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him a bath, they put him to bed and the next morning he told them he was sorry. And Lalo too, man, I’m sorry, the beer went right to my head, see? I insulted you, I was bugging you, wasn’t I? No, what garbage, a question of a few drinks, give me five and friends, P.P., like before, nothing’s happened.
    But something had happened: Cuéllar began to do nutty things to get attention. They gave in to him and we went along with him, how about I steal my old man’s car and we drag-race along the ocean drive, guys, why not man, and he took out his dad’s Chevrolet and they went to the ocean drive; how about me breaking Bobby Lozano’s record? why not man, and he whoosh along the embankment from Benavides to Quebrada whoosh in two minutes fifty, did I break it, yes and Manny crossed himself, you broke it, and you, you pansy, how scared you were; how about my treating us at Tastes So Good and we play possum when the bill comes? why not man, and they went to the Tastes So Good, we stuffed ourselves with hamburgers and milk shakes, they left one by one and from St. Mary’s Church we saw Cuéllar dodge the waiter and get out what’d I tell you? how about my blowing out all the windows of the house with my father’s shotgun? why not P.P. and he blew them out. He played the nut in order to get attention, but also in order to did you see, did you see? to make fun of Lalo, you wouldn’t dare and me sure I dared. He won’t forgive him for Chabuca, we said, how he hates him.
    During sophomore year, Choto asked Fina Sales to go steady and she told him yes and Manny asked Kitty Lanas and she too. Cuéllar locked himself up in his house for a month and at school he hardly said hello to them, listen, what’s wrong, nothing, why don’t you come looking for us, why didn’t you go out with them? he didn’t feel like going out. He’s playing mysterious, they said, intriguing, kinky, bitter. But little by little he accepted it and returned to the group. Sundays, Chingolo and he would go to the matinee by themselves (little bachelors, we called them, widowers), and afterwards they would kill time any old way, hanging around, not talking or just barely let’s go here, there, hands in their pockets, listening to records at Cuéllar’s, reading comics or playing cards, and at nine they’d drop down to Salazar Park to look for the others, because at that hour we were already saying good night to our girlfriends. Did you make out asked Cuéllar, as we took off our coats, loosened our ties and rolled up our sleeves at the pool hall on Ricardo Palma Avenue, really made out, guys? his voice sick with annoyance, jealousy and irritation, and they shut up, let’s play, hand, tongue? blinking as if the smoke and the light from the bulbs were hurting his eyes, and we it made him mad, P.P.? instead of getting annoyed, why don’t you get yourself a chick and stop being a pain in the ass? and he did they French-kiss you, hacking and spitting like a drunk, till they gagged? tapping his heels, did you lift their skirts, get your pinkie in? and they the envy was eating away at him, P.P., really taste good, really nice? it was driving him crazy, better if he shut up and got started. But, never wearing down, he kept at it, now, for real, what had we done with them? how long did the girls let you kiss them? still at it, buddy? shut up, he was being a pain now, and one time Lalo got mad: shit, he was going to smash his face in, he was making like our girlfriends were putting out. We separated them and got them to be friends again, but Cuéllar couldn’t, it was stronger than he was, every Sunday the same crap: come on, how did it go? we should tell him everything, good making out?
    In our senior year, Chingolo asked Baby Romero to go steady and she told him no, Tula Ramírez and she no, China Saldivar and she yes, third try’s the winner, he said, if at first you don’t succeed try, try again, happy. We celebrated in the wrestlers’ bar on San