before. What do you do?"

"Search and rescue." He quickly changed the subject before I had time to probe for details. "You did good today, by the way. I'm proud of you. You can really shake that thang, girl!"

Demetrio did a little shimmy of his own that indicated he probably had a good sense of rhythm. With a jolt in the center of my belly, I longed to dance with him, powerfully desired it, wondered what it would feel like. I remembered Winter Ball, coming up next month, and wondered if I could get out of going with Logan, and take Demetrio instead.

"Can we hang out this week?" I asked. "On your terms."

"You sure about that?" He seemed shocked.

"Yeah."

"I'd like that, girl. I'll text or call. Soon. Real soon, mamita. Be careful with Logan. Dude seems volatile. Let him down easy - I mean, if that's what you're gonna do."

"It's what I need to do. Because of you, and those South Valley girls, and this thing called verstehen that my friend Thomas told me about today, I realized Logan's different than I thought he was. The word means basically to see something from someone else's point of view. Max Weber, German sociologist."

He grinned. "I'm liking that dude Thomas. Cool peeps." He grinned, and messed up my hair again before turning to leave. "Much cooler than Logan."

As I watched him pimp-walk away, the announcer read the scores for the South Valley High team. In a stunning upset that would make the front page of the local sports section the next day, the barrio school had beaten us. Judging from the somber faces of my teammates and all of our parents and friends, I should have been depressed about this, but my loyalties were suddenly, beautifully torn; secretly, I wanted to cheer.

SECOND THIRD.

tercio de varas.

{whereby the matador torments the bull with lances, to impress the crowd}.

I sat picking at a slice of pepperoni pizza on a white paper plate, at a booth at Dion's, a bright, rowdy, slightly upscale local pizza chain popular with kids my age. Ordinarily I would have devoured the savory, slightly spicy pizza - which I considered to be the best in town. But I'd lost my appet.i.te. While my teammates were all sitting with each other and their own friends and family at tables and booths all around me, I sat next to Kelsey, with Logan and my mother across from me, giving me the third-degree about Demetrio, while Victoria and Thomas listened in the next booth.

"Why didn't you tell me a gang member had called 911 for you?" my mother demanded. "Do you have any idea what having a guy like that hanging around us will do for my career, m'ija?"

"Maybe she was hiding something," suggested Logan. "I know your daughter very well, Ms. Romero, and she's been acting very different ever since that crash."

"Your career?" Kelsey asked my mother. "Is that really your top concern right now? My G.o.d!"

"No, that is not my top concern. Obviously, my daughter's safety is my top concern." My mother looked from Kelsey to me and said, "You can't get involved with people like that. You are so trusting and naive, honey. It's not good for you. You don't seem to understand what you're getting yourself into. I'm sure it's partly my fault because I sheltered you so much growing up, when I should have at least shown you what was out there. This boy is no good. Understand? No good."

I stared at the pizza, which was quickly growing cold, and stayed mute. There was nothing to say to them. They didn't understand.

"Well, I like him," said Kelsey, always braver than I was. "He's nice, and he seems smart and funny. He's very polite."

"You would like him," sneered Logan.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she reacted.

"It means you're a bottom-feeder who's always feeling sorry for losers."

"Not always," Kelsey volleyed back, her face reddening with anger, "because I've never felt sorry for you."

"Stop it," my mother spat. "Both of you. This is serious. Maria. Maria! Look at me."

Reluctantly, I met her eyes.

"This has to stop, do you hear me? Whatever you have with that boy, it stops right here, right now."

"He's just a friend! G.o.d!" I screamed, unable to stand it anymore. I slammed my hand down on the tabletop, startling my mother tremendously. Logan didn't flinch.

"You have lots of friends, honey," my mother said, looking as if she might cry. "You don't need friends like that."

"Like what?" I cried. "You've never even met him! You don't know what you're talking about! This is insane!"

Logan guffawed and guzzled what was left of his large soda. I looked back at Victoria and Thomas. Victoria mouthed "I agree," and Thomas avoided my eyes.

"You can tell a lot about a person by the clothes they wear, and the way they move, these are the messages they're choosing to send out into the world about themselves," my mother lectured.

"I used to agree with you," I told her, my voice shaking with the pressure and terror of standing up to her, in this very public setting. My pulse raged as though I were running a race. I knew my teammates were listening in, and I just didn't care anymore. I just wanted out of this. "The first time I saw him, I was afraid of him, too. But he's not like that."

My mother looked at Logan for support and said, "I swear to G.o.d, I think she hit her head in that crash. They did a CAT scan, and it came back normal, but I think I'm going to go back to the doctor and demand that they give her an MRI instead. They missed something. I mean, look at her! Listen to her!"

"Mom! I'm fine."

"Sure, that's why you called me Friday night to tell me you wanted to see a therapist, because you're fine!" She said this so loudly I was certain everyone in the restaurant had heard her. I'd never been so humiliated in my life.

"I can't believe you're doing this to me," I said to her as the tears built up and spilled over onto my cheeks. Ashamed, I buried my face in my hands.

"I'm sorry," she hissed, lowering her voice now that she realized her mistake. "But I can't let you destroy yourself, Maria."

"By having a friend from a different town than we're from?" I asked, incredulously. "How, exactly, is that ruining myself?"

"I see how he looks at you," said Logan. "It's not safe for you."

"Beyond that, m'ija, you need to understand what goes on in these rural towns in New Mexico. There's high use of drugs, and there are gangs in that area, m'ija, that's what his tattoos mean. You probably don't realize that."

"I do."

My mother looked disappointed and shocked at the same time. "Then why are you even talking to him?"

"He's not into that stuff anymore, mom."

"That's what they all say. The Mexican cartels are infiltrating a lot of these little towns, honey. Do you ever watch the news? Honestly. You have to be smart with the choices you make in life. It's not that I'm prejudiced, so you can stop looking at me like that."

"Yes it is! That's exactly what it is!"

"No, it's not. Our family comes from humble beginnings, too. It's not just that. I have plenty of poor supporters. He is a gang member, Maria."

"And he looks at her in a filthy way I hate," said Logan, making sure we'd all heard him.

I narrowed my eyes at my boyfriend, desperate for him not to be my boyfriend anymore. "Oh?" I asked him. "Does he look at me like he'd grab me and whisper ugly things in my ear, like you did today? In front of my mom and friends?"

"What are you-"

I interrupted Logan. "I do not like how you treated me today, and I won't put up with it. I'm - I'm not your property, Logan. I'm my own person!"

"What? I was protecting you!" he cried. "What are you going off about?"

My mother put her hand on his shoulder. "She doesn't know what she's saying," my mom told him. "She's so innocent. It's my fault. She must've hit her head in that crash."

"Kelsey," I groaned, looking to her for help.

"Have you had enough of this?" she asked me. "Because I have. I think we should go."

"I'm not finished, young lady," spat my mother.

"Well I am," I said.

I looked at Logan, and began to tremble in antic.i.p.ation of what I'd say next. "I'm - I'm finished with you, too. We're over." I took the locket from around my neck, and handed it to him, while everyone who was anyone from my school watched us and pretended not to be paying attention.

"You can't do this," he said, stunned. "No one dumps me. We love each other."

"That's true," I said. "I do love you. And I don't want anything bad to happen to you. But sometime, love isn't enough."

"Don't be stupid," he told me. "You've gone off the deep end."

"There you go again, calling her stupid!" Kelsey screamed at him. "That's twice in one day!" My best friend looked at my mother now, and said, "You think that's good for your daughter, Ms. Romero? Being called stupid by this meathead? Just because his dad donates a s.h.i.tload of money to your campaigns? You should be ashamed of yourself, selling your own daughter out like that. It's disgusting! You're a pimp, Ms. Romero."

"Don't you speak to me that way, Kelsey Epstein," said my mother, seething. "I'll tell your parents!"