Agosto

Mrs. Garcias red rooster anticipated the suns rising by forty minutes, letting out a loud cock-a-doodle-doo atop a dilapidated chicken coop. The noise set off the bark of Satanas, the Hernandezs black lab in the neighboring yard. The old dog stayed inside its doghouse, buried its head between its forelegs and fell asleep again. Campanita, the neighborhoods stray cat ran cautiously across the street. It stopped on the sidewalk directly in front of the Ramirezs place and froze. There was movement inside the home, a subtle trace of life in a darkened world.A light came on showing Mrs. Ramirez fully dressed, standing still near the switch. She stared for a few seconds at the childrens pictures that hung along the wall. She snapped out of her moment and made a sudden about-face; her pear shaped figure and loose serpent hair enhanced as she walked toward a window, spooking Campanita away. Que calor, she said, sliding the window open and swallowing a breath of fresh air with her jagged nose.Mrs. Ramirez walked hurriedly into the kitchen, flicking on the light. She grabbed a pan from inside the oven directly under the stovetop, and set it on a burner. From the pantry she took out the canola oil and the salt-and-pepper shakers, setting them on the counter. She stepped with haste to the refrigerator, opened it, and saw the carton of eggs under the deli ham her husband picked out at the Super Mercado. While shutting the refrigerator, the ragged and tomato face of a man suddenly appeared.Good morning, said the man smirking.Ay dios mo, Martin, said Mrs. Ramirez, you scared me. I almost dropped the eggs! Martin chuckled as he walked toward the coffee maker still in his underwear. His boxers fit snug underneath a lopsided pillow torso. The kids up? he asked, lifting the filter lid. Big day for them. Especially for Elizabeth.I woke them up, said Mrs. Ramirez, but Ill go check on them again in a minute. Let me get your breakfast started. She walked to the stove, made a lake of canola oil in the pan, and turned the burner on low.Okay, he said, placing a new filter in the brewing cup. I want to be out of the house a little earlier today. Theres always a ton of traffic at the schools on the first day.Mrs. Ramirez left the stove unattended, walking out of the kitchen with purpose. She got to her two sons bedroom first. She swung the door open and saw that both her boys were still in their beds. Junior, Daniel, she said, get up! She flicked on the light, causing both boys to instinctively get their heads under the covers. Tu papa wants us ready to go as soon as possible, she said, walking inside and taking a seat at the end of Juniors bed. Besides, arent the two of you excited? First day of high school and first day of middle school!No, said Daniel slowly shifting his tubular body up like an inverted bendable straw. I liked elementary. Now I get to have a bunch of teachers. Theyre probably all stupid too.Stupid? asked Mrs. Ramirez. What do you mean, stupid? You havent even met them yet.I dont have to meet them, said Daniel. Junior told me theyre all lame. Junior poked his head out from under his blanket, like a switchblade becoming engaged, and gave his little brother a mean look. He moved his oversized, brute head to face his mother behind him.Hes lying, said Junior. But his overzealous arrow tip eyes gave him away. I told him all the teachers at Lincoln were excellent.Really, Junior? said Mrs. Ramirez with a straight face. She held her stare a couple of seconds without blinking. Youre going to ruin what Daniel thinks of his teachers before he even starts? She turned to face Daniel across the room. And you, she said disappointedly, believing your older brother! She stood and gave the boys her back. You two wear me out, she said emphatically, walking out of the room. Junior and Daniel looked at each other once their mom was out of the room. Junior grabbed his pillow and flung it violently at Daniel. Snitch! said Junior.Mrs. Ramirez passed by Elizabeths room on her way back to the kitchen. She stopped. I should check on Liz, she whispered to herself. She turned and faced Elizabeths door, opening it just enough to peek in.Mija, she said, getting Elizabeths attention, hows it going?Oh, hi mom, said Elizabeth, turning away from the mirror. She twirled her obsidian locks. Her slender figure accented the room like a white calla lily. Ill be done in a few minutes. Just tying my hair back.You mean youre not gonna style it? she said with a disappointed look on her face. But its your first day of school. Dont you want to look pretty?Mom, said Elizabeth reassuringly, Im so done worrying about looking perfect all the time. This is my senior year! I dont need to waste time anymore caring about what others think of me at school.But mijaItll be fine, mom. Just give me a couple more minutes, okay? Mrs. Ramirez stepped back, shutting the door slowly. She stared at the door in shock before finally saying, The pan!Mrs. Ramirez rushed to the stove. Nothing had caught fire. She grabbed the pans handle, raised it, and moved the oil around. The heated oil flowed like water in a bowl. Its ready, said Mrs. Ramirez. She set the burners knob to high and placed the pan on the flame. Now the eggs, she said, opening the carton shed left next to the stove. She took two out, cracked each one, and let the yolk and clear liquid ooze into the pan. The clear liquid quickly solidified and turned white while making crackling and popping noises.Smells good, said Elizabeth walking in.Im glad youre here, said Mrs. Ramirez. Grab me a plate, please. Im making your dads breakfast. You know how much he loves his eggs she reached for a clean spatula from inside a nearby draweroh, y saca las tortillas y el Tapato from the fridge too.Elizabeth placed the Tapatio Hot Sauce at the table before handing off the plate. She took her place next to her mother and began warming tortillas on an adjacent burner. She flipped over the first tortilla, seeing trails of smoke begin to rise from the edges. Mrs. Ramirez was involved in the challenging task of flipping both her eggs over without breaking the yolk.Look, mija, said Mrs. Ramirez enthused, showing Elizabeth the round white face with bulging yellow eyes, let me show you how its done. Elizabeth humored her mother, though shed seen Mrs. Ramirez cook eggs over-easy on more than one occasion. You always cook papas eggs so perfectly, said Elizabeth smiling sincerely. She waited for Mrs. Ramirez to plate the eggs, then handed her two warm tortillas. Mrs. Ramirez folded each one, laying them on the plate and making sure they werent on top of the eggs. She gave Elizabeth the finished plate. Elizabeth took it from her with a confident expression on her face and walked it to the table, setting it at her fathers station.About time, said Elizabeth, seeing her two brothers stroll in.Shut-up, said Junior.Yea, said Daniel, shut-up.Ya, eh, said Mrs. Ramirez. Its too early for this. Give your brothers some credit, Elizabeth. They havent had to get up this early all summer.You see, Elizabeth, said Junior taking a seat at the table, even mama is on our side!Im not on no ones side, said Mrs. Ramirez. Now the two of you sit your butts down. Breakfast will be done in a minute. She went back to work, cracking more eggs robotically and spilling their contents inside the oil drenched pan. Liz, she said, hand me more plates, please.Mom, said Daniel, can I have mine scrambled?Get me a bowl too so I can scramble your brothers eggs, said Mrs. Ramirez.Why cant he get it? said Elizabeth upsettingly. Hes old enough.Theyre going to make their drinks, said Mrs. Ramirez. Boys, get up and get yourselves something to drink. Junior and Daniel rushed out of their seats.I want milk, said Daniel.Take the Coke out too boys while youre at it, said Martin walking in. He took a seat at the top of the table. Elizabeth joined her brothers at the cupboards. She let them each go first, and then proceeded to grab hold of her fathers favorite San Diego Chargers cup. She placed the cup at the table near her fathers right hand. Gracias, mija, said Martin.De nada, said Elizabeth. Can I get you anything else, dad?No, said Martin, Im fine.You can get us some napkins, said Junior.Get em yourself! said Elizabeth. Mrs. Ramirez delivered two hot plates to the table. She placed one before Junior and scooted the other over to Daniel.Mija, said Martin diplomatically, we do need napkins for all of us. Elizabeth gave Junior a killers look, scrunching her tulip face and ribbon lips. She walked to the paper towel holder, rolled out several sheets, and brought them to the table. Quit hogging the Tapato, Daniel! said Junior. The three males ate, making predatory advances at the tortillas that systematically arrived at the table. Elizabeth and Mrs. Ramirez joined them several minutes later. The family was together, with laughter and silence being passed around the table as much as the Tapato.

From the drivers side, Martin waved goodbye to Mrs. Garcia and her brood of troublemakers, Juan and Jose. The twin third graders were already breaking windows with rocks and stealing oranges from Seor Sanchezs backyard. They walked several feet ahead of their mother and little brother with their hands in their pockets.Whats the name of Mrs. Garcias third child? asked Martin.I think its, Eleazar, said Mrs. Ramirez.They should be the ones pushing that stroller on that sidewalk, said Elizabeth. Poor Mrs. Garcia. I saw Juan and Jose trying to lure Campanita into a cardboard box trap the other day. Who knows what they were going to do to that cat.Thats some funny shit, said Junior, chuckling.Watch your mouth, Junior! said Mrs. Ramirez.A donde chingado vamos? asked Martin. I dont even know where Im going.Ay, Martin, said Mrs. Ramirez, how could you forget? First go to Rancho and drop off Liz and Junior. They start earlier. Then drive Daniel to Lincoln, Juniors old school.Oh, si, said Martin. Martin reached the main road and made a left on green onto Melrose Drive, heading southbound. By this time all three of the Ramirez children had plugged in, listening to music and scrolling Instagram on their smart phones. Mrs. Ramirez thumbed past posts on Facebook as her husband drove.Mira qu bonita, Mrs. Ramirez gawked.Whos pretty? said Martin.Your niece Leticias newborn daughter; so precious. Leti finally got around to putting pictures up on Facebook. See! Martin took a quick look.My brother isnt as angry anymore. Things changed for him when that little doll was brought home from the hospital. I guess also Letis boyfriend is going to join his landscaping crew.Thats good! The boyfriend can work while Leti finishes high school.Yeah, said Martin, I dont know about that.What do you mean?I think Leti has decided to drop out and stay home with the baby.Well, said Mrs. Ramirez, I dont blame her. I wanted to be home with all three of my children longer than I did. Maybe shell go back to school one day.Maybe. Martin stared out at the violet and grey sky. A hint of orange was beginning to emerge victoriously from the clouds. Melrose Drive rolled up and down before him, a rollercoaster with traffic lights at each peak. They passed a McDonalds and a large acreage ranch home, several Protestant churches, and then the apartments across from a Burger King before finally reaching Longhorn Drive. The light was red and a multitude of cars with teens waited to turn right. Get off right here! said Martin, looking back at Liz and Junior. Junior pulled on the latch and slid the 2005 Chevrolet Astro Vans door open. He rushed outside. Hurry, said Martin, the light is about to turn green. Liz followed Junior outside, grabbed the handle, and slid the door closed with great force. Mrs. Ramirez rolled her window down. Bye, kids! she said. Liz and Junior joined several other teens on the sidewalk, ignoring their mother.We need to be dropping Daniel off first, said Martin annoyed. Now I have to head back the same way we came in all this pinche traffic.Daniel still has another hour before his school starts, said Mrs. Ramirez. Whats he going to do there so early? At least this way by the time we get to his school hell only be forty minutes or so early.There are people at the school. El principal must be there already. Were always racing to get to work because of these kids. They need to take the damn bus!The bus? scoffed Mrs. Ramirez. They wouldnt know how! Plus we cant afford three monthly bus passes. Estas loco.I can take the bus, mom, said Daniel, taking off his earphones.Thats nice, mijo, said Mrs. Ramirez, but you dont have to. Your papi is just complaining. He needs to see that hes lucky now only having to drive to two schools instead of three like last year. Are you getting nervous? Im so excited for you!No, said Daniel, Im cool. A bunch of my friends are going to Lincoln so he was distracted, noticing flashing lights up ahead on the side of the roadIll be okay. Did the cops pull someone over?No, mijo, said Martin, its just la migra harassing our people again. Too many Mexicans in a small car give the authority reason to stop us. Its probably some poor farmworkers going to work.The Ramirezs got closer to the scene. The towering frame of a new model super truck guarded its parked space and the distance just around it like a safari cat guards its prey from other predators after a kill. The white vehicle with a green stripe and matching color words, Border Patrol, stenciled on the tailgate blocked the view of the detained. It looks like its a family, said Mrs. Ramirez. As the Astro Van got closer, her view expanded the most. Yup, she said, its two adults and their child these cabrones have pulled over. God, I hope they have papers. Daniel shifted closer to the window as the two vehicles met side by side for a split second.Oh, no! shrieked Daniel.What is it? asked Mrs. Ramirez, alarmed.Thats my friend, Michael, and his mom and dad. Are they going to arrest him and take him to Mexico, mom?No, no, mijo, said Mrs. Ramirez reassuringly, the Border Patrol doesnt arrest little kids. Besides, wasnt your friend born in Escondido like you? They cant deport U.S. citizens.Oh yeah, he wasbut what about his mom and dad?Theres nothing to worry about if they got papeles, interjected Martin.I got some papers in my backpack, said Daniel. Can we stop so I can give some to them? Please, dad?Martin laughed. He looked at Daniel through the rearview mirror and said, Not those kinds of papers, mijo. Your friends parents need documentation to prove they belong in this country, like a drivers license or identification. Thats what most people carry.What if they dont have that stuff? Will they take Michaels parents to the border in that truck and make them go across? Whats going to happen to Michael?Im not sure. They will probably takeMrs. Ramirez turned her torso quickly to the left and toward the back of the vehicle and said, What your father means to say is that it all depends on the situation your friends parents are in. Everything will be alrightyou wait and see. Im sure Michael will be at school with you today.

Lincoln Middle School sat half corralled by bustling city roads. A strip mall with a pawnshop, bail bond office, liquor store, and doughnut shop operating directly across from the face of the school gave students a place to fight, steal, smoke weed, and eat before and after school. Across the schools east shoulder was a dilapidated motel where some students and their one-step-above homeless parents resided. It was also where the eighth grade dealers met up with their high school contacts and suppliers. The medical marijuana dispensary was less than a mile away from the school. A mix of apartments and low-end, single-family housing choked off Lincolns west shoulder and backside. These neighborhoods fed Lincoln the meat share of its pupils.The Lincoln campus was a swollen belly of life on day one. The womb of its classrooms stood motionless, for the moment, and the young within consumed the surrogates offering without resistance or fight. In the struggle for survival only the strong stood a chance and the weak were miscarried or aborted; showing a deformity in plain view was a sign of weakness, and though the deformed at Lincoln were many, few were ever spotted. Daniel spotted Michael coming out of the classroom across from his. Instead of walking the concrete pathway, he crossed a rectangular and withered courtyard in order to quickly reach his friend. Hey, Michael! he said. Wait up! Michael saw a familiar face coming toward him.Oh, hey, whats up, Daniel?Daniel caught up to his friend. What class you just have? he asked.Boring-ass Earth Science.Me too. Whos your teacher?Some lame fool named, Mr. White. Hes white alright, just like my other teachers so far.I got this young white lady named, Ms. Cowan. She seems cool.Does she got a bangin body?Daniel was taken aback by the question. For sure, ese, he said, making up for the hesitation. Michael gave Daniel a nod of approval and a sly smile, showing a set of discolored front teeth. The cheek he flexed dimpled like a crater on the surface of the moon. The rest of Michaels face was smooth like polished chocolate granite. His eyes, charcoal black, deceived like smoke screen and eclipses. Daniel changed topics, So what class you got next?P.E.So do I!Where are the lockers?I dont know, said Daniel, lets keep walking.The two walked side by side with and against strong currents of kids their age. The covered walkways were too infested to keep everyone contact free, and just as Daniel and Michael were beginning to emerge from the active tunnel, a boy walking in the opposite direction gave Daniel a shoulder bump.Watch where ya goin! said the boy, giving Daniel a threatening look and stopping to square up. Daniel looked at the boy in disbelief. It was Abraham, a kid he spent all fourth grade hanging out with. Abraham looked completely different. Hed grown tall, standing five-feet-eight inches tall. He wore a navy blue t-shirt, black Dickies shorts, and his socks, white, were pulled up as far as they could go. His face was chiseled out of volcanic stone and set on fire.Oh, hey, Abraham, said Daniel with fear in his voice.Dont hey me, ese, said Abraham. I dont know you.A crowd was beginning to form. We were in the same fourth grade class, remember?What? You about to catch my fade, ese. I suggest you drop that book bag schoolboy. Daniel had run out of words to defend himself. Hed never been in a fight; he wasnt small enough to back down without being considered a pussy for doing so. The crowd had completely encircled the scene with no adult in sight. Cell phones were out, recording the encounter.Yo, Abe, said Michael stepping in between, it was an accident, man. My homie here had some rum this morninghis first time. We jacked it from the liquor store and passed it around. Ya know.Abraham took a deep and suspicious look back at Daniel. Daniel made a goofy face and moved in place like a tree limb in a slow breeze.This joker is with you, Michael? asked Abraham.Yeah, hes a homie.Alright then, said Abraham, easing up. He better watch where he steps next time, buzzed or not.Fo sho, said Michael, extending his right hand out. Abraham committed to a slap-pound with Michael, ending Daniels ordeal and disappointing the swarm.Daniel breathed a sigh of relief as Abraham pushed through the talkative and slow to disperse gathering. He noticed multiple eyes still cast on him.Lets go! said Michael, relieving Daniel from the nosy stares of each bystander.

Nutrition break at Rancho Mar Vista High School offered an ephemeral respite from the intense learning environment of International Baccalaureate, Advanced Placement, and Honors courses. For students not in these elite classes, the bulk of the school, it was a painfully short rest period. Like any high school, there were those who got going at the bell, gladly returning to their teachers. There were many more that fought the call of the bell, idling, shoving the last of their free breakfast in their mouths, listening to one last rumor, joke, or comment before reticently heading back to their next period. The central quad was where the drama unfolded. Most days, the skaters, emos, jocks, mean girls, gangsters, rockers, nerds, and loners all got along. This was one such day. The seagulls were still weeks from finding the ample food supply left on the lunch tables and cement floor. It was bright outside; the summer heat gently caressed the patchwork of exposed skins. A slight ocean breeze sneaked through, intermittently cooling the clumps of teens as they stood in place or walked about perusing the layout of new clothes, best looks, and fresh blood to Rancho. Seniors like Elizabeth normally didnt hang out in the quad, but the first day of school was Class of 2015s t-shirt and paper crown day. Senior ASB officers sat outside their room, a table before them, handing out these tokens of togetherness to their ostensibly like-minded peers; one of the oldest forms of contrived uniformity.Elizabeth and her best friend, Monica, stood in line comparing class schedules and talking after school plans when Monica noticed a boy staring hardcore out of the corner of her eye. Elizabeth was in mid-sentence, and then maybe we can chill at theHey, hey, hey, said Monica excitedly, I think Johnny is checking you out, Liz.What? What are you talking about? Johnny who? Elizabeths voice is lower. She starts feeling both self-conscious and skeptical.Captain of the football teamSenior Class Presidentfine-ass, Johnny, thats who.Im not in the mood for jokes, Monica, said Elizabeth, with a straight and piercing look on her face. Monicas five-feet-three diminutive frame stands firmly erect, not giving any indication of deceit. The brown of her eyes look out at Elizabeth without betrayal. She grabs hold of her loose, long black hair with both hands and begins to arrange it neatly behind her tiny ears. I put it on my mom, Liz. Turn around and see for yourself, but dont make it burnt.Oh my god! Oh my god! Elizabeth said frantically to herself. Okay. Using the forward movement of the line, cued by the person in front of her, Elizabeth slowly turns her head to her left. A Tyler Posey doppelganger meets Elizabeths gaze. Hes smiling, cool as French vanilla ice cream and sweet as chocolate syrup. Elizabeth freaks out, turning quickly away. OMG, he really is looking at me.SeeI told you, said Monica, seeing Elizabeths face turn pink. Okay, okay, calm down. Its not like hes on his way over hereon behalf of her friend, she turns to take an innocent look back near Johnnys vicinityscratch that. Hes walking toward us.What do I do? Elizabeth pleads. Her heart races. She begins to feel hot and instinctively pulls on her shirt at her sternum, in and out, fanning her breasts like a butterfly flapping its wings during flight.Jesus, Liz, chillax! As smart as you are, Id think youd know not toJohnnys imposing figure stops Monicas banter. Hi, sorry to interrupt you ladiesIuhI just like your shirt a lot. Hes looking at Elizabeth. Shes wearing a faded and wrinkled Cal Berkeley t-shirt.My shirt? asks Elizabeth. You like my shirt?Yes, Liz, said Monica, giving Elizabeth a crazy look, he likes your shirt.Oh, said Elizabeth turning back toward Johnny, getting Monicas message, thank-you. She can feel her mouth getting dry. Johnnys pectorals are like two big jugs of water ready to quench her thirst. Her face feels warm and Johnnys looks as cool and soft as the underside of a pillow. So I take it you want to go to Berkeley?Sure, if I can get in. Ill take a full-ride anywhere, really. Im hoping to get a football scholarship. His voice exudes confidence. Its all Elizabeth hears even though all around her theres noise. The quad is buzzing, and the drowning chatter, laughter, profanity and teen spirit fails to distract her. She even forgets about Monica. What about you? Is that where you wanna go?Ever since middle school. I want to study business and Berkeley has a great business school. Ive visited the campusNext! Without being conscious of it, caught in a black hole of Johnnys allure, Monica and Elizabeth had made their way to the top of the line. Names, please, said a male African-American at the table.Well, listen, said Johnny, I really should be helping out, but maybe you can tell me more about Cal later, Elizabeth? Hes got a sly, irresistible smile on his face. Holy shit. He knows my name, said Elizabeth to herself.Leave these beautiful ladies alone, Johnny, interjected the Black male jokingly. Cant you see Im trying to help them out? Johnny gives the dude a head nod salute. Monica and Elizabeth momentarily turn toward the table. Both acknowledge the compliment with a coy smile.Sure, said Elizabeth, looking back at Johnny in total disbelief. No white guy had ever showed an interest in her. Throughout high school, shed been in classes with mostly white students. Shed stood out like a weed in a perfectly manicured lawn. Still, the white boys didnt mind her presence, interacting with her like indifferent and tolerant gardeners.Okay, great, said Johnny. Ill call ya. He begins to depart, slowly taking several retrograde steps, but maintaining eye contact with Elizabeth.But you dont haveLadies! Any day nowyoure holding up the line. Names, please. The Black males voice is commanding; his face projects a serious and annoyed expression.Elizabeth and Monica turn back toward Johnnys location, but hes gone. Monica is first to comply with the request, Ohsorry. Monica Gutierrez. Elizabeth takes a few more seconds before following suit. She scans the quad, looking for Johnny one last time before finally saying, Elizabeth Ramirez, in a trance. The end of Nutrition bell rings, snapping Elizabeth out of her spell.

Theres marijuana in every single public high school campus in America; its as ubiquitous as the dollar bill and the smart phone. Marijuana is for sale, though most of the time it is shared. Smoking weed is a rite of passage and at the same time, a display of camaraderie among new and old friends. Thats why Junior had to light it up with everyone else. His friend, Mario, a Mexican skater with connections, had introduced Junior during the Nutrition break to a motley crew of thrashers and shredders who happened to have agreed to smoke some bowls during lunch. Junior knew the rules; he couldnt back down to anything on the first day of school and not be labeled a punk the rest of the year. Besides, hes the one that had gone out looking for a source to some free bud before finding Mario. Yo, said Mario to a white boy puffing on the pipe, let my homie get some of that. Me and this kid go way backwe played club soccer together. His lanky arm, full of abrasions and grunge, wrapped around Juniors neck and shoulders. Mario wore a pine green t-shirt, brown corduroy pants, and a black beanie that held his long, jet-black hair in place so he could see. The temperature was ninety degrees; still, the beanie never came off.Hold-up, said the white boy. I gotta pack another bowl.This a good spot to get high? asked Junior. He looked around at the older, seasoned faces. There were six ragged and grimy looking males in all.Thats right, another Mexican skater said mockingly, youre a freshman. You dont know Ranchos layout yet.Yeah, homie, said Mario reassuringly. The noon-duties hardly check the tennis courts. Theyre too busy patrolling the bathrooms and other shit. The bathrooms are burnt! An explosion of laughter. See that fence over there? Mario pointed to a ten-foot chain-link at the end of a walkway leading to the last tennis court. Junior nodded in affirmation. We get over that and were home free. Nothing but peoples houses back there.Cool, said Junior.Okay, here, said the white boy, passing the pipe and a lighter over to Junior.Junior put the ceramic pipe to his mouth, tilted the lighter parallel with the ground and flicked it on so the flame would directly burn the crumbled mound of green leaves resting on the bowl. He sucked in a big gulp of smoke, held the white cloud in his mouth for a couple of seconds, and blew it slowly out. He started coughing uncontrollably. His throat was on fire, choking future breaths out of him. Everyone in the crew laughed at him.This isnt your first time, is it? asked the Mexican skater.Nah, man, said Junior barely audible, struggling to get his windpipe some air, this is just some strong shit.Medical grade, baby, said the white boy. My dad has a medical card for some bullshit. Gives me some to smoke if I sell some for himkick your ass if you tell anyone.I aint no snitch, said Junior, regaining control of his voice.My boy is cool, yo, said Mario, hed neverOh Shit! said the Mexican skater. Its a noon-duty in a golf cart coming this way. Lets bail!Junior put the warm pipe and lighter in his back pant pocket and fled with the rest like a galloping horse running at a steeple. His right foot hit the chain-link somewhere in the middle, making a snug cling with his shoe. His hands grabbed the top bar like eagles talons and he was able to get a great pull to climb easily over the fence. The impact, however, had caused his class schedule to slip out of his front right pocket unbeknownst to him.

Monica didnt like the idea of giving a ride home to a freshman, but since Junior happened to be her besties little brother she didnt mind as much. Shed known Junior three years and didnt like that he hit on her every chance he got. Junior tried grabbing Monicas ass once while slow dancing at Elizabeths Quinceaera. Much to her dismay, Junior was assigned as her chambeln. It didnt seem right at the time to make a big deal out of it, and ask Liz to pair her with another escort. In retrospect, having a different chambeln wouldve made Lizs Quince more enjoyable, with Monica not having to spend so much time and energy deflecting Juniors inappropriate entreaties.Hurry-up! said Elizabeth to Junior as he got close. She held the front passenger door to Monicas used Honda Civic wide open. The seat was pulled forward to allow Junior to get in quickly. Most of the vehicles in the student parking lot had emptied out. In a way, Juniors delay had made exiting the lot easier. Come dismissal, scores of teens fan out from the various halls at Rancho, walking hastily to their cars. With parents sitting on idle in lanes and illegally along the red curb, blocking flow, traffic is a nightmare; its an every man for himself situation. We dont have all day. Elizabeth gives Junior an exasperated look. Junior avoids eye contact and steps inside. Monica starts the car as Elizabeth gets in and closes the door. Where the heck were you? asks Elizabeth, turning her head toward the back of the car. No response. A couple seconds later: Junior!Ohuhwhat da ya mean? replies Junior. He looks into the rear view mirror, taking a slick look at the driver. Sup, Monica? Monica gives Junior a look of disgust through the rear view. Oh, its like that then, Monica? Im hurt.Shut-up and answer your sister, said Monica.Kick-it, tiny. Damn, you two sound like my mom. The teacher gave us all detention and I couldnt text you, alright?Detention already? asked Elizabeth. What you guys do?Not me! Junior starts brushing off his shirt with his hands. Hes sitting back on the seat, moving his head into the drag coming from Elizabeths open window to cool off sporadically. Monica is driving northbound on Melrose Drive, hitting fifty miles per hour at times. It was these bad-ass kids that kept talking.Yeah, right, said Monica. Junior stayed quiet.It better not happen every day, said Elizabeth. We got things to do. The car slowed to a stop at a light behind a snake of vehicles. Melrose was congested as usual. Cars backed up from the entrance to Highway 78 all the way to Breeze Hill Road. Ventilation came to a standstill inside the cabin. Damn, Monica, said Junior, you gotta fix your air conditioner. He wiped the beads trailing down the side of his face.Its probably cooler outside, said Monica. Would you like to walk?Damn youre in a bad mood, said Junior, fanning himself.Whats that smell? asked Elizabeth unexpectedly. She starts to sniff the air. The smell is coming from the back. You put cologne on, Junior?Huh?uhyeah. My homie let me spray some on. Gotta smell good for the ladies, ya know. Junior instinctively pulls his shirt toward his nose to get a whiff. Well, it stinks, said Monica. It smells like some cheap stuff. Maybe you shouldnt be A text alert distracts her. She goes for her phone in the cup holder.Its mine, said Elizabeth, looking at her phones screen. Monica retreats, and upon seeing the light turn green, slowly takes her foot off the brake. Whos this? Elizabeth thinks, looking at an unrecognized phone number. She reads the message:

wuzup Liz. nice t2u 2day. w2ho sometime? J

Omg, Monicaits Johnny!Really? What he text?He wants to hang out sometime. Elizabeth stares at the message pensively. I dont know if I should trust him.What? Why not? Monica takes her eyes off the road, giving Elizabeth a quick surprised look.WellI meanwhat does he want with me? Hes got every girl at Rancho after him.Dont trust no one, said Junior. Especially no fool named, Johnny. Sounds like a whiteboy. Dont tell meJuniorA-B conversation here, said Monica. From the rearview mirror reflection, Junior could see that Monicas forehead scrunched and her eyebrows were raised. Her head was also slightly tilted to the right. Like a castigated puppy, Junior slowly turned away from the reflection. Anyway, what I was about to say before being so rudely interrupted...was that you have a lot going on for yourself, Liz.Awwwthanks bestie. But I know youre just saying that cuz were friends.What? No! You really do! See right there. Even though youre way pretty and smart, you dont flaunt it. Youre like humble about it.You think Im pretty?Yeah, girlyoure smokin! But its like you dont even know it. Or maybe you do and you just dont make a big deal out of it. Thats hot!What? No! Estas loca.For reals. Johnny has all these girls jockin him, right? Well what do they all have in common?I dont knowthey like him?Duh!Well of course they like him, Lizshe pauses. A red light on Hacienda Drive comes at a convenient time in the conversation, allowing Monica to face Elizabeth and emphasize her next pointbut these girls are all trashy. Youve seen them. They get his attention with their boobs and asses.Whats wrong with that? asked Junior rhetorically. Id like to get some of thatShut-up, Junior! said Monica, turning toward him. Her voice is ominous. Her body language screams impatience.Green light! said Junior, pointing at the center of the windshield.Ugh! Youre so annoying. Monica turns back around and settles into driving position. She lets her foot off the brake and lightly touches the accelerator. Liz, lets just wait to talk after we drop this little boy off.Where you two going? asked Junior.None of your biz! said Monica.The Starbucks by the Krikorian, said Elizabeth. We got a lot of homework.How you gonna have homework on the first day of school? asked Junior. Thats some bullshit. He shook his head in disbelief.Summer reading assignments, smart guy, said Monica. Its what happens when you get into Honors and A.P. classes. Maybe youll find out someday.NahIm straight. I like my summers homework free.You like your school years homework free too, said Elizabeth. Monica laughs. She takes her right hand off the wheel to invite a high-five from Elizabeth. Elizabeth accepts, smacking Monicas palm with her left, open hand. True that, said Junior vanquished.Elizabeths factory set ringtone for her iPhone 5s suddenly goes off. She looks at the screen. The caller id displays the word, Mom. Oh greatwhat now? Elizabeth thinks. She slides her thumb across the screen, and puts the phone to her ear. Hi, mom, she said hesitantly.Hi, mija, said Mrs. Ramirez. You kids doin okay?Yeah. Monicas driving us to the house now. Were almost there.Oh, good. And how was your day? She dragged her question along; her voice was full of parental curiosity. Good, replied Elizabeth. A temporary moment of silence ensued.Okay, said Mrs. Ramirez disappointedly. Mira, mija, your father and me are runnin a little late. And we still havent picked up Daniel from school. You mind getting dinner started?Aw, but mom, Monica and I were gonna go do homework at a Starbucks. Monica looks over, hearing her name. Her face is full of anticipation. We were just gonna drop Junior off.Im really sorry, Lizpero piensa en la familia.Alright, said Elizabeth. She turns to face Monica and shakes her head.Monica takes the gesture as a court defendant would a guilty verdict. She settles back on the seat, speechless.God bless you, mija, said Mrs. Ramirez.

Telemundo was showing the match between Mexico and the USA later that evening. Its all Martin could think about while working at the Walmart nursery earlier in the day. Now home, his focus intensified, listening only to every other word his wife directed his way, and unwilling to spare her any excess attention. He sat on the living room couch in front of the television, wearing red shorts and a wife-beater. His children, although home, had disappeared like the smell of boiled pasta and warmed, canned spaghetti saucewhat Elizabeth had managed to prepare for the family.Junior, Daniel, Elizabeth!Dinner is ready! Mrs. Ramirez marched out of the hallway like a drill sergeant. Martin, vamos, you too.Me too what?Come and eat! Your plate is on the table.Martin got up slowly, with his eyes glued to the television. The games commentators were still giving viewers the pre-game line-ups. Im gonna eat in the living room, he said with conviction. The game is about to start.Mrs. Ramirez stood in the kitchen visibly upset as Martin approached. Her right arm took the shape of a boomerang along the side of her body, a hitchhikers fist pushing firmly downward on her hip. Her gaze locked in like a heat seeking missile. Martin moved swiftly past her with complete disregard. She broke her frozen stance, But Martinthe boys will want to eat in the living room with you. Having uncorked herself, the tension in her body was less apparent. She shifted to face Martin on his return trip to the living room. Weve been doing so good, eating together these past few days.Ill tell them they cant y ya, said Martin walking with plate in hand, balancing a dome of tangled snakes smothered in ceremonial blood.MartinEsperanza no ests chingando, eh, said Martin royally pissed off. Daniel and Junior had emerged from the hallway, catching their fathers retort.Que pasa? asked Daniel.Nothing, said Martin curtly, lowering his ass slowly onto the couch. Go sit and eat.Mexico playin USA? asked Junior rhetorically, grabbing the top of a chair and pulling it back. Oh shit. Can we come sit with you, pop?Martin just wanted to be left alone, in peace to watch his beloved futbol team play their archrivals. Was it too much to ask to eat once again in front of the tube like he had for years? If only Esperanza hadnt been told by a girlfriendwhod attended a school meetingabout the benefits of eating consistently as a family, life would be perfect. No. You and Daniel sit at the table and watch from there.Cmon, dad, can we please? Like we used to? Daniels infantile voice was hard to dismiss. He stared at the back of his dads head, waiting for a response. Several seconds elapsed.Ask your mom, said Martin finally breaking the silence. His back was toward his family fortuitously; otherwise hed have been murdered by the vile look on Esperanzas face. She was like Medusa holding a sledgehammer.Momcan we? asked Daniel with a soft voice. Daniel tried to break the hard look on his mothers face, staring back at her like a sad puppy.No! she said. You two have to sit here with me and your sister and thats that!Moms these days, said Junior, grabbing his fork and stabbing the spaghetti. He looked down at his plate and rotated the cutlery until a spool of pasta formed around the tines. Once hed shoved the food in his mouth and cleaned off the fork, he slowly straightened his head and found his mothers penetrating gaze. What? asked Junior bombastically.Esperanza Ramirez had no idea what she had done to deserve the disrespect of her middle child. Junior had been a good boy as a child, getting ready for school without much need for prodding; hed please his mother, bringing home certificates of achievement and perfect attendance. Parent-teacher conferences had been routine. K-5 teachers always had this to report: Hes a pleasure to have in class, Mrs. Ramirez. Junior is such a hard worker. Something happened to Junior, and whatever it was, it began in 6th grade. Esperanza couldnt quite put a finger on it. She hypothesized that Juniors malfunction began with the new set of friends hed made. Lincoln middle school was the destination for students of three elementary schools; there were bound to be some bad apples, and these mal educados were surely responsible for spoiling her once upstanding offspring. Elizabethcome and eat! yelled Mrs. Ramirez, withdrawing to the stove and grabbing two clean plates along the way. How was school today, boys? asked Mrs. Ramirez, picking up the tongs that had been left in the pasta strainer.Fine, said Daniel, buttered toast in hand. He took a bite.Just fine? asked Mrs. Ramirez. But it was your first day of middle school. How could it just have been fine? She gripped and lifted a wad of noodles from the strainer, placing them carefully on a plate. Elizabeth materialized next to her. She handed Elizabeth the plate without even thinking. She took the second plate and subconsciously repeated her previous actions.It was okay, I guess, said Daniel, with food in his mouth.How about you, Junior? asked Mrs. Ramirez.Im hungry, said Junior, shoveling more spaghetti in his mouth and turning to face the television. The screen moved past the zoomed-in faces of the Mexican national team, standing shoulder to shoulder. Is Chicharito playing?Si, said Martin, placing his plate on top of a cushion and rising. You kids get up! Theyre playing the Mexican national anthem. No one in the home took him serious.Ohso tell me Daniel, said Mrs. Ramirez, did you find out what happened this morning from your friend? She joined her kids at the table finally, being the last to douse her noodles with sauce.Which friend? His face was stuck facing the televisions direction.You forgot already? The one that was stopped by la migra.Oh, you mean, Mike, said Daniel. He gave his mother a quick face-to-face acknowledgement out of courtesy before returning to the game. We have P.E. together. Were gonna share a locker.Okay, but happened? She took hold of her fork.I guess la migra is gonna be taking Mikes dad back to Mexico. They made his dad sign these papers saying hes got to leave like in two weeks or else theyll lock him up. Daniels solemn voice recruited the attention of everyone at the table.Thats fucked-up, said Junior. Pinche migra. He twirled his fork, entangling more spaghetti.Why doesnt he fight it? asked Elizabeth, with a fervent look on her face.No! yelled Martin. He leapt off the couch like a spring.Startled, the four at the table turned quickly in the direction of Martin. The voice of sportscaster, Andres Cantor, projected across the living room and into the kitchen: Goooool! Dinner and conversation were put to a halt until Cantors voice stopped roaring. Who scored? asked Elizabeth.U.S.A., obviously, said Junior.I can see that, stupid, said Elizabeth. I meant which player.That was one fast goal, said Martin. Pinche Dempsey! He stood in place like a candy cane shaped street lamp.Ooh, said Elizabeth, I like him! Hes handsome. She was grinning deviously.Yeah, said Junior, you would like him, wouldnt you? You gringo lover!Elizabeths face turned crimson. She looked back at Junior like a spooked rabbit hiding from a predator behind some brush. Shhhut up! said Elizabeth, pleading for Juniors silence with the tone in her voice. Martin had only three rules hed asked Elizabeth to respect: One, always do good in school. Two, dont look, dress, or behave like a puta. And three, never ever bring a negro or a gringo to the house. Elizabeth understood rules one and two, but number three was just plain wrong to her. Her dad a racist was something she didnt want to accept. A traditional Mexican father with antiquated believes about dating and marriage was a description more to her liking. Even though nothing was going on between her and Johnny, at least not yet, she felt as if she were on the verge of violating rule three.Junior smirked and winked back at Elizabeth.What was that all about? asked Mrs. Ramirez, looking inquisitively at her two eldest children.Nothing, said Junior, pretending to be more interested in the soccer telecast.Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. Her annoying and troublesome little brother had spared her this time. Would he spare Elizabeth again, given the chance to once more tarnish her goodie reputation? Why am I so bothered by this? Elizabeth thought to herself. This thing with Johnnything? What thing? Theres nothing going on. Hes so hot though! And I dont care what dad thinks about other racesElizabeth! said Mrs. Martinez.Huh? What?Daniel was asking you what you had asked him before the gol, said Mrs. Ramirez.Oh, said Elizabeth, Im sorry, little brother. Her cell phone began to vibrate. Hold-on. Monica was calling. Whats up, chica? answered Elizabeth.You got time to talk? Monica sounded concerned.Actually, Im kinda having dinner, why?Its about, Johnny, said Monica pressingly.