Read We Were Here for Free Online

you’re gonna meet me at Maria’s later, right? Don’t play me this time, Diego.” And Diego’ll hold his hands out all innocent-like and say: “Course I’m gonna meet you there. You my girl, ain’t you?” And her face will beam and she’ll blow Diego a kiss before slamming shut her door and her and her girl drive off, waving.
    Diego, man.
    But this is the part that gets me. He’ll walk over all chill right after, right? Won’t even mention what he just did. He’ll talk about ball instead, or he’ll ask me what I think about Moms only sleepin’ on the living room couch these days, or he’ll see if I wanna go fishing in the levee later. The dude won’t even mention how in less than a minute’s time he just got the finest white girl in Stockton to go from crossing her arms and frowning to blowing him dumb-ass kisses.
    Diego, man.
    My big bro.
    When I was a kid I used to try and think how he did it, you know? What’d he say? How’d he say it? I used to copy his clothes style and how he did his hair. But after a while I stopped, man. I realized that’s just how it is for Diego. He’s mad smooth like that. Like he can see in a girl’s head and know exactly what she’s thinking without barely even trying. Girls just come to him. And the less he puts in, the more he gets out. It’s the exact opposite of how you’d think, right? But I’m telling you.
    Nah, when it comes to girls, my brother’s lounging on the inside. He’s getting fanned down by the finest girls you could ever imagine. While the rest of us are sitting around outside, in the hot Stockton sun, sweatin’ our balls off.
    I swear, man. Sometimes when I’m doing chores and thinking about my brother I just sit there and crack up.

June 21
    I know I haven’t written in here for a grip, but there’s a reason for that. Nothing’s really happened. And nothing’s reallyhappened because I’ve been chillin’ solo. I don’t mess with anybody or even make any eye contact. It’s just easier this way. I wake up, do my chores, eat by myself on one of the cinder blocks outside, do more chores, go to my counseling appointment with this manly-looking lady named Jenny (ol’ girl gots a handlebar mustache, I swear to God), eat alone again, read whatever book I’m reading and go to sleep. That’s pretty much it. Once the school year starts again I’ll go to class. But it’s summer, so we got mad downtime. Each house only gets two outings per week, and most times it’s something lame like going to the park down the road, where everybody just stands around on the handball court. The rest of the time we’re at the Lighthouse doing chores or eating or having free time.
    I know the judge said for me to write in here four times a week, but what’s dude want me to do, man, make shit up? Even the whole thing with Mong has chilled out since the night I caught him standing over me.
    My roommate, Jackson, got booted a couple days back ’cause they found meth taped underneath his sock drawer-second time in two weeks he got caught. The first time they found it in his shoe. They do that here, by the way. A counselor from another house comes around every few days and goes through all your stuff to make sure you don’t have nothin’ illegal. Since Jackson left I’ve had my own room, which is crazy mellow.
    Ways to Escape Your Mind in a Group Home:
    At first I’d come in here and just lay on my bed staring up at the ceiling, thinking. But I realized when I do that I usually start thinking about something I don’t really wanna think about, like my moms or Diego, so I decided to start reading books. Back in Stockton I read a few for school. I even readsome on my own, though I never let my bro catch me. I’d always sneak the shit—in the bathroom, or under the covers, or I’d hide it inside a sports magazine. Trust me, where we’re from it ain’t cool to read no book unless some teacher’s making you.
    Anyways, the first one I pulled off the shelf was