Page 40 of The Golden Boy’s Guide to Bipolar

“I think the plan is failing,” Moni whispers over FaceTime while I walk to school and she’s putting on her makeup. Who knows

how she managed to sneak her phone away this time. It takes me a second to remember about her multiple plans.

Right. The secret project is about her dad. The plan is about Abuela.

“What happened? I thought you said she found someone?”

“I know! And how long has it been since then? How long since she got all smiley every time she looked at her phone?” She doesn’t

wait for me to answer. “And yet she hasn’t gone on a single date! I thought maybe things didn’t work out with that guy, so

I tried to set her up with someone else, but every single time, she flakes! Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I’m about

to ask what that is, but I don’t know why I expected anything other than for her to answer herself. “Exactly. She must be

gay.” Moni somehow got out that entire whispered monologue without stopping for air even once.

“Isn’t she, like, extremely religious, though?” I ask. For someone so into Bible horoscopes, I have a hard time believing my grandma is anything but straight.

“Hmm... maybe she’s one of those repressed gays who hates themselves.”

I ignore the sting those words carry.

“I think she just needs a little push in the right direction,” Moni says with a thoughtful look in her eye.

“What do you mean, ‘the right direction’?” Does she mean trying to push Abuela to be straight?

“I mean, we just need to give her a little hint that we’d accept her no matter what, you know?” she says. “Maybe mention to

her you have a gay sister or something.”

“Yeah, I’m not doing that.” Not only do I not want to talk about Yami, but I doubt Moni is right about this little hunch.

Just because Abuela doesn’t want to go on a date with a stranger her grandkid set her up with doesn’t mean she’s gay.

“Maybe we could have a Xena watch party. Xena’s a lesbian, right?” she asks. “Oh! I gotta g—” She hangs up before finishing

her sentence.

I can’t even laugh about Moni’s antics right now, because only one part of what she said is sticking with me.

... one of those repressed gays who hates themselves...

The words bounce around in my brain all morning. By the time astronomy starts, my throat is tight and my palms are sweaty

and my ears are hot and I can’t fucking do this.

“I have to pee!” I blurt out as I literally run away, the sounds of laughter behind me only serving to heat my reddened ears

as I rush out the door and make a run for the staircase.

The stairwell door closes behind me with a thud, but I only make it down a few steps before I have to grab the banister to keep from falling all the way down. I sit on the steps, gasping for air. What the fuck is happening to me?

The door below me opens, but I can’t get myself together before whoever it is will see me, so I just hide my face in my knees

and keep desperately trying to breathe.

I can’t fucking breathe!

“Cesar?” someone asks, and my head whips up at the voice. Avery.

Seeing him only makes the hyperventilating stronger. I can’t even bring myself to speak to tell him to go away. Tears prick

my eyelashes, and anger heats my blood. I’m fucking crying in front of Avery. If this had happened two years ago, he would

have told his friends and I’d have gotten a good beating.

But instead he just reaches inside his backpack and pulls out an icy water bottle. I expect him to hand it to me, but he unscrews

it and splashes it right in my fucking face.

For a second, I’m too stunned to move.

“What the hell is your problem?” I manage to get out as I shake the water from my hair like a wet dog.

Avery sits down next to me and lets a smile crack. “You’re breathing again, aren’t you?”

And I hate that his weird trick worked, but I am in fact breathing again.

“How did you know to do that?” I ask incredulously.

He just shrugs. “Learned it by accident. Cold water kind of resets you. You should carry around some ice water, and next time it happens just pour some on your hands and splash your face. Works like magic.”

“Oh,” I say, not knowing what else to say. With all the panic attacks I’ve been having lately, it might actually be a good

idea to take his advice. “Thanks...”

“Take it,” he says, handing me the water bottle. “I think you need it more than me. Anyways, gotta get back to class.”

Then he’s gone.

I refill the water bottle before I start sneaking out of the house for the second astronomy night with Jamal. I have a feeling

I might need it. But when I leave the bathroom and pass through the living room, the light turns on.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Mami sits on the recliner with her arms crossed, staring at me like she’s a movie mastermind

and I’ve just fallen into her trap. Which I kind of have.

“Were you just sitting there waiting this whole time?”

“Where are you going?” she asks again.

I groan. There’s no use lying to her now. The truth is probably way less incriminating than whatever she has in mind.

“It’s for my senior project. I have to observe the stars with Jamal. He’s my astronomy partner.” I can hear that it sounds

like a lie coming from my mouth. Especially after the hell of a year I’ve given my mom. Still, she doesn’t accuse me.

“Bring Yamilet with you, then,” Mami says, as if it’s completely normal to make your daughter wake up late at night to go

watch her brother and his ex do homework.

“What? I’m not doing that.” I cross my arms like this is a game of chicken, waiting to see which one of us will back down

first.

“Yamilet goes with you, or you’re not going.”

“But it’s for school!” I protest, but Mami doesn’t unfold her arms or un-Mom her expression.

“Yamilet!” Mami calls out, and I rush over to her.

“Mami, stop!” I whisper-yell. Partly because I really don’t want Yami coming with us. It would make our awkward situation

even worse. But also because I’ve been enough of a burden to Yami already. I’m supposed to be moving past that stage in my

life.

But it’s too late. Luckily, Yami doesn’t seem like she was asleep yet, so when she opens her door and walks into the living

room, she doesn’t look quite as angry as she could or should be.

“What’s going on?” Yami asks, eyes flip-flopping between me and our mom.

“Your brother needs you to go with him on a trip. For school.”

“But—” Yami and I both start to protest, but Mami shushes us with a raised finger.

“I’m not letting him go out alone right now.” She says that part like it’s code for something else. Like Yami should know

exactly what she’s talking about, even if I don’t.

“But I’ll be with Jamal!” I say, but neither of them listens.

“Okay, I’ll go with him,” Yami says, ignoring me like I’m not even there.

“Seriously?” I ask, but she ignores me again.

“But only if I can bring Bo.” She grins.

Mami sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Fine. Bring whoever you need to. But don’t leave him alone.”

Yami nods and gets out her phone to call Bo.

“She’ll meet us there,” Yami says after telling Bo she’ll text her the location, then hangs up. “Jamal’s here waiting already, no?” she asks as she makes her way for the front door like she expects me to follow. And, because I basically have no other choice, I do.

“Make sure he gets home safe,” Mami says before we shut the door behind us.

Yami rolls her eyes, and I know what Mami just said got to her. Mami loves both of us, sure, but I’m the problem child. I’m

the one who needs protecting. I’m sure it makes Yami feel like our mom doesn’t care about her. Like I’m the only one who needs

to be brought home safe.

Yami takes the front seat of Jamal’s car, and for a second, I forget she hates me. For a second, I think this is her messing

with me, making fun of how I always used to get shotgun in Bo’s car even though Yami was her girlfriend. But Yami’s not laughing.

And Jamal’s not my boyfriend.

The car ride this time isn’t spent in tension-filled silence. Yami and Jamal catch up the entire time, laughing and telling

stories and joking around like I’m not even here. I can’t help thinking how much better off they’ll be when I’m not.

I like them like this.

But at the same time, I hate it.

By the time we get to our viewpoint and stop the truck, Bo’s car is already waiting on the empty dirt road.

Before I know it, Yami, Bo, and Jamal are all living it up outside. They lean on the hood of Bo’s car and talk for what feels

like ages. It’s like they haven’t even noticed I’m still in the truck.

They finally turn their heads when I get out and shut the door hard behind me. Then I stomp off past them, not knowing where

I’m going, or why I’m mad, but also not really caring.

I walk off the road through some tallish grass and bushes before sitting down in the middle of nowhere and hugging my knees to my chest, resting my head between my legs.

I can hear the grass moving in the distance as someone gets closer and closer, but I don’t look up.

“I thought this was what you wanted,” Jamal says.

Of course it’s Jamal. And thank God he doesn’t seem to remember Saturday night.

I feel the earth shift next to me as he sits down by my side, waiting for an answer I don’t give.

“You can’t do everything in your power to make sure you have nothing to do with any of us, then get mad when we respect your

boundaries.” Jamal doesn’t sound mad. He never does. His voice is calm as ever, despite the words coming out of his mouth.

I finally look up to find his ever-intense eyes trained on me. “Shit, Jamal... ,” I say, feeling a lump forming in my throat.

This is what I wanted. So why the hell am I so unhappy? “I know I’ve been an asshole. If we lived in a different world, maybe...

maybe things would have turned out different.”

Jamal’s lips quirk into a small smile. “Is this your way of trying to apologize?”

“What? No. I’m not apologizing,” I say. I know it sounds harsh, but I’m not going to apologize for something I would do again