Aristotle and Dante Dive into the Waters of the World (Aristotle and Dante #2)(20)

Mrs. Quintana nodded as she went for another bite. “I get that feeling too,” she said. “And I can almost forgive you for using that word.”

Dante had this victorious look on his face.

“Don’t get cocky. I said ‘almost.’?”

And then I noticed Mr. Quintana was serving himself seconds of my mother’s pie.

“Sam, did you even taste it? Or did you just inhale it?”

“Oh, I tasted it, all right. The rest of you can go ahead and talk. I’m busy bonding with Lilly’s apple pie.”

Dante smiled at me. “Thank God for your mom’s pie. It took my mom out of lecture mode.”

“You can’t ever quit while you’re ahead, can you, Dante?” Mrs. Quintana couldn’t quite keep herself from laughing.



* * *



We did get another brief lecture from Mrs. Quintana—but I didn’t mind. She cared. And it also helped me understand where Dante got his stubbornness. From his mother, of course. When she’d finished, she kissed us both on the cheek. Then she looked at me. “Dante will never stop trying to out-stubborn me. He’ll never succeed. But that’s not going to stop him from trying. And tell Lilly she’s a genius—and I’ll return her pie plate tomorrow.” Which meant our mothers were going to discuss their sons while we were gone.



* * *



Dante and I sat on the front steps and stared out into the darkness. Dante took off his shoes. “When we were joking around on the phone, you didn’t know what ‘laudable’ meant, did you?” I didn’t even have to look at his face to know he was wearing that I’m smarter than you are look.

I decided to ignore that tone that I was becoming familiar with. “No, I don’t think I’d ever heard that word. Didn’t have a clue. But now I’ve added a new word to my lexicon.”

“Lexicon?”

“Lexicon,” I repeated. “Laudable. It means worthy of praise. From the Latin ‘laude.’ To praise.”

“Well, look at you, Aristotle Mendoza.”

“Yeah, Look at me.”

“You’ll be talking like a dictionary in no time.”

“No fucking way,” I said. “No fucking way.”



* * *



Dante walked me to my truck. “I’m kissing you right now.”

“I’m kissing you back,” I said—then drove away.





Thirty-One


Dear Dante, All I can think of is you. All I can think of is what it will feel like sleeping next to you. Both of us naked. What you will feel like as I kiss you and kiss you and kiss you and kiss you. And I’m so scared. I don’t know why I’m so scared. I’ve never been so excited or so happy or so scared.

Are you scared too, Dante?

Please tell me that you’re scared.





Thirty-Two


I DIDN’T SLEEP ALL NIGHT. I couldn’t. Dante. Dante. Dante.

When the dawn was breaking, I went out for a run. I could taste the salt of my own sweat as it ran down my face, and I thought about my own body. Maybe my body was like a country and if I was going to be a cartographer, the first thing I was going to have to do was map out my own body. And map out Dante’s while I was at it.

When I was in the shower, I whispered his name. Dante.

Dante, Dante, Dante. He was like a heart that was beating in every pore of my body. His heart was beating in my heart. His heart was beating in my head. His heart was beating in my stomach. His heart was beating in my legs. His heart was beating in my arms, my hands, my fingers. His heart was beating in my tongue, my lips. No wonder I was trembling. Trembling, trembling, trembling.





Thirty-Three


MY DAD’S TRUCK WAS ALL packed with all our camping gear. Dad wasn’t about to let me take my own truck. We’d had a discussion when I’d gotten back from dinner at the Quintanas’ house. “That thing’s fine for driving around town, but you need something reliable.”

“You’re saying my truck’s not reliable, Dad?”

“You’re looking at me as if I just insulted you.”

“Maybe you have.”

“Don’t overinvest your identity in that truck,” my mother said.

“You sound like you’ve been hanging out with Mrs. Quintana.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Me and Dante, neither one of us would ever succeed in out-stubborning our mothers.



* * *



Mom handed me a paper bag filled with burritos she’d made while I’d been out running. I looked in the bag and stared at the burritos wrapped in foil. “What kind?

“Huevos con chorizo y papas.”

I couldn’t help but smile. She knew they were my favorite. “Greatest mom ever,” I said. She combed my hair with her fingers. “You and Dante be careful. Come back to me safe.”

I nodded. “I promise, Mom, I’ll be careful.”

She kissed me—and made the sign of the cross on my forehead. “And have fun.”

My dad handed me the keys to his truck. “Don’t wreck my truck while I’m gone,” I told him.