CHAPTER 25

Lily

Swimming had tired me. Too much. I was starting to nod off. Arturo felt the loosening of my grip.

“Lily! Wake up!”

I sat up straighter and took a few long, deep breaths.

“We are going to a town,” he said, determined.

“Why? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“We need to find friends. More light in town. More chance to see pistas.”

“But—”

“—is decided.”

I glanced at the time, not yet midnight. I knew it was risky, but Arturo was right. I did keep nodding off. He was having to steer with one hand and squeeze my hand with the other to keep me awake. 

After what seemed like no time in my half-asleep state, we were cruising into a town with one main street. The flat one-story buildings and old-fashioned street lamps caught my attention, helping to wake me. Seeing a single traffic light a few blocks ahead, Arturo turned, setting off into a residential area. Fewer lamps lit the side streets, but the place was awake despite the late hour. The voices and laughter of people on porches floated in the thick air. Monitor shows, too loud, seeped out open windows. It was cooling now, and folks were still up, finally able to enjoy life if you were among those who couldn’t afford the cooled air systems. They waved and nodded their greeting as we drove by. It seemed a friendly place. Still, we knew to keep our heads down and use the alleys whenever possible. 

It was in such an alley that baskets of purple flowers hanging over a fence caught my attention. We’d been told that any purple flower could be used as the symbol. I motioned for Arturo to steer closer. Though there were no lamps in the alley, the inside of the yard had its own lights. The lights shone directly onto the baskets, which each held an array of purple flowers—and only purple flowers. Could it be? I jumped off of the slow- moving bike, awake now and alert.

“Get off and help me look.”  

Arturo parked the bike and peered over the gray wooden fence, shining his light into the backyard. 

“Be careful,” I whispered. I shone my light along the outside of the fence. And then I saw it. Down so far that the grass in the alley had nearly obscured it. A roughly hewn circle within a circle, so indelicate as to appear scratched crudely by a kid with a rough-edged rock.

“Here!”

Arturo was beside me in a flash, adding his light to mine.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Yes, is definitely the symbol.”