No Second Chances (10 page)

“Get in the car,” Eddy yelled. “The guy at the wrecking company must have called the cops!”

Chubs reached for the stuffed animals, but his arms could only carry so many and the sirens were getting closer. Santiago yelled at his cousin to leave it behind.

“But the Salinas brothers. They're expecting their delivery. And your truck —” Chubs caught himself in midsentence.

Santiago felt his heart leap into his throat. His truck! The drugs! How would he explain this? He looked from the truck to his dad. The wino was lying on the ground, looking up into the sky — totally oblivious to the situation. Maybe he could get Angel's dad back into the truck. He could say that the truck was stolen. But what about the animals stuffed with drugs? Santiago grunted loudly, pulling at his hair. This was so unfair. His smoothie stand was about to take off and he was even thinking of going back to school.

Santiago looked back down at the wino. Could he let Angel's dad take the blame? What was worse: a bad dad or no dad? Santiago couldn't think. He didn't want to make this decision. Against his better judgment, he went back and helped Angel's dad up off the ground. He didn't know how he would explain this situation to the cops, but he wouldn't be the reason Angel grew up without a dad.

“What are you doing?” Chubs cried.

“I can't just leave him to take the rap,” Santiago shouted back.

“Why not? Let the fool take the blame. He's already costing me a couple thousand, not to mention what the Salinas brothers will do to me when they find out,” Chubs cried. “Plus he smells.”

“His son is my friend,” Santiago explained. He pushed the man in the backseat of his dad's car. Then Santiago turned to search for his dad. The sirens were almost on them. Eddy was standing in the same spot. He kicked a rock and walked slowly toward the truck. “Hey, what are you doing?” Santiago called out to him. “Let's get out of here.”

His father turned. His eyes were sad. “Someone has to take the blame.”

Santiago shook as if waking from a nightmare. “What? No. Wait. We can leave the wino. We can say he stole the car.”

Eddy smiled softly. “He stole a truck full of drugs that's in my son's name.” He shook his head. “It's better I take this one for the team. I don't want you boys to get in trouble anymore.” He walked up to Santiago and reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “That's what I was trying to tell you earlier.”

“But, Dad.” Santiago's voice cracked on the word “Dad.” “You just got out. It's not fair.”

Eddy made a sour face as if he was having a hard time trying to control his emotions. “Promise me you'll write,” Eddy said, his eyes growing misty.

“Dad, don't do this,” Santiago cried.

Chubs grabbed Santiago from behind and pulled him toward the car. “We got to go now.”

“Please, Dad,” Santiago called out. “Dad! Don't do this.”

Eddy motioned for them to get going. Chubs pushed Santiago into the car and slammed the door behind him. Then he rushed to the driver's seat and started the car. They drove away
from the scene. Santiago turned back, tears welling up in his eyes. Eddy stood in the middle of the street. He raised his right arm to wave good-bye. Suddenly, red and blue lights appeared from the distance. Eddy Reyes turned toward the blaring sirens to meet the police officers.

S
antiago felt a deep ache inside of him. He reached for his chest, wondering if this is what a heart attack felt like.

“Are you okay, bro?” Chubs asked, glancing sideways.

Santiago rubbed at the pain in this chest. “Yeah, I guess I'm just tripping out.”

“I know, huh?” Chubs agreed. “I don't even know how I'm going to begin to explain this to the Salinas brothers.”

Santiago just shrugged. “We'll tell them the truth. We'll say that we were on our way to
make the delivery when we got pulled over by the cops. And that my pops took the blame.”

Chubs stared blankly at the empty countryside before them. “I guess that's the end of my drug smuggling–taxidermy career. No one is going to want my services now after this bust. The cops will be on alert for any unusually stuffed animals.”

Santiago couldn't help but laugh at his cousin's observation. Thanks to his father, they were spared a life of hard time.

“I owe your dad big-time,” Chubs said in a serious voice. “I don't know how I'll ever repay him.”

“I do.”

“You do?” Chubs asked, surprised. “How?”

“Go back to school.”

Chubs groaned, “Aw man, do we have to? I hate school. Teachers and tests and waking up early. Hey, aren't I too old? There's like a age limit, right?”

Santiago smiled and then glanced back at
Angel's dad in the backseat. His cousin followed his gaze.

“What are we going to do with Smelly over here?” Chub's asked.

“Let's get him home,” Santiago said, pausing just a moment. Then he addressed the wino in the backseat: “Did you see what my dad just did? He sacrificed his freedom for us. That's what dads do. They make sure their kids have enough to eat and shoes on their feet. He may not be the best dad in the world” — Santiago felt a pang — “but he tried to do right by me back there.” Santiago paused to let the words seep in. “We're not turning you over to the cops, because I know your son Angel. He's my friend. And he deserves a dad, too. So think of this as your second chance.” The wino nodded. Frustrated, Santiago peered out the window into the dark brush landscape. He didn't know if the wino would change. But Santiago had to give Angel the chance he never got. Santiago sighed, his emotions twisting and pressing
down on his chest like the constrictive embrace of a boa right before death.

 

A patrol car with flashing blue and red lights was parked in front of the house Angel's dad had given them directions to. Chubs stopped Eddy's car a safe distance away. They all began to panic. Did the authorities know about their involvement? Were they in the process of rounding everyone up for questioning? Angel's dad shook his head, refusing to get out, and dug his feet into the floor.

“Maybe we should just lie low a bit?” Chubs suggested, turning off the headlights.

Santiago lowered his window to try and hear what was going on. It could be a routine check-in. Maybe Angel's father was wanted for something else? Or maybe it had to do with the kids? A fit of anger seized him and Santiago pushed open the door and got out. Santiago grabbed Angel's dad by the shirt and pulled him out of his dad's car.

“You go see what's going on!” Santiago demanded. “Your kids could be hurt.”

The man toppled down on the ground and curled up into a ball to either protect himself or stay put. Santiago wanted to kick him, but then he heard a bone-chilling cry that made him stiffen with fear.

“Ay, mis hijos. Mis hijos,”
the pained female voice cried into the whistling wind.
“¿Dónde están mis hijos?”

Santiago and Chubs glanced at each other, thinking the same thing:
La Llorona!
The heart-wrenching howls of a grieving mother were carried swiftly in the breeze and seemed to be coming from every direction. Chubs jumped out of the car and ran over to Santiago.

“Dude, did you hear that? It's
La Llorona
. It's really her. Wait till I tell Grandpa Frank!”

Santiago scanned the area. Something wasn't right. People were coming out of their homes, in their nightclothes, to see what was
going on. Officers helped a bony woman wearing nothing but a white T-shirt down the front stairs. She was barefoot and her hair was sticking out in all angles like she hadn't combed it in weeks. This had to be Angel's mom, he thought. Santiago ran over to the house, not caring if they arrested him. The only thing he could think about was whether or not the kids were safe.

Then he saw his own mother walk out of Angel's house. Consuelo locked eyes with him for a moment. She motioned for him to follow her to her parked car.

Santiago's heart was racing. “Mom, where's Angel?”

“Where have you been? You were supposed to just pick up your cousin and come straight home. Your
tía
Bea and I have been up all night worrying about you two. You boys don't have the decency —” She stopped in midsentence. “Wait, what are you doing here?”

“Mom. I know these kids. Where's Angel?”

She sighed. “A neighbor called the cops. She heard the kids crying and came over to see what was going on. Those poor kids were starving. There was no food in the house and the mom was passed out on the floor. It was a good thing the neighbor came over when she did.”

Santiago looked back for Angel's dad. His cousin was walking toward them. There was a dark look on his face. Santiago didn't have to ask, he already knew. Angel's dad was gone.

T
he first-period bell rang at Dos Rios High School. Students rushed for their classrooms, anxious to not be marked tardy. As the hallway cleared, a lone figure stood defiantly behind, at the entrance. His sneakers stayed planted on the colorful mosaic of the school emblem: two fighting catfish. Santiago combed his fingers through his curly locks and walked to the assistant principal's office.

When Santiago entered the main office, Sylvia, the school secretary, let out a small cry.
She moved to call the principal or maybe school security, but Santiago motioned for her not to worry.

“The assistant principal has been expecting me,” he said with great authority. Santiago walked up to the assistant principal's door and opened it.

John Castillo was struggling over a grant request to help pay for travel expenses for the school Mariachi Club. He hated to be interrupted and lashed out. “What is wrong with you? Can't you knock before entering?”

Santiago chuckled. “I guess there's some things you still got to teach me, huh, Castillo?”

Castillo jerked upright, not believing his eyes. “What are you doing here, Santiago?”

Santiago took a seat across from Castillo's desk and put his feet up on it. “Isn't it obvious? I'm trying to get an education. That's if you'll still have me.”

Castillo came around his big desk and took a seat next to Santiago. “But what about your
big plans? Your business? And that stuff about being a man and making real money?”

Santiago took a moment to take in the room: the messy desk, framed diplomas, and photograph of the Mariachi Club. His heart softened at the sight of his bandmates. Santiago shrugged. “I don't know what the hurry is with you grown-ups. Life is short and I've decided that I want to enjoy my last couple of months in high school. You know, go to football games, play in mariachi regional competitions, and go to my senior prom.”

Castillo shook his head in amusement.

“Plus Rio Smoothie, my new and improved business, is going great. Last weekend, we had a line around the block.”

“I know,” Castillo said. “I was in it.”

Santiago felt himself blush and lowered his voice. “I also have this little dude, he's like my little brother now. He comes and helps at the stand on the weekends and all. I want to be a good role model, you know? And well — my
dad. I made him a promise and I want to keep it.” Santiago looked up. “Please, Castillo, can I come back to school?”

The assistant principal leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. He wanted to believe that Santiago had changed. He really did. He wasn't convinced, but Santiago's mother, Consuelo, would never forgive him if he didn't give her knucklehead son another chance.

“Well, it just so happens that we have an opening in the Mariachi Club.”

Santiago's eyes lit up. He jumped up and gave Castillo a hug. “You won't regret it. It'll be just like old times. Oh, check this out. I've been thinking that the group should liven up its sound. You know, add a little hip-hop fusion mix. Or we can get some dancers in short mariachi miniskirts. Wouldn't that be hot?”

The assistant principal stared as Santiago rambled on and on. Castillo smiled. He was reminded of his mother's favorite saying,
“Caras vemos, corazones no sabemos
.”