The M.I.L.F. Man

"Do I do, what you do, when I do my love to you?"

Four of my 25 Valencia students showed up for class first period. Six were there waiting for the third period session. Pretty much all the kids I'd talked to the day before. But one.

It was totally Manny to browbeat a bunch of other kids into showing up and then cut class himself. He'd be there a day or two later, probably. But he had to sweat me first.

The ones who did show were kind of uneasy and sullen initially. And I was a little uneasy myself when they showed up on that big screen giving us all kinds of Aztec attitude.

I mean, the pastel prettiness of the Walther crewe had to be almost other worldly to them. All those fresh faces and bright eyes.

My Valencia kids slinked in half asleep from working nights or being kept up 'til the wee hours by scary shit they had to decide to fight or flee from. But the Walther kids looked like they'd slept peacefully and awakened to nutritionally sound breakfasts a far cry from Flaming Hot Cheetos and a Dr. Pepper or some dried out tacos that had been left out on the table from dinner the night before.

But it started getting hot in that room pretty quick, though, as the Walther kids started feeling the flava. I mean, after Geronimo Palacios barked, "Yo, what the fuck?" at something one of the white boys said, he could've had all the Walther women. And a few of the men, too, probably.

Geronimo was fiercely Yaqui. Thick black hair down to his butt and a mural-worthy Native face. I can't remember what riled him exactly, but I remember, "Yo, I live that shit, son. You just read about it."

And then there was a very long, very uneasy silence that Ramona didn't mess with. Silence was considered "processing" at Walther. But finally Harrison Hudson-Kemp (Walther had a lot of hyphenates) who to his credit had not blinked too hard when chastised, said, "Well, actually we all only know what we've read or heard about each other. But I did overstep—apologies for that."

Geronimo sat back, but his narrowed eyes told me he'd felt the clever counter punch. And the Valencia girls shot little looks at each other, impressed that Harrison hadn't backed all the way down. So there'd be a few more brown girls on that big screen soon for sure.

In fact, the rest of the hour went so well that I didn't give a shit later when that Native teacher who'd dissed me awhile back straight up side-eyed me again as I was heading for the Lexus after my last class.

But then as I was throwing my stuff into the back seat, I saw this really pretty girl leap out of her father's "midlife crisis" Porsche, slam the door and go rushing off.

Zaddy got out, too, looking like a GQ cover. And called, "Wait a sec, honey."

And when he trotted over and put his hand on her face, she shook her hair back to dislodge that hand.