5. The Hideout
The wait is killing me. I look at my wristwatch and it looks like the hands are stuck at one fifteen. I won’t hide on a bathroom stall ever again. I hear the door open and the sounds of a stampede. Two guys are laughing and shouting. One of them tries to open my stall door.
“Busy!” I shout.
The guy open the stall next to me. I have fun for two seconds, trying to figure out this guy’s face from the looks of his cheap leather shoes and his short white socks. His pant seams are dirty and ragged. He makes bodily noises I’ve never heard coming from any person. I look into my bag, take out my Walkman and press play as I put the earphones on. I crank up the volume.
My mother must be upstairs, in the curb, waiting in our brown Ford Granada, along with twenty other nervous moms in similar cars, asking themselves “Where the hell is he, she or them?” My plan calls for her to get tired and leave before Miss Mariela finishes and goes out looking for me. If my mom doesn’t leave, I won’t be able to get out of school with Miss Mariela. If Miss Mariela gets out too early, she’ll probably think I dumped her and will leave. What time is it good to go out? I look at my wristwatch and it reads one seventeen.
The guys finally leave the bathroom as I let out a loud sigh. Maybe one twenty is good. With the movers back at home, my Mom doesn’t have the luxury to wait twenty minutes. With the possibility of breaking or scratching one piece of furniture each fifteen minutes, she will have to deal with this later. I will also have to deal with this later, but knowing that my chances of having a good time with a hot teacher are high, I’ll just accept any punishment after. The big question is, of course, how big of a punishment can I get? I try to remember what is the worst one I’ve gotten. There was the infamous belt chasing episode in Barquisimeto, the one week without watching TV in Porlamar and the hair pulling marathon from the car to the house in Morón. But I’m seventeen now, so none of those are possible. Maybe today is the day I get a real slap in the face from my Mom.
I can’t wait any longer here. My stall neighbor left me what looks like a big, smelly present, plus I just looked at my watch and it read one-nineteen, and it’ll probably take me about a minute and a half to get to the school entrance. Wait, why the school entrance? I could just go look for Miss Mariela in her classroom. Of course, I have no idea of what the second floor is arranged like, but I’ll just take my chances.
I get out of the bathroom and take a deep breath of fresh air. I smell my shirt, just in case I reek of feces or urine. I pity the people who have to clean these rooms every day. I run towards the stairs and start looking through each door. None of them have the class grade outside. I have to make an effort to look for the information inside the room, either above the blackboard or the pin boards. Most of them are empty, until I reach one with a teacher inside. Bingo! I open the door and –
“May I help you?”
It’s not Miss Mariela.
“Sorry, Miss. I’m looking for third grade?”
“A or B?”
Shit! There’s more than one?
“I don’t know – I am looking for…” I stop and realize I could be putting me and Miss Mariela in trouble. “I’m looking for my brother.”
“What’s your last name?”
“Perez,” I make up the name on the spot.
“Oh, you’re Leo’s big brother?”
“That’s right!”
“Miss Mariela finished like ten minutes ago. I don’t think there’s anyone there. Go to the school gates, I’m sure he’ll be there.”
I run back to the stairs and start to descend in two steps, but then, like a police officer, stop and stick to one wall. I push my head out slowly toward the school entrance. I don’t see anyone there. I feel a tap on my shoulder. I spin around ready to run.
It’s Elizabeth.
“What the hell are you doing Julio? I’ve been looking for you!”
