The Mixtape to My Life

By Jake Martinez

Justin Ortega might as well be starring in his very own coming-of-age 80s movie. If only he could find his dream boy to pull up in front of his house in a red convertible and sweep him off his feet, already! At seventeen years young, he isn’t quite Mexican enough for his South Texas town; isn’t manly enough for his father; can sometimes be too much of a smart mouth for his mother; and as for the other kids at school—let’s just say he’d be cast as the quiet nerd with a heart of gold...and an ear for music.

The one solace Justin has is his love of 80s hair metal bands, which he listens to on his beloved Sony Walkman. The songs, lyrics, and melody keep him just sane enough to escape the pressures of school and help navigate the hurdles life brings. Especially with the doozy this year is shaping up to be. Not only does he have to try out for a captain position which is rightfully his, but his best friend has found a new girlfriend, leaving Justin to fend for himself in a school where he’s mostly known as simply Coconut.

Enter Dominic Mendoza. Sweet, funny, and a blast from his past, the hunky football player has moved in next door. Justin could never forget how Dominic protected him in the eighth grade, nor the way Dominic made him feel, then...and now.

Except, this isn’t a movie. Confusion, friendship, and love won’t guarantee a happy ending unless Justin can learn to accept himself for who he truly is. Hair bands and all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Deep Hearts YA
• Release date: Mar 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463867723

Jake Martinez

Jake Martinez is a former South Texas resident who has found a new home in Chicago. He has been writing all his life but has only recently sought to be published. His debut novel, The Mixtape to My Life, reflects on life as a gay teen growing up in South Texas. Jake holds an MFA in Creative Writing and also loves to write plays and screenplays. Aside from writing, you can find him hanging out at home with his husband, their newborn son, and an eclectic group of fur babies.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Welcome to the Jungle

August 1994

Justin, you could at least try to smile.

The words make me want to leave my lips, but I know that they will probably be my last. My mom is not particularly fond of my type of humor, though I could swear that I get it from her. I force my face to make a smile and hope that it will be enough.

There, was that so hard? Mom smiles while messing with my hair. She is the only person I allow to do that.

Yes, yes it was that hard. Smiling isn’t something that feels natural to me. Not that it doesn’t happen; it just feels weird when it does.

Especially since I am being dropped off at band camp. No, not the fun, hormone-filled kind in the woods. I truly believe they modeled Hell after this one. Two weeks of being yelled at by the Garza High School band directors, bullied by the other drummers, and then there was that reliable South Texas August heat. It’s a required thing. Most schools in the Rio Grande Valley (maybe other places, but I wouldn’t know) use these two weeks to get a jump on the season in order to get their half-time shows off the ground for the upcoming marching competition. The goal is to make it all the way to State, which is why we march in the grueling sun all these days. Now that I think of it, pure hell might not be strong enough to describe it when the temps reach higher than one-hundred degrees.

We aren’t the only ones either; the football players also have their own camp that they need to go to as well. Texas takes their football very seriously.

It isn’t that camp is physically demanding or anything like that. Even my chubby self can handle the marching and carrying of the equipment. If anything, it’s the people.

I used to love playing percussion when I started in the sixth grade. Seventh and eighth grade were even better. Band was my escape from the pain of having to be in football. I looked forward to it every day.

It wasn’t until I started my first day as a freshman that it all went downhill fast. I cringe every time I think about it.

You know you could quit if you want to, mijo. Mom was always telling me that. She would have preferred I do something else, namely football or baseball. Though she loves to think that she and my dad are opposites, they are more alike than either allow themselves to believe.

Yeah, I know. But I’m doing this for college. That is partially right. My extracurriculars need beefing up and staying in band will help. It also doesn’t hurt that the fall portion of band counts as a P.E. credit, and this year will be the last one. I am willing to suffer through another year in order to avoid the horror that is the boy’s locker room ever again.

There’s a fag in the bathroom!

Donde?

There!

You are such a viejito sometimes. You need to learn how to have fun.

Viejito. It means old man. She called me that a lot. Ever since I could remember, my mom always referred to me as an old man. To me it felt natural, but to her I needed to look and sound more like a kid. That’s the weird thing about Spanish. We have a lot of words that sound like insults, but can sometimes be endearing.

I don’t say a word, and Mom decides to skip the rest of the these are the best years of your life speech.

Are you going to walk home, or should I pick you up? Even though she can be tough as nails, my mother, Mary Ortega, has the most loving eyes I have ever seen on anyone. Well, almost anyone. There was one other.

Those fabulous green eyes. The ones that made me melt in the eighth grade every time I saw them. The ones I also wished I had. Ha! I was green with envy for them.

My mom’s eyes made you feel safe and could speak volumes when words fail to convey their proper meaning. I always appreciated that.

I’ll probably just get a ride with Benny.

Hmm. That’s all she replies with. Her eyes sure shift quickly at the mere mention of Benny’s name. I never understood why she doesn’t like Benny. He had been the only real friend I’ve ever had since I met him two years ago. Yeah, he’s loud and says things that shouldn’t be said, but I can count on him when the chips are down. He is also the only one who knows my secret.

Just don’t be too late, okay? she finally says after a long pause. I was going to respond, but a loud thud against the glass interrupted me. I turn around and see Benny pressed up against the glass, mouth trickling with drool as he speaks.

Come on, dude; we’re gonna be late. Hi, Mrs. Ortega.

Benito.

Bye, Mom, I love you. I grab my notebook, yellow Sony Walkman, and open the car door, which still has Benny clinging to it. My mom shakes her head. On more than one occasion she suggested that I try to make more friends, but that never went how she wanted. Sometimes it made me want to spend more time with Benny. My father, Kiké, would tell her that at least I had a friend, unlike those times in junior high. But she still held onto the dream that I would make a friend who didn’t think farting in public was hilarious.

As Mom leaves, Benny wraps his arm around my shoulders. I get a warm feeling, as I usually do when Benny touches me. If I were truly honest, yes, I once had a crush on Benny Sandoval. But it faded over time when I realized that nothing would ever become of it. Benny was still adorable and funny, which is why I probably let a lot of his lesser qualities slide.

Hey Justin, I got you a present, Benny says as we walk toward the band hall. I know better than to get my hopes up. I am right since the present was a massive burp in my face.

That’s so gross, I say while pushing him away.

I know you’d prefer a kiss, but remember, I don’t swing that way.

I laugh, but I also take a quick look round. No one heard the joke, which is good. I sigh out of relief. What I loved about Benny is how cool he was about me being gay. He still hugged me and stuff, and never once treated me like a freak or panicked about me touching him or some stupid shit like that. When I told him, he just gave me a big hug and let me know that he would kick the ass of anyone who called me a fag in front of him. That’s the side of Benny I wish my mother saw. This big, overprotective bear was the big brother that I had always wanted. Not that my big sister Janice wasn’t great and all, but I couldn’t relate to her the way I did with Benny.

We never kept secrets, or at least Benny didn’t. The only one I did was when I told him I never had romantic feelings for him. He asked me point blank when I came out, though he said he wouldn’t mind, and would even be flattered. But I told him no. I didn’t think opening that box would ever be a good idea, even with what he said.

I guess I’m lying when I say I only have one secret from Benny. I also never told him about my first love. I don’t know why I would keep Dominic a secret from Benny, but I did. Maybe I just wanted a memory that is all for me.

You’ll be okay.

Then he touches me.

The guys are over there, let’s go. I look over to where Benny is pointing to and immediately gulp. The guys are a group that Benny hangs out with when I’m not around, with a big stress on the I’m not around part. I stopped trying to be one of the guys when it was clear that they’d rather I be a side project for Benny. Subtle hints such as not looking at me at all or only asking Benny questions kind of gave that away.

Benny takes a few steps, then looks back at me when I don’t follow. You coming?

I am a statue. No movement at all.

Justin, it’s our junior year. Time to bust out of that shell.

You know they don’t like me.

Yeah, they do. You just need to give them a chance. Benny was always trying to push me to talk to more people. He had lots of friends and wanted the same for me. I was okay with how things were. But you have to give him points for trying.

Fine. My shoulders slump as I walk with Benny. I feel their eyes on me. They were probably wondering why Benny would waste his time with someone so, so different. Benny couldn’t see it, but it was obvious in the way that they greeted us. Benny high fives and hand slaps a few of the guys, while I get a few what’s up nods. I stand there and smile for a moment, listening to the guys brag about how awesome their summers were. Or how lame, depending on what they did. I kept fading in and out until someone says something about losing their virginity. To my surprise, it’s Benny.

Did you really have coitus with someone? I ask.

Everyone in the group stares, their faces moving from a state of amazement and jealousy to confusion. What the hell is that? one of the guys, Mark, asks, his face scrunching up as if I just let one rip openly.

It means sex, I respond.

Why don’t you just say sex or fuck like everyone else?

Such a viejito.

It’s the first word that popped out of my mouth.

Damn, Justin, why do you always try to be white? Mark says without any hint of joking. Not that it would have been funny if he was joking, but it wouldn’t have made things so tense. My mind immediately travels back in time to when I first felt that way.

You’re saying it wrong.

What?

Your name. That’s not how you say it.

Really? How do you say it?

Ortega.

Or-tey-ga

Damn Coconut.

I wish Mom was there. She would have torn that secretary a new one.

I think I should go inside, I say sheepishly.

Are you sure? Benny says as he looks at me. The story is about to get really good.

You can tell it to me later. When you take me home.

Sure, no problem. See you at the break.

Benny goes back to talking about boobs, or titties, as he calls them. I couldn’t get away fast enough. I knew what was coming next, though. After Benny would finish, someone else would say they did too, then another, until all of them had a story that tried to top the other. Even if it wasn’t true. If I stayed, I would be expected to say one too, and I wasn’t about to try and make one up when I had no idea what it was like to even kiss a girl. Plus, I didn’t need to share that I hadn’t been with a boy either, so my best bet was to leave before things got awkward.

I make my way up to the band hall door and reach for the handle, taking a deep breath before opening it. I mean, I knew what was in there, but I guess I just wasn’t ready for it. I think Axel Rose had it right when he sang Welcome to the Jungle. I could feel something was going to happen, and it was going to eat me alive.

• • •

The drum room is separate from the other instrument storage, mostly because we have a lot more equipment and need an entire place for it. We have snares, cymbals, quads, tri-toms, pit equipment, and much more. It is also where we hang out before the games and each practice, just shooting the breeze or anything else to help the time pass. I am always there physically, though I never really feel part of the group. It always gets tense when I walk in. I know this because all the conversations stop, and everyone waits for me to leave before they start up again. I never do, though. I’m not about to give anyone that satisfaction. I will just plop myself down on the floor and put my headphones on, which block out the entire world.

This isn’t one of those times, though. No one is here yet, so I can spend a few moments to myself. My home is always packed, with my parents and assorted family that stop by. Plus, my younger brother, whom I share a room with. Not to mention their never-ending string of friends that show up to hog the space in my room or the TV. I guess I didn’t mind too much. When people were around, it kept my parents’ focus off me, which was good. But it also sucked to get lost in all the scuffle.

My parents would tell me to let it go every time I complained about not getting a slice of pizza or if someone took the last Coke that I had saved. That made me mad, especially when it came from my dad.

Now that I have a minute to collect my thoughts, I am going to take full advantage of it. I take out my notebook and Walkman and sit on the floor. I don’t have that long since everyone would soon pile in, so I quickly flip over to the poem I have been trying to finish for weeks. Naturally, though, my distracted mind has other plans. The odd part is that Welcome to the Jungle begins to play, and I can’t think of a better song to fit the moment. How funny that it was the one I had just thought of when walking in.

I’ve always felt that music has played a very important role in my life. Ever since that day in the eighth grade, when that wonderful creature stood up for me. How I would lie alone in my room and listen to Journey’s Open Arms over and over, while picturing those sad eyes leaving the principal’s office with his clearly angry dad.

Keep your faggot kid away from my son!

Oh, how I wanted to embrace him. Hold my arms open and hug him so tight. Music was my muse, a part of me that expresses what I can’t. Or what I probably shouldn’t. That’s why I always had my Walkman on hand. I just never knew when I would need it.

I try to focus back on the poem, but it is too late as the others begin to arrive.

First is Robert, then Daniel. Both are decent guys, and a couple of the few who aren’t total dicks to me.

Hey, Justin, how was your summer? Daniel asks with his megawatt smile, the one that makes all the girls (and some guys) swoon. The washboard stomach that is right now hidden by his shirt probably adds to his allure.

It was okay. I just worked. I had a summer job at the drive-in. It gave me some extra money and allowed me to be out of the house. Plus, I got to be alone in the ticket booth, which always made me happy.

Yeah, I saw you at the drive-in one time, Robert interjects. Daniel may be hot, but Robert has that cute awkward nerd thing going for him.

I remembered that night. Robert didn’t say a word. He just passed the money and took his change. He only talks to me when Daniel is around.

I remember.

And that was the end of the conversation. Manny is next, followed by Big John and Lila. People always knew when Big John entered a room. He was like Benny, but if Benny had just inhaled one hundred bags of sugar.

Sup, everyone, ready to have a kick-ass year? Big John is a senior this year and finally made his way to the captain of the bass line. He deserved it, at least I thought he did.

Manny laughs while slapping Big John’s hand. Lila gives each of them a hug. Manny is more reserved, which allows him to take being snare captain a bit too seriously. Lila is the type of girl that people are nice to in front of but then talk about her behind her back. That’s because she was not only pretty but also nice and smart. I guess people found it hard to believe anyone could be that nice (or maybe just nice to me), which is why the word fake got thrown around a lot when it came to Lila. But like I said, it was never to her face.

Others came in, some of the new freshmen, some of the pit crew, a few others, but not the ones that I fear. Somehow, it is as if God is holding them to the last minute so that my stomach can tie itself into knots. The rest are okay when the evil three aren’t around, but when they are there things change quickly.

I can hear their voices coming from down the hall. Cathy and Perla, two sophomores who for some reason or another, decided that they needed to knock me down a few pegs. Why? That’s anyone’s guess. I first thought it was because I was the only guy on the cymbal line. Maybe they thought I would try to run over them or something. I am the upperclassman of the cymbal section this year, which means that I am going to be the captain, so that is a possibility. I eventually landed on the most obvious: they were both simply mega-bitches. Whatever the reason, one thing is clear: Santos has a hand in it.

No worries. You can handle them. I’ve got your back, Lila says as she sits down next to me. I smile at her. We aren’t friends in the traditional sense, but I know that if I needed to quickly vent, Lila sometimes had an ear for me. Manny too, but mostly Lila. It crossed my mind a few times as to why I never got close to them, but I never came up with a suitable answer. Perhaps I thought that Benny was enough. Benny was a lot of everything, so it makes sense.

Cathy and Perla walk into the room and set their eyes straight for me. They don’t say anything, but their looks show that they need