As Victor emerged from a cluster of trees separating the picnic area and playground from the rest of the city park, the sprinklers surrounding the soccer field shut off and sank back into the ground like a retreating mine field. He sped across the wet grass, hoping he didn’t slip as he headed toward the baseball diamond in the near distance. Beyond it was a parking lot and then, two blocks away, a subway station.
He knew he could outrun Alfonso and Sergio, but for how long? Yeah, they were slow, but he still needed to get to the BART station or else there was a chance they’d catch up with him.
Someone got shot. I heard it. I hope my sister’s okay. What the fuck was she doing in the Soldados’ section of the park anyway? And what happened to Isabella?
Victor was running out of breath. He stopped once he reached the baseball diamond, heaving and panting behind a chain-link fence positioned directly behind home plate. He gasped for air, leaning forward and placing both palms against his trembling knees for a second. The last thing he wanted to do was pass out. Los Soldados would catch him then for sure.
They’ll kill me without a second thought.
A young guy was standing on home plate with a baseball bat in his hands. He had his back to Victor. He was practicing his swing but was doing it all wrong.
Once Victor could breathe again, he spoke. His words slid through the links and made their way to the boy in the blue baseball cap.
He knew he didn’t have much time, so he spoke quickly. “Don’t lean forward so much,” Victor told him, still breathless. He glanced back nervously at the trees, certain Alfonso and Sergio would appear at any second. “Use more of your arms and less of your shoulders, man.”
The boy turned around. He was handsome and had an athletic build. He smiled.
Victor watched him for a moment, and then felt compelled to speak again. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt your life.”
The two men made eye contact through the fence separating them.
“What happened to your face?” the baseball player asked.
Victor lifted up his T-shirt and wiped blood from his nose with it. “Just a stupid fight,” he said.
The boy moved closer. “Looks like it was a bad one,” he said. “I hope the other guy looks worse.”
“You go to East Berkeley High?” Victor asked.
The boy nodded and said, “As of this morning, I do.”
“Maybe that’s why I’ve never seen you around before,” said Victor. “I think I would’ve remembered you.”
The boy lowered his bat. He slid his fingers through the fence. For a second, he made Victor think of an animal, wanting to escape his cage. Like something from the zoo. His brown eyes were dark and sad. Maybe someone had broken his heart real bad. “Yeah,” he said, “I think I’d remember you, too.”
Victor cracked a smile. “You should take my advice,” he said. “About your swing, I mean.”
The guy gave him a look. “You play baseball?”
Victor shook his head. “No, but I’ve watched it enough.”
He grinned and said, “Watching something isn’t the same thing as doing it.”
“What are you, a poet?” Victor joked. “Don’t you wanna hit better?”
“Of course.”
“Then learn how to do it right, so you can.”
“Good advice,” he agreed. He looked into Victor’s eyes and said, “My name’s Riley.”
A brief wave of silence washed over them and the moment they were sharing. In the quiet, Victor felt a strange flood of hope crest inside and fill his blood with a sudden sense of invincibility.
Why do I keep smiling like an idiot? This guy probably thinks I’m fucking nuts. Or maybe he thinks I’m high. I sure feel like I am.
“Victor. Victor Alvarez,” he replied. “But my friends call me Toro.”
Riley turned and looked across the field. “Looks like we got company,” he said.
Victor turned and followed Riley’s gaze. He spotted Alfonso and Sergio, approaching in the far distance.
“Fuck,” he said. “I gotta go.”
But Victor didn’t want to leave. Even though he knew if Los Soldados caught up with him they’d kick his ass or worse, there was something about this baseball boy that made him want to stay and talk longer. And he still needed to find out who the hell got shot back at the playground.
“Those the guys messing with you?” Riley asked.
Victor leaned into the fence and grabbed it, angry and torn. He noticed how close his hand was to Riley’s. They were almost touching. “Yeah, man. Since I was twelve.”
“If you go now, you’ll have a running start.”
Victor shook his head, adamant. “Los Reyes never run.”
Riley shifted his hand. The edge of his finger brushed against Victor’s. Neither of them pulled their hands away once contact was made. “Well, smart guys do,” Riley said. “Especially when they’re outnumbered.”
Victor was scared now. “Let me have your bat.”
Riley stepped away from the fence and moved closer to home plate. “No way. You got any idea how much this thing costs?”
If I don’t get the hell out of here, Alfonso and Sergio will beat this kid to a pulp. I don’t want him mixed up in this crazy shit.
“Catch you later, then,” Victor said.
Victor started to run as fast as he could. He glanced back. Alfonso and Sergio picked up their pace, chasing him. He turned forward and kept his focus on the horizon. He needed someplace to go. Otherwise, he didn’t stand a chance in hell.
I’m not gonna make it to the train.
Victor was aware then that Riley was beside him, running with his baseball bat in hand.
What the fuck is this kid doing? Is he crazy?
“Toro, follow me,” he insisted.
“Where are we going?” Victor asked, obeying.
“To hide you,” he said. “I know a place.”
“No,” said Victor. “Fuck that. Los Reyes never hide.”
Riley was out of breath. It seemed like it was tough for him to get out his words. “I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he said.
A part of Victor wanted to stop running. As Riley’s words seeped in, Victor realized no one had ever said that to him before.