The absolute best part
of my life is working at The Vibe. It sounded hokey when Marcela first
thought up the idea of creating a youth center in our neighborhood. No one
who is really cool is going to go hang out at a youth center. If she
thought she was going to help us "troubled kids" she was living in a fantasy
world (I thought). Which come to find out, isn't so bad.
But the thing is, what
annoys me most about Marcela is the same thing that is awesome about her.
She DOES live in a fantasy world. Everything is possible for her, even when
most people think she's crazy, she pulls things off. She attacks life with
this total certainty that can be irritating. And she's always happy -- but
that's another story.
So she leased this
building, and got it decorated and equipped with computers and tables and
chairs and artsy stuff, and well, it looked awesome. Then she hired this
guy. Oh my God! She hired this amazing guy named, Ryan Nash. And Nash is
not only the best looking, coolest, smartest guy I've ever met, but he is
just like Marcela. He seriously believes that he can make all Marcela's
wild ideas a reality.
Since I told her I'd
help her run The Vibe (I owe her after all she's done for me) I got to work
with Nash from day one. Setting up programs. Getting fliers done for the
neighborhood. Convincing kids that had once been my friends (and now don't
seem to be anymore) that this is a great place to hang out before school,
after school, when you're cutting school, whatever. Dealing with other kids
is the hardest part.
But Nash is amazing.
Even when the guys tell him off, he's able to laugh it off. I tend to want
to pop the stupid idiots in the mouth.
Nash took me aside the
other day -- we went into the back room, he ordered a pizza and bought me a
coke. "Listen, Lupe. Change is scary. Most of these kids are just
scared. You can't take what they say personally."
"But they're so
stupid." I said.
He smiled and I sort
of forgot what I else I was going to say. Nash is 22 years old and way out
of my league, but I've never reacted to a guy like this before. Anytime he
looks, or smiles, or talks nice to me, I go into almost a trance. I can't
think straight. Can't even breathe right. I've slept with older guys
before, so it's not that. I don't know what it is with Nash. He's
different. He makes me feel different. He makes me want to BE different.
"Haven't you ever been
scared, Lupe?" he asked, as he pulled a slice of pizza out of the box and
put it on a plate for me. (That's another thing -- no other guy has ever
done something as nice as serving me a meal. But Nash does all the time.)
I shrugged and tried
to act cool. I don't want him to think I'm a wimp. "What's to be scared of
at The Vibe?"
"A lot. In coming to
The Vibe they might find out that everything they thought life was about is
wrong. They may find out that tagging someone's car, for example, is a
pretty shitty thing to do."
My skin got warm all
over. He knew I'd tagged Marcela's car once - the night we met. "Well,
it's good to not want to do things like that anymore, right?"
"Right. Except that
when you have to tell your friends that you no longer want to tag peoples
property or smoke or do drugs or shoot innocent pedestrians, they might
reject you. You might lose the only things you have -- your friends."
I stared at him. Why
did I get the feeling that a lot of times, he was talking to me about me?
Like he was trying to teach me something, but was pretending he wasn't.
Like he didn't want to come straight out and say, 'hey, I know your friends
are giving you a hard time, and I know it bugs you'.
"You know what I'm
saying?" he asked.
I nodded. "Yeah."
"So, if some of these
kids we invite to The Vibe tell you off, just turn away. All we can do is
offer them an alternative to the street. We can't force them to want to
take it. Okay?"
I knew Nash was wise
beyond his years. And when he talked to me, I wanted to do whatever he
said. "But . . .", I said, wondering how much I could confide in him.
Being great to look at and nice didn't mean he could be completely trusted.
"But what?" he asked,
leaning closer to me.
"But, what if some of
those kids are my friends?"
Nash leaned back,
crossed his arms, and gazed at me with those amazing blue eyes. I felt like
a specimen he was studying. I've seen him do this with some of the other
kids that come in here. Like he's trying to decide how best to approach
this person. I hate when he does this to me.
"Define friend," he
said finally.
I sighed. "You know
what I mean."
"You mean, what if you
invite some of the girls you like to hang out with, and they come here and
then start to make fun of you, reject you, call you a sell out."
Exactly. That was
what I meant. I nodded.
He leaned forward
again, and placed his elbows on the table, then he reached across and took
one of my hands in his. "I guess that's when we find out how strong you
really are."
I didn't understand
what he was talking about. Probably because my heart started pumping at
double speed the second he touched me. "S...strong?"
He smiled. "Strong. "
He squeezed my fingers. "If you let what they say affect you, manipulate
you, make you feel bad about being here, then you'll know you need to work
on your inner strength some more. But if you can do what's right, even when
others are making it difficult for you, you'll realize what I already know,
Lupe."
"What's that?"
"That you're
special. Not only are you strong enough to put up with some of the crap
those kids can dish out, but strong enough to be a role model -- to show them
the great things that can happen if they make the right choices."
All I could do at this
point was stare at him. He was dead wrong, of course. I wasn't all that
strong. I was tough, but not strong. And I for sure, wasn't special or
anyone's role model. But . . . man, Nash thought I was special?
"So what do you say,
Kid?" he asked. "Will you stick it out with me? Will you be strong?" He
made a muscle gesture, then chuckled like he does when he wants to lighten
up his sort of intense personality.
I'd do anything --
anything for Ryan Nash. "Yeah, okay," I said. "But Nash?"
"What?"
"I guess I am a little
scared."
"That's okay," he
said, squeezing my fingers one more time and then releasing them. "I am
too."
"You are?"
"You bet. Most of
these guys that come in here are way bigger and tougher than me."
I had to
laugh because he was right. Nash is skinny and has long hair and just doesn't
fit in.
He started eating his slice
of pizza just like a regular guy. But Nash isn't a regular guy. He's
the one who's special. I've never met anyone like him before and I know I never
will again. I plan to stay at The Vibe. Not only because of Marcela, but
because of Nash. I don't care what my friends say or think -- being around Nash
is worth losing all of them.
