Page 10 of Break Point
My dad asked Miss Annie, my tutor, to give me a couple of days off from school to sort things out. He knows I need the rest, too. I’m not ready to go back to my 12th-grade curriculum, but I am one hundred percent looking forward to graduation. That way, I can focus all my time and energy on what really matters: tennis.
I hate school. It only adds to the stress. But I would rather finish high school with Miss Annie than back home in Montclair.
I don’t know how Gemma does it. We were both constantly targeted and bullied when we were kids for the same reason: being mixed race. She’s Korean American, and I’m Mexican American. Both born and raised in New Jersey.
Girls teased me all the time about how I was adopted because I didn’t look like Robbie and my mom. They would say the meanest things like how my mom had told their moms about it and how she didn’t love me because I wasn’t really hers. It was that pathetic. And it made me furious every single time.
Even though I knew it wasn’t true, the comments still hurt more than they could ever understand. The truth is I’ve never had a real connection with my mom. They couldn’t have hit a more tender nerve. If it weren’t because I’m the female version of my dad, I would’ve thought their adoption allegations were true. I asked my mom more than once about it, but she always brushed the question off with a laugh and said, “You’re all ours, Belén. Trust me.”
All ours.
Listening to her say those two words always lifted my spirits. Sometimes, I’d ask again simply because her answer reassured me. Iamhers. So even if she isn’t the best at communicating her feelings to me, that should mean she lovesme.
Once, I foolishly engaged with the bullies and said:I’m not adopted. My dad is Mexican, and I look like him. But I only said that once and I regretted it for life because one of them responded:No, he’s not! We’ve seen him picking you up after school, and he doesn’t look Mexican. Like, at all.
I still get sick to my stomach whenever I remember the girl’s face as she said that. It’s the most ignorant thing I’ve ever heard come out of someone’s mouth.
Dad is six-foot-three with a highly athletic build. He’s got dark brown hair, light brown eyes, and a permanent tan from years of training and playing baseball under the sun. He’s 100% Mexican. I don’t know what kind of discount postcard version of Mexico those girls had in their heads, but they seriously needed to get out more. Mexicans come in all colors, shapes, and sizes.
If they saw my father picking me up at school, then they couldn’t have missed the resemblance between us, but they wanted to keep rubbing the adopted storyline in my face to piss me off.
That’s the deranged psychological warfare I grew up with at school.
The racist comments Gemma had to endure were even worse. The ridiculous and inappropriate stuff flung her way is not worth mentioning. It was bad enough that two girls were suspended once because of it.
They should’ve thrown their racist asses out of school if you ask me. But money talks and most of those girls’ families have plenty.
Money’s funny like that; it can bleach a reputation in under thirty seconds. Once we grew up and they all found out Gemma’s father is one of the wealthiest men in the entire state of New York, they started kissing her ass left and right.
Thankfully, I was gone by then. When I started competing in the junior Grand Slams, a few girls from school reached out, mostly to ask for tickets to tennis events. I always said I didn’t have any to spare, even when I did. Not only do I not need many friends, but I also don’t have time for them.
I’m good with Gemma.
Jae Cho, Gemma’s father, is a self-made billionaire who owns a cybersecurity firm in Manhattan. Robbie’s studying Computer Engineering at NYU, and he can’t shut up about how he would love to work there one day. And I’m sure Papa Jae wouldn’t have a problem with hiring him and allowing him to work his way from the bottom up because not only are our parents close friends, but Robbie’s a total nerd. They’d be lucky to have him.
I love Robbie, but I’m enjoying him not being around the apartment today for obvious reasons.
After Gemma informs us it’s time to remove our face masks, I walk to the kitchen and grab some plates from the cupboard, taking extra care to avoid ruining my fresh red nail polish.
Liam stands behind me and kisses my cheek as I carefully place the pizza box on the table. I brace my hands on the cold marble and angle my neck to catch his mouth. His hands settle on my waist and pull me back against him, making me forget about pizza altogether.
“You smell so good,” he says in my ear after breaking the kiss. “Icannotwait for Gemma to leave.”
“I heard that!” Gemma shouts from the kitchen, slamming the fridge door shut. “And I’m not leaving until I eat my pizza in peace.”
Liam laughs after I elbow him playfully in the gut.
“You’re only going to make her want to stay longer,” I whisper in between chuckles as Liam pulls out a chair for me.
“Oh, come on, Gemms! I was messing with you!” Liam shouts back, grabbing the chair next to mine.
He’s only making it worse.
“Now get your ass in here so you can be done eating your pizzain peacealready!”
“Very funny,” she retorts, walking over to the table.
I can see she’s trying not to laugh. Liam’s easy grin is irresistible.
