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Chapter One
Benny Garza tore down the gravel road like a bunch of gang-bangers were chasing him.
He was used to that.
If Mom could see him now, she’d laugh. Always forgetting stuff. Stupid.
As he ran, he bit into the rolled-up tortilla and fajita in his hand, chewed, and tried not to choke. A hawk soaring over the trees caught his gaze. In San Antonio, he never saw stuff like that. He’d like to soar, too. High and far away.
His shoe hit something hard. Benny stumbled, arms flapping like a chicken trying to fly, and fell smack in the middle of the dirt. The taco flew. His nose scrapped gravel, and he bit his lip. “Oh, man!”
He rolled up into a sitting position, gasping from the sting. He clapped his hands to his face and rocked back and forth, working through the pain. He was used to that, too.
Dirt smeared the white church shirt and black pants Mr. Daniel had bought him special for the wedding. He tried to brush it off. The stain darkened and spread. “Oh, no, no!”
That’s what he got for rushing to get his jeans and tennies from the Jeep. That’s what he got for being in a hurry to have fun at the party. Like Mom always said, everything came with a price.
Mr. Daniel might get mad. Sure, he never got real mad like Mom. He didn’t yell or hit. He just looked sad, and his voice got soft. Benny’s stomach would feel funny then, like he might puke. He didn’t want Mr. Daniel to be mad at him. Ever.
Maybe he could ask Marco to show him how to use the washing machine. Maybe he could wash the clothes before Mr. Daniel saw them. Benny struggled to his feet, fighting tears. Eight-year-olds were too old to cry. That’s what Mom said. He trudged to Mr. Daniel’s Jeep and grabbed his clothes from the back seat.
He turned to shove the door shut. A giant man loomed over him, blocking the sun. He had a big smile plastered across his face. “Hey, buddy.”
Benny jerked back. The clothes fell to the ground. “Who’re you?” He started to squat and pick up his stuff. Something about the man’s face made him stop.
He crossed his arms and tried to look tough. “If you want the wedding party, it’s up by the house.”
The guy took one step forward. “You don’t remember me?”
Benny took one step back. The guy had a flat nose with a scar across it and blue eyes in a brown face. That face would stick in your mind. “I don’t think so, sir.” Mr. Daniel had taught him to say that. “Sir” and “ma’am” were how you were supposed to talk to old people.
“Sir?” The guy laughed, a pig snort. His face crinkled up in a messy grin. One front tooth had a gold cap on it. “I’m a friend oftu mama. She told me to come get you.”
That couldn’t be right. “My mom’s in prison.”
The man wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of one hand. His fingernails had black stuff under them. That hand balled up in a fist would leave bruises. “Didn’t Daniel Martinez tell you she was getting out?”
Benny took another step back and hit hard metal. He was wedged against the Jeep door. “No. He says she don’t get out for a long time like two or three years.”
“Your friend is lying.”
Anger swirled around in Benny’s stomach. Followed by bigger waves of uncertainty. He wanted to hurl. That was the thing about grownups. He could never be sure with them. “No. Mr. Daniel, he don’t lie.” He sniffed hard. “He takes care of me.”
“Maybe he don’t want your mama to have you back.”
That would be nice. It might make him bad, but Benny didn’t want his mom back. He liked not having to worry about her being drunk and smacking him around. But Mr. Daniel had always been straight with him. Mom would get out of jail someday, and he would live with her again. “If she’s out, how come she didn’t come get me herself?”
“She’s afraid of Martinez. She says he has a gun, and he’ll use it to keep her from getting you back.”
Mr. Daniel did have a gun. Benny watched him lock it in a gun safe every day when he came home from work. “Mr. Daniel wouldn’t hurt nobody. He told me she would be coming back sometime. He knows she’s my mom. He says that’s the law.”
“I’m telling you, she’s waiting for you at my place. Bought you a new video game and everything.”
Mom never bought him a video game. She’d never bought him anything.
Benny ducked his head and bulldozed forward. The man grabbed him and swung his body around. A thick arm choked Benny around the waist like a too tight belt. A sweaty palm covered his mouth, its nasty, sweet smell filling his nose.
He kicked and twisted, but his feet didn’t touch the ground anymore. The man hauled him to a beat-up car the color of butterscotch pudding parked behind a monster SUV. The trunk lid popped up. “No! No.” Benny screamed, but the sounds were muffled against the man’s big palm. Benny threw his arms back. His hand connected with skin and teeth. The man’s grip loosened. He cussed in Benny’s ear.
