Free Bait by Alex Sanchez

don’t care about me. You never have.”
    “Of course I care.” She snapped a look at him. “You think it’s easy being your mother? I’ve always taken care of you. Why do you think I work two jobs? And you repay me by getting into fights and cutting yourself!”
    There it was: accusing him of trying to get back at her.
    “I forbid you to do this anymore,” she told him.
    “It’s my skin. I’ll do what I want.” He picked up the pen and slammed it onto the table. “Just sign the form.”
    “Don’t talk to me that way!”
    “I’ll talk to you any damn way I want!”
    “I’m going to tell Mr. Vidas,” his mom said.
    “Tell him! I don’t care. There are things I can tell him too, you know.” His fists began to curl. He had to get away before he did something he’d regret.
    He stormed to his room, slammed the door, and rammed his fist through the wall. Pain seared through his knuckles, overpowering his anger. As he withdrew his hand from the plasterboard, he shook his fingers out. His fist hurt like crazy. But at least he’d only punched a wall.

CHAPTER 9
     
    T HE FOLLOWING MORNING , Diego found both copies of the probation contract lying on the kitchen counter, signed by his mom.
    “Good morning,” she told him while tending to Eddie’s breakfast.
    “Morning,” he grumbled back, his anger still smoldering.
    “Do you want to see a doctor?” she asked, gazing toward his arms—and the cuts beneath his sleeves.
    “Are you sick?” Eddie asked him.
    “No,” Diego told both of them. “I’m fine.” His mom’s sudden concern annoyed him. Why hadn’t she paid as much attention to him before, when Mac was alive? He wolfed down his breakfast and left for school, eager to take his mind off of home.
    As he approached his locker, he spotted Ariel across the hallway with her friends. Seeing him, she waved hi. He waved back, kind of embarrassed that he still hadn’t worked up the nerve to call her.
    For the remainder of the day, he repeated over and over in his mind the advice Vidas had given him: Relax. Trust yourself. Be honest. Keep breathing. You can do it.
    That evening after dinner, while Eddie watched TV, Diego carried the phone to his room. Trembling a little, he opened his notebook to the page with Ariel’s number. Buoyed by the smiley she’d drawn, he dialed.
    When she answered, he swallowed hard, trying to quench his suddenly parched throat. “Um, hi. This is Diego. You know, from school?”
    “I know,” she said cheerily. “I recognize your voice.”
    He assumed she meant she didn’t like it. “I don’t like it either. Sounds like a frog.”
    “No, it doesn’t,” she protested. “I like it. It sounds mature.”
    Mature? Nobody had ever described his voice as mature. She must be joking.
    “I like your voice,” he told her, not just being nice; he meant it.
    “Thanks. So, what are you up to?”
    “Um, calling you.” He switched the phone to his other hand to wipe the sweat from his palm. “You told me to, remember?”
    “Of course. I was wondering when you would.” She gave a soft laugh. “You’re funny.”
    “Um, I am?” He liked that he could make her laugh. Maybe he wasn’t as depressing as he thought. “So, like, um…” He realized he should ask her something before she started asking him questions. “So, um, how’re your fish? You bought neon tetras, right?”
    “Wow, you remember that?”
    “Yeah…” He felt himself turning neon red. “Tetras are a good choice for freshwater aquariums. They tend to be peaceful and hardy.”
    “So far they’re great,” Ariel agreed. “How about you? Do you have any fish?”
    “Saltwater ones,” he explained and told her about his clownfish and gobies. Then they got to talking about classes and school. Actually, she did most of the talking, like Vidas had predicted. To his relief, she didn’t ask about Mac’s suicide or anything really personal. Maybe she hadn’t spotted his cuts. And all the while Diego kept