The Only Medicine

Early Monday morning, I get a text from Mike that makes my stomach drop: “im so sorry, but im not at school 2day :( home sick.”

There have, of course, been occasions when I’ve had to go to school by myself, and it’s literally the worst thing ever. Being in class by myself isn’t such a big deal, since Mike and I only have a couple of classes together, and I’m used to just sitting with my headphones in and trying to get my work done, but I’m going to have to sit in the cafeteria by myself, like a loser—as if everyone doesn’t think I’m weird enough already. And especially now that everyone is talking smack about me … ugh.

I try not to think about how terrible the day will be—I mean, it’s not like Mike got sick on purpose—and I think about an appropriate reply. Nothing too clingy.

“poor thing. hope u feel better soon,” I text back. I originally put a little x at the end, but then I decided that was weird and deleted it.

Mike being home sick also means I have to catch the bus, which means I have to get ready earlier. I roll out of bed and pick out an outfit for the day that will hopefully send out don’t-fucking-talk-to-me vibes, then scramble around trying to get my breakfast and lunch ready.

“You in a rush, mija?” Mama asks, sitting at the dining table in her bathrobe with a half-full cup of coffee.

“Mike’s sick today,” I reply, hunting in the cupboard for the peanut butter. “Mama, where’s the peanut butter?” As soon as the words are out my mouth, I find it behind the grape jelly.

“Oh, poor boy. Why doesn’t Vic take you?” Mama doesn’t drive, and neither do I, so it can make getting to and from places quite awkward.

“Vic commutes to college, and he would have left already.”

She helps me get some food together, then I run out the door to catch the next school bus.


Of course, I know people are staring and talking about me all morning, but I manage to get through the first half of the day in one piece. We have a sub for Math, so I pretty much spend the whole period listening to a mix CD on my Walkman and doodling song lyrics in my textbook and wishing the time to go by faster. The bell rings for lunch and I’m just heading to my locker when I spot Tony down the hallway. I totally forgot that he and Jaime went to the same school as us.

“Hey, Tony!” I call, but he doesn’t notice me.

I quickly follow him down the hall, trying not to look like a crazy stalker, ignoring the group of girls snickering at me outside the bathrooms.

“Tony!” I call again, and this time he spots me.

“Oh, hey,” he says.

“What’s up?”

“Oh, you know. Just going to practice in the music room.” He gestures behind him. There’s an awkward silence.

“That’s cool. Are you guys, uh, practicing for Friday?” I ask, trying to find a place to put my hands, because I can’t remember how I hold them naturally.

“Yeah.” He smiles. “You guys got in as well, right?”

“Yep.” I pop the p. “We’ve pretty much sorted our setlist.”

He looks over his shoulder again, then back to me. “Hey, uh, you can come join us, if you want? I know you and Fuentes usually hang out at lunch time, so it’s cool …”

“No, that sounds good,” I interrupt. “Mike’s actually away sick today, so I’m kind of a loner.”

“Okay, cool.” He leads the way to the music room, where I presume Jaime is already waiting.


It turns out to be a pretty fun lunch break; Tony and Jaime are really nice guys, and Jaime is such a laugh. He’s always doing goofy things. They don’t mind that I spend the whole lunch break with them, and even suggest I come hang out with them tomorrow as well.

“Thanks, guys. I dunno, I could be a spy, though, here to sabotage your chances on Friday,” I joke.

Jaime gasps dramatically and clasps his chest. “You wound me! I thought we were becoming best friends!”

Tony laughs as well, packing up the music room’s guitar (they never bring their own, since one time someone broke into the music room and stole Jaime’s bass). It doesn’t play quite like his own one, he tells me, but it’s better than having your shit stolen.

We bid each other farewell in the hallway, and then Jaime and I start walking in the same direction. He looks at me quickly and then bolts halfway down the hall.

“Hey, wait up!” I laugh. “Where are you heading?”

“I dunno. Where are you heading?”

I smirk at him. “English.”

He just nods and walks alongside me. After a while, he pipes up, “so … you gonna ask me about Saturday night?”

I cock an eyebrow at him. “Why? What happened on Saturday night?”

“Let’s just say Senor Victor Fuentes became very well-acquainted with a lovely lady friend.”

“Oh. Oh shit.” I raise both eyebrows in surprise. I guess that’s the next step in truly getting over someone. “Good on him.”

“He didn’t tell you about it?”

“Uh, no. I actually haven’t spoken to him since Saturday.”

“Oh, right. Well, he was pretty wasted. Like, he could barely speak when Tony took us back home.”

God, that makes me feel awful. I should’ve been there, helping him, getting him water and stopping him from drinking so much, or something. I mean, he can fuck who he wants, but getting totally drunk like that …

“Are you okay?” Jaime asks. We’ve stopped outside my classroom.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, sorry. You just looked a bit … spaced out. I thought maybe you were, like, bummed about it or something.”

I snort. “No, it’s fine. Vic and I aren’t like that.”

“Riiiiight.” I flip him the bird. “Well, I’d better get to class—I’ll see ya later, alligator!” he says, waving. “Come hang with us tomorrow!”

I roll my eyes and wave him goodbye, then duck into class, hoping the teacher won’t notice I’m late.


Mike is still sick both Tuesday and Wednesday, so I end up spending lunch with Tony and Jaime in the music room again. They don’t really play any of their music, just jam (considering their singer and drummer don’t go to our school). Tony shows us a riff he came up with on the toilet that morning, which sends Jaime into hysterics. I get a text from Mike halfway through the lunch break.

“hey, im feelin better 2day. I could pick u up from school?” it reads.

“that’s gud. Itll be nice 2 c u :)” I reply.

“Who you texting?” Tony asks.

“Just Mike.”

He and Jaime look at each other, then back at me.

“… What?”

“Oh. It’s just, uh …” Jaime looks at Tony again. “Uh, never mind.”

“Tell me.”

“Well. Uh, it’s dumb. It’s just … well, people have been saying things about you guys.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I know that. That started about a week ago. It’s just one of Mike’s ex-girlfriends spreading shit.”

“Well, you guys spend a lot of time together,” Tony points out.

I blush. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean that to sound like I thought you, like, deserve it, or anything.”

“Don’t be a dick, Tony,” Jaime says.

“It’s fine, don’t worry,” I sigh. God, why did they have to bring that up? “We’re just friends. Vic and I have been friends since we were, like, nine, and I’ve known Mike since then as well. Like, we’re just friends.”

They’re both looking at me like they don’t believe me, but I don’t want to say any more and dig myself a deeper hole. Luckily the bell rings then; I could’ve kissed it.


It’s a relief to see Vic’s car parked outside school when I finally finish for the day. Mike sits in the front seat in a big khaki jacket with a black beanie sitting loosely on his head, looking wan but probably a lot better than he did on Monday. He smiles when he sees me looking.

“How are you feeling?” I ask as I hop in, chucking my bag in the back.

“Yeah, been better,” he admits. He does sound quite stuffy.

“Are you okay to be out of bed?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I think so. I was going stir crazy at home, man. Let’s go get some coffee or something.”

We pull up to Starbucks and get a cosy spot at the back. Mike pays for both of us, since I don’t have any money on me. The armchair I’m sitting on is a bit uncomfortable; the back slants back too far, and I feel like I either have to lay back unnaturally or hunch forward.

“How’s Vic doing?” I ask once Mike has brought over our beverages.

“I don’t know. He’s being weird,” Mike says.

I take a sip from my soy latte and almost burn my tongue. “Yeah, well Jaime told me that Vic slept with someone on Saturday.”

“Yeah, Vic said. He was pretty fucked up.”

“Uh, why did no one tell me? I had to hear it from Jaime.”

Mike gives me a weird look. “Why do you care? Vic will probably tell you, anyway. He tells you everything.”

It feels like icy fingers are clasped around my heart, and I can’t breathe. Is this our friendship now? Keeping everything from each other?

“Mia, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I don’t even care. I just wish Vic had told me, because we’re supposed to tell each other everything.” God, that’s rich coming out of my mouth. Especially when I’m talking to the person I’ve been fooling around with behind his back. “He hasn’t even texted me since Saturday.”

“I guess he’s busy with college. He had an assignment due or something.”

“Do you know who it was?”

Mike glances up at me. “Maybe you should ask Vic these questions.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s not my story to tell. I’m good at keeping secrets, see?” He drops me a wink at the end, and I know he only does it to distract me. I let him distract me, because I’m tired of talking about Vic and feeling inadequate and like a shitty friend.

“I’ve been hanging out with Tony and Jaime at lunch time,” I say after a bit, wanting to change the subject.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s been pretty fun. I’ve just been hanging out with them in the music room.”

“What, you going to start a band with them now?” he jokes.

“Don’t be silly—we need a drummer first.” I poke my tongue out at him.

“What about a singer?”

I pretend to mull it over. “Well, I guess Vic could join in, too.”

“So we’d have two bassists?” he says.

“Aw, shut up. I haven’t thought this through.”

“You could be my groupie and warm my bunk for me instead,” he continues. “And set up our instruments and stuff.”

“Uh, so I’ve gone from being the founding member of this band to ‘groupie’?” I put finger quotes around ‘groupie’. “That’s fuckin’ lame.”

He just grins at me. “I think you’d make a great groupie. For me, at least.”

“I think the groupie is supposed to fuck everyone.”

“No, you’d be one just for me.”

“I could have all of you at the same time.”

He almost spits out his coffee. “Ew. I don’t want to think about that!”

I wink at him. “Or do you?”

“I really don’t,” he laughs, shaking his head.

I watch him as he finishes the last of his coffee, thinking about the warm pressure of his lips on mine. He looks so fucking hot in that beanie, no matter how unwell he is.

“How sick are you?”

He continues smirking. “I’m feeling better. Why?”

“Take me somewhere.”

“And?”

“Fuck me.”

Notes