Alma didn’t know what to expect when she decided to keep her word by meeting Alfonso in the train yard. She had no reason for it. He was the enemy. He wanted her brother dead and every other person who lived in her neighborhood.
It’s so fucked-up because we used to be friends. All of us. Back in the day.
She thought about this as she stood in the closet-sized bathroom putting on extra makeup, a couple more dabs of perfume, a short skirt, her favorite pink silk blouse, and a pair of black heels.
Finished, she inspected her reflection and was pleased with the results.
I sure don’t look fifteen.
She told no one of her plan, realizing that by doing so she was deceiving everyone she knew.
If they found out, they would kill me. Even my grieving, pissed-off mother.
The truth of the matter was, Alma hadn’t given Alfonso much thought since the seventh grade. Not until their reunion in the park that afternoon. He was definitely more grown-up now. And she couldn’t deny it: he looked good.
Still, after what he did…
How can I even think about going through with this shit? What kind of a person am I? I should kill him myself, for Jorge. My sweet cousin who never hurt nobody.
She heard her mother in the living room, talking over the television. From the second Alma had walked in the door, she’d been hounded by Graciela who demanded she spill her guts and tell her every detail about what happened to Jorge.
As usual, Alma claimed she knew nothing. This only seemed to aggravate her mother even more—if that was possible.
“Where are you going?” she asked as Alma headed to the front door of the apartment.
Alma learned long ago not to ask for permission. “Going to get a hamburger with Veronica. I’ll be back later.”
“Your cousin gets killed today and you’re going out for hamburgers?”
Alma got out of the apartment as quickly as she could.
Outside, the night air gave her a rude awakening.
Fuck, it’s cold out here.
She reprimanded herself for not bringing a jacket. It was January, after all. Some people still had their Christmas trees up.
As she walked through her neighborhood, Alma tried to convince herself the reason why she wanted to see Alfonso was to tell him he didn’t stand a chance in hell with her.
I want him to see what he’ll never have.
And she wanted to let him know face-to-face she saw him pull the trigger earlier that day. She knew he was the shooter. Because of him her cousin Jorge was dead. Now, Alfonso’s life was in her hands.
One word from me to Los Reyes and he’s gone.
Except for the occasional splash of illumination, the train yard was dark and deserted. She let the light of the moon guide her. She slid through a hole in a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. She knew the path because she’d been there before. Her high heels crunched against gravel and dirt as she made her way through the rat-filled cemetery for dead trains.
She headed to the sole railcar. It sat alone, ostracized and punished, far away from the others. It was rusted and was begging to be put out of its misery.
He was already there and waiting. She knew this because she saw the orange ember glow of his cigarette when he took a long, deep drag.
“I knew you’d show up,” he said, even though the surprised look on his face contradicted what he was saying. His gold-capped tooth caught a glint of moonlight and shone in her eyes. She stepped aside to avoid the annoying reflection. He was wearing a cap.
Probably to keep his shaved head warm. He’s no fool. Not like my dumb ass out here with no coat.
“I don’t break a promise,” she informed him. “Never.”
She felt Alfonso’s eyes crawl all over her body, resting along the way on every patch of bare skin. “What are you all dressed up for?” he asked.
She shot him a look. “What do you think?”
Is he really that dumb?
He stepped closer. She could smell the nicotine on his lips. “You’re looking this good for me?”
She wanted to punch him in the face, beat the stupidity out of him. “For who else? The fucking train?”
Alfonso took a last drag on his cigarette, dropped it to the ground, and squashed it with the heel of his black boot. “You’re crazy to come see me.”
She looked into his eyes. “Am I?”
He leaned in closer and whispered, “If anybody saw us…”
“Well, they won’t,” she assured him. “Just like I won’t tell nobody about what you did today…for now.”
His jaw tightened. “You gonna hold that over me?”
“Until I need to use it,” she said. “So don’t make me.”
“I figured I’d be dead by now if you told someone,” he said.
“Exactly,” she agreed. “But you’re still here. So you owe me.”
He reached out and tugged gently on the hem of her blouse. “Most girls wouldn’t show up to meet the guy who shot her cousin.”
She slapped his hand away and said, “That’s because I’m not like most girls.”
“Ain’t that the fucking truth” he said. “You really getting jumped into Las Reinas?”
“Next week,” she said, proud. “Veronica asked me to.”
“Veronica’s bad news, Alma. She always has been.”
“So?”
“So you’re not,” he said. “Why you wanna be a banger now? You don’t need it.”
“Neither do you,” she told him.
“You can go to college,” he reminded her.
He sounds like my mother. My God, if she only knew.
“So could you, Alfonso,” she said. “I remember how good you were in science and chemistry. All those symbols and formulas. You had that shit down.”
“Damn, I forget all about that,” he said. For a second, she was certain she could see memories in his eyes. She knew he was thinking back to a different time, when they were younger. Life was better then. When their addresses didn’t matter.
“How come you stopped?” she asked. “I always thought you were going to be a doctor or find a cure for cancer or some shit like that. Go run off and save the poor people in Mexico or El Salvador.”
He let out a small laugh. “Me? Yeah, right.”
Alma took a breath. The cold air hurt her lungs. She coughed a little before she spoke again. “Sometimes I wish it was still the same…like it used to be,” she confessed. “Before everybody divided up the park and started all these gangs. My mom said Los Reyes and Los Soldados went away before all of us were born. All the OGs are gone now. Dead and buried. But Manuel and your cousin started them back up because they were bored, I guess. They needed something to do.”
“It didn’t happen like that,” he said.
“No?” she pushed. “There used to be a time when all of us were cool with each other.”
He looked away and said, “I know.”
Alfonso was uncomfortable. She could tell. Alma wondered if she had pushed the conversation too far.
Guys never wanna talk about serious stuff. Not even this one.
“I guess it’s better to be in a gang,” she said. “Los Reyes is my family. Always will be.”
“Hey, you’re the one who wants to join one now,” he told her. “I just don’t know why.”
I wish I knew. The truth is I don’t wanna do it. But I can’t tell nobody that because they’ll call me out and think I’m a punk-ass bitch. Now, I gotta go through with it because I opened my big mouth one too many times.
“What choice do I have?” she said, shivering. “Everybody else is.”
“You want my jacket?” he asked. He slipped it off before she could answer and handed it to her.
“Since when did you become such a gentleman?” she said, sliding her arms through the sleeves. “I remember you were such a pest on the playground. Always pulling my hair and messing with me.”
“You were cute,” he said. “With your crooked ponytails and your Sesame Street lunchbox.”
“Don’t make fun of me,” she warned.
He touched her face gently. His palm felt softer than she imagined. “You got choices, Alma. You know that,” he said. “A smart girl like you can go so far.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
Alfonso took another look at her. He licked his lips. “What do you wanna do tonight?”
She grinned. “I didn’t come here to do homework.”
He smiled. “Is it true what they say about you smart girls?” he asked. “That you’re really a bunch of freaks?”
She silenced him with her expression. “I can’t be that smart,” she said. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”