Page 55

“You have Bree,” I tell her.

Her response is a hearty laugh that echoes through the Fremont High hallways. “If you think Bree and you are in the same league, guess again. I don’t know what I’d do without you, girl. You and me are besties for life. I know that sounds super dorky, but it’s true.”

I float through my classes the rest of the day, itching for the last bell to ring so I can head over to the body shop.

After school, I rush out of the building and quickly head for Fairfield where my job—and Vic—are.

Vic needs to know that I’m not the helpless girl he thinks I am.

I’m going to prove him wrong, even if I test my limits in the process.

Chapter Thirty-five

VICTOR

Checking up on my sisters isn’t easy, especially when one of them is determined to slip out of my sight.

I meet Marissa at the library in Fremont. I walk up to the private room she reserved wearing a hoodie and shielding my face as much as possible.

“You okay?” I ask Marissa.

She glances at me and pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I’m copacetic.”

“Copacetic? Seriously?” I raise a brow. “Marissa, you know I have no fuckin’ clue what that means. Speak English.” Her crazy vocabulary reminds me of Trey.

“It is English, Vic,” she says in a regal tone that’s purely Marissa. “It means that I’m doing just fine. How are you holding up? I know Trey was your best friend.”

I shrug. “I’m surviving.” The great thing about Marissa is that she doesn’t pry, cause drama, or ask too many questions. “How’s Dani?”

“She ran away from home a few days ago,” she says. “But she came back yesterday. Papá was pissed.”

“I’ll bet.” I wonder briefly if she snuck off to be with Bonk, a guy who’ll take advantage of the fact that her big brother isn’t in the picture to protect her. “Still no word from Mom?”

She chuckles. “No. She’s never coming back, you know.”

I knew that mi’ama probably wouldn’t leave Mexico, but I never brought it up with either of my sisters. It’s not like it would’ve done any good. Talking about it wouldn’t bring her back. Knowing about it is one thing. Talking about it brings it to a whole new level of reality.

I don’t want Marissa to feel abandoned. I might be gone physically, but I’m still her big brother. “Do you need anythin’ from me?” I ask her.

She looks at me, her big brown eyes innocent but sharp. “I’m not going to say I don’t need you, because I do. Dani needs you, too, even if she’d never admit it.” She sighs. “But just like Mom needed to escape, you need it. I just hope…” Her voice fades off.

“That I’ll come back?”

She nods. “Yes.”

“I’ll always keep an eye on you, manita.”

“I know you will.” She stands up and slips on her backpack. “But promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

She gives me a small smile. “I know what happened with Trey hit you hard, but you need to heal and be happy. If that means you’re never coming back home, I understand. That’s what Mom needed.”

Happy? That’s never been a goal of mine. “Are you happy?”

She gives a small chuckle. “I’m copacetic.”

Talking to my sister leaves a lump in my throat. I pull her close and hug her tight. “If you need me, just call and I’ll come runnin’.”

She clutches me close. “I know. Just take care of yourself, Vic.”

After we talk for a few more minutes, I duck out of the library. On my way back to Isa’s, I think about what Marissa said. She wants me to be happy. She knows I don’t know what that means. Happiness is just as much in my vocabulary as copacetic or whatever the hell that word was.

Working at the auto body made me feel accomplished. Being in the presence of Monika, even if it’s just watching her from across the room, calms me in a way that nobody else can.

Maybe the combination of those things will make me as close to happy as I can get.

Chapter Thirty-six

MONIKA

I walk into Enrique’s Auto Body determined to talk to Vic today. He’s been hiding out in Isa’s apartment while I’ve been downstairs, not able to concentrate knowing he’s so close. Isa’s been giving me bookkeeping jobs and has me cleaning the shop, but she hasn’t trusted me to work on cars.