Blow Off

Mr. Arellano was yelling at Jason Killgore for pouring cerveza over the steaks as they cooked on the grill.

After the hearing, everyone from Victory Academy who’d attended went to the school to celebrate. MJ’s mother had taken the afternoon off but had to return to work to make up the time she missed. Mr. Arellano promised to take MJ home after the party, and her mother agreed to let her join the last-minute celebration.

When they arrived back at Victory Academy, Mr. Arellano lifted the big loading door of the warehouse and set up a barbecue grill right on the sidewalk outside. He’d stopped off at a carnicería on the way, and soon carne asada was sizzling and smoking in the open air of the city.

“We got kids here who are going to eat that!” Papi yelled at the wrestler who he’d left to work the grill, snatching the bottle of beer from the younger man’s hand.

“It’ll cook off!” Killgore protested. “It’s just for flavor! It puts hair on their chest.”

“I’ll pull the hairs out of your chest, braid them together, and stuff them up your nose, jabroni.”

“You know I’m waxed smooth as a baby, Papi,” Killgore teased him while rubbing his chest through his T-shirt.

Mr. Arellano just shook his head and drank the rest of Killgore’s beer.

The older students and pros were gathered, Tika in the middle of them, along the apron of one of the training rings, drinking beers of their own and laughing.

MJ, Zina, and the other younger students of Victory Academy huddled together in their own group near the vending machines, holding sodas and sports drinks and trying to act like the adults.

Mr. Arellano finished the cerveza and went back to the task of wrapping hot dogs in strips of raw bacon, preparing them for the grill top.

“If you never been across the border,” he announced, “this is how they do it outside lucha arenas in Mexico. And when you have one of these it will change your life! ¡Créanme!”

“Cuentanos más, Papi!” Tika teased the old man.

“You just wait,” Mr. Arellano said as he began laying the bacon-wrapped hot dogs across the blackened bars of the grill.

MJ downed the rest of her sports drink. She wasn’t really thirsty, despite how hot it was in the school, even with the giant door open. She couldn’t think of anything inter-esting to say to the other kids, and drinking gave her some-thing to do, and it distracted her from worrying about not being able to think of anything interesting to say.

Thankfully, Zina didn’t seem to have that problem.

“You did good today,” she told MJ. “Real good. You really earned your spot.”

It meant a lot to MJ, hearing Zina say that, but it also made MJ feel guilty about the fight they’d had.

“You deserve to be on the shows more than I do,” MJ admitted.

Zina shrugged. “I’ll get there. And since you’re all famous now you can put me over when I do, and it’ll make me look good.”

“Put you over?” MJ asked, confused.

Zina laughed and shook her head. “You can let me win,” she explained. “God, girl, you do still have a lot to learn.”

MJ knew Zina wasn’t making fun of her, and MJ didn’t take it that way. It was true, she did have a lot to learn, and she was excited about learning all of it.

Zina finished her soda and crushed the can in her hand. The nearest trash can was several yards away, beside the last vending machine in the row. Zina lined up the shot and released the can like a basketball. It sailed smoothly into the trash can, falling right through the middle.

MJ tried the same thing with the empty plastic bottle in her hand, but when she tossed it the bottle hit the rim of the trash can and bounced to the floor.

“I suck,” MJ said.

“We’ll work on that too,” Zina assured her.

It was weird to her, how there’d been so much tension and anger between her and Zina, and now they were like best friends. MJ had never been through that with another girl before. She supposed it was like how families can argue and fight and then go back to being there for each other. That thought made MJ smile, the idea that she was forming that kind of relationship with Zina.

Zina got up to retrieve MJ’s bottle and dunk it into the trash can. She stuck her tongue out and made a silly face as she did, and MJ started laughing. It was so ridiculous she had to look away to get herself to stop.

That’s when she saw it. Her breath caught in her throat, and her eyes grew wide and filled with shock and fear. It was little more than a shape in the dark, but through the corner of one of the warehouse windows, she saw the mask. It was the green eagle from the rooftop, the luchador’s máscara worn by the man who threw that box of rats at MJ and almost caused her to fall to her death.

Then she blinked, and the masked face was gone.

It happened so fast that MJ wasn’t sure it had ever really been there in the first place. She’d had a long, emotional day. Her head had felt like a spinning top more than a few times during the last several hours. She could very easily have been imagining things.

It felt real, though. It felt too real, even.

Zina’s hand falling gently on MJ’s shoulder snapped her out of it.

“Are you okay?” MJ’s friend asked.

“Uh, yeah. I’m good.”

She wanted to tell Zina about the vision she’d just had, but something held MJ back. Maybe it was her uncertainty about what she had or hadn’t just seen. Maybe she didn’t want to ruin the joyful mood they were all sharing in that moment.

“¡Miren! We’re ready to go here!” Mr. Arellano announced. “But before you all start stuffing your faces, I want to say something.”

All the conversation faded to silence as the students and wrestlers turned their attention to Papi.

MJ didn’t know what he was going to say. She was still distracted. The smell of the grilled bacon and carne asada was also making her mouth fill with water and her stomach rumble.

“I’m an old man,” Mr. Arellano began.

“We know,” Tika quickly agreed, and everyone around her laughed.

“What I’m saying is,” Papi went on, giving Tika a hard glance, “I’ve seen a lot. I’ve been through a lot. And today wasn’t the first time they tried to shut me down. Every Chicano business owner I know has danced with the city. But I have to tell y’all the truth, today was the first time I was really worried this place might have to close.”

The silence felt heavier after he said that. No one made any jokes. It was rare for them all to hear Papi admit to something like that. He was always their source of strength.

“But it won’t,” he reminded them all, and his voice sounded lighter and happier. “We are still here, and we are not going anywhere. I mostly just want to thank all of you for showing up today to stand by the school. You showed me your heart, and I’m proud of all of you. I also want to thank the newest member of our familia, Maya, for stepping up. She may be small, but she showed me her heart the first time she turned up at my door and wouldn’t take no for an answer. And she showed even more heart today.”

“To MJ!” Tika toasted, jubilantly.

Everyone yelled, “To MJ!”

They all looked at her as they did. She wasn’t ready for that, for any of it. Her body felt hot and she wanted to look at the floor, but MJ didn’t. She didn’t want to hide in that moment. It felt good to be seen by them all, and to know they were proud of her. She saw smiles on their faces, and she smiled back.

Mr. Arellano raised his bottle.

“La Raza!” he toasted.

“La Raza!” they all answered back in one voice.

“Victoria!” Papi added, saluting the school by calling out the Spanish word for “victory.”

Again, they all repeated the toast loudly and with feeling, and then everyone cheered as if they were the crowd at one of the school’s Saturday shows.

MJ didn’t cheer, not out loud, but inside of her the heart Mr. Arellano had spoken so well of a moment ago was practically singing.