Page 68 of All Superheroes Need PR
I shake my head and shudder. “I ... I’m ... it’s confidential.” She looks so disappointed when I say that, even though she nods, that I tell her something I shouldn’t at all. I lean in and whisper, “Mamá, I ... met someone who shouldn’t exist. I can’t say more. I need to talk to Roland and the COE first.”
Her faded eyebrows pull together; her voice mellows into a hush. “Mi amor, are you in danger?”
“I don’t know. The person ... something about them was wrong. I’ll tell you when I can, I promise.” If I can. “When it’s safe.”
My mamá nods and glances toward our front door, which hangs open, guarded by a magnetic screen through which I can see the boys in the driveway clearly. “You stay close to that boy then, princesita. At least until you know for sure.”
“I will.”
“You trust him?”
“I do.” And then I huff, “You probably think I’m crazy, though, huh? Trusting one of the Forty-Eight?”
Elena smiles softly. She glances at the door again. “He told us what he did for you ... to that place.” She makes the sign of the cross over her chest, and for once, I know she’s not making that sign because he’s an alien.
I tense, but not for as long as I should. In fact, my initial hesitation at the mention of that wretched place feels more like a trained reaction. But when I think about that place? Really think? I don’t feel anything about it at all. Just the shadow of a ghost of terror. When Elena mentions it, the words in my head are no longer in that terrible woman’s voice; they’re in mine.
“Roland may be special, pero es un buen hombre.”
I beam at her, my lower lip pinching as the butterfly bandage stretches. I’m immediately annoyed when my eyes tear upagain. I throw my arms around her shoulders and squeeze her shorter frame against my body with all the love I have in me. “This family is the best thing that ever happened to me, and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because of me. I love you, Mamá.”
Elena’s whole body softens like butter. She hugs me back ferociously. “No, honey. We didn’t come into your life. You came into ours.Youare the best thing that happened tous. We love you so much. I love you so much.” She pulls back, and her eyes are glossy as they dart to thewindow, where the sound of the ball against the pavement lets me know that the game has restarted. “And maybe, just maybe, I might be willing to share a little of your love with the right person.”
“Roland’s not really a person, technically.”
She swats my shoulder and points to the door, but she still doesn’t make the sign of the cross. I take that as a good start and laugh as she says, “Now go. Go outside and break up the brawl before your brothers hurt your novio, or accidentally hurt themselvesonyour novio.”
She flutters her hand toward me and heads toward the kitchen, leaving me to shuffle through the magnetic screen guarding the open front door. After admiring the doorknob, which is still misshapen from the very first time Roland met my parents, my attention pulls toward the sound of a basketball hitting pavement. I look up andwhoosh.
Rollo is standing near the center of my parents’ circular driveway, coming down from a jump shot that would count for a lot more than three points if this were a regulation-sized court because the hoop is all the way on the other side of the driveway. His bright-red sneakers hit the pavement, and I know they aren’t his because he was wearing his uniform before with the shoes built in, and I feel some kinda warmth rise in my chest at the knowledge that one of my brothers must have loaned them to him.
He hits the ground. My dad’s standing closest to the basket and nabs the ball as it drops cleanly through the hoop. It looks like it’s all four of them against Rollo. I can’t help the smile that envelops my face and soothes my soul. I feel the same way I did watching that blackened patch of earth from the sky, tucked inside the world’s strongest arms.
My brothers are all waving Roland off. Luca is muttering under his breath. Mani, who’s the most competitive among the bunch—after Luca—is shouting, “That’s not fucking fair! We said no jump shots!”
“All his shots are jump shots. We said noflightshots.” David might be defending him but sounds just as pissed. My dad passes him the basketball, and David tucks it under his arm. He points at me. “Your boyfriend cheats.”
I try to suppress my grin but can’t. I like the way my body heats when David says that. “I take it that means my boyfriend is winning?”
“Heaven help me.” My dad shakes his head and punches the ball out of David’s grip. It hits the ground, and he dribbles once, twice, turns, and shoots ... The ball bounces off the rim. “He has a name. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you all used it.”
Mani runs for the ball while Luca and David turn toward me. David is closest. His hair is damp with sweat and brushes the tops of his shoulders. I glance at Rollo. He’s smiling with one half of his mouth cocked up, his head tilted a little to the side. He looks almost wistful. Boyish, even.
Happy, most of all.
“Do you mind them calling you my boyfriend? Or me?” I ask him.
Rollo’s expression shifts. His hand, which had been touching his naked chest, tantalizingly trailing over his abdomen, drops to the band of his basketball shorts. He swallows and shakes his head, then reconsiders on a nod. “Actually, yes. I do mind.”
“You do?”
“Thank heavens,” my dad mutters.
“Yeah.” He takes a step toward me that raises the temperature of the air surrounding us. “Only because you won’t let me call youwifeyet.”
“That ain’t happening,” my dad all but snarls. He passes his hand over his coiled curls.
I laughloudly. I don’t usually laugh like this, and I can see the surprise on my brothers’ faces take root for a second before they start laughing too. “You all should mind! That’s your baby sister. You’re my baby girl, and you’re too young to be dating.”
