Both Maria and I wait, distressed, for Santiago’s answer. The few seconds he spends staring at us, surprised and wide eyed, seem like hours.

“No, I don't have a girlfriend,” he replies, at last. Maria and I sigh, relieved. “Why?” He asks, looking back and forth at us.

“Max told me yesterday you were with a very pretty girl, and I wanted to know if you were going out together.” Maria explains, as if I were the only one involved. I feel a blush creeping up my neck, but then I realize Santiago would never think my feelings for him are stronger than what friends feel for each other.

“Ah, Sandy is my sister.”

“Your sister?” Maria and I ask at the same time. I’m more surprised than her, because truthfully, I don’t think they look alike. Sandy has pale skin, blond hair and honey brown eyes; she looks like a European porcelain doll. Whereas Santiago’s dark gray eyes are slightly slanted, and his hair is bluish black, as if his blood were a mixture of different worlds.

Before Maria has a chance to ask another question, the teacher arrives and starts the literature lesson. I try to pay attention to what he’s explaining, but sitting next to the person you like fills your day with distractions. Even the slightest movement from Santiago's hands catches my eyes, and when a strand of hair covers his eyes, the curiosity I feel is almost unbearable. When he touches his neck and shoulder, as if they hurt from tiredness, I confess, I have the urge to touch him, kiss his neck and slowly go down his shoulders while my fingers play with his hair. I end up fantasizing. I get lost in those surreal moments, until I meet eyes with him and come back to reality. The class is over.

“Max, do you want to walk back home with me?” Santiago says as he puts his notebook inside his backpack.

“Ah, sure, let’s go,” I say, trying to hide my joy. From the corner of my eye, I see Maria, watching me with disappointment in her eyes. She's probably expecting me to help her, to come up with some sort of situation where she gets to be close to Santiago, but those moments belong to me. For a second I worry about her finding out we like the same person.

We get out of school, and as expected, Santiago walks silently the entire time, while I try to start any kind of conversation without much luck. His monosyllabic answers make me more nervous and afraid he might get bored. We walk by the bus stop where I always chat with Julio, Sofia, and Maria, who now stare at me, surprised. I just manage to make a plead with both hands, muttering, “sorry,” and I see Maria mouthing slowly, “betrayal.” Suddenly, as if he were remembering something, Santiago turns around to tell me something.

“Max, I told you Sandy’s my sister a while back and... You’ve probably noticed we don’t look alike. Well, it’s just that... we're adopted...” He says and looks down at the floor. “It’s not something that bothers me to talk about, but people often say things like ‘poor things’, and to be honest, we don’t feel that way. I don’t know why they pity us, I feel lucky! I have the best adoptive parents, and I know they love me a lot.” He assures me as he looks up with a shy smile that becomes the one that makes me blush. Knowing he’s happy makes me happy, and for a moment I think that the ones that are unlucky are his real parents, because they didn’t get to know Santiago, or see that beautiful smile of his.

“We're the lucky ones, we have the chance to have you close to us,” I say, and for the first time, I think Santiago blushes a bit.

After that Santiago keeps talking. Now that he got that out of the way, he feels more comfortable to talk about anything else. He tells me about his time in Japan, and how he happened to find out about badminton while he was in school there, and about the contests he participated in. I discover he’s one of the best players in his region, and that one of his dreams is to go back to play with his old rivals.

Our walk back home ends with Santiago saying, “So you’re coming for badminton practice tomorrow, right?”

And me, replying, “Of course.”