“What field trip?” Luna asks.

  “The field trip. This Friday?”

  “What are you talking about?” The hallway is so crowded with students trying to make it to their classes before the late bell rings. Almost everyone says hi to them. Luna waves back.

  “Luna, we’re going to the Griffith Observatory on Friday. The whole class.”

  No, that’s not possible. The last time Luna went to the observatory was with her cousin. They smoked weed, watched the laser show, and spoke about the future, one of their last deep conversations. This was before Tasha got sick, before life became a dark abyss. Observatories were Tasha’s favorite places to visit.

  “No, I’m not doing that.”

  “You don’t have a choice,” Soledad says. “We’re getting graded.”

  Luna vowed never to visit an observatory again, not without Tasha. This is not going to happen.

  “I need to speak to the teacher,” she says.

  “Right now? We’re going to be late to math,” Soledad warns. Luna pushes against the mass of students toward where the science teacher Mrs. Delgado stands outside of her classroom, greeting each entering student.

  “Ladies, we’re not meeting today,” Mrs. Delgado says.

  “I won’t be able to attend the field trip.”

  Luna’s mother taught her how to speak to people of authority, to affirm her statements instead of asking for permission.

  “It’s fifty percent of your grade for this quarter,” Mrs. Delgado says.

  “Half our grade! That’s not fair.” Her whole body tenses as she scrambles to find the right words that won’t betray her. “One field trip shouldn’t take up so much of our grade. And I shouldn’t have to justify my personal reasons.”

  Her voice gets louder. Mrs. Delgado doesn’t like to be argued with. It’s not the way you get things done with her. Luna knows this, but she can’t stop herself.

  “I can make up the grade with other work.” She clutches her textbook tight enough to display the whites of her knuckles.

  “You are more than welcome to opt out of the trip. The outcome still stands,” Mrs. Delgado says, allowing one last student to enter the room. “The bell is about to ring. I suggest you two head to your next class.”

  Seconds go by. Luna wants to continue stating her case, but there’s no point. Mrs. Delgado never budges, not even for Soledad, who seems to have a way of convincing teachers to fix her low grades. It has something to do with her father being the former mayor and a Fairfax graduate.

  Mrs. Delgado closes the door. The bell goes off.

  “I can’t believe this,” Luna says.

  “At least you tried, but I could have told you not to bother,” Soledad says with a chuckle. Luna tries to temper her rage. She shouldn’t have to explain to a teacher or anyone why she doesn’t want to go. Observatories are sacred places to her, like the ones in Puerto Rico and Hawaii she visited with Tasha. Luna doesn’t want her memories of those moments to be tarnished, trampled by others.

  Pedro roughly bumps into Soledad in the near-empty hallway.

  “Watch yourself, perras!” he yells at them.

  “God, I hate him,” Soledad says. “We hate you, perra!”

  The girls are late to class, but Soledad uses her charm to convince the teacher to ignore the tardiness.

  Luna tries to concentrate on the lesson, but she’s so mad. How did she manage to block the trip completely from her mind? She’s been so hyper-focused on getting to the cemetery. She can’t even do that now. Her mother is once again pushing off the visit like it’s no big deal. Can’t she see how important this is to Luna? It’s the least she could do for her cousin, to see the place that marks her end.

  “Promise me.”

  Luna gasps at the sudden sound of Tasha’s voice in her head. Tasha’s final words to her. She spirals back to that painful phone call, her hands suddenly clammy. Luna’s no longer in the classroom but in the past with Tasha’s voice reminding her how terrible of a cousin she is. A promise she failed to keep. The guilt is unbearable.

  “Luna, can you come up to the board and show us how we arrive to this answer?” her precalculus teacher calls, and brings her back to the present. Luna rapidly blinks to keep a tear from escaping.

  She goes up and explains her formula to the class. It’s an automatic response. She can easily tackle problems with concrete answers. Theorems and absolute values. It’s the other subjects that trip her up, especially when they ask her to shed her hard shell and reveal herself on the page. Her AP English teacher loves to do that. History too. Luna prefers numbers.

  “Good work. Who has the answer to problem five?”

  Tasha was the complete opposite of Luna. She would express her every emotion on paper. Although she loved science as much as Luna did, her passion for astronomy was more akin to romance. The idea of infinite possibilities. But the vastness of space scares Luna. Math, you can control. There is a right or wrong answer. But the sky? The clouds? The wind? There is no way of controlling them.

  The one constant in Luna’s life is how much she misses Tasha. This school trip will only bring her heartache to the surface. Tasha died so suddenly, but back then, so many were dying. Most people didn’t expect the young to be affected by COVID-19, least of all Luna. The virus hit Tasha’s parents first. They all thought her young cousin would recover like her mom and dad. But she didn’t.

  After school Luna gets a ride from Soledad, who drives her father’s Prius. The car looks new except for the dent Soledad made when she tried squeezing into a compact car space.

  “Let’s go to Nonna’s,” Soledad says. A cute guy works the register, and Soledad has been trying to get his attention. Luna agrees to go.

  “I’ll have the Cuban and the carne asada,” Luna says. Soledad continues to chat with the guy, who seems to like the attention but not love it.

  “Isaac and the rest of them are asking where we are at,” Soledad says after finally pulling herself away.

  “I need to get home soon,” Luna says. “It’s okay if you can’t take me. I’ll take the bus.”

  “The bus! Jesus, Luna. You’re not starting that again, being all Ms. Doom?” Soledad says. “You’ve been with that face ever since I mentioned the field trip.”

  “No, no, I’m not,” Luna quickly says. It wasn’t too long ago when Soledad told Luna she needed to live and stop being so miserable all the time.

  “Everyone is a little tired of it,” she had said.

  Luna heard her loud and clear. She’s been trying to keep her sadness at bay, to not reveal it. But with the news of the trip, she just wants to retreat and hide.

  To prove she’s over it, Luna types their location into the group chat. Within a few minutes, their table is surrounded by boys.

  “Can I have a bite?” Isaac asks.

  “You wish.” Luna eats the last of her empanada.

  “You’re so cold, Luna.”

  “No, I’m not,” she says with a grin.

  When she hooked up with Isaac, he was very sweet. She felt so distraught during that time. Isaac would let her cry quietly and not bombard her with questions. Instead, he held her and was gentle. Isaac has slight dimples that reveal themselves when he smiles, like right now. Most of the girls in school swear he looks like a tall Jaden Smith. Luna said it was only physical. So maybe he’s right. She is cold. Luna offers him a sip of her soda.

  “It’s getting late,” she says, this time more urgently.

  They walk toward Soledad’s parked car.

  “You going to the school trip?” Isaac asks.

  “I don’t have much of a choice.”

  “Of course you have a choice.” He lowers his voice. “We can ditch and hang out. Just you and me.”

  It would be so easy. Tasha would have told her to say yes. But Tasha is not here, and Luna is stuck in this in-between state where her “friends” are not the friends she craves and her world is not aligned to what she needs. An in-between state where she’s surrounded by grief. Where her cousin is nowhere and everywhere. There is no expiration date for her mourning, and yet those around her believe her sorrow should have ended months ago.

  “We haven’t hung out in a long time,” Isaac says.

  It would be so simple.

  “I’ll think about it,” Luna says. He opens the car door for her, and she slides in. Isaac punches his friend in the arm for trying to get in the back seat. They play fight, causing enough noise bystanders get annoyed. Soledad cheers them on, and Luna joins in.

  A strange light blankets the sky. Luna doesn’t notice it, and neither do any of her friends.

  CHAPTER 3

  Pedro skates up Fairfax Avenue, swerving away from sneaker heads toting their precious loads of overpriced trainers. His phone is in front of his face.

  “So many beautiful creatures out today,” he says. “Too bad they’re too busy looking at sneaks.”

  He stops at the corner of Clinton and posts the story. It’s not his finest content, but it will have to do for now. He has to get to In-N-Out before his shift begins. Pedro wants to hit La Plaza on Friday and doesn’t want to waste money taking the bus. His skateboard will get him to work just fine.

  A group of Fairfax students congregate across the street from Pedro. No one offers him a ride. Instead, they honk their horns or flash their middle fingers at him. If they were smart, they would drive him to work. He’s a great conversationalist.

  “You may be young, but you can hold your own in all types of circles.” That’s what the owner of La Plaza said to him once. Funny, that’s not what his Uncle Benji thinks. Uncle Benji thinks Pedro is good for nothing. He hates everything about him: his sequin joggers, the type of music he listens to, and definitely his Instagram account.

  It’s a ridiculous cliché. Poor Mama alone without a man. Her brother pops in to check on her whenever he feels like it. Uncle Benji screams at his mom, telling her how she’s doing it all wrong, raising Pedro to fail. Why does Pedro dress the way he does? Why is he out every weekend? Why is he posting crap online instead of working? Why? Why? Why?

  When Pedro defends himself, things inevitably turn ugly. Mom cries in Spanish. Pedro wails in both languages, and then he’s out the door for days on end, couch or floor surfing until his uncle leaves. Uncle Benji is due to return soon. He never gives a warning when. Why should he when he has his own key to the house? After each one of his visits, Pedro threatens to leave his mom forever. Her tears convince him not to.

  “Give me a ride, puto?” Pedro yells across the street to a friend from English class. “You need me to give you that extra glow your pale face lacks.”

  The boy shakes his head and laughs.

  Pedro continues up Fairfax toward Sunset. There is a slight hill, and he’s getting a little out of breath. Girls in sports bras walk their dogs. He smiles at one of them. “I see you, Ivy Park.”

  The girl smiles back.

  “It’s dark already, so the vampires are slowly emerging,” Pedro says in his IG live. The hearts pop up on the feed, and it warms him. It’s a clear night. No clouds in the sky.

  Once he reaches Sunset, Pedro bends his knees and takes a right toward Highland. He found the skateboard on Fairfax one day. Probably someone got too high to remember where they left it. Pedro spotted it behind a mailbox and just rode off. No one stopped him.

  “I have arrived,” Pedro says when he enters the already bustling In-N-Out. The place is crowded with Hollywood High students and tourists. Always tourists.

  He heads to the back room and quickly changes into his uniform. He washes his hands and face thoroughly.

  “Hi, Espooky.” His coworker Melissa saddles up to him by the sink. “You ready?”

  “Ready to deal with annoying customers ordering from a secret menu?” he says. “No.”

  Melissa taps her back pocket. “¿Quieres?”

  Pedro says no to her flask of vodka. Melissa likes being toasted during her shift. Pedro doesn’t judge. He tried to work once after taking a tab of E. Although he was super affectionate to everyone, even the customers, he didn’t really like it. Pedro’s not into drugs or drinking. He likes being fully alert in this life.

  He places the drive-through microphone over his head. “What do you think? Do I look like LaBritney?”

  “You look like someone who works at In-N-Out.”

  He sticks his tongue out, and they both go to their respective stations. Pedro outside and Melissa to the counter.

  A lot of his coworkers don’t like drive-through duties, but Pedro prefers it over working inside. He likes seeing people, being right in the action. When it’s a good day, a friend or two from La Plaza will emerge and he’s reminded of his other life where he is fully seen. He makes sure they get extra fries. It’s the least he can do.

  “Welcome to In-N-Out. How may I help you?” he says to the driver of a BMW. When the driver rolls down the window, a big whiff of weed pours out.

  “I want a veggie burrito,” a girl inside the car says then laughs.

  Pedro has seen the boy around Fairfax before. He’s a rich sneaker head who always has the latest brand on his feet. His eyes are a cold blue. Pedro grins and waits for him to begin.

  “She wants a burrito,” the boy says.

  “You must be lost. This is In-N-Out, and we make the best burgers,” Pedro says. “I can help you with a burger and fries, a milkshake.”

  “She wants a burrito. You know what I’m talking about.” He leans out of his car to tap on Pedro’s order tablet. “Burritos, quesadillas. That Mexican shit.”

  Pedro lets out a long sigh. This is so boring. How ridiculous white people are behind their expensive cars. Being racist because they think it’s funny or will get them laid or whatever.

  “Would you like to place an order?” Pedro says as sweetly as possible. The car behind this one inches forward.

  “I’ve seen you around,” the boy says.

  Pedro covers the microphone so his bosses are unable to hear him.

  “Of course you have. I’ve entered your dreams whenever you call me by my name,” Pedro says. “Remember, like last night?”

  The girl cackles. Pedro leans farther in to the car.

  “You remember too, don’t you?” Pedro addresses the girl. “When you called me papi?”

  The boy with the cold, blue eyes grows nervous while the girl beside him practically chokes.

  “We want number two, extra-toasted bun with two chocolate milkshakes,” the boy finally says.

  “And fries with cheese.”

  Pedro taps into his pad and sends in the order. “Thank you. I hope you have a blessed night.”

  The couple drives forward. Pedro notices how the boy continues to check him out in his rearview mirror.

  Yeah, bitch, you’ve seen me before, Pedro thinks. I’m unforgettable.

  “People out here trying to act like they aren’t racist, homophobic pieces of basura,” Pedro speaks into his microphone. On the other end is Eduardo, who goes to Hollywood High and hates working at the fast food restaurant. Eduardo never engages with Pedro on these rants. Pedro continues anyway. “Eduardo, do you copy? Because I need an acknowledgment on what I’m saying.”

  “Yes, Pedro, I copy,” Eduardo says. “Can you just keep it moving? The line is spilling out onto the street.”

  “What would you like to order?” Pedro says to the next customer.

  A coyote encounter and now this. Pedro thinks the gods and goddesses are trying to tell him something. But what? His plan is to stay out as long as possible so when he gets home, his mom will be asleep and he won’t have to hear how bad things are, how the unpaid bills are stacking up, and the other usual dramas.

  The next row of cars goes on without any incident. Melissa eventually comes out to relieve him, and he heads to the break room to eat. He can’t stop thinking about that blue-eyed devil. No matter how many witty comebacks he gets in, Pedro still feels the words are never enough to make a difference. The things he would do to their food if he were that type of a person …

  Pedro’s shift ends without any interruptions, and the bus ride home is also uneventful. He spends the time answering DMs from various people. Collaborations to work with unknown brands. When will the Guccis and the Versaces send him a message? He posts a photo dump, a lazy post if ever there was one, and engages with a couple of the comments. Being socially active is a job. Adoration, however light it may seem, is still something he can hold on to.

  Good night, my loves. Tomorrow we ride, he types as the bus approaches his stop. Pedro grabs his skateboard and leisurely walks home. All he wants is sleep. Tomorrow is another day of school and work. He thinks of what he will wear. Something bright and loud might shake off this drabness.

  “Fuck me.”

  Uncle Benji’s car is parked in the driveway, and Pedro must make a decision. Avoid entering a hostile situation, or move forward with the hope that this time it will be different. From where he stands, he watches his mother flit about in the kitchen, probably heating up food. It’s way past nine o’clock, and Uncle Benji is already disrupting their home.

  Ever since his uncle opened another garage in Maywood, he’s been spending way more time in their house, acting as if he owns it. Pedro’s mom never objects, what with groceries and certain bills being paid. But not Pedro. He can’t take it.

  Pedro inhales and counts slowly to five. Then he walks up the driveway, leaves his deck on the porch, and enters into a conversation about him.

  “If you don’t put your foot down, he’s going to walk all over you,” Uncle Benji says.

  Benji, short for Benjamin, is his mother’s brother. They look alike, except Uncle Benji barely has a neck. He works out a lot and always wears shirts that show off his cut arms. In a parallel world, Uncle Benji would share weight tips with Pedro. Instead, Pedro gets a mean mug as a greeting.

  “Is this the time you usually get home?” Uncle Benji asks. He knows exactly when Pedro gets home. His uncle has been here more than enough times to figure it out, but he always has to make a comment.

  “Mom knows my schedule,” Pedro says. He tries his best not to inject any attitude into his answer. This would only cause his uncle to get mad. “I’m going to take a shower.”

 

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