The Lost B-O-Ys at The Flagpole

Welcome back to the Latinas in Tech TV show! I’m Dr. Nutmeg, your hostess, and I am here to distract you from your regular Reality TV programming with the most important news of Q1:

“For the next three weeks, Mercury will appear to move backward in the sky… misunderstandings abound, emails go missing, flights get delayed, and everyone suddenly forgets how to act like a normal person.” — The Cut

Uh — does anyone know how to act like a “normal” person in 2025? What does “normal” even mean? With a name like Dr. Nutmeg, I am anything but “normal.” If normal is what you’re aspiring to, then byeeeeee! Otherwise, please upgrade your subscription, my fellow weirdos:

Anyways, Mercury Retrograde is not all bad news, according to The Cut:

“Mercury retrograde is a time for reflection, review, and course correction. If you use this time wisely — by embracing patience, flexibility, and a willingness to rethink your approach — you might just come out the other side with a fresh perspective and a clearer sense of direction.”

This is why The FACTory will be spinning backwards along with Mercury for the next three weeks. If you didn’t know, that Blue Ball in the middle of Downtown Orlando (above) isn’t just my FACTory, it’s a freaking Time Machine, y’all! It spins forwards and backwards between the 20th and 21st centuries. I know. It’s an amazing tool for a mad scientist like me. Helping Femmebots restore their lost memory files has never been easier!

Entonces, tonight, and for the next three weeks, we’re bringing back our guest Desiree Sanchez, a so-called “Model Rican” whose got some major gender and identity issues (topped with a heaping dose of daddy issues), that go waaaay back to the 80s.

We hope you’ll reflect, review, and course-correct your own path, as we spin back in time with Desiree to 1989. If you missed previous episodes, start here. And as always, feel free to share your reflections in the comments!

Episode 8: The Lost B-O-Ys at The Flagpole

The Band Ma'am bangs a baton on her music stand, awakening me from my split second trip to...where the heck was I? Was I time traveling again? I remember riding on a sleigh in the winter time with Big Sister and Lil Bro. But then I was on some kind of talk show with Dr. Ruth. And now I am here, back at summer band camp. What’s going on?

I look up at the Band Ma’am’s bulldog face. It’s stern like she is leading an army battalion, not a pitiful high school band. "Tenor saxophones, not so heavy, keep it bouncy," she says three times in a row, looking at me. I guess I'm not listening. I’ve been time traveling instead of listening, I guess.

OK, playing lighter now.

Paying attention to the way I'm blowing into the body of this massive object attached to my face while fluttering my fingers on the buttons.

Degah-degat-degah-de-ga- da da da duh daaaaa!

We are the band nerds of the school. Is this who I am now? I look over at Marga. Am I just following Marga around because that's what I used to do with Big Sister? Staring at the door of the band room, I think of Sky Bowman asking for my phone number. Maybe I should give it to him. He is a dream. If Sky Bowman likes me, everyone will see me. I won't be invisible anymore. I won’t be just a band nerd. Everyone will know I exist. My skin warms, and the goose bumps disappear as I think of how close Sky Bowman stood next to me in the Rican Hallway.

Marga is motioning toward me. Class is already over? It's like I wasn't even here. Or there. I disassemble my saxophone and shove it into my case. Marga snaps her fingers in front of me. Her blue eyes look annoyed. Oh. I guess she was talking and I couldn't hear. "Hellooooo? God, Desiree, you’re so spaced out today. Is your mom picking you up?"

I blink my eyes twice. "Oh! Yeah, at the flagpole." I stand and shove my saxophone into a locker. "I hope she doesn't get lost. She's always getting lost. She hasn't been to the main campus yet."

"At least your mom always picks you up on time," says Marga, starting to walk out the door, and back into the Rican Hallway. She doesn’t wait for me. Her energy is all hurricane-like. Usually she is so calm, but right now she seems stirred up.

Even though I notice it, I don't ask her what’s wrong. Instead, I'm still trying to figure out what songs we played while I was time traveling to New York. "You’re right, Mara — I totally spaced out after Vehicle," I confess. "It's really weird, like I was back in the snow with my Big Sister. And I didn’t get to tell you that earlier, when we were in the Rican Hallway, I heard a news broadcaster explaining why Puerto Ricans say 'ooooeiiii' instead of 'ew.' Does that ever happen to you? And sometimes I jump out my bedroom window in the middle of the night and run around the house three times just so see if anyone in my family notices."

Marga laughs. "You're so tripped out, Desiree. What are you talking about?"

"I know, it's weird. Like, it feels like time goes so fast I'm gonna die soon. Before I can blink, it will be next Monday, and time is just gonna keep going and going until it’s Thursday, and then Monday all over again. Each day is always right around the corner but earlier, when we were walking to class, I think I went to the future-future. Like to 2025 or something."

"Girl, are you on drugs?"

I laugh. "No! I just keep feeling like everything is repeating and I don't know what year it is, like I was crossing the street yesterday and then all of a sudden, I'm crossing it again this morning, even though it seemed like I just crossed it a second ago."

"You sound nuts right now."

"Yeah, maybe you're right. I'm acting like an elderly person with a bad memory. I guess I'm afraid of dying. It seems like just yesterday I was with my friends in New York."

Marga sighs. "I wish I had friends I could miss. But we were only in Vieques for a couple years before coming here."

"Do you think I'm just gonna live in the past for the rest of my life?"

Marga winces. "Maybe you didn't hear me? I said I wish I had close friends when I was living in Vieques."

I look at Marga, trying to hear her words, but my brain is flooded with too many thoughts "Do you think I am a time traveler?"

Marga blinks repeatedly. Her opinion means everything to me, so I hang on to her prolonged silence. Then she says, "No. You're not a time traveler. You're just being...typical...Desiree."

She walks ahead of me like she doesn't want me to catch up. I think she is mad, but I don't know why, so I pretend I don't notice and follow behind until we reach the flag pole where Sky Bowman and the boys from the Rican Hallway are watching us approach.

"Oh my God," I say and rush up behind her. "What if they talk to us?"

Marga doesn't answer, she just keeps her eyes facing straight ahead.

The flagpole is flanked by Sky Bowman and two other boys. They are bouncing a basketball around each other. The one with the juicy lips pauses mid-bounce when me and Marga sit on the steps.

He leans forward, shakes our hands, and announces his name is Manuel. "If you're wondering why I'm so good looking it's because I'm exactly Half Black, a Quarter Mexican and a Quarter Rican."

I definitely don't disagree with him, he is definitely good looking, but he doesn't have to know so I laugh and whisper to Marga, "I guess they're teaching fractions in remedial math?"

She looks at me with the most disgusted twist in her face, then inches away from me like I'm the biggest asshole who ever walked the earth.

What is with her, geez? She used to take a joke.

The second boy who calls himself Georgie comes to my rescue without knowing it. "I'm 100% Rican, from the island."

Marga looks at me, and then down at her feet, shaking her head. Her reaction to me and these boys is weird, but before I can ask her what the heck is wrong, Sky Bowman says, "I'm Zero Rican," then grabs the basketball out of his friend's hands, and boom — the attention is back on the ball.

As much as I don't want to admit it, I do not want Sky Bowman to ignore me so I jump up and grab the ball when it's close to me and sit next to Marga on the steps nursing the ball. I smile to myself, but I don't dare look at Sky Bowman.

Without hesitation, Manuel and Georgie sit on each side of us. We are all so close, it's like we are too many books shoved together on a shelf. Marga is noticeably perturbed, and pops off the metaphorical shelf. "You guys are so immature."

"No te agüites," says Manuel with a Mexican accent.

Marga puts her hands on her hips. "What does that mean?"

Manuel copies her and moves his head side to side like an Egyptian or my Big Sister when she’s annoyed. "It means 'don't worry' — I thought you speak Spanish?"

Turning to look at the cars coming up the street toward the school, Mara says, "I don't speak Mexican Spanish."

"She speaks Puerto Rican like me," says Georgie, jumping up and standing next to Marga, insisting on getting closer to her. "We got different slangs."

Manuel looks skeptical. "Pft. Like what? You don't speak Spanish, either, pocho."

"I do so speak Spanish. With my grandparents, cabron."

While the others banter, Sky Bowman stares at me and the basketball on my lap. I have remained completely silent, even though Sky Bowman is burning a hole through my face.

I look down at my feet, waiting until the subject changes to something that doesn't make me feel like a total poser. But then Georgie blows my cover. "Desiree is Puerto Rican, too."

"Yeah, but she doesn't speak Spanish," says Marga. Her tone is harsh. She sounds like my aunts and cousins. Marga must be mad at me. My only friend. I want to completely implode and disappear into a million bits, but Sky Bowman finally breaks his silence.

"You don't look Puerto Rican," he says, grabbing the ball out of my lap. "But your butt? It's so big and juicy, it's definitely from Puerto Rico."

"Shut up, Sky," I say, startled at the sound of my own voice. I look up, slightly pissed off, but slightly excited because Sky Bowman is so hot. I guess he was looking at my butt when we walked past him earlier today, which is weird and gross, but I think that might mean he likes me. He leans in so close to my face, I think he's going to kiss me and then he whispers, "Don't say anything or even look at Georgie. Just watch what I do."

I'm like, "OK, whatever."

Sky Bowman bounces the basketball to the right, then to the left, and like a shadow, Georgie follows. Then Sky Bowman backs up, turns the other way and Georgie follows him again. I try not to laugh but as soon as they are running in circles, I'm bursting into giggles.

Marga stares at me and then at them. "What's so funny?"

"Sky! Everywhere he goes, Georgie follows like a little leach."

"Why is that so funny?"

"I don't know, it just makes me laugh."

Marga stares at them for a while, her arms across her chest, a big wrinkle between her eyes. "You're either crying at everything or laughing at everything, or being mean. No wonder you got that Miss Drama Queen award."

I look at Marga sideways, remembering that she was the one who reminded me I could laugh at myself when we were in the bathroom that day I leaked my period, and my emotions, all over my shorts. "Why are you being such a snot?"

Marga looks at me, trying to think of what to say. "Everything is always about you, Desiree. You never ask me how I am."

My mouth drops open. "I do so!"

"Really? You've never asked me one question about my life in Vieques before I moved here. All we ever talk about is New York, how much you miss your friends, blah, blah, blah. It's boring. I'm sick of it."

I am about to protest and swear I know one thing about Marga, but Sky Bowman is watching our interaction intently in a way that keeps my mouth shut. It's true. I know nothing about Marga's life before she moved to Orlando. So then I say to her in a snotty way, "Why do I have to ask you about it? Why don't you just tell me?"

And then Marga's mom pulls up in her sporty purple convertible that matches her sporty purple hair. There is another woman in the passenger side. Marga looks surprised. She doesn't even say goodbye. She just leaves me here by myself to fend off these horny boys. I brace myself as if it's chilly even though we're in the middle of the gross humid Orlando summer.

Knowing Marga is mad at me, it's easy to enjoy Sky Bowman sitting next to me, his basketball oin one arm and the other circling around my waist. I love it so much, but I can't stand for him to know I like him, that I need his affection so badly, so I pull away from him. He grabs my hand and puts it around his waist. Oh my God, I want to leave it there, but my conscience keeps nagging at me so I remove my hand and chuck the basketball to the side. "Why are you paying attention to me?"

Sky Bowman leans in and whispers in my ear. "Because you're gorgeous."

The closeness of his face warms me in a way I've only felt intermittently in my short, emotional life. It feels like peace. Like warm coconut oil in my belly.

"If you give me your phone number, I'll call you tonight," he says. I laugh in embarrassment, and shake my head like a little kid refusing to wear the clothes Mom set out for me.

"C'mon, I wanna get to know you better," he says.

"No way, my Dad would kill me if a boy called my house."

"I'll disguise my voice to be a girl's. I'll say I'm your friend, what was her name?"

"Marga." I sit thinking about it. But not for too long. "OK, fine." I write my phone number on a piece of paper right before Georgie announces their ride has arrived at the same time I see Dad pulling up in our big brown station wagon. "Oh shit, my dad!"I jump up quickly, hoping Dad did not see me sitting so close to Sky Bowman.

Stay tuned for the next episode when Desiree has an epic fight with her Dad!