Getting It Read Online Free PDF

sugar.”
    â€œSo?” Carlos ripped open a snack cake, stuffing it in his mouth. “It tastes good.”
    â€œYeah, and it does nothing to help your skin.”
    Carlos winced and stopped chewing, embarrassed by his pimples. “For real?” He couldn’t help notice Sal’s skin—not completely unblemished but definitely clearer than his own.
    â€œHaven’t you got anything more healthy to eat?” Sal replied. “Like fruit or something?”
    Carlos’s ma constantly nagged him to eat more fruit, but she’d never suggested it might be better for his skin. He opened the fridge and grabbed a couple of apples, tossing one to Sal. Then he pulled out a two-liter bottle of Coke.
    â€œYou should lay off that, too,” Sal told him. “It’s total sugar and stains your teeth.”
    Carlos clamped his lips together, hiding his teeth and feeling even crappier about himself. Wasn’t a makeover supposed to make him feel better?
    â€œJust water for me,” Sal told him as Carlos downed a glass of Coke.
    Before Sal could get a chance to pick on something else, Carlos led him toward his room, remembering to stand aside, muttering, “Ladies first.”
    â€œWhoa!” Sal stopped in the doorway, scanning the chaos. “Did a bomb explode in here? And why do you keep it so dark? It’s like a cave.” He stepped in, kicking aside a soccer ball as he drew open the window blinds.
    The second-story bedroom looked out over the apartment complex playground, where Carlos’s pa used to play with him when he was little. Now Carlos usually kept the blinds down.
    Sal turned back toward the room. “How can you live like this? You must feel like a mess.”
    â€œI don’t feel like a mess,” Carlos argued, though it did frustrate him every time he couldn’t find a schoolbook or clean shirt.
    â€œAnd what’s that awful smell?” Sal waded across the room, pokingthe toe of his shoe at heaps of DVDs and video games—till he bent over a dirty clothes pile and unearthed Carlos’s favorite pair of sneakers—a gift from his pa. Although they were frayed and no longer fit, Carlos had kept them, unmindful of their smell. Till now.
    â€œI should’ve worn a biohazard suit.” Sal fanned a hand in front of his nose. “You do wear socks, right?”
    â€œUm …,” Carlos mumbled.
    Sal rolled his eyes. “No wonder these stink. You’ve got to wear socks—clean ones,
every
time.”
    Carlos burped—the effect of the Coke.
    â€œHey!” Sal shot him a look. “I know this may shock you, but no one wants to hear your bodily functions. Now, can you get us some plastic bags?”
    As Sal turned away, plucking clothes off the floor, Carlos secretly sneered at him. Then he went to get some bags from the kitchen, wondering,
What’s cleaning up my room got to do with getting a girlfriend?
But he recalled the queer guys on TV redecorating the straight dude’s apartment. And even Carlos’s friends called his room a pigsty.
    In short order, Sal had helped Carlos to stuff two huge bags full of skanky clothes and carry them downstairs to the laundry room.
    â€œYou wash whites in hot water to make them whiter,” Sal explained, “and colors in cold so they don’t fade.”
    Carlos’s ma had told him that, but he was usually too lazy to sort his clothes. “What difference does it make?”
    â€œBecause,” Sal explained, “girls notice how bright or dingy something is, even if guys don’t.”
    Back in Carlos’s room, they sorted through mountains of crap, hauled dirty plates to the dishwasher, and organized his school stuff. In between, Carlos asked about something he’d been wondering: “So, like, um, what do you think made you gay?”
    Sal popped a DVD into its case. “What do you think made you
straight?”
    Carlos shrugged. “I