Perfect Chemistry

I’m sitting in calculus when the security guard knocks on the door and tells the teacher I need to be escorted out of class. Rolling my eyes, I grab my books and let the guy have his kicks by humiliating me in front of an audience.

“What now?” I ask. Yesterday I was pulled out of class for starting a food fight in the courtyard. I didn’t start it. I might have participated, but I didn’t start it.

“We’re taking a little trip to the basketball courts.” I follow the guy to the courts. “Alejandro, vandalism to school property is very serious business.”

“I didn’t vandalize anything,” I tell him.

“I got a tip that you did.”

A tip? You know the phrase “whoever smelt it, dealt it”? Well, whoever snitched probably did it. “Where is it?”

The guard points to the gym floor, where someone spray painted a very poor replica of the Latino Blood symbol. “Can you explain this?”

“No,” I say.

Another security guard joins us. “We should check his locker,” he says.

“Great idea.” All they’ll find is a leather jacket and books.

I’m turning the combination lock when Mrs. P. passes us.

“What’s the problem?” she asks them.

“Vandalism. On the basketball court.”

I open my locker and stand back to let them inspect it.

“Aha,” the security guy says, reaching inside and pulling out a can of black spray paint from the top shelf. He holds it out to me. “Are you still going to plead innocent?”

“I’m bein’ set up.” I turn to Mrs. P., who’s looking at me like I killed her cat. “I didn’t do it,” I tell her. “Mrs. P., you’ve got to believe me.” I can see me now, being hauled to jail because of something an idiot did.

She shakes her head. “Alex, the evidence is right there. I want to believe you, but it’s really hard.” The officers are on either side of me, and I know what’s coming next. Mrs. P. holds up her hand, stopping them. “Alex. Help me.”

I’m tempted not to explain, to let them all think I was the one who defaced school property. They probably won’t listen, anyway. But Mrs. P. is looking at me like a teenage rebel who wants to prove everyone wrong.

“The symbol is all wrong,” I tell her. I show her my forearm. “This is the Latino Blood symbol. It’s a five-point star with two pitchforks coming out the top and LB in the middle. The one on the floor had a six-point star with two arrows. Nobody in the Blood would make that mistake.”

She says to the officers, “Where’s Dr. Aguirre?”

“In a meeting with the superintendent. His secretary said he doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

Peterson checks her watch. “I’ve got a class in fifteen minutes. Joe, radio Dr. Aguirre on your walkie-talkie.”

Joe the security guy isn’t too happy. “Ma’am, this is the sort of thing we were hired for.”

“I know. But Alex is my student, and believe me when I say he can’t miss class today.”

Joe shrugs, then radios for Dr. Aguirre to meet him in L hall. When his secretary asks if it’s an emergency, Mrs. P. takes the walkie-talkie from Joe and says she’s considering it her personal emergency and Dr. Aguirre should get down to L hall right away.

Two minutes later, Aguirre with a stern look on his face comes into view. “What’s this all about?”

“Vandalism in the gym,” Officer Joe informs him.

Aguirre stiffens. “Dammit, Fuentes. Not you again.”

“I didn’t do it,” I tell him.

“Then who did?”

I shrug.

“Dr. Aguirre, he’s telling the truth,” Peterson says. “You can fire me if I’m wrong.”

He shakes his head, then turns to the security guy. “Get Chuck to the gym and see what he can do to clean that stuff off.” He points the spray paint can at me. “But I warn you, Alex. If I find out it was you, you’ll be not only suspended but arrested. Got it?”

When the officers leave, Aguirre says, “Alex, I didn’t tell you this before, but I’m telling you now. I thought the world was my enemy when I was in high school. I wasn’t that much different than you, you know. It took me a damn long time to learn that I was my own enemy. When I realized that, I turned my life around. Mrs. Peterson and I, we’re not the enemy.”

“I know that,” I say, and actually believe it’s the truth.

“Good. Now I happen to be in the middle of an important meeting. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be in my office.”

“Thanks for believing me,” I say to Mrs. P. once he’s gone.

“Do you know who vandalized the gym?” she asks.

I look her straight in the eye and tell her the truth. “I’ve got no idea. I’m pretty confident it’s not one of my friends.”

She sighs. “If you weren’t in a gang, Alex, you wouldn’t get yourself into these messes.”

“Yeah, but I’d be in other ones.”