Read Getting It for Free Online Page B

instant, he’d gathered the paint supplies and bamboo, heading toward the door.
    â€œHey, wait!” Carlos blocked his path. “What …? Why do you need to know who she is?”
    â€œI don’t.” Sal glared at him. “But if we’re going to do this, you’ve got to trust me.”
    Carlos took a breath. Could he really trust Sal? Only Carlos’s closest friends knew about his crush on Roxy. Slowly, he let out his breath. “Promise you won’t tell her what we’re doing?”
    Sal’s brow arched in confusion. “Why would I tell her?”
    â€œI don’t know.” Carlos shrugged, feeling foolish for being so paranoid. “It’s, um …” He cleared his throat. “Roxy Rodriguez.”
    â€œRoxy?” Sal’s voice rose in surprise. “Are you serious?” He gave a wild laugh. “Dude! She’s, like, totally not your type.”
    Carlos cringed, edging back. Did Sal think Roxy was out of his league? Or that Carlos wasn’t good enough? That he was a loser? He suddenly didn’t like Sal at all. “You don’t know my type!”
    â€œOh, come on!” Sal retorted. “Roxy is, like, Miss Plastic—with all that makeup she wears? Her eyes aren’t even really green. Those are contacts. And those crotch-high skirts? She’s, like, totally wrong for you.”
    Carlos tried to remain calm, but inside he felt ready to blow a gasket. Makeovers weren’t supposed to work this way. The TV queer guys never tried to talk the straight guy out of liking the girl—nor made her sound like a slut.
    â€œWhat do you know about girls?” Carlos shot back. “You’re a fag!”
    Sal winced, his face hardening. “Whoa, man. Stop right there. Number one, I don’t like being called fag, or ‘homo,’ or ‘perv,’ or anything else besides gay. Number two, whether I’m gay or not, I just think …” His face softened with concern, his eyes gentle with compassion. “You deserve better than her.”
    Yeah, right,
Carlos thought. Any guy at school would give his left nut for Roxy—any straight guy. “I want to ask you something.” Carlos stared defiantly back at Sal. “Why are you really doing this—helping me?”
    â€œI told you,” Sal said, his voice unwavering. “So you’ll help with our GSA.”
    But Carlos sensed there was more to it. He waited, arms crossed, till Sal came forth: “You’re right. There’s another reason. All through school, almost every straight guy I’ve known has called me ‘fag’ and treated me like shit. I’m curious to see: Are you really any different?”
    Carlos glanced away, confused. Was he different from other straight guys? In what way? Was he “turning queer,” like Playboy had said?
    Carlos squared his shoulders. “I’m not gay, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
    Sal rolled his eyes. “I think your room has proven that!” He gave a gentle sigh. “Look, I’m sorry I said Roxy was plastic. If you like her, you like her. And it’s none of my business. I was out of line, okay? I agreed to help you and I will. But don’t call me names, all right?”
    Carlos wished he hadn’t called Sal a fag. It made him uneasy the way Sal now looked at him—trusting and tender—like his ma sometimes looked at him after he’d messed up and felt sorry.
    â€œDo you think I’m a loser?” Carlos blurted out, without even thinking. “My friends think I’m a loser for not just hooking up with someone and getting it over with.”
    â€œIt?”
Sal’s eyebrows rose up. “Getting
what
over with?”
    â€œYou know—getting laid.”
    Sal peered at him. “Is that what this is about? I thought you wanted a girlfriend.”
    â€œWell, I do, but—” Carlos plopped down on the