Trino’s body stiffened up. Who had him by the shoulders? And what did he want?
“Hey! What do you want? I didn’t do anything. I got money to pay for this food.” Trino’s voice sounded strong. He was in the right, and he was glad he didn’t sound like some scared kid.
“Let him go, Armando.” Mr. Epifaño’s voice was steady now. The old man had straightened up as he spoke to his nephew. “What’s your name, boy?” he asked Trino.
“Why do you want to know?” Trino wriggled out from the nephew’s grip and took a step aside. He shot a dirty look at the man who had been holding him. It was the same guy he had seen by the magazines, the one who had been talking too loud.
He felt suspicious of both of these men staring at him, even though neither one looked mad or anything.
“I’m looking for a boy to help me in the store for a few weeks,” Mr. Epifaño said.
“I can’t sweep, and I need somebody to help with the boxes in the back room. I can’t pay but a few dollars, but I’ll give you a little food—para tu familia. I seen you in here—with your mama or your brothers. I never seen you steal from me, so I guess I could trust you, eh?”
Trino shifted his weight side to side on his feet as his hands slid down into his pockets. Well, he hadn’t stolen that much from Epifaño—a couple of candy bars here and there. And he did put in two of his own quarters before he bumped the video machine to give him free games.
Suddenly, a long finger pressed Trino’s shoulder. The voice was loud and impatient.
“Well, boy, do you want the job? Can you work for my Tío?”
The poke seemed to clear Trino’s head. A job!
And he remembered how Nick had acted around people he worked for. Trino extended his hand to Mr. Epifaño. “My name is Trino Olivares. I can work for a few weeks, Mr. Epifaño.”
“Can you come tomorrow?” Mr. Epifaño asked him, then turned to the register to ring up Trino’s purchase.
Trino thought for a second, remembered what he wanted to do tomorrow, and quickly tried to figure out a way to do both. “I can come in the morning for a couple of hours.”
“Mañana—como a las diez de la mañana.”
“Okay, I’ll be here at ten o’clock.” Trino picked up the twenty-dollar bill and gave it to Mr. Epifaño.
“You got your helper, Tío. Now we don’t got to worry about you anymore,” the nephew said, as he grabbed a candy bar from a box on the counter. He ripped open the wrapper and started eating it as he walked out of the store.
What a jerk. I’m glad he’s not in my family, Trino told himself as he took his change and saw the old man fumble with the white plastic bag he wanted to use.
“I can do it, Mr. Epifaño,” Trino said, and held it open while the old man placed the eggs and the marshmallows inside. He grabbed the milk jug with the other hand and said, “See you tomorrow at ten.”
As Trino left the corner store, he didn’t feel tired anymore. He was bringing food home for his family and he had another way to make a little money. This time he’d keep the money for himself—for something good. He wouldn’t tell anyone about this job. And he would make a plan for his money. That’s what Nick said he needed. And even though he still didn’t have a plan by the time he reached the house trailer, Trino still felt like things could be better for him.
“Here are your eggs and milk,” Trino told his mother as soon as he saw her in the kitchen. The house already smelled of bacon grease and frying tortillas.
“Ay, it’s about time,” she said, sighing and pushing her black hair out of her face.
Trino quickly pulled the eggs out of the bag and put them on the counter by the stove. He wrapped the bag around his “surprise” for the family and shoved it back behind the cans on top of the refrigerator. “Mr. Epifaño’s back at the store,” he said.
His mother moved away to crack eggs in a brown bowl by the sink. “How does he look?”
“Not too bad,” Trino answered, but in a way he was glad the old man was still banged up.
He had a chance to make a little money for himself now. He pulled dollar bills and coins from his pocket and put it near the sink. “Here’s the change, Mom.”
He was surprised when his mother grabbed his arm with a cool, wet hand. “Trino—”
They were the same height now, and he could look directly into her black eyes, the same eyes that he saw when he looked in the mirror.
“Yeah?”
Her eyes passed over his face before she whispered, “Gracias.” And then she turned back to her work as if the moment had never passed between them. “Go take a shower. You smell dirty.”
Despite the egg meals they had already eaten the past weeks, this one was better than the others. Maybe it was because Trino had been starving after taking a shower. Maybe it was the fried corn tortillas that had been mixed into the eggs. Or maybe that spicy salsa that Nick had ground up in the molcajete with peppers, tomatoes, cilantro, and onions had made the eggs so delicious.
Whatever, he felt full inside after he ate, especially as he and Nick told his mother about the exciting things that happened to them during the day. Of course, she got excited that Trino had almost fallen out of the tree and that they had hit the deer and spun around in the truck, but Nick had a way of telling his stories that still made her laugh. Trino did notice, though, that Nick told about Mr. Caballero trying to cheat them, but he didn’t mention getting the extra money. Maybe Nick was afraid that Trino’s mom would hold out her hand and ask for that, too.
Usually, after a meal, little Gus and Beto were anxious to leave and go outside with their friends. But Trino had noticed that whenever Nick was eating with them, his little brothers stayed at the table, and often one or both would climb onto Nick’s lap. He saw the way they were growing attached to the man, and it bothered Trino. What if Nick left like the other men had? Then Trino would get stuck explaining why Nick didn’t come around anymore. It always seemed to work out that way.
But at least for tonight, Trino knew he could be someone special for his brothers, too.
“Hey, guys,” he said, standing up from the table. “I got a surprise for us.”
“A surprise? Is it a toy?” Beto climbed up on his knees at his chair.
“Sooprize?” Gus, who sat in Nick’s lap, looked like he was going to climb onto the table.
Trino walked over to the refrigerator and pulled the bag out from behind the cans. Rather than get his brothers into a fight over who opened the bag, he held it in two hands and presented it to his mother like it was a gift wrapped in special paper.
“What’s this?” she asked with a frown.
Trino said nothing, hoping she wouldn’t get mad that he had spend the extra 87¢ on a “sooprize.”
“Marsh—smell—ohs!” Gus called out when his mother pulled the package of marshmallows out of the white bag.
“Mama, can I have some?” Beto’s black eyes were wide and shiny. “Can I have two—no, three—three? Three of them?”
Their mother pressed her fingers down on the bag and then looked up at Trino. Her eyebrows were still wrinkled together in a frown.
“I didn’t pay much for them, Mom—and Nick usually has a little candy for Gus and Beto—but we were busy today—I thought everybody could share them.” His reasons were jumbled together in his head and came out as he thought of them. “Yeah—we could all share—and stuff—like—that—” His voice trailed off when his mother’s expression didn’t change.
That’s when Nick reached over and put his hand on her arm. “Buying the marshmallows was a good thing to do, Trino. Don’t you think so, María?”
She looked at Nick then, and Trino noticed the slight movement of Nick’s head in Trino’s direction. Then he raised one eyebrow and stared at her for a long moment.
Trino’s mom released a breath, then nodded slowly. She looked at Trino as she spoke. “It was good to think of your little brothers and buy them something.” Her words were slow, as if it was hard to say them at all.
“Hey, I like marshmallows—I mean marsh—smell—ohs—too,” Nick said, then laughed and tickled Gus around the waist. “Do you want some of Trino’s marsh—smell—ohs, Gus?”
Trino smiled as he saw Gus and Beto laugh with Nick. Even their mother smiled a little as Nick’s big hand flipped palm up, and he said in a squeaky, funny voice, “Can we all have some marsh—smell—ohs, Mama—please?” He winked at Trino before his voice returned to normal. “And then we all need to tell Trino, thanks for the marshmallows.”
Both little boys managed a “thanks,” but it was squishy and white as it came out of their mouths. Trino took three marshmallows, and it appeared that even his mom enjoyed a couple of them before she stood up and started to clear the table.
“I wonder where Félix is. Ay, that boy! Trino, go out and see if you can find him at Nacho’s house. You tell him I said if he doesn’t come home, I’m going to give his supper to Mrs. Peña’s cat.”
Trino groaned, then went back to find his old sneakers. He pulled them on, not bothering with socks and just left them untied. Nacho didn’t live far, and if Félix wasn’t there, he was probably at Manolo’s or Frank’s house. They all lived on the same street.
The evening had cooled down, and it was still light enough to walk around and not worry about tripping over someone’s junk or a dumb kid jumping at you from between the cars.
Trino was walking, thinking about what to do with money he’d get from Mr. Epifaño, when a boy stepped from behind a row of trees that acted like a fence between Nacho’s house and the street.
“Trino?” The voice shook as it repeated, “Trino?”
Trino stopped to stare, but he could hardly believe who stood in front of him. “Rogelio? Is that you, Rogelio?”
“Rogelio,” he repeated, and stepped a little closer.
Now Trino could see confusion in Rogelio’s dark eyes. His hair had been shaved really short. His clothes had always been wrinkled, but this time they looked dirty, too. “Rogelio, what happened to you, man? I been to your house a couple of times, but your abuelita—your grandmother—she wouldn’t tell me nothing. You okay, man?”
“You okay, man,” Rogelio said in a dead voice and suddenly Trino got mad.
He grabbed Rogelio by the arms and shook him twice. “Are you stupid?” he said in a loud voice. “Do you just have to repeat everything? Ever since I’ve known you, all you did was repeat whatever me or Zipper said. Tell me what happened to you after they arrested you at the car wash. What happened to Rosca? Do you know?”
Rogelio just stared at Trino, but he did start talking. His breath smelled like rotten eggs.
“They took me downtown, man. But I didn’t have a record, so my dad came the next day and got me out. Later I got it bad with his belt. Now I gotta see a Juve officer once a week. And I go to this school run by priests. It sucks, man. Look at my hair. I wear a uniform, too—might as well be in prison.”
Trino shook his head. “Naw, man, you don’t want to go there.” He still remembered what that poet Montoya had written about his prison days. Not to have any freedom or privacy, to get kicked around by other prisoners and the guards—no, it wasn’t what he wanted for Rogelio—but maybe there were others who deserved it. “And what about Rosca, man? Do know what happened to him?”
By now, Trino had released Rogelio. His old friend nodded in answer to the question.
“Yeah, I heard about Rosca. He’s gone to some prison boot camp until his trial comes up. My Juve officer said the police had him fingered for a couple of other robberies, and he beat up old Epifaño, too. Did you know that?”
Sure I know. Trino merely shrugged his shoulders. “Rosca was always mean.”
“Been—been—” Rogelio looked around him, as if was afraid someone else was there.
“Been wondering about you, too—and thinking about—” his voice lowered as he said, “Zipper.”
The incident came back to Trino like he was living it again. Trino had stopped by a car wash stall, trying to catch his breath. He had run from his house, late for his meeting with Rogelio, Zipper, Rosca, and the others. Trino had seen Rogelio, Zipper, and Rosca banging on the towel machines with crowbars, trying to get money from them. Suddenly, the old man in the red shirt had come out from behind the dumpster. He had a gun in his hand. Yelling, running for the man, Rosca had raised his crowbar. There was a gunshot and Rosca fell. Zipper yelled out and started running towards Rosca. Zipper spooked the old man, who shot at him, too. Rosca was wounded, but Zipper was dead. Poor Rogelio had been left there, crying and repeating Zipper’s last words, “No, no, no.”
What had happened two weeks ago, that night at the car wash, when he saw his friend get killed, would stay with Trino all his life. He was learning to live with that awful memory, like a red, wrinkled scar from a bad burn. But as he looked at Rogelio, he wondered if there was still any friendship left between them.
“Hey, Rogelio, why don’t you and I do something tomorrow?” he suggested, not ready to give up now that he had finally made contact.
“No, no,” Rogelio said, shaking his head. “No, no. I got to stay away from you. You’re just trouble. No, no.” He spoke like he was repeating what someone else had told him. He sounded like a robot and a scared one at that.
Suddenly, they heard a loud whistle, then another.
Rogelio shook his head with jerky movements from side to side. He backed away, towards the trees. Then before Trino could say anything, Rogelio bolted, running down the street as if a pack of dogs was after him.
That’s when Trino heard boys’ laughter, and his brother Félix’s voice, “Aw, man, can’t you whistle any better than that?”
The whistle sounded again as Trino stepped around the trees and saw Félix, his friends Nacho and Frank, sitting on the porch of Nacho’s house. Each of them took turns pinching his lips and making loud whistle sounds, trying to outwhistle the one before.
“Félix!” Trino felt dumb that he was still looking over his shoulder for Rosca and let his frustration out on his brother. “Where you been? You need to get your butt home now, before I climb up on that porch and kick it home!”
Félix responded by signaling a “wait” with his hands, then let one more whistle go. It sounded so much like the one Rosca used to make.
“Where did you learn to make that sound?” Trino asked Félix as they walked home.
“No place,” Félix answered, and just stuck his hands into his jeans pockets.
“Did you see Rogelio? I was talking to him just before I called you.”
“We saw him. Nacho said he’s all messed up ever since he saw Zipper get wasted.”
Trino shoved his brother so hard, Félix fell off the curb into the street. His brother started cussing at him, but Trino didn’t care. He just kept walking back towards the trailer park.
He was so mad at Rogelio and even Zipper for being so stupid. He had never let himself feel anger at them for following Rosca like a pair of hungry dogs after a bone. We were all stupid, he told himself, but I guess I’m the only one left to admit it.
And then he turned as he heard the running footsteps behind him. Trino didn’t even try to stop his brother when Félix shoved him roughly. Trino caught his balance before he fell, and almost laughed at the sight of his brother’s back as he quickly ran all the way back to the trailer.
“You’re lucky I’m tired out from working. Or I’d whip your butt good!”Trino called out to his little brother.
He walked home alone, feeling like a dangling branch that finally broke off a tree. He had no choice but to find something else for himself. Except that he had no idea where to look.