Page 14 of The Golden Boy’s Guide to Bipolar

Yami goes home with Bo today, so she can’t shield me from Mami the way she usually tries to. Good, honestly. I don’t need

her protection. Everyone worries about me too much. They’d all be better off if they’d just give it a rest.

The second I’m let out of detention, I go straight to my mom’s car. I’m not scared to face her. In fact, I’m looking forward

to it. Maybe if she has to see me after detention without Yami to cushion it, she’ll actually get mad.

I make no apologies when I get in the car. I want to see what she’ll say.

“Mijo, I talked to your counselor today.” She sounds more worried than angry, so I’m really not loving this start. At least

she decided to have this conversation while she’s driving, so I don’t have to deal with that look she always gives me.

“Whatever Dr. Lee said, it’s—”

“Your school counselor,” she interrupts.

Great. It’s not like Mami needed another reason to get on my ass about my grades or anything.

“It’s fine, I have it handled,” I lie.

“Do you need a tutor? Is there anything I can do to help?”

I frown. We both know she has no way of helping me with Calc II. “I did the math. As long as I keep acing the tests, my grades

won’t dip below the scholarship level. I’m doing just fine, I promise.” I intentionally leave out the part about me failing

the test today, which kind of throws my whole plan on its head.

“Well then, what’s going on with your grades?” she asks, and even though she’s looking at the road and not at me, there’s

concern etched into her features. I shift in my seat so I’m facing the window instead of her. “Mijo?”

“I have it handled!” I snap, expecting— hoping —she’ll blow up right back.

Instead, she just lets out a shaky breath. “I’m going to get you a tutor.”

“But I don’t need—”

“I’m your mother, and I’m telling you you’re getting a tutor.”

At that, the little bubble I usually push down bursts.

“You don’t know what’s best for me!” I whirl around so I’m looking right at her, and she finally snaps her head in my direction.

“No, you don’t know what’s best for you!” she yells back, which feeds the anger. I’ve been waiting for a fight for months , and I’m finally close to getting one.

“That makes no fucking sense!” I shout. “So everyone knows what’s best for me but me?”

And then, just as quickly as she blew up, she deflates. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Ugh!” I ball my fists, trying my best not to punch the dashboard and get us in an accident. “Why are you always walking on eggshells around me? Just tell me I’m a piece of shit! Tell me you’re disappointed! That you’re pissed! Something! ”

“I’m not any of those things, mijo.” She reaches a hand across the center console and takes mine. The touch grounds me just

enough to relax my clenched fists and let her hold on.

“Why not?” I ask, my voice catching this time.

“Because I...” She squeezes my hand as her voice cracks, too. “I couldn’t bear it if something I said or did made you—”

“Made me kill myself?” I interrupt. We’ve been dancing around the subject since I almost did it last year, might as well get

to the point.

She lets go of my hand to wipe a tear from her eye. “Yes, Cesar. I don’t want to lose you, do you understand?”

I let out a deep breath. “My life is not your responsibility.”

“Of course it is, mijo. I’m your mother.”

And that, that just fucking kills me. It’s not like I’m going to off myself tomorrow, but I don’t know... I’m pretty sure

that’s how I’ll go. The thought of my mom blaming herself, of Yami or Jamal blaming themselves, makes me feel so fucking hopeless.

Like I can’t even have the distant idea of a release from this world as a comfort because I know it’ll completely wreck them.

And despite how I treat them, I do actually care.

When we pull up to our driveway, there are two people standing on the side of the house, peeking in through the side window.

“Who the f—” my mom interrupts herself by honking her horn to get the peepers’ attention and rolls down the car window. They

both jolt at the noise and whirl around, and Mami lets out a relieved laugh. “Ay dios mío, I thought we had some stalkers!

Why didn’t you tell me you were in town?”

Now that I get a better look, I still can’t put names to faces.

One is a vaguely familiar-looking girl with short, straight black hair around my age, and the other is a bald guy probably in his late thirties, also vaguely familiar.

The girl perks up and waves enthusiastically when she sees me, but it isn’t until the guy starts talking that I realize who they are.

“We happened to be in town, so I thought we’d stop by to surprise my little sister!”

Mami parks the car, not wasting any time before getting out and giving my tío Paco a huge hug. Her face is smothered by his

shoulder so I can’t really tell, but I think she might be crying. I undo my seat belt and get out of the car to say hi to

my cousin Moni, who I haven’t seen since I was like ten.

I’m about to go in for the socially mandated familial hello hug, but Moni holds up the palm of her hand to stop me.

“Sorry, I don’t usually do hugs. High five?”

I happily trade the hug for slapping the palm of her hand.

“I’m so rude! Come in, come in!” Mami says through sniffles as she unlocks the door and leads us all inside. “Cesar, why don’t

you show Monica your room? Your tío and I have a lot to catch up on.”

“Sure,” I say as I start down the hall.

“Leave the door cracked!” my tío calls out, and I throw a thumbs-up over my shoulder in response.

Moni makes herself comfortable on my bed right away, and I take the desk chair.

“So what are you guys doing in town?” I ask, not really knowing what else to talk about. We haven’t talked in years, but Moni

and I used to be pretty much inseparable when we were little.

Moni scoffs. “I got in trouble, so my dad’s sending me to Abuela’s to set me straight.”

“Oh, shit, they were serious about that?” I ask. My mom and tío used to threaten us all with being sent to Abuela’s if we

got in trouble, but Mami never made good on it. Considering my mom and abuela rarely talk and my mom can’t stand her, I never

took the threat seriously.

“Are you forgetting I’m the problem child?” Moni says, though she doesn’t look convinced by her own words, and honestly, I’m

not convinced either.

Even when we were little, Moni’s always been somewhat of a musical genius. Sometimes her dad would go hunting for an instrument

she’d never played so he could give it to her as a party trick. He’d play a recording of some song from that instrument, then

we’d all watch while she tinkered for a few minutes before playing the same song by ear. They moved to L.A. when she got into

a fine arts middle school, which I didn’t even know was a thing.

“You too?” I laugh humorlessly. Maybe we have that whole prodigy-turned-disappointment thing in common. I think about how

Tío Paco only called the visit a “surprise” and said that they just happened to be in town. “Why do you think your dad didn’t

tell my mom what happened?”

She shrugs. “He probably will, but I guess he’s nervous. I bet he just doesn’t want to admit why he’s sending me with Abuela.”

“Why’s that?” I ask, leaning forward in my chair. I forgot how nice it was not being the only family disappointment ever since

they moved to L.A. and my mom stopped talking to my abuela. Despite Moni’s genius, she’s always been pretty rebellious.

“To get me away from my negative influences ,” she says the last part with finger quotes. “Which is silly. My business is where I am, I’m just excited to tap into a new

market. I’m the influence! If he’s so worried about negativity, maybe he should be more supportive.”

I nod as if I have any idea what she’s talking about, but luckily, she keeps going, so I don’t have to ask.

“Seriously, he should be proud of me! I’m an entrepreneur! Just because my business isn’t technically legal doesn’t mean it’s not ethical, and just because the work he does is legal doesn’t make it right.”

I vaguely remember my tío having some kind of job in the pharmaceutical industry, but other than that I have no idea what

she’s referring to. “Uh, what’s your business, exactly?” I ask once I remember how Moni’s always been. She kind of forgets

that not everyone has all the same context going into a conversation. She probably doesn’t even realize I don’t know what

she’s talking about.

“Oh, I sell weed.” I laugh involuntarily, but she doesn’t crack so much as a smile. “But my dad’s just as much of a drug dealer

as I am. I want to save up and open my own dispensary when I’m old enough. If he wants me to stop selling the ‘wrong’ way,

he should help me fund my dispensary with his drug money. But no , he’ll only give me money if it’s for a music program.

“He says he invested too much in my career to let me throw it away by focusing on something else. So I said he doesn’t have to throw my career away, I’ll do it for him.

” She smiles and sits up straighter. “He should learn from me. It’s never too late to leave a soul-sucking career.

Anyways, where’s Yami?” she asks, but keeps going before I can answer.

“I’m kind of relieved she’s not here, honestly.

Probably wouldn’t be able to talk about this stuff around her, you know? ”

“You don’t like Yami?” I’m a little surprised since I always thought Yami and Moni got along. They were never as close as

me and Moni, or me and Yami, but the three of us still had fun.

“More like she probably doesn’t like me. At least, she won’t when she finds out why we came back. She’ll probably think I’m

a bad influence on you.”

I’m about to respond that Yami never said anything bad about her, but Moni shushes me before I can get a word in.

“Did you hear that?” She’s whispering now.

“Hear what?” I say quietly, trying to listen for whatever.

“That was your name. I think they’re talking about you; let’s go listen.”