Cubanita by Gaby Triana Read Free Book Online Page B

her head cocked, eyebrows frozen in the upposition, apparently disappointed that my mother failed to give her the latest scoop. “You’re dating someone?” She looks around for Mami and spots her behind me saying hello to the Hewitts from across the street. “ Elena, tú no me dijiste que Isa estaba— ”
    â€œ No, Sandra, Isa no está dating anybody.”
    Should it surprise me that Mami managed to overhear our conversation, exercise the Jedi mind trick, and greet the neighbors all at the same time? Now this is skill, people.
    Let me just leave Sandra some food for thought. It’ll drive her crazy and will arrive at my mother’s ears in two minutes flat. “She’s right. I wouldn’t call it ‘dating.’”
    While Sandra’s still thinking this over, Coach Andrew and Susy enter the living room, with Dad behind them. They’re all looking for me, so I lift a hand and excuse myself from Sandra’s trap. “See you later. You look great, by the way!”
    â€œ Ay, gracias, mi hija .” She runs a hand through her hair.
    I bounce over to Andrew and Susy. “Hey there.”
    â€œHey.” Susy and I exchange air smooches. I notice her surveying me out of the corner of her eye as I brush cheeks with Andrew. “So, what’s up?” she asks, scanning the party crowd. “Is Patty here yet?”
    â€œShe might be outside.”
    â€œI’ll go check.” She struts off to find the gossip queen of our family.
    â€œDad,” I say, pulling him back before he has the chance to walk away. “You met Andrew?”
    â€œYes.” Dad pats Andrew on the back, like he’s found a newprotégé. “A business major. Good, good.” Then he goes outside to check the death pit and see how the lechón is doing. We follow him onto the patio.
    â€œNice house,” Andrew says. There’s a very subtle hush, and I can feel forty pairs of eyes on us. I can just imagine everyone’s questions now. Who’s that guy? Where’s Robi? Is that Isa’s new beau? ¿Quién coño es ese tipo?
    Before I can even say thanks, hello, how you doin’, want a croqueta ?, Stefan presses a cold bottle of Corona to my neck, and I squeal, “You jerk!” This is to attract the attention of anyone who may not already be noticing Andrew and me, such as the babies, dragonflies, and people across the canal.
    Stefan thinks this is extremely funny and a clever way of getting me to introduce Andrew to him. “Yo, bro, what’s up? I’m her brother.” He extends a hand to my guest.
    â€œStefan,” I tell Andrew. “‘Brother’ isn’t his real name.”
    Andrew takes his hand, and they shake like buddies. “Andrew.”
    â€œLike the hurricane.”
    â€œExactly.”
    â€œActually he is a Hurricane,” I clarify.
    Apparently, from the way he’s staring at me, like his seventeen-year-old sister shouldn’t be calling a guy she’s only gone out with once a hurricane, Stefan still doesn’t get what I mean.
    I shake my head. “A UM Hurricane, fool!”
    â€œOh!” Stefan tilts his head back, hand on his hip, other hand on his beer. “So you play football? That’s cool.”
    Jesus. He’s hopeless.
    Andrew tries helping Stefan out. “No, bro. I just go to school there.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œYeah, as in study?” I say. “As in he does something with his life besides scope the beach for sucias ?”
    â€œFor what?” Andrew asks.
    â€œâ€™Hos,” I explain.
    â€œ Coño , Isa, I do not look for sucias . ¿ Qué te pasa? ¿ Tu ’tá nerviosa porque Fulanito ’tá aquí? ”
    I hate when he does this. It’s so rude of him to tell me things in Spanish when someone else around doesn’t understand him. It’s like abusing a superhuman power.
    Andrew clears his throat.