Every Girl's Guide to Boys by Marla Miniano Read Free Book Online Page A

soaked with sweat. Mom is
crouching helplessly beside him, trying to calm him down.
    “What happened?” I ask.
Justin is a generally well-behaved kid and rarely throws tantrums, so this is a
cause for alarm. I can barely hear myself above his crying.
    “We went next door for
his playdate with Gio, only to find out they were gone,” Mom explains.
    “What do you mean,
gone? Gone where?”
    Mom pulls me aside and
whispers, “The guard at the gate says Mrs. Diaz drove a loaded van out of the
village last night, with Gio in the front seat. Gossip travels fast around
here, and apparently, she caught her husband with another woman. They had a
huge fight, things got ugly, and now she and Gio are moving to Cebu to stay
with her sister for good.”
      “Oh my God,” I say. I feel myself
involuntarily plopping down on the grass as well. The Diazes seemed like a
lovely, picture-perfect family, so this was extremely shocking news. They lived
in a nice house, owned a nice car, dressed up in nice clothes. They seemed
content and cheerful, and they had warm smiles and friendly greetings for
everyone. From an outsider’s point of view, they were a portrait of happiness.
I wonder what the rest of the world looks like from their perspective, and I
wonder how they had managed to keep up their pretenses when the very structure
of their family was crumbling from within. Justin and Gio have been best
friends since they were toddlers—literally growing up together—and
I understand now why my brother is so devastated. I stroke his back. “It’s
okay, sweetie,” I tell him, trying to make my voice as comforting as possible.
“Don’t cry, please.” It breaks my heart watching him, because really, how do
you expect a five-year-old to deal with being suddenly abandoned? How do you
explain to a little kid that abrupt changes and unwelcome surprises are two of
the most consistent curveballs life will throw at him? I continue stroking his
back, and this seems to soothe him a bit, because his bawling eventually turns
to sobbing, and his sobbing quiets down to whimpering. He looks up at me and
Mom with big, innocent eyes and asks, “Is Gio ever coming back?”
    Mom and I glance at
each other. She says softly, “No, honey, I don’t think he is. I’m so sorry.”
    Justin’s lip starts
quivering, but he takes a deep, brave breath and doesn’t cry again. Instead, he
wipes his tear-stained face with his dirt-smudged shirt, then waits for me to
stand and pull him to his feet. He takes my hand and lets me lead him back
inside, lets Mom help him change into clean clothes, and lets me feed him Honey
Stars in bed, the way I do when he’s sick or sad or not feeling well. I resist
the urge to crawl in under the covers with him. He drifts off to sleep in the
middle of the day, and I stare at him wistfully, wishing I could shield him
from all the pain in the world, before
tucking his blanket under his chin, kissing him on the forehead, tiptoeing out
of the room, and carefully closing the door behind me.
     
      “You know what your problem is?”
Rickie asks me. I know she’s not really asking me, because my answer will not
matter to her, because she’s going to tell me what my problem is anyway. I do
not need Rickie to tell me what my problem is. I know what my problem is.
    Anna pipes in, “She
doesn’t know, Ric. Tell her.” I gave them permission to come over because they
promised not to gang up on me, but both of them are clearly enjoying putting me
on the spot. We are seated around the dining table, eating peanut butter
waffles, and technically trying to patch things up.
    “Your problem,” Rickie
says authoritatively, “Is that you don’t even know you have a problem. You
think everything will be okay even if you don’t actually get up to do
something, you think things will work themselves out naturally.” I don’t know
where this is coming from, and why she thinks she has a right to say this,
although for as long as I’ve known