SELFLESS (Runaway) Read online

  Then, when I was fifteen, I blossomed suddenly and devastatingly. I shot up like a weed overnight, my hair was shiny and luscious, falling to my fuller breasts, and my ass was bigger and rounder than any of my family members’. The classmates who had always overlooked me at school started to pay closer attention. So did the female contingency at home.

  “Where did these nalgonas come from?” a sister asked, slapping me on the very thing she’d just named. “What, did some ass fairy visit you last night? Mari! Look at sorpresita’s nalgonas!”

  I blushed, hot and heavy under my olive skin as the other sister and las primas all crowded into the bathroom.

  “Fuck, sorpresita,” my other sister said. “That’s a better ass than any of us.”

  “No es verdad, cabrona,” one of las primas insisted. “That’s not true, bitch. Look at these nalgonas right here!”

  She slipped down her boxer shorts and mooned us right then and there, slapping her own brown cheek.

  The girls’ shrieks were deafening in the tiny bathroom, and I just wanted to curl up and die of embarrassment right on the spot. One of my sisters reached forward and spanked la prima’s bare ass as many times as she could until la prima pulled her shorts back up. I was sure they were taken from one of her many conquests.

  “C’mon, sorpresita,” the other prima cajoled. “Tell tu prima how you got such a pretty ass all of a sudden. You been doing exercises? What?”

  Death was being stubborn, so I was forced to shake my head slowly.

  “She’s always here, cabrona,” my sister said. “You see her doing squats in the corner? Lunges around the kitchen?”

  “Sopresita’s always doing her homework,” the other sister said. “Is that where you store all of that knowledge, baby? En las nalgonas?”

  I shook my head again, resigning myself to my fate. Death wasn’t merciful enough to take me now and the female contingency had me cornered in the bathroom.

  “I know, I know,” the other prima said. “Sorpresita never talks. All those unsaid words go straight to her ass!”

  “Maybe you could shut up and try it, cabrona!” her sister screamed, and all of the girls screamed with her, laughing their heads off.

  “You gotta come to the club with us,” my sister said. “Oh my God, they would die. You would fucking slay them with that ass, sorpresita.”

  “I can’t go to the club,” I said as the female contingency congratulated one another for this terrible idea.

  “What’d you say, sorpresita?” my other sister asked.

  “No!” la prima shouted. “Don’t speak! We don’t want those nalgonas deflating!”

  I swore that I was going to have hearing loss from all the laughter in that tight little bathroom.

  “I can’t go to the club,” I said. “I’m only fifteen.”

  “You’ll be sixteen next month,” my sister said dismissively, as if that made all the difference in the world.

  “You’ll be fine, sorpresita,” the other sister said. “You stick with us girls. We know people. We can get you in.”

  Getting in wasn’t what I was worried about. I didn’t want to be paraded around all of the guys my sisters and cousins targeted. I didn’t want to go to the club at all.

  “When we gonna do this, then, cabronas?” la prima asked. “This Friday?”

  “Fuck it, let’s go tonight,” the other prima said.

  “It’s a school night,” I protested.

  “Ay!” my sister cried, swatting me on my ass. “What a little scholar! No, we’ll wait for Friday, then. Sorpresita’s gotta get her education. Mami and Papi wanted that most of all.”

  I perked up, wanting to hear more about Mami and Papi. They were shadows to me—red kisses in a crowded airport. But the female contingency cackled on, planning what I was going to be wearing and what they were going to be wearing and who’d be most interested in whom.

  “Cabronas, we’re forgetting the most important thing!” my other sister exclaimed.

  “Sorpresita doesn’t know what’s up! We gotta give her the talk.”

  “Sí, sí, sí,” la prima said quickly. “She can’t go to the club without the talk. Not with that ass.”

  My sister pushed me down on the toilet as she and la prima perched on the edge of the tub. My other sister hopped up to sit on the sink, and the other prima leaned against the towel rack. My heart sank. They had me in their claws now. I was going to get a real education, now—even though I’d been learning about them ever since I’d learned to observe.

  “There ain’t nothing wrong with sex, hermana,” my sister said. “Sister, we’re all products of it.”

  The rest of the girls made noises of assent. I pressed my lips together, trying to just get through this. There was no escape for me.

  “It’s a beautiful thing, really,” la prima said dreamily. “If it’s with the right guy.”

  “Or the wrong guy with the right dick,” the other prima put in. They all cackled.

  “The most important thing is that you protect yourself,” my sister said. “Protect yourself in all senses.”

  “Don’t let anyone into your chocha unless they’re wearing a condom,” my other sister said, drawing a giant “X” over her own crotch with her finger. “Too many things can happen.”

  “You don’t want a little baby in tu panza, do you?” la prima asked, patting my flat belly.

  “And you don’t want a disease,” my sister said. “Always use a condom. That’s rule number one. Protection number one.”

  “Even if you’re taking it in that ass of yours,” the other prima said.

  “Don’t give that ass away,” my other sister protested. “Only to the man you love.”

  “All of them are gonna tell her they love her, trying to get in that ass,” la prima said. “Sorpresita, don’t let them in. That’s a one-way street, your ass.”

  “I dunno,” my sister said. “I kinda like it.”

  I had to cover my ears at the resulting screams, dodging as the other sister hopped down from the sink to slap at our sister.

  “Sinvergüenza!” the other sister hollered, laughing so hard that tears were rolling down her cheeks, blackened from her heavy mascara. “You shameless thing! What are you thinking, telling sorpresita that?”

  “What?” my sister said, fending off the slaps with blows of her own. “She’s gonna make her own decisions about things. At least she can’t get knocked up if she takes it in the ass.”

  “Es verdad, cabrona,” la prima said solemnly. “She can’t get a baby through her ass.”

  I couldn’t do this anymore, I decided, standing up abruptly.

  “Thanks for the advice,” I said, making a move for the door.

  “Sit your ass down,” my other sister said. “We’re not done here. Condoms. They gotta be used no matter what hole you prefer. Diseases can still happen in the ass, sorpresita, and that is not a pretty thing.”

  “Condoms, protection number one,” la prima said, pushing me back onto the toilet.

  “Protection number two,” the other prima said, “is your choice. Pepper spray. Mace. A knife. Whatever fits in your purse, sorpresita, or between those titties.”

  “I gotta pair of brass knuckles,” my sister said proudly. “Slip those on, hermana, and it’s lights out. It don’t matter how big that guy is.”

  “Most of them are gonna be bigger than you, sorpresita,” my other sister said. “That’s just reality. If he gets violent, or if he wants to do something that you don’t wanna, you gotta let him know.”

  “I want you to have this,” la prima said. “You’re a woman, now. You should’ve had one a long time ago. You take it everywhere you go.”

  She reached into the pocket of her too-tight jeans and drew something out, holding it toward me. When I tentatively put my hand out, she flicked her wrist and a shiny blade popped out. I flinched backward and everyone laughed.

  “That’s exactly what the boys are gonna do if you pull this on them,” la prima
said, nodding with much satisfaction. “That’s exactly what’ll happen. You take this switchblade everywhere.”

  “I can’t have this in school,” I protested. “I have to go through the metal detector to get in the building.”

  “Shit gets in that school all the time,” my sister scoffed. “You’ll be fine.”

  “Now, remember everything we told you,” my other sister said. “And if you ever have a problem with a guy, you tell us.”

  “We’ll end him,” la prima said, as casually as if she’d said that they were going to the bodega.

  Thus ended my first formal session of sex education. Their words and cackles had been seared into my brain. I wouldn’t have been able to forget their words even if I tried.

  Friday came too soon, as much as I wished for it never to come. The female contingency attacked me as soon as I walked in the door after school. La prima ripped my backpack off of me and my sisters pushed me into the shower.

  I was primped, powdered, and made up, putting on the same heavy makeup that all of them wore.

  “We should get her a perm before tonight,” the other prima said, fingering my locks.

  “No, her hair is pretty as is, cabrona,” my sister said. “We’ll straighten it, leave it down. Makes her look older.”

  “We’re not gonna have any trouble getting her in,” la prima said. “She’ll blend right in with us.”

  As soon as they were done with my makeup, I saw that it was true. I looked at least of legal age to enter a club, even though I was just fifteen. The female contingency had transformed me into a doppelganger—darkened eyebrows, heavy eyeliner and shadow, and red lips. My sister loaned me a pair of outrageously big hoop earrings and the other prima zipped me up in her own dress.

  “Fuck me,” she said, turning me around and around. “The dress is yours, sorpresita. With that ass of yours, you rock it better than I ever could.”

  “We’re ready for the club, cabronas,” my sister hollered, looking in on me.

  “Is the club ready for us?” la prima crowed, and their delighted hoots implied that the club was never ready for them. They were a force of nature, those four, and they were ready to induct me into their sisterhood. Me. Sorpresita. I’d been the outsider my whole life, so I had to admit that being a part of things was kind of exciting—even if I knew it was wrong.

  The club was a shady affair a couple of blocks from our apartment, situated on a busy corner in the heart of East Harlem. Everyone who was anyone in el barrio went there. It was a place to see and be seen, and my sisters and primas went multiple times every week. It was their favorite place to pick up boys.

  The bouncer didn’t give me a second glance as we entered the club en masse. I was one of the girls, clearly.

  We sidled into a booth and a server brought us beer. I quickly understood that my sisters and las primas were regulars here and everyone knew what to expect from them, including what they’d like to be drinking.

  As my family chattered about who was there and what they were going to do to them, I took the opportunity to look around. The club was smaller than I thought it would be, with all the tall tales I heard at home about what took place there. There were a number of elevated dance floors around the place. People milled around on them, nobody dancing quite yet even though a mirror ball through little points of light all around the space. There wasn’t really a DJ, just someone with a laptop running a playlist of songs. The bartenders were already in the weeds, dashing back and forth to serve up buckets of beer and putting bottle services together.

  Even though it was just a regular Friday night, the place was quickly filling up. Everyone dressed to impress—none of the girls present wore jeans. It was all dresses and skirts, or tiny little hot pants. I could tell from looking that many hours had been put into the appearances of the kids looking to party tonight.

  With a tiny gasp, I recognized a guy from my school—Jimmy. He was in a couple of my classes. He’d hit his growth spurt early on, and stood out like a weed. He was with, I presumed, either his family or his crew. They were usually one in the same. I hoped he wouldn’t recognize me. In fact, I knew it was a pretty good chance. I never looked this crazy at school.

  “Hey, sorpresita, that beer’s not gonna drink itself,” la prima said.

  “But not too fast, huh?” my sister put in. “I’m not gonna be the one holding your hair back in the bathroom.”

  I took a swig of the beer, wondering what my sisters even saw in the beverage, but then my world opened right up. I loved the taste of it—crisp, refreshing, and bubbly. When I downed the first one, my sisters and primas cheered and ordered another round.

  “I knew you were one of us,” la prima said, beaming.

  Belonging was good. It was great, in fact. And after three beers, I was ready to dance.

  “Look at our sorpresita,” the other prima laughed, tapping her long acrylic nails on the glass beer bottle. I was wriggling around in the booth, moving to the obnoxious reggaeton song playing.

  “Vamos a bailar, entonces,” my sister said. “Let’s go dance, then.”

  A girl on either side of me as I tottered out to the closest dance floor in my dangerous stilettos, my ass came alive without me even telling it to do so. It shook to every bass beat of the song, out-shaking even my more experienced family.

  “Look at her go!” my other sister shrieked, laughing at my dancing. I didn’t care if I was dancing well or whether they were making fun of me. The beer made me want to move, and I didn’t care who saw it.

  Liquid confidence though it was, the beer helped empower me. I’d never felt more free, and I wanted to dance all night.

  “Who’s this, mamita?”

  Hands lightly caressed my hips, feeling the swaying of my dancing, before gripping them tightly and jerking me backwards into a hard crotch. I yelped at the loss of my rhythm and stumbled in my sky-high heels, trying to pull away from insisting arms.

  “Stop,” I protested, elbowing against the hulking guy. “I’m tryin’ to dance.”

  “Hey, fuck off, pendejo,” my sister said, swooping in to the rescue and shoving him away. “She says she’s trying to dance, and you’re not helping, clumsy fuck.”

  “You gotta problem, puto?” la prima demanded as he started back toward my sister. “We’ll fuck you up, bitch.”

  The female contingency amassed around me, pushing the guy away.

  “Crazy sluts,” the guy said, his last protest before backing off.

  Then, the family went back to dancing, as if nothing had happened.

  It struck me to wonder if this was a common occurrence—guys laying their hands on you whether you wanted it or not—but the beer was firmly in control of my brain. I resumed dancing, too.

  “Hey.”

  I looked over to see my classmate, Jimmy, looking at me. At the beginning of the night, I didn’t want him to recognize me. I’d hoped that he’d get lost in the crowd.

  Now, after the beer, I couldn’t have been more excited to see him.

  “What’s up, Jimmy!” I exclaimed, throwing my arms around him in a hug.

  “You’re in my class, right?” he asked, having to raise his voice to be heard above the rap song playing. I liked the feel of his arms around me as he hugged me back.

  “Yeah, yeah!” I said. “I didn’t know you came here, too.”

  “This is my first night,” he admitted.

  “Mine, too!” I laughed wildly, feeling like I was invincible. “My family got me in.”

  “Same here,” he said. “My crew. They wanna see if I can hang.” In class, he was gawky, his body not used to his height yet. I’d had no idea he was in a crew. But here, in the club, he looked perfect—to me, at least.

  “You gonna dance with me, or what?” I asked, smiling coquettishly. Jimmy grinned back at me before taking me against his body and moving with the music. He wasn’t half bad, letting me have the reins as I wiggled and swayed.

  I was only vaguely aware of the female
contingency hooting and hollering at me, then gradually pairing up themselves.

  I only had eyes for Jimmy and I only had ears for the music. I didn’t pay attention to my aching feet, the sweat pouring down my neck, or even when a beer got passed my way. When I mashed my lips against his, getting red lipstick all over his mouth, it only felt natural.

  And when we walked, hand in hand, to the bathroom, one of the girls pushing a condom down the top of my dress, it seemed like it was simply what came next—the next chapter of the story.

  Losing my virginity in a bathroom stall at a club was a physical challenge, rattling the walls of the flimsy cubicle, trying to stay quiet as people came and went. Jimmy was sweet, even if he was as drunk as me, and he was okay with using the condom.

  After it was over—a hurried, sweaty, off-balance affair—he said he had to sit down a minute and plopped down on the toilet.

  I sat on top of him after pulling my panties back up under my dress. I felt strange and squishy between my legs, like I was going to drip on the floor if not for my underwear.

  “That was great,” Jimmy said, hugging me a little bit.

  “Can I tell you something?” I asked. “That was my first time.”

  “Really?” he asked. “That’s badass. You were so wet.”

  “I still am,” I admitted. “It’s kinda weird.”

  “Means you were turned on,” Jimmy said, holding me against him a little more fiercely. “Do I turn you on, chingona?”

  I smiled at the pet name—“badass.”

  “I’m turned on, aren’t I?” I laughed. “Now, let’s get out of here. I don’t want my family coming to look for us. They’re crazy.”

  “I noticed,” he said, pushing me up before standing up himself.

  The female contingency had nothing but cheers for me when I came back to the dance floor, and I noticed that Jimmy’s crew pounded him on the back. Maybe I’d been some sort of initiation. I didn’t care. I was wet between my legs and I was a woman.