Who Are You?

*Trigger Warning: Cursing, Mention of Rape, Sassy Teenage Additude, Slight Mention of Abuse*

“Itzel Gonzalez, to the principal's office. Itzel Gonzalez, to the principal's office.” The intercom announced to the entire school. Instantly, she could feel every pair of eyes look toward her way. It didn't help that everyone knew her. She was popular, but this was the first time she’d been called to the office. She sighed and stood up, sliding a strap of her small, black leather bag over her shoulder. She smoothed out her green uniform skirt and her green and white tie around her neck. She hated how the thing choked her. Leaving her unfinished breakfast on the school lunch tables, she walked toward the main office, wondering why she was being called to the principal's office. She had always gotten away with fighting and sassing the teachers off before, so what did she do now to finally get their attention. She hated this school anyway. The uniforms were uncomfortable, she hated how many stairs there were, and the fact that it even had the word “Preparatory” in the school name. What the hell did she ever do to deserve this kind of schooling? Yeah, she was smart, but she hardly showed it. Being smart doesn’t get you popularity points, and at this stupid school, she needed them. She pulled her school ID card out of her skirt back right pocket and scanned the ID, unlocking the Main Office door. She swung it open and walked up to the Principal’s assistant desk, staring at the blue sapphire around the assistant's neck. That was one great thing about a Preparatory School, the staff is required to look nice. The assistant’s name was Holly Carlson: blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skin tone, purple chrome nails. She had a scar on the back of her hand, and always had bruises up and down her arms. Ms. Carlson always made up some excuse about her new bruises, but rumor has it that things aren’t going well between her and her boyfriend. He seemed too uptight for her anyways. She cleared her throat to get Ms. Carlson's attention away from her computer. Ms. Carlson looked up at her and smiled.

“Are you Itzel Gonzalez?” Ms. Carlson asked. She nodded, a straight face piercing into Ms. Carlson's soul. “Great, take a seat and I’ll see if they’re ready for you.” They? She wondered as she sat down. More people from colleges begging me to join them early? Another kid ratting me out for cussing out on the history teacher on the second floor? She watched as Ms. Carlson walked toward the Principal’s office and knocked on the door, opening it and informing the principal that I was there. Everyone knows the Principal, mostly because she describes her entire life at those cursed, boring “Beginning of School Introduction” presentation assemblies. Her name is Asia Smith. She’s got dark brown skin, near-black eyes, black poofy hair, and the whitest teeth of the century. She grew up in Africa, moved to America, became a Principal, got married, had one too many children, then got divorced. Not joking, she told everyone this at the assembly. Ms. Carlson looked at her and nodded. She swallowed, though she wasn’t nervous, as she walked into the office. A large man with dark tan skin, black hair in a low-fade cut, and deep, dark green eyes. He had a slightly slouched posture and slightly crooked teeth.

“Ah, Itzel, please, take a seat,” Principal Smith directed. The man looked at her, smiling, a certain light in his eyes that only made her wonder if she had seen him before. She sighed as she slid her bag off and sat in a chair. “Mr. Santos, this is Itzel Gonzalez,” Mrs. Smith introduced. The man smiled at Itzel again and held his hand out for a handshake. Itzel looked at his hand and raised an eyebrow before looking at her principal.

“And who is this supposed to be? Another College person? A police officer?” Itzel asked, folding her arms, rejecting his handshake.

“I bet you're confused, Itzel. This is Santiago Santos, and on file, it says that he’s your father.” Mrs. Smith explained. Itzels face froze straight. She shook her head.

“He’s not my Papi,” Itzel replied.

“I called your mother. She confirmed that this is, indeed, your father,” Mrs. Smith insisted. Itzel looked at him, examining him. How could he be my father? Itzel wondered. We look nothing alike! 

“I-i have a picture of you when you were a baby,” Mr. Santos informed. He pulled a small photo out of his pocket and held it out to Itzel. Itzel scoffed softly and took the picture, looking at it, examining everything in the picture. She could feel her body tense. In the polaroid photograph was her mama and herself smiling at the person taking the photo. He can’t be. Itzel told herself.

“I’ve been given permission from your mother to dismissing you from your classes for the rest of the day to get to spend time with him!” Mrs. Smith informed her with too much enthusiasm in her voice. Itzel sighed and nodded, a pained expression of hatred on her face.

“Can I just have one second?” Itzel asked, standing up and picking up her bag. She looked at Mr. Santos. “I’m on my period, so you better prepare, “dad”.” She sassed as she walked out toward the bathroom. Anything to get away from that freak. Once the door closed entirely, she opened her little leather bag and pulled out her phone. She unlocked the screen and pressed “Call” under her mama’s contact. She looked in the mirror and shook her head. “No way,” She told herself as she listened to the dial. She heard the click of the phone.

“Hola! This is Marisol Gonzalez! I’m currently away from the phone right now, but if you could leave your number and why you called I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you! Adios~” The voicemail said, a phrase Itzel seemed to know too well. Once the line clicked, Itzel broke.

“Mama, what the hell? There’s a man here saying he’s my Papi and that he wants to take me out for the day! He looks nothing like Papi, or like me period! You gave the school permission before fucking asking me first!” Itzel exploded. “Call me as soon as you can!” She hung up angrily as she huffed, looking into the mirror again. She shook her head again as she looked at herself. Darkish tan skin, wavy black hair that reached her rear, and hazy blue eyes. He looks nothing like me. Itzel thought. She put her phone back into her bag and zipped it, slinging the strap back over her shoulder. She pulled harshly on the door of the bathroom and stopped. Mr. Santos stumbled back and failed to make it look casual. “Are you fucking serious?” She asked, anger growing within her.

“I was just wondering if you were ok, Izzy,” Mr. Santos insisted. Itzel scoffed and shook her head, chuckling.

“Ok, Mr. Santos, we need to discuss a few things,” She started. “First, don’t call me that. Second, you're not my Papi. I’ve met my papa and he looks nothing like you! I look nothing like you aside from the fucking Latinx skin tone. So don’t try to act like I’m your lost little girl that you want to spend time with.” Mr. Santos sighed and shook his head.

“There’s so much that I have to explain to you, Izzy,” He told her. Itzel folded her arms.

“Fine. You can take me out. But you better have so much evidence that even I’ll reconsider,” She told him. Mr. Santos smiled as he led the way out of the Main Office and out of the school. Itzel kept her distance. No way she was trusting a stranger. Mr. Santos walked up to a silver and black BMW M6 Gran Coupe. Itzel’s eyes couldn’t help but widen.

“Well? Are you coming?” Mr. Santos asked. Itzel erased the amazing look from her face with a look of hatred and hesitance. She walked over to the passenger side of the car and got in, sitting on the black leather seats and closing the door. She set her bag down and pulled her phone out, wondering if her mama had texted her yet about the weird stranger with the fancy car. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” He asked her. Itzel looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Seatbelt, Izzy,” He reminded. Itzel rolled her eyes and clicked her seatbelt into the buckle.

“Don’t call me that,” Itzel grumbled softly. Mr. Santos chuckled as he started driving, heading to 14 Mile Road.

“Are you hungry? How about we stop for some food?” He suggested. She looked out the window, putting her phone on her lap as she watched the passing buildings.

“Yeah, I am. Considering you chose Breakfast Break to come to kidnap me.” She sassed at him as she turned to look at him. His smile slid away as he stopped at the red light, then turned left. He glanced down at her phone wallpaper, his smile reappearing on his face.

“You're a fan of NF?” He asked. Itzel turned her phone off and looked down. “Me too. I’m a fan of “Therapy Session”.” She looked at him.

“I like “WHY”,” She replied as she looked out the window again. He nodded as he pulled into a parking lot. “Where are we?” Mr. Santos turned the car off and looked at her.

“Breakfast.” He replied as he got out. Itzel sighed softly as she got out of the car, slamming the door slightly as she looked at the slightly worn down building. The large sign above the doors said, “EggsHouse”. Itzel stared at the sign, remembering how she loved coming here when she was little. Her mama and a faded man swinging her as they walked into the restaurant. Mr. Santos held the door open as they walked in and chose a table. She sat down at a table and set her phone down on the table. Itzel and Mr. Santos picked up the menu at the same time before setting it down instantly. 

“Triple Strawberry Pancake Stack.” They said in unison. Itzel stared at him for a moment.

“Who are you? Why are you here? How did you know my favorite breakfast place was the EggHouse, or that my favorite meal was the Triple Strawberry Pancake Stack?” She interrogated. He smiled and laughed lightly.

“Now do you believe me that I’m your dad?” He asked. Itzel didn’t reply. She simply looked down at the closed menu. Her phone vibrated. Itzel picked up her phone and smiled. Thank god for her friends and Snapchat that are here to get her out of this awkward situation. Mr. Santos shook his head and chuckled, putting his hand over her screen. “Hey, put that away. Let’s talk.” He told her. Itzel glared at him before turning the phone off and setting it on the table. She leaned back and crossed her arms.

“Fine. Let’s talk.” She agreed. “Who the hell are you?”

“My name is Santiago Santos, and I’m your biological father.” He replied with a thick smile. Itzel shook her head.

“You don’t take a hint, don’t you?” She asked, leaning forward slightly. “You’re not my papa,” She leaned back and smiled. “I’m gonna ask you questions and if you answer correctly, then you're my papa. Ok?” He nodded. She thought for a moment before starting. “What’s my middle name?”

“Marisol, named after your mother.” He replied.

“Growing up, I had a favorite stuffed animal. What was that animal?” She asked.

“A blue dog. You named it Black because you couldn’t get your colors correctly at that age.” He explained. Itzel paused.

“Before I was born, my mom had a miscarriage. What was going to be the name of the child?” Itzel asked. Mr. Santos showed no hesitation to answer.

“Fernando Garcelle Santos Gonzalez.” Mr. Santos replied. Itzel sighed.

“On January 15th, 2007, my mother's heart was broken. What happened that day?” She asked.

“That was the day I was arrested and charged for assisted murder.” Mr. Santos told her. Itzel tensed. She sighed softly as she shook her head and looked down.

“You really are my papa,” She admitted. He nodded and smiled. “So… why do you want to be in my life now? Do you need court money? Lawyer money? You gonna end up raping me and leaving me?” His face went pale. “You're gonna be like all the other guys my mama has dated and pretend to love me when you don’t?” Itzel asked with a straight face.

“Hun, who hurt you?” Santiago asked. Itzel looked away.

“I’m not about to vent my life to you. There was a reason my mama never mentioned you before, so why should I add you into my life now?” She asked as she slid off the booth and grabbed her phone. “I’m going back to school. You can either drive me or not.” 

“But we didn’t eat yet.” Mr. Santos pointed out. Itzel rolled her eyes and looked at him.

“I’ve lost my appetite, felon.” She sassed. “You can stay and eat if you're dying for an actual meal and not prison shit.” With that, Itzel walked out of the restaurant. Mr. Santos scrambled, leaving a 20 on the table and walking out of the restaurant. Itzel leaned on the hood of the car and looked at her reflection. She smiled slightly. I look hella hot. She thought to herself. Santiago walked over and sat on the hood of the car.

“Before you verify your opinion of me, I want to show you something,” He told her. Itzel looked at him and sighed, nodding. He unlocked the car and they both got in. The drive was long, but eventually, they made it. “This was your favorite place to play.” He told her as he got out of the car. Itzel slowly got out of the car and looked around the small, empty playground. She closed the door and swallowed slightly. “I remember when you were 4... we were playing on the playground when you fell…” Itzel drowned his voice out as the memory played in her head…

“No, no, no, senorita, don’t cry! You’re ok!” Papi told her as he picked her up, holding her in his arms. Snot slowly slid down her nose, tears rolling down her rosy cheeks as her hands gripped her scuffed knee. “Baby, don’t cry! You’ll be ok!” Papi insisted as he set her down on a park bench, looking at her cuts and bruises on her knees. “Oh, senora, it’s simply a little cut,” He told her. She sniffed and huffed, catching her breath from crying. “Look up at the sky, senorita, what do you see?” He asked her.

“White cotton candy,” She whimpered. “A birdy, the sun….” She continued shaping clouds as her Papi cleaned her knee.

“Now close your eyes. What do you see?” He asked her. She closed her eyes.

“I don’t see anything, Papi.” She told him.

“But you can hear me, right?” Papi asked. She nodded. “Then you still believe in me. If you can close your eyes and still hear me, you believe in me.” She opened her eyes and smiled at Papi. He laughed and tickled her, making her giggle with excitement. “Let’s go back to playing, my little Izzy…”

Tears slowly slid down Itzel’s face as she stared at the bench. Santiago put his hand on her shoulder gently.

“Close your eyes, Izzy,” He directed. Itzel hesitated before closing her eyes. “Can you still hear me… do you still believe in me?” Itzel swallowed as she listened to him. She opened her eyes and turned, hugging him tightly as she closed her eyes.

“I hear you, Papi… I believe…” She told him. Santiago smiled as he knelt down and hugged her tightly, holding her close, afraid to let her go. “I still believe…” Santiago nodded.

“Then let’s go back to playing, my little Izzy…”