Suspended

Four years later

It's the first week of March and only ten days to Spring Break. I'm strolling the halls between classes, thinking about how in a few days I'll have loads of time for cruising with Cisco. It's murder when we go out on a weeknight, because I can hardly keep my eyes open the next day at school. Cisco doesn't have to worry about that, since he graduated last year.

As I pass a group of guys that constantly get on my case, I overhear one of them mumbling to the other jerks, "That's the dude I've been telling you about. I think he's part of a gang. You know, the guys we call border hoppers."

In seconds, adrenaline fires into my fingers. I turn and feel my hands shove the guy, hard. He falls back into the locker. "Cabron!" I yell, using the Mexican swear word Uncle Gerry taught me years ago. Before any of his buddies can move, I have the guy in a headlock. I'm ready to give him a smackdown when the principal appears.

"Logan Gomez! My office — now!"

I clip the jerk anyway as Mr. Williamson knocks my arm down.

"They started it!" I shout, my body still in overdrive.

The principal marches down the hallway, his huge steps matching his tall frame. I shuffle behind him, trying to think of what to say when we reach his office. Students loitering in the hall snicker as I pass by them. They have seen this sight too many times.

"Mr. Gomez," he begins, motioning for me to sit in a broken chair. His office door closes with a thud behind me. "I'm calling your mother — you're suspended."

"Don't you want to hear my side? How those jerks are constantly on me? How they're racist?"

"I didn't see you talking it out with them. All I saw was physical contact — from you. That's an offence at our school. Clear and simple."

Yeah. He sees what he wants to see, clear and simple.

He dials Mom at work. She'll be pissed now!

"Mrs. Gomez? Yes, it's Mr. Williamson, Logan's principal. Yes, I know. I'm sorry to bother you at work again ..."

Ever since I started at this school, I've been harassed by assholes. I was pretty scrawny when I entered high school in grade eight. I remember the first time I was bullied. It was the second week of classes and I had a dark summer tan. I looked like my dad's side of the family — totally Mexican. So these creeps were giving me attitude. A Grade Eleven guy was walking by. He stepped in to save my ass. That was the first time I met Cisco. Like my dad, he's from Mexico, and he's been looking out for me ever since.

"Thank you, Mrs. Gomez," the principal's voice cuts through my thoughts. "I'll have Logan wait in the hall for your arrival. We'll talk about his re-entry at that time."

I plunk down in my usual seat in the hall. Every passing student gives me the eye. I push my hoodie back from my face and return their stares. As I wait for my mom, I think about calling Cisco and going for a ride. That would take the edge off things. Maybe a few beers first, so I have a good buzz. And then I'll call Quinn, who's been my best friend since we were little kids. Maybe he'll join us this time, even though he's always telling me Cisco is bad news.

I'm almost asleep by the time Mom arrives. She talks with Mr. Williamson. Then I follow her all the way down the hall and out to our car. I only half listen to her rant about how the time she spends away from her job will be deducted from her pay. I've heard it all before.

"Logan, I don't know what to do anymore," Mom says as she plops down in the driver's seat of our old Honda. "I've called your Uncle Geraldo. He wants to come speak with you. Maybe he can help you sort out what's going on."

As I slam my door, my voice rises. "Why the hell would I want to talk to him? He's been dead to me for four years."

"Because I see you sliding down the wrong path. You're so angry all the time. I hardly recognize you anymore."

"Yeah? Well, maybe that's a good thing. At least I'm not like Uncle Gerry. I have nothing to say to him. And I doubt he has anything to say to me."

"I think he has plenty to say, if you'd just give him a chance."

We drive the next few blocks in silence. Then Mom turns the car into the driveway of our apartment block.

"He wants you to join him for the Cinco de Mayo Celebration. The one on Commercial Drive in Vancouver. Wouldn't that be fun? It would keep you connected with your dad's heritage and ..."

As Mom pulls into the underground parking lot, I don't wait to hear the rest of her sentence. I jump from the car and run to the door. I take the stairs two at a time to our floor. Once in our apartment, I slam into my bedroom and flop face-first onto my bed.

Several minutes later, Mom walks into my room, ignoring the closed door. She sits by my desk and talks to the back of my head.

"Logan, I wish you'd give your Uncle Geraldo a chance. You used to love seeing him." I don't respond but my body tenses. "I don't think I've told you this before," Mom continues, "After your twelfth birthday, your uncle wanted to make sure you were safe. He stopped drinking that day. He hasn't touched a drop since then."

"Well, good for him! Too bad he didn't stop drinking fifteen years ago!" I bury my head in my pillow. I can hear Mom mumbling, so I pull the pillow tighter around my ears. After a long silence, I lift my head in time to hear my bedroom door close.

I slam the wall with my fist. After a few minutes, I grab my key fob and head to our storage locker. It's just past the laundry room in the basement of our building.

It's dusty in the storage room, and I hear mice scrambling in the corners. I unlock number 225, where I stash my booze. I swig three huge gulps of vodka. Then I tighten the lid on the bottle and place it back inside the suitcase. As the liquid travels through me, I feel a calm filter into my body. Now I can face the rest of the day.

Surprise Date

It's my first day back at school after my suspension and I'm heading down the hall. The usual suspects are hanging around their lockers. I know they'll push my buttons because I have unfinished business with them. But another suspension will get me expelled. I don't want to risk that over these assholes. I detour down the hall that connects to the library. I hardly ever walk this way.

By the door to the library there are four girls in a huddle. They look like they are the same age as me, but I can tell from their smartphones and clothes that they have money. As they point at me I'm able to catch a few of their whispered words. They are saying something about a 'gang' and 'he's trouble'. I even catch the word 'dare'.

As I saunter toward them, I figure if one of them is going to take up the dare, I hope it's the totally hot one. Her long dark hair rolls over her shoulders and down her back as she leans in to whisper with her friends. Then she looks up at me. She smiles as I get close. My feet stop in front of her and I grin back.

"Kayleigh," she says and steps closer to me.

"Logan," I reply, and move within inches of her face. Her breath is warm and heats my whole body. As the bell rings, her friends tug at her sleeve and tell her it's time to go. She stays put and keeps her eyes locked with mine. I do the same.

Soon the halls are empty except for loose papers, a tattered binder and a sad, grey jacket someone has left behind.

"I wasn't into first block...