“Yeah, Tawny, go with your ‘boyfriend.’ I bet he’s a real good kisser.” The whole room is watching now. And Gordo makes the most of his audience. “Ask your boyfriend why he’s sneaking out at night with his boyfriend!” Chaz and Tawny stop in their tracks. Honestly, so do I, and I wasn’t even standing.

CHAZ HAS A BOYFRIEND? How is that even—

Gordo is grabbing me by my polo before I get it: he means me. I can see Ma Elena trying to grab one of his arms while his goons crowd her away. My kraken awakes. I have like four shirts total, and he is not going to tear the buttons off this one, which is my favorite.

Nix and I signed up for a free women’s self-defense class at the yoga studio in Auburn (they weren’t like super happy to see either of us, but Nix is Nix, and I was in full face, and they had like two clients that day, so they let us stay). It’s all sort of blurry, but I think for a front assault, I’m supposed to bring my hands up through the middle and pull back while dropping. Or maybe dropping and kicking? I try it all at once in a panic and end up hitting my own chin with my hands, but a kick is a kick, and mine is square in his crotch.

Gordo goes down, howling, and his boys finally let Ma Elena through. But he only has eyes for me. “You kicked me in the balls, asshole! Who does that?” Like, what, I violated some bro code? He’s actually crying.

“Then keep your paws to yourself.” 2020s me has climbed over ’80s me and is about to plant a pride flag right in his effin’ forehead. “I know I’m hot stuff and that it’s just about impossible to resist me, and oh I could give you the ride of your life, but if you touch me again, you’ll be the one kicked out, and then what will you have left? Is there even time to find your fourth high school before graduation?”

Mrs. Buckman has finally made her way across the cafeteria to see what the fuss is, but she’s missed the good part.

Gordo scrambles to stand, but Ma Elena is directly between us, hissing—not just at him, “Grow up! I don’t have time for little boys!” She pulls him away, and he goes, but not without a red-eyed look back at me. It’s the scariest thing I’ve ever seen. Kids are beginning to go back to their seats, leaving Mrs. Buckman (who hates to miss drama more than she hates anything else in the world) to canvas them, asking who did what to whom.