4

When did he get here?

The last time I checked, there wasn’t a handsome Hispanic boy sitting next to me. I scanned the room, waiting for someone—anyone—to react, but nobody cared. Nobody even noticed.

Had he been here the whole time? Wasn’t someone else sitting next to me a few minutes ago?

Mrs. Payne kept teaching, but my brain had checked out. My eyes kept drifting back to Marcelo.

Who is he?

Why don’t I know him?

Before I could come up with an answer, Mrs. Payne wrapped up her five-minute lesson and sent us to the whiteboards.

I went to the one in the far-left corner—the spot nobody ever chose. As I worked through the problems, I noticed something strange.

Everyone else was gathered around Marcelo.

High-fives. Laughing. Girls flirting, asking if he had a girlfriend. Guys asking if he was playing baseball this year.

Sure, he was handsome. But was he smart?

Doubt it.

I focused on my math. Two problems in the room erupted again.

Marcelo was finished.

All of them.

There was no way he got them right.

“Wow! You got them all correct! Great job, Marcelo!” Mrs. Payne said.

It’s whatever.

It really isn’t a big deal.

The bell rang, and the entire class poured out—around him. They asked questions like he was Cristiano Ronaldo.

Yeah, we get it. You’re better than me in every possible way.

I headed to the art room and the first thing that hit me was the smell of rotten eggs. Every year it got worse. Every year the school ignored it. Mr. McCoy tried to fight it with floral spray. It worked for maybe twenty minutes before surrendering. Eventually, so did he.

The seating chart was already posted. Round tables. Five seats each. I was with Mason, Jason, Bella Rich, and Macey Wittnauer. Other than Mason, it wasn’t terrible.

Mason just needed to be tolerated. Bella was the least fake senior girl—she had moments of being human. Macey was quiet so it would be easy to ignore. She looked like Violet-from-The-Incredibles. Quiet, hair covering one eye, purple headphones, and beautiful purple eyes I’d never seen on a person before. She stayed locked into her notebook like eye contact might hurt her. I sat down and started doodling until a familiar voice cut through.

“Yo! Juan!”

“That’s not my name, Mason.”

He blinked. “You sure?”

I was close to snapping.

“How do you not know his name?” Jason said. “We’ve known him for four years.”

Thank you.

“I was messing with him,” Mason said. “Right, Pablo?”

That’s also not my name.

Jason nodded. “Yeah, respect my boy Pablo.”

I gave up on trying to correct them. The bell rings so loud I almost went deaf.

“Good morning, students,” Mr. McCoy said. “Welcome back.”

He was the only teacher who actually cared. He always had a flannel with a gold cross with clean shoes. He’s always smiling. I mean when you’re married to a model, who wouldn’t smile all the time?

“You’ll keep these seats all semester,” he said.

Bella raised her hand immediately.

“Yes, Bella?”

“There’s already a problem. I need to move.”

“What’s the issue?”

“These people are annoying. Weird. And they smell.”

“At least I don’t smell like caramel,” Mason said.

“…Is that an insult?”

“Obviously.”

“That’s a compliment,” Jason said.

Everyone agreed.

Mason went quiet.

“Okay,” Mr. McCoy said carefully. “Let’s stay in these seats.”

Bella sighed like she’d been sentenced.

“I think you’ll bring out the best in each other,” he continued. “Which leads to our first project.”

He paused.

“Draw yourself.”

No reaction.

“Draw a better version of yourself—the one you want to become. Then draw how you see yourself right now.”

The due date was the end of the year.

I started to draw. I started with my face. Big nose. Pimples. Curly hair—the one thing I liked. Then I drew an oversized hoodie and baggy pants.

The better version was cleaner. Same hair. Smaller nose. No pimples. Slit eyebrows. Goatee. Muscles, but still skinny.

Mason leaned over.

“You think you’ll end up like that, Pablo?”

“No,” I said. “But you definitely won’t.”

I looked at his drawing. He pretty much drew himself twice.

“I’m already great,” he said.

Bella laughed. Jason laughed harder.

Macey finally spoke. “Can you guys shut up?”

The room goes quiet for a few seconds.

Bella checked Jason’s drawing and lost it.

A space cowboy. With a pig.

“It’s me in the future,” Jason said.

He laughed—but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I don’t know who I want to be,” he admitted quietly.

He looked at my drawing.

“Honestly, you already look like this guy.”

Bella agreed.

I didn’t know what to do with that.

When Mr. McCoy reached our table, he paused at mine.

“Good work, Villarreal,” he said. “Probably the best in the class.”

When he walked away, everyone stared.

“Who’s Villarreal?” Mason asked.

“It’s his last name, idiot.” Jason said.

For once, they got something right. I look at my drawing and as I stare at it, I think to myself that maybe I wasn’t as bad as I thought I was.