You fold your thick soft arms over your flabby chest and tell him softly, "I'm fine, it's just... I'm not dressed yet..."
"Oh. I'm sorry," he says. He backs out the door and closes it.
‘I’m nuts for wearing jeans in this heat,’ you say to yourself as you begin rummaging through the bin of clothes for a pair of shorts like the neighbor guy is wearing. ‘Arrgh, none of these fit,’ you mutter to yourself as you put on the green t-shirt. You walk out of the room to find the guy sitting on the floor in the family room.
"I'm sorry again," he says.
"That's okay,” you say, lying through your teeth. You try to be polite. “I’m Pete. How are ya?"
"I'm Robbie Rosado and I live next door with my mom, dad, and little brother Billy.”
"Do you go to school, Robbie?"
"I’ll be starting at Baker Junior College in September. You?"
"I'll be starting there this fall too."
"Cool. So what brings you to Spring Lake?"
"My dad's new job. He’s the new manager of the ConAgra food plant."
"Awesome. Do you want to go to the mall? That's where we all hang out? Kids even come from downtown."
"Cool. I used to live downtown in Chicago."
"Is that where you’re from? Wow, California will be a different! You’ll get a tan, man. Just gimme a minute, I'm going to change my clothes, then I'll be back with my baby - my Pontiac Sunfire."
Robbie hoofs it out of the house, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
‘Well at least he didn't say anything about my gut. Maybe he's not the type who makes fun of people who are different,’ you think hopefully.
You walk outside where Dad is carrying a table out of the back of the van, pick up a couple of chairs and followed Dad back into the house. The two of you return for another load, and then another, then you speak up as you see a Sunfire pull out of a nearby driveway.
"Dad, I'm going to the mall with our neighbor Robbie Rosado."
"All right, Peter. Be back by nine, please."
"No problem, Dad'.
A moment later a shiny new black Pontiac Sunfire pulled up to the curb. You walk over to the car and drop your fat self onto the low seat as rap was blares from the stereo.
"Cool car, Robbie. Is it yours?"
"Sure is. I saved up for it and bought it a few weeks ago."
You look at Robbie as he drives, and realise that he must be Puerto Rican, or maybe Mexican - what you thought was a tan is a little deeper than that. He’s changed, too, out of the t-shirt and shorts you first saw him in, into a pair of baggy jeans, a WWF baseball shirt (which he wears unbuttoned), a gold chain with a medallion that says Robbie on it, a pair of blue Timberland boots, and a sideways New York Yankees baseball cap. And, boy, do these clothes look good - you wish you could dress like that. You speak up, “I like the way you're dressed."
"Thanks."
"I wish I could dress like you."
"Why can't you? Because you’re fat?"
"Yep."
"Don't worry about it. Why be should you be self-conscious about your size?” Robbie begins, suddenly erudite. “Just because a person looks different, doesn't mean they're not a good person. People shouldn't be judged on appearances . It's whether or not they're a good person. When my family first moved here from LA we got harassed because we were the only Puerto Ricans in town. But once people stated to realize we were good people, we made friends."
"Wow,” you reply, a little surprised by Robbie’s eloquence. “You know, that’s cool."
“Freezer burn cool! You and I are going to be great friends,” Robbie says and grins at you. “Here we are,” he adds as he pulls into a mall parking slot next to an older Ford. He gets out and you follows him into the mall. Do the two of you...
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