Free Not Anything by Carmen Rodrigues Page A

him.
    “You know what I like about movies?” he says. “I like that we get to see into these characters who are awkward and shy and sometimes they’re everything that we feel like on the inside. But instead of hating them like we do in real life, we love them…We want them to be happy. Have you ever seen a John Hughes film? He directed The Breakfast Club and Sixteen Candles. ”
    “Puh-leeze,” I tell him. “Blockbuster practically has me on their VIP list. I’ve pretty much seen everything John Hughes ever did. And I’m a really big Molly Ringwald fan,” I confess.
    “Me, too.” He shakes his head, and curls fall every which way. I can’t take my eyes off him.
    “What do you want to be when you grow up?” he asks.
    “I don’t know.” I lean my head against the wall and act like I’m considering the question. The truth is I do know. I’ve always known. I want to be a songwriter. But I’ve never shared that information with anyone besides Marisol. “I think I…” I almost change my mind, but, once again, I decide to take a chance. “I think I want to be a writer.”
    “Oh,” Danny says. “That’s cool. Like your dad, right?” he asks.
    “No, not exactly…Hey, how did you know my dad’s a writer?”
    “The same way you seem to know so much about my grandfather.” He arches his eyebrows, rolls off the bed, and stands in the doorway. “We’d better call your dad before he starts worrying.”
    I had forgotten that lie and the time. I smile at the idea that my father might be remotely aware of my absence.
    “Let me just go tell my mom, okay? I’ll be right back.”
    When he’s gone, I walk over to his bed and lift his pillow to my nose. I inhale deeply and then place it back in exactly the position that I found it. He smells just like I remembered. Like Zest and Neutrogena. I walk back over to the wall with posters and lean against it. I reach into my shirt and pull out the heart-shaped rose quartz that Marisol bought me for my last birthday. It’s supposed to bring me good luck. I place it between the palms of my hands and make a wish.
    I wish that Danny will be able to one day see inside me and know how I feel. Then I slide down the wall and wait for his return.

FIFTEEN

a part of the family
    “susie, this is my mom. mami, this is susie shannon.”
    Mrs. Diaz is a petite woman with long brown hair and big brown eyes. I’ve seen her a few times before with Danny’s grandfather, but at the time I had no idea who she was, and I’ve never seen her up close. Now I see that she’s about the same height and weight as a junior high student. She’s maybe five feet and looks like she barely weighs a hundred pounds. I try to imagine how she carried twins to term and can barely get past the idea that she was ever pregnant.
    “Susie?”
    When she says my name, I stand. I tower above her, making her seem even more dwarflike. “Mrs. Diaz.” I extend my hand to meet hers, but she pulls me forward and gives me a kiss on the cheek.
    “I’m happy to finally meet you,” she says. “Danny has told us so much about you.” My heart skips two beats at the idea of Danny discussing me with his mother before I realize that she’s being polite, and I tuck my fantasies away.
    “These heels are killing my feet.” Mrs. Diaz steps out of her shoes and shrinks two inches. Forget dwarf. This lady is a hobbit.
    “Where do you work?” I ask, trying to avoid calling my father for as long as possible.
    “I work for the Department of Children and Families.”
    “Oh…” I decide to stall for more time, so I force myself to ask one more question. “Do you like it?”
    “Well, let’s see…” Mrs. Diaz sighs wearily. “I go to work every day and meet lots of abused children and disillusioned families. Oh, and on days like today I get to stay more than an hour late. It’s loads of fun.”
    “Oh,” I say, and then I stare at my fingernails. It’s one of those awkward moments that I