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And Gordo put his forehead to mine and said, “You belong to us now.”

Something bloomed within me and I was warm. It was like the sun had burst in my chest and I felt more alive than I had in a long time.

Later, they helped me put on the shirt. It fit perfectly.

I TOOK a smoke break with Gordo that winter. “Can I have one?”

He shrugged. “Don’t tell your ma.” He opened the box and pulled a cigarette out for me. He held up the lighter and covered the flame against the wind. I took the cig between my lips and put it toward the fire. I inhaled. It burned. I coughed. My eyes watered and gray smoke came out my nose and mouth.

The second drag was easier.

The guys laughed. I thought maybe we were friends.

SOMETIMES I thought I was dreaming but then realized I was actually awake.

It was getting harder to wake up.

GORDO MADE me quit smoking four months lat

er. He told me it was for my own good.

I told him it was because he didn’t want me stealing his cigarettes anymore.

He cuffed the back of my head and told me to get to work.

I didn’t smoke after that.

We were all still friends.

I ASKED him once about his tattoos.

The shapes. The patterns. Like there was a design. All bright colors and strange symbols that I thought should be familiar. Like it was on the tip of my tongue. I knew they went all the way up his arms. I didn’t know how far they went beyond that.

He said, “Everyone has a past, Ox.”

“Are they yours?”

He looked away. “Something like that.”

I wondered if I would ever etch my past onto my skin in swirls and colors and shapes.

TWO THINGS happened on my sixteenth birthday.

I was officially hired at Gordo’s. Had a business card and everything. Filled out tax forms that Gordo helped me with because I didn’t understand them. I didn’t cry that time. The guys patted me on the back and joked about how they no longer worked in a sweatshop with child labor. Gordo gave me a set of keys to the shop and smeared some grease on my face. I just grinned at him. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him so happy.

I went home that afternoon and told myself I was a man now.

Then the second thing happened.

The empty house at the end of the lane was no longer empty and there was a boy on the dirt road in the woods.

tornado/soap bubbles

I WALKED down the road toward the house.

It was warm, so I took off my work shirt. I left the white tank top on. A breeze cooled my skin.

The keys to the shop were heavy in my pocket. I pulled them out and looked at them. I’d never had that many keys before. I felt responsible for something.