A Different Blue(9)

passenger side when I unlocked my truck. I worried about the kid. He was more feminine than I

was.

“I wonder what he is doing in Boulder? Ivy and Gabby are sure he is, like, MI-6 or something.”

Manny had dozens of girlfriends. In fact, the girls all loved him because he was so non-

threatening and fun, which made me wonder again why he couldn't ride the bus. It wasn't like he

didn't have friends.

“What the hell is MI-6?” I grumped, trying to manuever through the crush of vehicles leaving

the school. I hit my brakes as someone cut me off and then hung his middle finger out the window

as if I was the one who pulled out in front of him. Manny reached over my arm and pounded on the

horn.

“Manny! Stop! I'm the one driving, okay?” I commanded, knocking his hand away. It didn't even

faze him.

“You don't know what MI-6 is? Freaking James Bond? Chica, you need to get out more!”

“What would someone from MI-6 be doing at Boulder High School?” I laughed.

“Beats me, but he's British, he's hot, and he's young.” Manny ticked his points off on

graceful fingers. “What else could it be?”

“You really think he's hot?” I questioned doubtfully.

“Oh, definitely. In a very naughty librarian kind of way.”

“Oh, sick, Manny. That only works when the librarian is female.”

“Fine, a naughty professor then. He's got sexy eyes and floppy curls and his forearms are very

well-developed. He's a hottie in disguise. Totally MI-6. Do you have to work tonight?” Manny

bounced to a new subject, having clearly proven the new Mr. Wilson must be a spy.

“It's Monday. Monday means work, Manny.” I knew what he was fishing for and resisted. “Stop

feeding the kitties,” I reminded myself firmly.

[page]“I could sure go for some of Bev's quesadillas right now. I am one hungry Mexican.”

Manny laid the accent on thick. He only referred to his ethnicity when he talked about food. “I

sure hope Gloria remembered to go shopping before she left for work. Otherwise, me and baby

sister are eating Ramen again,” Manny sighed mournfully.

The baby sister line was over the top, but I found myself weakening. Manny was the man of the

house, and that meant providing for Graciela, which he did with gusto, even if providing meant

asking me to provide. I worked at Bev's Cafe several nights a week, and without fail I brought

home dinner for Manny and Graciela at least once during the week.

“Fine. I will bring you and Gracie some quesadillas. But this is the last time, Manny. It cuts

into my paycheck,” I scolded. Manny smiled brilliantly at me and clapped his hands like Oprah

does when she's excited.

“I will see if my uncle has any more mesquite you can have,” Manny promised, and I nodded and

stuck out my hand to shake on it.

“Deal.”

Manny's Uncle Sal worked on a crew with the forest service. They frequently cleared scrub and

brush and kept the mesquite from encroaching on government owned ranches. Last time Sal had come

through for me, I had enough wood to last me two months of serious carving. I drooled at the

thought.

“Of course, that means you will owe me, chica,” Manny suggested innocently. “Dinners for at

least a month of Mondays, okay?”

I just laughed at his negotiating skills. He already owed me for two months of Mondays. But we