Chapter 1

Dark blue eyes. Long black hair. Light brown skin. That perfect smile clearly had been once aligned with braces. That laugh. Every word on that smooth, sweet and savory voice. His eyes, his ears, his hands, everything down to the way he holds his pen. I couldn't get enough of it. His clothing style, while simple, was unique to him. He made it his own.

Javier Valentín. He lives down the street from me. Every morning, he stops at the convenience store and buys a bottle of chocolate milk to have with his breakfast. It's one of three things: toast, a muffin, or an apple. He takes the 57 bus to school, which takes about 25 minutes. He has biology for his first class in the morning, which he usually sleeps through. Gym for second period, and then at lunch he always has sparkling water, a PB&J sandwich, and a bag of chips. In the afternoon, he has math and then English for his last period. He usually picks the standard classes for the first semester and then chooses extracurriculars and electives for the second semester. A strategy I admired.

On the weekends, he goes for a bike ride to the library to meet up with his friends. They usually hang out around the park and occasionally go to the movies. He walks his dog on Sundays and plays with his little sister in the backyard on sunny days. His favorite food is sopapillas, his favorite color is navy blue, his favorite band is Ice Nine Kills, his favorite movie is The Evil Dead 2, and his birthday is October 15th.

Of course I fell for him. My classmate since 3rd grade was the only person I knew so well, and the only one who had the ability to make me feel this way. So many other people and none of them made me feel like he did. Whenever I was close to him, my heart fluttered in my chest and I always lost my balance. Maybe my knees were hoping that he'd catch me as I fell, but it was always Ava who caught me and pulled me out of my fantasies.

"Marín."

The daydream was dispelled at the sound of Ava whispering to me. I looked at her. "What?"

"How long are you going to stare at Javier?"

I shrugged and leaned on my hands. "As long as I need to."

Ava rolled her eyes and pushed the worksheet over to me. "At least save some time for your English homework."

I briefly glanced at the work and returned my gaze to Javier. "Did you know that Javier's favorite class is English? I heard him talking about it with his friends. He really enjoys reading, writing and history."

"I don't care about your daily fun facts. Can we talk about something other than Javier for once?"

I looked at Ava. "Well, what exactly do you want to talk about?"

She hesitated and looked away. "Nevermind, just forget about it."

I grinned and stuck out my tongue. "Don't ask when you can't deliver."

"What is that even supposed to mean?"

Interrupting our conversation was the school bell. This was the last class of the day, so we would be heading home. And even better, it was a Friday. More time to procrastinate on homework and more time to cruise around on MySpace. Javier didn't have a MySpace profile---I checked every single day and he still didn't make one, but if he did, I was going to be the first to see it.

As I returned to my locker, I kept my eyes on Javier in the hallways. I nearly hit my head on the locker door as I opened it, Ava standing on the other side to catch the door.

"Watch what you're doing," she said. "Jeezus, Marín."

"Sorry." I pulled my jacket out of my locker.

"Anyway, do you wanna go to the movies tomorrow? I was thinking we could go see Jennifer's Body. I heard some of my brother's friends talking about how bad it is."

I looked at her blankly as I was pulling my gloves on. "Why would I wanna see a bad movie?"

She tilted her head. "What are you talking about? We always go see bad movies together."

I realized what she was saying to me and I quickly shook my head. "Sorry, I wasn't listening. Anyway, I was actually thinking of going to the library---"

"The library, right. When are you ever going to stop doing that? I just wanna hang out with you, dude."

"You can always come with me," I said.

Ava sighed. "My hobbies don't include stalking Javier, thank you very much." She pulled her backpack over her shoulders and adjusted her coat. "I'll see you on Monday, Marín."

I always felt bad for bailing on Ava so many times, and I felt even worse in the moment as I watched her walk away. Usually I would have agreed to go with her, but this time I had a reason for going to the library aside from just watching Javier and getting out of the house. I was finally going to ask him. What? I wasn't sure yet. Asking him on a date just felt wrong, but at the same time I was ready to have him hold me in his arms. At the very least, I wanted him to finally notice me. Our interactions had been limited to just accidentally bumping into one another on the bus or at school. He didn't think anything of me, which was both relief and an alarming notion at the same time.

I followed him to the bus stop and watched as he said goodbye to his other friends. Javier was left standing alone, turning on the music on his iPod. My feet inched forward. This was my chance. Maybe I didn't have to wait until tomorrow to talk to him. I reached out to tap him on the shoulder, but just then, the bus pulled up. He stepped forward, just out of reach, my hand falling into the empty space he left behind. With an exhausted sigh, I stepped onto the bus behind him and showed my pass to the bus driver. I turned to talk to Javier, but he'd already gone to the back. Quietly, I sat down in a place where I could see him and absentmindedly read through text messages long since delivered.

We always got off at the same stop, since we lived on the same street, but he never seemed to notice. He never really looked at me unless we actually bumped into one another. Then stumbled out the awkward apologies and that was the end of that. I stopped by the front lawn of my house and watched him disappear into another house a little ways down the neighborhood street. A row of cookie cutter houses, all with the same green front lawns, and his stood out like any other. It was a lure to an inaccessible world, like it was mocking me with how close it was. With a sigh, I headed onto the front porch of my house and shoved the door open.

The stench of cigarettes stung my nose as I entered. I stepped around the trash bags piled near the front door and quietly made my way to the staircase. The first step creaked as I set my foot on it and sent an internal sense of dread through me, making my body cringe up. The sound of the television turned down and I knew there was no point in sneaking any longer.

"Marín, is that you?"

I stopped where I was and leaned around the corner of the staircase to peer into the living room, where my father was sitting on the couch. "Hey, Papá."

He smiled at me, as did I in return, internalizing a grimace. "Your mother will be back around dinner. It's just the two of us before then."

I nodded quietly and turned to leave.

"Marín," he said again.

I swallowed. "Yeah?"

"You straightened your hair again, is that right?"

I nodded again.

"I don't like when you do that. Your curls are beautiful, you should let them be more often."

I sucked in a sharp breath and pulled myself up the stairs to my room. I shut the door behind me and collapsed onto my bed, breathing out slowly as I sank into the sheets. I just wanted to sleep until tomorrow, but I knew that wouldn't happen.

My phone vibrated with a text message. I flipped open the pink phone, finding that it was a text message from Ava.

"I got tix for the panic! concrt nxt week. u bettr be there"

The sight of her message pulled a smile across my face. I quickly typed one in return.

"I wont miss it fr anything :3"

The Panic! At the Disco concert was something I'd been looking forward to for the past month since they announced they were going on tour. Ava told me that she would buy the tickets for both of us, even though I said she didn't need to. She was always generous like that---I could never be sure why. She even borrowed her parents' car just so we could go into the city to see concerts.

I let my hair out of the ponytail and dressed down into some loose pajamas before I sat down at my desk and logged onto the computer. After checking MySpace, I opened up a game of Minesweeper and played mindlessly while the world drifted away.

My days and nights were monotonous. Every weekend, I let go of everything and savored the freedom I got, the kind of freedom to hide away from the world. Every Monday, I waited until Friday. Time passed and sometimes I wasn't even aware of it. What was I really waiting for? I couldn't be sure. Maybe it was the need to finally get out of this small town. To get away from my family and fly away somewhere where I could be free. I'd never given it much thought, though. Where was I going to go? What was I going to do? I was seventeen, and I still didn't have an answer. Of course I didn't tell anyone that. A smiling face was more pleasant than an incomplete character.

The only thing I had was Javier. He was the only piece of hope I could cling to. The only thing I truly looked forward to every single day, and the only thing that kept me hoping, praying for something wonderful. So I was actually going to talk to him. Maybe then, I would really be happy.

I lost my twentieth game of minesweeper when a knock sounded on my bedroom door. A pinch of anxiety squeezed at my stomach as I turned to look at the door. "Yeah?"

"Hey, mija, can I come in?" That was my mom's voice.

Relief washed over me. "Yeah. Come in."

The door creaked open and she peered her head in. "Dinner's ready."

I looked over her face, searching for just one single sign of love. Maybe it was the soft gaze, or her lips that seemed to be about to smile, or even just the way she sighed. But there was nothing. Just the cold visage of a tired woman who'd been working at the office all day, and her tie hadn't even been undone yet.

"Is that all?" I asked, still clinging to that hope for love.

She watched me for a moment and then nodded. "Yeah. Come and eat, your father and I are waiting." Without another word, she left my room, the door closing with a soft click behind her.

I tied my hair in a loose bun and reluctantly headed downstairs. The lights had been turned on and the smell of spaghetti was drifting through the air from the kitchen. It wasn't enough to drown out the persistent stench of smoking.

I sat down at the dining table and silently ate the stale spaghetti as my parents asked me questions they weren't going to wait for me to answer, and then spiraled back into a conversation about the mortgage and the news and politics. My mother's rough and hoarse smoker's voice sounded more harsh than she likely intended, and the dark circles under her eyes only contributed to her imposing gaze. Her composure and her ability to keep from yelling for longer than my father seemed to make her appear more mature, but that wasn't the case at all. Her maturity had disappeared long ago and these were the tricks she used to seem like she was in the right. My father's crass behavior and breath that stunk of cigarettes broke any argument he possibly could have had. No one would take him seriously, even since he started yelling way sooner than any logical person would have. My mother's composure pissed him off even more and only worsened the insults. Neither of them were right. Not by a long shot. But if I had to choose between the two of them, I preferred the emotional neglect of my mother over the imposing presence of my father. One over the other. If they remained together, it didn't matter. They hated each other, but somehow their worst tendencies worked hand in hand. If they remained together, they were both better off dead.

When I finished my food, I muttered a quiet, "Goodnight" in between their shouting. My father only looked at me for a brief second, his eyes most likely on my hair which I deliberately tied in such a sloppy manner. My mother did not even bother tossing a glance in my direction.

I walked up to my room, shut the door, and put on a loop of Ice Nine Kills's music. I turned off the overhead light in my room, and reread the poem Javier had written for the yearbook in 9th grade under the dying light of my desk lamp.