More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
“Oh,” she said. “I thought you two talked about everything.” “No,” I said. “We’re just like everyone else in the world.” I knew it wasn’t true. We weren’t like everyone else in the world.
“When you left for Chicago, Dante told me that someday he wanted to marry another boy.” I looked around the room. “Or at least kiss another boy. Well, actually, I think he said that in a letter. Or maybe he said some of that after he got back.”
“I think I knew,” he said. “How?” “The way he looks at you sometimes.”
Mrs. Quintana nodded. “Yes. But—” She looked at me. “Will you always be his friend?” “Always.” “No matter what?” “No matter what.” “He needs a friend. Everybody needs a friend.” “I need a friend too,” I said. I had never said that before.
“There are worse things in the world than a boy who likes to kiss other boys.”
“I think Dante’s in love with you.”
Until Dante. I wanted to tell them that I never knew that people like Dante existed in the world, people who looked at the stars, and knew the mysteries of water, and knew enough to know that birds belonged to the heavens and weren’t meant to be shot down from their graceful flights by mean and stupid boys.
And that somehow it felt like it was Dante who had saved my life and not the other way around. I wanted to tell them that he was the first human being aside from my mother who had ever made me want to talk about the things that scared me. I wanted to tell them so many things and yet I didn’t have the words. So I just stupidly repeated myself. “Dante’s my friend.”
They walked me to my truck. And then a thought entered into my head. “What happened to the other guy?” “He ran,” Sam said. “And Dante didn’t.” “No.” That’s when Mrs. Quintana broke down and cried. “Why didn’t he run, Ari? Why didn’t he just run?” “Because he’s Dante,” I said.
I was a boy. A boy who went crazy. Crazy, crazy.
I DIDN’T NOTICE THE BLOOD ON MY KNUCKLES AND ON my shirt until I drove up to my house. I just sat there. I didn’t have a plan. So I just sat. I would sit there forever—that was my plan.
I looked at my dad. Then I looked at my mom. Then I looked down at the floor. “They hurt Dante,” I whispered. “You can’t even tell what he looks like. You should see his face. They cracked some of his ribs. They left him lying in an alley. Like he was nothing. Like he was a piece of trash. Like he was shit. Like he was nothing. And if he would have died, they wouldn’t have cared.” I started to cry. “You want me to talk? I’ll talk. You want me to tell you? I’ll tell you. He was kissing another boy.” I don’t know why, but I couldn’t stop crying. And then I stopped and I knew I was really angry.
...more
“Ari?” My father’s voice was soft. “Ari, Ari, Ari. You’re fighting this war in the worst possible way.” “I don’t know how to fight it, Dad.” “You should ask for help,” he said. “I don’t know how to do that, either.”
To be careful with people and with words was a rare and beautiful thing.
The day he came home from the hospital, he cried. I held him. I thought he would never stop. I knew that a part of him would never be the same. They cracked more than his ribs.
“Maybe you just like to fight, Ari.” “Maybe.” Dante looked at me. He just kept looking at me. “You’re staring,” I said. “Can I tell you a secret, Ari?” “Can I stop you?” “You don’t like knowing my secrets.” “Sometimes your secrets scare me.” Dante laughed. “I wasn’t really kissing Daniel. In my head, I was kissing you.” I shrugged. “You got to get yourself a new head, Dante.” He looked a little sad. “Yeah. Guess so.”
Maybe I would move to another city, to another place. Maybe summers would be different in another place.
“I love the desert. God, I love the desert.” “It’s so lonely.” “Is it?” Dante didn’t understand. I was unknowable.
“You don’t have to talk about this, Dad. You don’t.” “Maybe I do. Maybe it’s time to stop the dreams.”
“Ari, it’s time you stopped running.” I looked at my dad. “From what?” “Don’t you know?” “What?” “If you keep running, it will kill you.”
My father nodded. “Ari, the problem isn’t just that Dante’s in love with you. The real problem—for you, anyway—is that you’re in love with him.”
You just couldn’t. Why would you risk your own life to save Dante if you didn’t love him?” “Because he’s my friend.” “And why would you go and beat the holy crap out of a guy who hurt him? Why would you do that? All of your instincts, Ari, all of them, tell me something. You love that boy.”
“I think you love him more than you can bear.”
“Dad? Dad, no. No. I can’t. I can’t. Why are you saying these things?” “Because I can’t stand watching all that l...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
“What am I going to do? I’m so ashamed.” “Ashamed of what?” my mother said. “Of loving Dante?” “I’m a guy. He’s a guy. It’s not the way things are supposed to be. Mom—”
My father’s voice was soft. “Dante didn’t run. I keep picturing him taking all those blows. But he didn’t run.” “Okay,” I said. For once in my life, I understood my father perfectly. And he understood me.
“Because they love us? That’s not so weird.” “It’s how they love us that’s weird.” “Beautiful,” I said. Dante looked at me. “You’re different.” “How?” “I don’t know. You’re acting different.” “Weird?” “Yeah, weird. But in a good way.”
Dante and I kept looking at each other and laughing.
“What did I say when you kissed me?” “You said it didn’t work for you.” “I lied.”
“You said I wasn’t scared of anything. That’s not true. You. That’s what I’m afraid of. I’m afraid of you, Dante.”
“No.” And then he smiled. “You kiss me.” I placed my hand on the back of his neck. I pulled him toward me. And kissed him. I kissed him. And I kissed him. And I kissed him. And I kissed him. And he kept kissing me back.
“I don’t need the rain,” I said. “I need you.” He traced his name on my back. I traced my name on his. All this time.
This was what was wrong with me. All this time I had been trying to figure out the secrets of the universe, the secrets of my own body, of my own heart. All of the answers had always been so close and yet I had always fought them without even knowing it. From the minute I’d met Dante, I had fallen in love with him. I just didn’t let myself know it, think it, feel it. My father was right. And it was true what my mother said. We all fight our own private wars. As Dante and I lay on our backs in the bed of my pickup
and gazed out at the summer stars, I was free. Imagine that. Aristotle Mendoza, a free man. I wasn’t afraid anymore. I thought of that look on my mother’s face when I’d told her I was ashamed. I thought of that look of love and compassion that she wore as she looked at me. “Ashamed? Of loving Dante?” I took Dant...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
