Chapter 28

* * * *

“If you don’t start talking to me, I’m going to tell everyone you’re a faggot.”

I only considered threatening him. I couldn’t go through with that one. I would never hurt Angel. Not on purpose.

* * * *

The months passed, and soon it was spring. I was riding my bike past his house on a Wednesday in mid-May—back and forth in front of it, to be totally honest. The sky was as gray as my aura. A light drizzle fell, just enough to make the pavement a little bit slippery. I lost control. The bike hit the side of a ditch and then—bam!—I fell onto the Ramos’ mailbox.

“Ow.”

Angel came running out. “Are you okay?”

I knew he’d be watching. He touched my cheek first, even though it was my arm that was scraped up and bleeding.

“I’m okay,” I said. “Help me up and I’ll go.”

“Is your father at home?” Angel had brought out some tissues. He was a real Boy Scout—always prepared. I was an ex Boy Scout—always in trouble. He wiped at my arm and held my hand with his other one.