Story – Amor Sucks

Wednesday, January 12, 1972, Bronx, New York , “Hump Day”

Cousin Eva and our best friend America lock themselves in the bedroom with the boys. They usually start slowly.  Eva goes with Snake and then Rica follows, then Pito. I stay alone in the sunken living room, hearing the Temptations or watching “One Life to Live”.  Sometimes it is quiet here and I can listen to the noises they make and the giggles. Today, Pito stays with me watching One Life to Live, until he hears the sounds coming from his father’s bedroom, the ohh, ahh, ahh, and the laughter calling out to him like spices.

He says “you want to come?” and I say “Na, I’m not ready for that,” and catch myself worrying that Pito will think I’m not tough enough to be a Dragon Slayer.  Pito and his brother, Snake, are the leaders of the Dragon Slayers, and so being with them makes us Slayer girls.

Kind of.

The Dragon Slayer’s wear black leather jackets with a red and yellow dragon on the back, and multi-colored letters drawn on the bottom that say “Dragon Slayer”.  We’re not officially Dragon Slayer girls until we wear our jackets with our pants.  But at the moment, we’re not allowed to wear pants, and the jackets don’t look cool with our dresses.  I wear mini dresses, but Eva’s religious father, Tio Quinto, forbids her to wear them.  Eva wears colorless clothes; black knee high skirts and whites blouses, like she’s going to church.  She looks like a saint, but she doesn’t fool anyone at Wade Junior High because Eva is tough and beautiful.  Today, she wore Snake’s jacket over her long black skirt and no one dared to mess with her because she’s a Dragon Slayer.   Someday I’ll wear Pito’s jacket, and I’ll feel beautiful, strong and cool too.

To read More:

Báez, A. (2007). . Willimantic, CT: Curbstone.

Story behind the story:

I was 11 years old when I started at Wade Junior High School. I was not prepared to take the D train to the school, but my cousin was attending the same school and unless we had an argument we’d travel together. She was stronger than I, and not afraid of anything, so when she did not go with me, I had to tackle it on my own. I don’t remember my parents taking me to school on the first day, I remember going on my own. Maybe with my cousin. I remember the gangs, the colors and their names. What I rememmber most though was the boys and the girls and their loves. 

Stories are not real, but the images, memories of them are a compilitation of things we have heard, or experienced. The imagination takes over and makes up the rest.