narrowed her eyes. “You speak the superior race’s language, chica?” Girl.
I shrugged. “Un poquito.” A little. Only enough to get an A minus in conversational Spanish.
“I don’t like white chicks.” The taller girl reached out and fingered a lock of my hair.
My eyes widened when I heard a click and a switchblade appeared in the girl’s hand.
“You afraid?” The tall girl’s brown eyes glistened as brightly as the metal of her blade.
I nodded. Of course I was afraid. I wasn’t a coward, but I saw no need to lie. Not when faced with someone wielding a blade.
“You’re in our neighborhood. South side of the school belongs to us,” the shorter girl said. “You need to pay a tribute. Entenderme?”
Yeah, I understood, or at least I thought I did. But before I could blink, the taller girl yanked my hair hard and sliced off a two-inch piece.
“You bitch!” Turning on her, I put my palms on her chest and shoved her backward, reacting without thinking. The locker clanged as her body slammed into it.
“Puta!” Her face mottled with anger, she called me a bitch as she pushed away from the metal and came at me. Her blade slashed through the air, and I jumped back to avoid it. She stalked me, her lips twisting into a cruel grimace.
Scared shitless, I backed away more, but stopped when I ran into a wall of flesh. My heart hammering, I turned my head and saw a big Latino guy standing behind me.
I started to scream, but the guy clamped his big hand over my mouth. I was so scared now; it was all I could do to keep from pissing myself.
“What’s going on, Belinda?” he asked the tall girl, his voice deeply accented like hers, while I trembled.
“That puta pushed me.” Belinda jabbed at me with her blade.
“You cut off her hair, Lindy.” He made a low rumbly sound. Was he laughing? “Did you think she was going to thank you for that?”
“This doesn’t involve you, King.” Belinda tossed a long lock of her black hair over her shoulder, using the hand that held the knife.
“It does, ’cause you’re pissing me off and making me late for my poetry class.”
“Stupido, that rap shit of yours.”
“Not stupid to me. This gringa’s hair’s not stupid to her. You need to learn to consider others. Find a better outlet for your anger. Make friends instead of enemies all the time, entenderme?”
“Fuck you, King,” Belinda said, though her expression relaxed and she closed the blade. Jerking her chin to the shorter girl, she said, “Ándale, Yolanda.” Let’s go.
“Stay away from this one,” King said low to them, an undercurrent of steel in his tone as he gestured to me. Belinda might have the blade, but he had the upper hand. “She’s under my protection. Pass the word on.”
“Órale.” Okay. Belinda turned away, thrusting her arm in the air with my blond hair in her grip, her middle finger extended.
“I’m gonna remove my hand from your mouth.” My rescuer’s warm breath tickled the skin at my nape. “Don’t scream, or teachers will come. I don’t need more detention, ese?”
I bobbed my head, and he released me. I spun around, my eyes narrowed.
He hadn’t gotten any smaller. If anything, my first glance hadn’t properly assessed his size. Tree-trunk thighs, barrel chest, stomach with a couple of folds hanging over his belt. He had to be near six feet tall and well over two hundred pounds.
“I’m Juaquin Acenado. But everyone just calls me King on account of my size.”
“Why’d you help me?” I asked, the suspicion in my tone obvious. I took care of myself, with the help of my brother. I didn’t want to owe anybody anything.
“I like Belinda. I didn’t want her getting into trouble.”
A scoffing sound escaped me.
“She lost someone like I did.” His expression darkened. “But that’s not an excuse to terrorize people.”
King studied me a long beat, and I studied him back. He had eyes nearly the same tawny gold hue as mine, but the color was more striking on him with his ink-black hair and bronze skin. He was also more handsome than I’d realized at first glance.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Lace.”
“Nice name.” His eyes sparkled with sincerity. He was handsome, and apparently spoke and acted from his heart.
I decided right then and there that I liked King. A lot. “Nice of you to help me. Thank you, by the way.”
He smiled. “Que tienas agallas, Lace.”
“What’s that mean?” I asked.
“You’ve got a lot of guts