SENOR TREMONT IS LINING UP A BUNCH OF PLASTIC vegetables on his desk and asking for volunteers to role-play a scene at a Spanish marketplace, and all I can do is smile at Alex’s empty seat.
That night was maybe the most fun I’ve ever had. Sneaking out with Lillia and Kat, laughing our butts off, speeding through the darkness. When I got home, I crept back into bed and tried to sleep, but that was pretty much impossible. I just lay there in the dark, tracing the flowers on my wallpaper with my finger and thinking how this was even better than what I’d hoped to accomplish that first day. This isn’t just about Reeve. It’s about me, and it feels like fate or magic—the girls coming into my life, right when I needed them most.
Through the window I spot Alex getting out of a car. A woman—his mom, I guess—waves good-bye and drives off. I watch him run all the way to the main doors. I hear Alex’s feet pounding the linoleum, over Senor Tremont haggling with the girl sitting behind me over how many pimentos he can buy for three euros.
“I’m sorry I’m late, Senor,” he says, rushing in. “I had a doctor’s appointment.”
Senor Tremont frowns. Then he puts a hand up to his ear, pretending like he can’t hear Alex. “En español, Senor Lind. Por favor.”
Alex is halfway to his seat. He stops, his shoulders sag, and his eyes roll to the back of his head. I have to cover my mouth to keep in a laugh.
“Yo . . . yo soy . . . ,” Alex tries.
I lean forward on my elbows and cradle my chin in my hands. I really, really, really wish Lillia and Kat were here to see this for themselves.
Alex is trying to conjugate the verb “apologize” for the third time when the fire alarm goes off.
