Page 173 of Pride High 3: Yellow
“Nah. I kind of like the bi thing, as weird as that sounds, but she’s gotwaytoo many secrets.”
“And you don’t?”
“No!”
“So you have told her everything. Including the time that I was driving you home from Worlds of Fun, and we didn’t make it to a toilet on time. You told Silvia about that?”
Omar’s face burned at the memory. He had wet his pants. And he wasn’t exactly a little kid when it happened. He didn’t want to do the math. It was too humiliating. “I didnottell her about that.”
“We all have secrets,” Mamani said. “They come out slowly as we learn to trust someone. But if she is sneaking around on you, that is not a nice girl.”
“She was just trying to figure out who she is,” Omar said. “I guess I am too. Do you think I should give her another chance?”
Mamani shrugged. “That is for you to decide.” She fluffed an accent pillow and handed it to him before leaning forward, so he could tuck it behind her back. “You know,” Mamani said while settling against it. “I don’t believe in reincarnation, but I do enjoy the concept as a sort of—how would you put it?—brain workout.”
“Thought exercise,” he supplied.
“Yes. And I very much like the idea of meeting your grandfather as someone new. I would enjoy getting to know him again. It would be like falling in love a second time.”
Omar thought about it. Silvia was cool. And pretty. And not who he thought she was, sure, but he wasn’t going to remain celibate for the rest of his life. Someday he would meet some other awesome chick who was hot and hopefully interested in him. Silvia already was. And she cared, even though they had both gotten things wrong.
“Ah, nowCasablanca, that is a romantic movie!” Mamani said, her attention on the television again. “I’m sure it can teach you more about love. Would you like to watch it with me?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “That one has been on my list since forever, but I’m not really in the mood for anything sappy.”
“I see. Would you like to watch a movie about people in an underground resistance who fight the Nazis?”
“Yeah!” he said. “That sounds way cooler!”
“Good. It is the same movie. Turn up the volume, please.”
Omar grinned and did exactly that. He might not be spending the day with his girlfriend, but hedidhave a truly beautiful woman at his side.
CHAPTER 28
May 23rd, 1993
Ricky’s anxiety increased the more they packed and got ready to leave the cave. He hadn’t slept well last night. He kept having variations of the same dream. At first he was playing chess with Dr. Sharma, who beat him easily, just as she had in real life. After that, every time he looked up from the board, his opponent was someone new. His mother. Detective Truman. Graham Fowler. Anthony. Ricky kept losing to all of them. In the final version of the dream, Diego had been sitting across from him. Except his boyfriend refused to play. The last thing he remembered before waking up was Diego knocking the entire board off the table.
Ricky had woken up in his arms, which made him feel a little better. He’d tried to banish the dream from his thoughts. Usually they were so easy to forget. Not this one. The symbolism was hardly subtle: He wasn’t thinking far enough ahead, like Dr. Sharma wanted him to. That continued to nag him as the afternoon wore on. The canned pasta they had eaten for lunch hadn’t kept him full. He was getting hungry and it was still hours until dinner. As romantic as making love to Diego had been last night, Ricky felt gross and wanted a shower. And he was sick of the chilly air in the cave, which made it hard to stay warm. He used that as motivation to get moving so they could leave.
That became an increasingly frightening prospect. Ricky had never been to El Paso. He wasn’t even sure exactly where it was. Somewhere in Texas along the Mexican border. Would the town be like the Westerns he sometimes watched with his dad? The thought of sitting on the couch with him on a lazy Sunday afternoon put a lump in his throat. Was his father out searching the streets for him at this very moment?
“That’s everything,” Diego said, walking over to him while loaded up like a pack mule. “Grab the cooler. We might need it.”
“For what?” Ricky asked.
“It’s a fifteen-hour drive. I’m not sure where we’re staying tonight. You’ve gotta be eighteen to get a motel, and the type that don’t ask for ID aren’t the nicest. I can try though. Otherwise, we might be camping on the road somewhere.”
Ricky swallowed.
Diego noticed. “We’ll be okay. I’ve made this run plenty of times. I’ll probably just power through the whole night like I usually do.”
Was that safe? Or would he nod off when driving at three in the morning? Ricky didn’t express these concerns. He put on his backpack and grabbed the cooler.
“You gonna be all right?” Diego ask as they entered the woods.
“It’s not so bad during the day,” Ricky replied. Besides, a bigger monster—the uncertain future—was looming over his usual fears, making them seem small and insignificant.
