Staring at my phone, I think of what to text Camila. I type a phrase, then delete, then repeat. I’m at home now, chilling in the living room. Mom pulls her car in the garage. 

“I am SO SORRY,” I text. “Mom saw my test score in Algebra and is making me study. No going out till I bring up my math grade. I SUCK. SORRY.” I end with a heart and a crying face emoji. Then I put my phone away and don’t wait for her response. No matter what, it will make me feel bad. I can’t give up a one-on-one with Mateo. I’m gonna help him kick Tanner’s ass next Friday, and that’s what’s most important right now. Of course, there are other reasons I look forward to helping him. 

Mom marches inside carrying a stack of folders. She walks right past me into the dining room, tossing the folders on the table.

“Lord, how I am gonna get through all of this by seven?” I think she’s just talking to herself, but I answer anyway. 

“What’s at seven?”

“Shit, Aiden.” Her cheeks redden. “I didn’t tell you, did I?”

“Tell me what?”

“Sit down.” I’m already sitting on the sofa in the living room across from the dining room table. “Never mind. Let me join you.” She takes a deep breath and puts a hand on my knee. “I know this may be weird, but I have a question to ask you.”

“It’s okay, Mom.” I laugh a little. “Let me guess. You have a date with Mr. Samuels?”

“How did you know?” The red in her cheeks deepens.

I shrug. “It’s fine. Will you just warn me if he stays the night? I don’t wanna run into my English teacher if I’m wearing nothing but my underwear.”

“Oh, God.” I wouldn’t have thought it was possible for her to get any redder, but her face is a beet now. “That won’t happen. I mean—of course, I would tell you. But, if that would happen it would be a long, long time from now.” She fans herself with her hand and stands. Then she kisses me on the cheek. “Thank you for being so understanding. I love you.”

“Love you, too.” Will you be this understanding with me, if I ever get the courage to tell you who I really am?

Running her hands through her messy hair, she sighs. “I need a shower.” 

I check my phone. I have a text of nothing but cry-face emojis from Camila. I reply back with the exact same number of cry-faces plus a broken heart.

Then I text Mateo. “On my way.”

I hop off the sofa and run to my bedroom. I reapply some deodorant, probably too much. My pits are caked with white—it looks like a blizzard under my arms, but they smell good. I put on a clean T-shirt. At first, I grab a Hornets shirt, but I don’t feel like showing school spirit. I ditch it for a shirt Mom bought me the last time we went to the mall. It’s a gray shirt with a retro Nintendo Game Boy design. 

Then I run to the bathroom door. Without opening it, I shout, “Mom, I’m going to Mateo’s to study. Be back before you do, I’m sure.” She yells something back through the running water, but I can’t make it out. I go into the garage and get my bike.

I ride to his house, and nothing could wipe the smile from my face. I haven’t had a best friend since last spring. David. He and his family moved away, and we didn’t end on the best of terms, anyway. I spent the summer before high school pretty much just watching movies and hanging with Mom. Then when school started, I somehow got a girlfriend. It all kind of happened by accident. I don’t know why Camila likes me, but I’m lucky that she does.

Now, I have the chance for a high school best friend. A friend who’s tough, too, and isn’t afraid of the bullies. A friend who . . . no . . . I shake the thought from my head. Let’s not go there. Just focus on friendship!

The thought returns. I can’t stop it.

A friend who is maybe, just maybe, like me? I mean, really like me?

No, he can’t be, I answer myself. He told you he wasn’t gay.

Yeah, and you said the same to him! Maybe you’re both liars!

Maybe? Maybe. 

But unlikely. I know. 

Shut up, stupid brain!

I bike to Mateo’s faster. My side hurts a little, but not too bad. When I get to Mateo’s, his dad opens the door. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Hernandez,” I say. He shakes my hand.

“Mateo is in the basement.” He leads me to the door, and I take the stairs two at a time.

Mateo stands shirtless with his back to me. He’s got earbuds in, and he picks up a weighted bar and puts it over his shoulders. Then he squats, over and over. 

Sweat trickles down my forehead, and I swallow hard. Don’t get excited. I pull my Game Boy T-shirt down over my crotch just to be safe. He has back dimples right above his rear, and they deepen with each squat. The muscles around his back bulge against his tight spine with each motion. 

What does he need me for?

He sets down the weight and looks over his shoulder. Taking out the earbuds, he says, “Hey, Aiden!”

“Hey,” I say, my voice cracking. “Hi.”

“This is my training room. You like?”

He’s got a bench, a lot of dumbbells, some weighted plates, and even a couple of wrestling mats. “Wow. It’s like your own wrestling dojo,” I say.

He laughs. “I like that. Mateo’s Dojo. You know, I took karate when I was a kid.”

“Oh yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah, just for a bit. Then I signed up for wrestling.”

“And no more karate?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Once Krake saw me in action, I guess I was kinda a natural, you know? He told my parents all about the scholarship opportunities for college wrestlers. Told them with my talent and his coaching, that I’d be able to go to any college I wanted for free.” He shrugs. “You can imagine my parents took me out of everything and put me in wrestling full-time.”

“I wanted to take karate when I was a kid. My dad said it was for pussies.”

Mateo flinches. “That’s pretty mean to say to a kid.”

“Yeah.”

“What all happened with your dad?” he asks.

I take a deep breath. There’s a lot I don’t like to think about. Maybe I’ll tell him a little. That’s what best friends would do, right?