Twelve

BENNY

It was time to call in a favor. My boy LT—his real name was Lautaro, but he refused to go by that—owed me big-time for a batch of IDs I’d made for him and all of his cousins a few months ago. We needed a vehicle for Operation EagleFly, and none of us were old enough to rent one. Plus, we needed something that would be able to disappear quickly. LT was my best bet.

For some reason my mind went to Dakota, maybe because I could still smell her, like she’d left a little perfume shadow behind in the passenger seat the day before. It was cool, giving her a ride home from school. She was in my world for the first time, instead of me in hers. I’d never noticed that she was actually kind of smart and cool. The ass was that distracting. And yeah, she was a little uptight, and a little too wrapped up in what everyone thought. But there was something else inside her, a little spark, and that made her interesting.

A drive home was a drive home, I reminded myself. A plan was a plan. We were all just working together. And I had to do my part.

I pulled off Route 1 and exited at Broad Street. Back in North Philly. At least here you didn’t have to have special gate codes or drive a mile to get down a driveway. Everyone was right where you could see them. I passed by the fried seafood shops and hair supply stores, then headed east on Lehigh. Back to El Centro de Oro—the heart of gold. That’s what they called our neighborhood, the area around Fifth Street. It was also the heart of the Latino community, mostly Puerto Ricans and Dominicans, but some Mexicanos like my grandparents. (Of course, other people called it the Badlands, because of the drug dealers.)

On Fifth Street, the colors of the buildings changed to light blue and yellow, the Centro music store blasted salsa, and there were big murals stretching for blocks between fake palm tree sculptures. Lately they were trying to fix up the ’hood, which was pretty cool, but it still had a ways to go. You couldn’t undo decades of struggle with a few pieces of art.

I turned again onto Cambria and parked in front of LT’s house. Tuesdays were his day off from work. He was older than me by about four years, and he’d dropped out of school a long time ago to start working at my uncle’s shop.

We’d gotten to be friends over the past few summers, when he helped me with the Mustang and I listened to all his girl problems. He had a lot of girl problems. But LT was cool. Of all my buddies, he was the only one who didn’t make fun of me for going to school in the suburbs. “Don’t listen to the haters,” he said to me. “You should go get yours.”

He’d had a few scrapes with the law when he was my age—petty theft type things, but he’d almost gone to juvie for helping some thug with a cut-and-shut. That was before he got serious about cars and turned himself around. He was a fast learner, and when he got good enough, he left the shop to go work for a fancy joint in the suburbs, doing custom paint jobs—the big time—but he still lived at home with his parents, along with his girlfriend Carlita.

He answered the bell in a t-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops, even though it was less than fifty degrees outside. He held the door open with one hand and scratched his head lazily with the other. “Hola, Benny. What’s up?”

I gave him a hug and a handshake like we always did. Then I stepped in, closing the screen door behind me, and sat down on his mom’s couch. “I need your help.”

“Oh no,” he said. “You didn’t get her pregnant, did you?”

“Who?”

“Ha ha, that’s right.” He pointed at me, laughing. “You don’t have a girl. I forgot you’re a virgin.”

“You know I’m not.” I was close to it, but technically I’d had sex with a girl I’d met at a party last summer. It was dark and we were drunk and she was, like, twenty and told me what to do, but it still counted. Anyway, I didn’t want to get into that again. “I’m serious now, dawg.”

“Okay.” He smiled wide and I could see he was still making fun—he lived to annoy me.

“But you have to keep this a secret. If you want to help me you have to promise you won’t tell anyone.”

He bowed his head to his fingertips to show me he meant business. “You got it, man. Always.”

“What if I needed a car?”

“You have a car, don’t you? Did something happen to the Mustang?”

“I need a car,” I said with emphasis.

“Oh. A car. Right.” He sighed.

He was trying to keep his nose clean, I knew that. I wondered if this was such a good idea after all. Even telling him could get him into trouble. He was like the brother I never had, and the last thing I wanted to do was hurt him. “You know what, forget it.”

He waved his hand. “No no. Tell me what you need.”

“I don’t want you putting yourself on the line.”

“I can take care of myself, Ben. What kind of car?”

“I’m not sure yet. Something untraceable.” I wasn’t sure how we were getting into the Mint just yet, but I needed to know he could get me a vehicle to use when the time came. “If you can’t do it, just say so.”

He shrugged. “So long as it’s not a Bentley.”

“Naw, man. Something under the radar.”

“All right. I can get you something on a temporary basis, something I can return to the shop quickly.”

“A few hours is all we need,” I reassured him.

“Anything else?”

“The plates?”

“I can get those too, and switch ’em up for you,” he said, running a finger over his bottom teeth as he thought it over. “But Benny, this is gonna take some labor hours, hours I could be doing real jobs, plus like you said, there’s the risk I’m taking here.”

“I’ll get you some money,” I said, seeing where this was going. He was right. The IDs weren’t really a fair trade. I didn’t know where I’d get the cash, but I’d get it somehow. “Three thousand?”

He smiled again, his eyes gleaming but wary. “Now where are you gonna get that kind of scratch, son?” Then he held up a hand. “You know what? I don’t even want to know.”

“No,” I said. This was a federal job, way bigger than anything he’d ever been involved with. “You don’t.”

If I had to, I’d hit up some of my savings, sell the Mustang. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that, but I wouldn’t leave LT hanging.

We sat for a while and watched TV until I had to go do my homework. On the way out, I clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You know how much I appreciate this.”

His face was calm. “I’ve got your back.”

For a short little second, I was tempted to tell him about Dakota, but then I checked myself. There was nothing to tell. It would just sound stupid.

Instead I just gave him a hug. “Later, man.”

“Listen,” he said as we broke apart. “I’m not going to preach to you. Just do me a favor. Whatever you’re mixed up in, think about your options, okay? Maybe there’s another way.”

“Maybe,” I said.

Then I was down the steps, back out onto the familiar streets of our neighborhood.

I could see the top of her greying hair from the doorway. My grandmom was in the kitchen like always, sitting at the round table, eating vanilla sandwich cookies as she watched the afternoon news. My granddad was out working at the hardware store. He kept saying he was too old to haul lumber, but they’d have to fire him before he’d quit.

“How was school?” she called out in Spanish. She always wanted the full rundown, and I never had much to tell.

“Good,” I said. I went for the refrigerator and poured myself a glass of juice.

“You’re happy there, right?”

“Sure,” I said, taking a swig. “I’m happy.”

I hadn’t told her yet what was happening at HF. I probably should, about my scholarship and everything. But maybe we could fix it before I had to.

I looked at her little hands, which were picking up crumbs from the tablecloth to keep it spotless. She wanted so much for me, and if I couldn’t deliver it, it would break her heart. I had to save HF, because that was my only shot.

And yet, if she knew how I was planning to do it, she’d smack me with one of her magazines, so hard my teeth would rattle.

I took my glass and my backpack and started up the stairs to my room.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I gotta get to work,” I said.