I Will Save You by Matt de la Pena Page B

under swells. We’d stay out there bodysurfing and spraying water at each other until Devon said we had to get back to our towels and scan for new talent.
    We spent pretty much the entire day talking about girls, but somehow Devon had more to say.
    “What I seriously don’t get, though,” he told me, “is your obsession with blondes.” He was holding a long stick now,whacking rocks into the road. We watched each one skip into the traffic that raced past us on the 101.
    “I just think some of them are pretty,” I said.
    “Pretty? What’s pretty, though, Special? For real.”
    I shrugged.
    “Pretty’s stock, man. Pretty’s like having bread and water for dinner. Yeah, maybe it’s enough sustenance to make it to the next day, but it doesn’t taste like anything. I’m talking about flavor, Special. I’m talking about herbs and spices.”
    “I like girls who are pretty,” I said, but Devon wasn’t listening.
    “Dude, I know all those sayings they have like ‘blondes have more fun,’ but that was from, like, 1920. Our country didn’t know any better. Since then all kinds of immigrants have come and settled here and made kids with white people and new combinations of girls have been born and it’s woken people up to a whole new meaning of what’s hot.”
    “I guess so.”
    “Look at you , Special. You’re mixed.”
    I shrugged.
    “When people first meet you, what do they think you are?”
    I thought about it a sec, then told him: “Just regular, I guess.”
    “No, dude. I mean your race. What race do people think you are?”
    “Sometimes they think I’m part Mexican,” I said. “Or Puerto Rican or Spanish.”
    “See?” Devon said.
    “One kid at Horizons said if I was from Iraq and if I was a terrorist. But he was joking.”
    “Oh, damn,” Devon said, putting a fist to his mouth. “People are ignorant.” He looked at me for a sec and said: “Actually, maybe I would have somebody take a wand to your ass at airport security.”
    “I don’t look like a terrorist.”
    “I know, Special. I’m just messing with you. Dude, you take everything so personal.”
    I shrugged and kept walking.
    “If anything you look like a white skater kid with a tan. Especially with those new threads I got you.”
    I looked down at my new shirt and surf trunks. I forgot I even had them on.
    “Hey, Special.”
    I looked at Devon.
    “But even if you can sort of blend in with these rich kids … really you’re not.”
    “I know,” I said.
    “I don’t think you do.”
    I looked at him, confused.
    “You’re not like them, man. You’re different. Me too. And we have to understand that people are always gonna view us that way. As outsiders. Even if they seem nice to our faces. Behind closed doors it’s something else.”
    “Maybe it’s not like that here,” I said.
    “You honestly believe that?” Devon shot back. “If anything it’s worse. Why do you think I can’t hang out with these campsite kids? I can see it in their eyes, man. Deep down they think they’re better than us. And you know why?”
    “Why?”
    “ ’Cause they’re white. And ’cause they have money. And ’cause me and you, Special, we don’t got nothing.”
    I kept walking.
    It was quiet between us for a couple minutes, then Devon started smiling. “That’s why I got one rule with the ladies,” he said.
    “What?”
    “It’s gotta be dark hair if it’s gonna be Devon. And olive skin. And a little bit of booty. I mostly dig black girls and Mexican girls, but I’m flexible, you know? Some Asians are pretty sweet. Remember when I hooked up with that one Filipino girl, Tammy or whatever? At the community pool in Fallbrook?”
    I nodded and looked up at him and then looked at the walkway again. That’s about all you could do with Devon when he started going on like this about girls.
    “I remember ’cause when they walked in I turned to you and said I’d probably end up marrying the Asian one. Of course, you were too busy