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eyebrows at her.
    I expect her to smile.
    Or laugh.
    I don’t expect her to knee me in the nuts and say “Fuck you.”
    Which is exactly what Nikki Cruz does.

8
    Nikki
    I didn’t mean to knee Luis in the nuts.
    Okay, so that’s not entirely true. I meant to knee him where it counts. I just didn’t mean to do it hard—in front of everyone, including the bride and groom. And my parents. And his mother. And everyone else who happened to be on the dance floor at the time.
    While Luis grabs his crotch and winces in pain, I walk away and head for the women’s restroom. Sprint is more like it. Maybe if I distance myself quickly, nobody will know that Dr. Cruz’s daughter is a complete mess. Fat chance, I know.
    I lock myself in a stall, content to stay here forever if it means I don’t have to face the rest of the world for a while. After about five minutes of pretending that I don’t exist and wishing I were a fictional character in one of Ben’s stupid video games, I think the coast is clear … until I hear the click of a woman’s shoes and a knock on my stall door.
    Knock, knock, knock . “Nikki, it’s your mother,” she says, her knuckles rapping on the door. “Open up.”
    “What if I don’t want to?”
    Her response is more knocking.
    I open the door slowly. “Hi,” I say, forcing a smile.
    “Don’t Hi me, young lady. You completely embarrassed me and your father out there.”
    “Sorry,” I say dumbly.
    “I’m not the one who needs an apology. What in God’s name came over you, Nikki?”
    “Nothing.” If I told her, then she’d know about my secret. I can’t tell her; not now when I’m trying to figure out what to do. “I just … it was an accident.”
    “An accident?” Mom asks, not convinced in the least. She takes a deep breath. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but hurting people and embarrassing yourself and your family isn’t the answer.”
    I know that. But I couldn’t stand there while Luis’s strong hands wrapped around my waist. I wanted to lay my head on his chest and pretend he was my knight in shining armor willing to avenge my honor. But that was a fantasy. When he spoke to me in Spanish, it reminded me too much of Marco and the biggest mistake of my life. I have no knight, no honor.
    “I suppose you want me to apologize.”
    She nods. “Yes, I do. Sooner rather than later.”
    I watch as Mom walks out of the room, leaving me alone. It’s her way of making the apology my own decision, as if she’s not forcing me to do it. I close the door again and lean my head back against the stall door.
    I know I’m being irrational. All Mexican boys aren’t like Marco, just like all Mexican American girls aren’t like me. Actually, most Mexican girls I know speak Spanish and have at least a few other Mexican neighbors. I don’t. Maybe I judged Luis harshly, but then again, I probably pegged him perfectly.
    I hear the door open and the tap-tap-tap of more heeled shoes on the bathroom floor.
    “Omigod, I can’t believe that girl who danced like a freak kicked Luis and left him on the dance floor!” I hear one of the girls say.
    I didn’t kick him. I used my knee, but I’m not about to clear up her little mistake. Not now, at least.
    “Did you get a glimpse of his lips?” the other girl says. “Yum.”
    I roll my eyes.
    “I know, right? I told him I’d help heal his wounds. I’m meeting him over by the pier in five minutes. I’ll bring back a report on how kissable his lips really are.”
    There’s a pause, so I peek through the little space between the door and stall. The Omigod girl is pushing up her boobs to make her cleavage pop out of her dress like butt cheeks. She turns to her friend. “How do I look?”
    I take that as my cue to come out of the stall and show myself. As soon as they realize they aren’t alone, they look at me, then at each other. I pretend to fix my hair and makeup in the big mirror right next to them.
    I decide to give them my