Page 21 of The Golden Boy’s Guide to Bipolar

version of me you have in your head is made up, okay? He doesn’t exist!” I turn to Principal Cappa, so I don’t have to see

my mom’s reaction to what I say next. I already convinced Yami and Jamal they’re better off without me, but my mom might need

an extra push. “Just because she says I’ll be good doesn’t mean I will. I’m not her puppet. I did that shit, okay? Don’t coddle

me for her sake.”

“All right, then. I think it’s settled.” Principal Cappa shakes his head, like he’s not looking forward to whatever he’s about

to say. “I’m sorry, Cesar, but I’m going to have to expel you from this school.”

My mom bursts into tears, but I don’t react. I knew I was gonna be in trouble, and even if an expulsion isn’t what I was expecting, I somehow can’t bring myself to care. None of it matters.

“And to be quite frank with you, you’re lucky I’m not getting the authorities involved. You’re both free to go.”

He gestures toward the door. I don’t wait for my mom to say anything or to move. I just get up and walk out the door. It takes

my mom a few seconds to follow me out. When we get to the waiting area, my mom stops by the front desk.

“Will Yamilet be coming down?” she asks the lady behind the desk.

“We got ahold of her, but she asked if you wouldn’t mind her staying the rest of the school day.” The office lady types away

while she talks. Getting my sister out of class is probably not the highest on her list of priorities. It’s no wonder Yami

doesn’t want to come home early. She probably wants to spend the least amount of time with me as possible.

The bell rings, which means I’ll have to walk past everyone with my mom. They’ll probably all know I’m expelled before I even

make it off campus.

“Did you tell her the situation?” Mami asks anxiously.

“She’s aware.” The lady nods. “Should I call her down here to talk with you?”

“I’ll be by the car,” I say, not bothering to hear the rest of the conversation. I don’t want to be in the room if Yami comes

in here. I walk out the door without giving my mom a chance to answer. Maybe at least this way I can save face by going to

the car alone.

I pretend to just be walking to class like everyone else, and no one seems to notice anything’s off. At least, not until I see Mr. Franco standing outside his classroom. He sees me right away, and the sad look on his face says he knows exactly what’s going on.

I don’t know if my teachers were notified or if he just heard from whoever snitched, but it pisses me off either way. So much

for there being trustworthy adults at this school. It was all “We’re here for you” and “We care about you” until they had

the smallest excuse to get rid of me.

I walk past Mr. Franco without looking at him twice, perfectly content with the fact that I’m never coming back.

The ride home is silent. I don’t dare turn on music, since I’m hanging on waiting for Mami to just say something , but she doesn’t. I have no idea what to expect. Is she gonna whoop me? Yell at me? Kick me out? I probably deserve all three.

She was crying so hard when I left her in the office, but she’s fully stone-faced on the ride home. I search her body language

for some sign of what’s to come, but there’s nothing. She’s not even gripping the wheel harder than usual. In fact, she looks

like she’s driving on autopilot.

The silence stretches to practically half of our forty-minute drive home before I finally break it.

“Are you gonna kick me out?” I had to ask. I don’t know where I’d go if she did. If I hadn’t blown Jamal off yesterday, I’m

sure I’d be welcome to stay with him at his cousin’s house. But there’s no way I could ask that of him after what I did.

Mami doesn’t answer. It’s not that I can’t read her expression, there’s nothing to read. I’ve never seen her look so... empty.

She doesn’t react when I finally turn on the radio to let the music drown out the silent tension.

I don’t have to be told to go straight to my room when we get home. I throw myself onto my bed and hide my face in a pillow,

wishing it was humanly possible to suffocate yourself. I lie there trying not to think about what happens next. I don’t know

how long I’m pretending not to exist before I get a phone call. It takes every ounce of effort from each individual cell in

my entire body to exist as a person again and answer the phone.

“Hola, Dona,” I say, falling back into my cheery talking-to-adults voice, but it feels like I’m hiding the wound from today

with duct tape. She doesn’t seem to notice I’m off, though.

“I heard you’re home today, mijo. Since you’re free, would you mind coming with me to a doctor’s appointment?” Dona Violeta

asks me to come with her to appointments every so often, since I’m good at talking to doctors and getting answers. Even though

socializing is less than ideal right now, I’ll do anything to get out of this tension-filled house.

“I have to ask my mom,” I say, realizing I might actually be grounded.

“I’ll wait,” she says, so I open my bedroom door and walk out to the living room, where my mom is making jewelry.

“Can I go with Dona Violeta to a doctor’s appointment?” I ask.

But she just keeps working silently, completely ignoring my question.

“Okay, I’ll take that as a yes.” I roll my eyes and put the phone back to my cheek.

“I’m coming,” I say, then head out the door ready to walk over to Dona Violeta’s house down the street, but she’s already parked in our driveway. I hop in the passenger seat, eager to drive far, far away from this house.

Well, not that the doctor’s appointment is that far, but still.

Except she doesn’t drive the usual route to the doctor’s that I’m familiar with. We eventually turn down a street into what

looks like a residential neighborhood with dirt roads.

“Um, did you get a new doctor or something?” I ask, not sure if this is some kind of work-from-home-doctor situation going

on.

The car stops in front of a house I don’t recognize.

“I’m sorry for this, mijo,” Dona Violeta says sadly. “But you’re going to be staying here with your abuela for a little while.

Someone will come tomorrow to drop off your things.”

“What?” I don’t unbuckle my seat belt or make any moves to get out of the car. I’ve never been to my grandma’s house. Haven’t even

seen her since right after my dad got deported, when she came to try and take care of us while Mami was grieving. But even

then, all I remember is her and my mom fighting.

And Dona Violeta’s in on it? Did Yami know I was getting sent away, too? Is that what Mami meant when she asked if Yami “knew

the situation”?

How long were they all conspiring to get me out of the picture? If Mami is sending me here of all places, and she couldn’t

even bring herself to drive me personally, she must really hate me.

Maybe I just got disowned by both my parents.

And maybe that’s exactly what I wanted.