The deer had bounded onto the highway with a sudden leap, landing only inches from the front end of Nick’s truck. Its brownish-gray fur had blended into the road, but Trino had seen the rack of antlers and the jerk of its head.
Nick’s reflexes were good, but just not fast enough to avoid crashing into the deer. Its body flipped up and slid over the hood of the truck, coming fast at Trino’s side of the front windshield. It slammed against the window, then fell off the side of the truck.
Trino couldn’t catch his breath. Nick wrestled with the steering wheel. He had yelled out when the deer hit the windshield.
The truck spun in a circle, off the highway road into the dirt ditch. Trino pushed his hands against the dashboard, trying to keep his butt on the seat. Dust and dirt filled his mouth and eyes. His head bumped the ceiling, then he fell against Nick, and was tossed again back towards his door. His heart seemed to stop beating inside him.
The confusion lasted only seconds, but once the truck finally stopped and Trino could hear his own breathing, he wondered if it was still the same day as it was before.
It took a moment for Trino’s head to start working again. Dirt stung his eyes, but he tried to see where they were.
Nick had managed to stop the truck before it hit a wire fence. But it was a close call because Trino’s side of the truck was so tight against the fence, he couldn’t even open his door and get out.
“You okay, Trino?” Nick asked for the second time that day.
He managed to cough out something that sounded like, “Yeah. I’m okay.”
Then he thought to look at the older man and say, “Are you okay, Nick?”
Nick’s face was a mess of sweat and dirt, his eyes red and wide. He dropped his hands from the steering wheel and relaxed his back into the truck seat. “Well … yeah. I don’t feel any broken bones, but I got a headache from hitting the door a couple of times.”
“Me, too.” Trino rubbed the top of his head, then groaned when his fingers hit a sore spot.
“Stupid deer.”
Nick straightened up to look in the rearview mirror. “I wonder if we can find it. Man, we could have a good venison barbeque tonight.”
“What?” Trino couldn’t believe what Nick had said. His truck was off the road, both of them had eaten dirt, got banged around inside the truck, and he wanted to go find some dead deer to eat for supper?
“You’ve never eaten deer meat? If you cook it over a pit—this old man showed me how to season it with garlic and onion, add a few tomatoes and—it gets so tender. Just lay it onto some warm tortillas and you got some tacos that are muy ricos.”
Trino didn’t know whether to feel hungry or to worry that Nick’s bump on the head had made him crazy, especially when Nick started laughing.
“Did we go on a wild ride or what? You know people pay money at the carnival for a ride like we just had. Do you realize we spun in a circle? Man!”
Now that it was over, Trino had to admit that if he hadn’t been so scared, it could have been fun. At least when he rode a carnival ride like the Zoomer, he wasn’t eating dirt or worried that a deer was going to come through the windshield and hit him in the face. Later, all this would make a good story to tell, but right now Trino just wanted to get home and get away from Nick for awhile.
It took some time, but Nick maneuvered the truck out of the ditch without anyone having to get out and push. Trino was glad for that. But he thought Nick didn’t need to go back down the road a mile looking for a dead deer. He was relieved when Nick finally said, “I just don’t see it. Too bad,” and turned the truck back in the direction of the town dump.
Both of them were quiet for the rest of the drive. They unloaded the branches where a man wearing a red baseball cap told them to go, and then, after what seemed like hours and hours of sweaty work without any food, Nick drove them back to the trailer park where Trino lived with his mother and three younger brothers.
A group of young boys was kicking around a soccer ball in the gravel parking lot between house trailers. Trino’s little brothers, Gus and Beto, came running from the group as soon as they saw Nick’s truck.
“Hey, Nick,” Beto said, wheezing as he talked. “Did you bring us something?”
Gus just made a running jump for Nick’s legs and grabbed onto him. “Nick! Nick!”
“Hi, boys. Where’s your mom?” Nick said, swinging Gus by the arms as he walked away from the truck.
“Do you got treats?” Beto asked Nick, reaching up to grab his hand.
“No, no treats today, boys.” Nick looked over at Trino and raised a black eyebrow. “Just two tired men who worked hard all day.”
“Awwww!” Both little boys groaned out their disappointment.
Trino couldn’t blame them. In the past few weeks that Nick had hung around, he had often brought a variety of good things to eat, like brown bags of barbeque sausage, a sack of oranges or apples, or a pizza or two. He usually had a few candies in his pockets for Gus and Beto.
Not today. Trino didn’t look forward to going inside their family’s trailer. His mom would probably fix egg tacos. Since she had lost her job two weeks ago, it seemed as if the only thing they ate was eggs. Trino started to wonder if he’d grow feathers soon.
Beto and Gus led the way inside, followed by Trino, then Nick. Trino’s mom sat on the faded brown sofa, sorting socks and underwear from a plastic clothes basket and piling them around her. “You boys go wash your hands! And don’t you touch these clean clothes or you’ll get it, you hear me? Trino, did you get your pay yet? Go to Epifaño’s and buy some milk … oh! Buy some eggs. We only have four left, and Nick needs to eat, too.”
Trino didn’t want to go to the store. He was tired. He glanced around looking for Félix, wondering where his lazy brother was hiding.
“I don’t have any money,” Trino stated.
“You don’t have money? Well, where’s your pay? Didn’t you work?” His mom’s voice rose in volume as she rose from the sofa. She pushed her black hair out of her face and gave Nick a mean look. “You’re both dirty enough. Didn’t my boy earn something today? You know how tight things are around here, Nick.”
“He’s got twenty dollars comin’,” Nick said in a slow voice. “I got it in my pocket.”
“Well, let me have it, and I’ll give a little to Trino to go to the store.”
“Mom, I’m tired. Why can’t Félix go to the store?”
Trino felt mad at everybody. He was getting nothing out of sweating today and nearly getting killed—twice! Now he had to walk to the store and come home to eat egg tacos, or egg sandwiches, or eggs and beans—and that was the worst because everybody got smelly gas afterwards. What a lousy day!
“Nick, can I have Trino’s pay?” His mom held out her hand to Nick.
The tall man looked down at her hand, then looked at Trino. He reached into the pocket of his dirt-streaked workshirt and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill.
Trino’s mother made a quick motion to snatch the money from Nick’s dark fingers, but Nick flipped the bill back into his fist. He looked steadily at her.
“No, María. This is Trino’s money. He did a man’s job today. And he should have some say about what he does with his paycheck.”
“Don’t be stupid, Nick. The boy’s earning some money so we can eat. You think somebody asks me what I want to do with my paycheck? I give everything to keep this family going. Trino’s old enough to start helping this family, too.”
“I have no problem with Trino working to help his family. But you don’t have to take away every quarter so he can’t even buy himself or his brothers a piece of candy.”
Neither Gus nor Beto had said anything until they heard the word “candy.” They started to jump up and down, bouncing against their mother.
“I want some candy!” Beto exclaimed. “I want some candy!”
“Candy! Candy!” Gus echoed. “Candy? Candy?”
Her response was to grab each boy by the arm and start dragging them towards the bathroom. “Stop it! I’m not going to listen to you two cry for candy. Trino, go to the store like I told you. Nick, you can wash up at the sink.”
Trino waited until his mom had left the living room before he turned to look at Nick. The man’s lips were pressed together, as if he didn’t want to talk. He just handed Trino the crumpled twenty-dollar bill.
Shoving it into the front pocket of his jeans, Trino made it a point to slam the screen door behind him.
Why can’t I be like Félix and be lazy? I want to be Gus and Beto and play with my friends all day. Why do I have to work, but my mom spends the money? Why doesn’t she go find a job? Then I could spend my money my way.
Suddenly, Trino could hear Nick’s voice haunting him like a ghost: “And what would you do with extra money? Do you have a plan?”
As Trino made his way out of the trailer park, he wondered what kind of plan any thirteen-year-old boy could have. He looked down at his shoes: torn-up, scarred leather sneakers that his mother brought home last summer. What would it be like to wear a pair of shoes that somebody else hadn’t worn first?
He walked through the neighborhood, considering cars, television sets that didn’t fuzz out all the time, a stereo that could blast music through the house. But who would pay for gas? For cable? For extra CDs? Even though he was hungry, he quickly decided that buying extra hamburgers or pizza wasn’t worth it—once he ate it, the food and the money were gone. No, if he had some money, he’d have to think about buying something really good.
His thinking took him towards the busy street where old Epifaño ran his little store.
Trino had only been back once since the robbery a month ago. That day, Trino had seen Rosca and two others beating up Mr. Epifaño, and when they had realized that Trino was watching, they had chased him. For weeks Trino worried that Rosca would kill him, and once Trino had proved he wouldn’t squeal, Rosca expected Trino to be on Rosca’s side for other things, like breaking into a car wash and stealing the money.
That night at the car wash, Trino had seen his best friend killed and his other friend fall apart from the shock. Two weeks had gone by, and still Trino walked around with a gut full of loneliness for the three of them who had hung around together since they were little kids. Working with Nick had kept him busy. At school, he could fill his mind with teacher junk. Only at lunch time and on Sundays did he miss the guys and think about them.
Trino paused outside the store, relieved to see the front window had finally been replaced.
The last time he had come by, the front had a big board covering the broken glass. It had been broken when Rosca had thrown a pipe at Trino as he had run out of the store.
Slowly, Trino pushed the silver bar on the glass door to let himself into the store. He had the oddest feeling that he just had done everything the same as another time. Trino had been coming to Epifaño’s store for years. Maybe that was it.
There were a couple of ladies in the store, a skinny girl holding a baby in her arms, and a man standing by the magazines talking very loud, as if half-deaf or something. Trino made his way back to the refrigerated shelves where Epifaño kept the eggs and milk. It was cooler in that part of the store, and Trino stood there longer. He liked the feel of cold air on his sweaty skin.
That’s when he noticed the bags of cookies on a corner shelf. His attention was drawn to the chocolate cookies with the vanilla creme in the middle. Everyone in the family loved those cookies, but no one had eaten any in weeks.
“Too much money,” she said, the last time Beto asked their mother why she didn’t buy cookies. “I can buy a bag of beans, some bread, and a sack of potatoes for what some cookies cost me.”
For the first time in his life, Trino leaned over to look at a price tag. $3.79. It did seem like a lot of money for a bag of cookies. He was tempted to buy them anyway, just so he could walk in with something special for them—like Nick did sometimes. Only he wasn’t Nick. His mother would get mad if he wasted that much money on cookies.
And then he saw the bag of white marshmallows on a lower shelf. The price tag read 87¢. It seemed like a small enough price for a family treat. He took a bag, then reached back to get the carton of eggs and the plastic milk jug.
Heading towards the front counter, he walked down the aisle of soaps and cleaners. He slowed his pace as he saw that the owner of the store was back at the register. Mr. Epifaño wore a weird brown hat with a narrow brim, and it seemed to be covering a bandage that poked out from behind his ear. Yellow and red bruises still spotted his brown face. A thin scar ran across his forehead down past his nose. One of his arms was wrapped in a blue bandage and rested inside a white sling.
Old Mr. Epifaño half-stepped, half-slid around, as he put things in a bag for the girl with the baby, took her money, and gave her change. He only said a few words, and didn’t smile like he usually did.
It hurt Trino to see the old man so banged up. A memory of Epifaño’s bloody face suddenly resurfaced. Trino had heard the beating, had seen Rosca with the pipe, hitting the old man.
Trino swallowed hard. He thought, eggs and milk, eggs and milk; get out of the store with eggs and milk.
“Hey—boy—you!”
It took Trino a second to realize the old man’s grunts were words, directed at him.
Did he remember that Trino was here that day?
Trino felt something hot spinning around in his stomach. He forced his hands to put the marshmallows, egg carton, and milk jug on the counter. He concentrated on his two fingers pulling the twenty-dollar bill out of his jeans pocket.
“What—what’s—your—name?”
Trino raised his eyes carefully. He met the old man’s gaze only when Trino was sure nothing would betray him. He saw a glassy look in Epifaño’s eyes, like tears. Did he remember? Did he know that Trino saw everything that happened to him?
Suddenly, the old man pushed his face closer to Trino’s, as if he wanted a better look.
The action startled Trino, so he jumped back a little. He wanted just to keep going out the door, but then he’d look like he was hiding something. He caught himself. He stood up straight, and didn’t let his face betray the nervous fear inside him.
“I seen you—before—I know—you.” Epifaño’s slow words sounded scratchy and hoarse.
Trino shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve been coming to this store a long time. Sometimes I’m with my mom.” He figured if he mentioned his mother, the old man would stop staring so hard. He wanted someone else to come up to the counter, needing to buy something—anything so Epifaño would take Trino’s money and let him get out of here.
He pushed the twenty-dollar bill across the counter. “Here’s money for the stuff I want.”
Epifaño jerked his head up at the same moment that Trino felt a pair of heavy hands clamp down on his shoulders.
“Hey, Tío, why can’t we just use this kid?”