"Dale, Eduardo, eat up! I know it isn't much, but…"

I glared vehemently at the gruel that I was served. It was some old guacamole that had somehow developed a very gummy consistency and I was barely able to masticate it. I swallowed it and could feel it stick to my esophagus. I grimaced and looked up at my mother. I attempted a grin and closed my eyes as I did, as I knew that such a false gesture would not meet my eyes. I cleared my throat in an attempt to dislodge the foodstuffs in my throat and finally finished the whole bowl, downing it with some unfiltered water that tasted like copper.

As I rose to my feet with the plate, utensils and glass in tow, my mother placed a wrinkly hand on my shoulder and smiled at me before speaking. "I'll get these for you, querido. I have something for you." I nodded and handed them to her, which she washed promptly, leaving her hands even more pruned than before. She went to the termite-ravaged door frame before beckoning me to follow her. I walked outside onto the soft yet scalding sand. What stood before me forced a gasp from my throat.

It was a bike, and a shoddy one at that. Its sickly yellow paint was chipping off revealing the dull copper frame beneath, and the seat cushion was wasting away as well. Regardless of its state, such luxuries were costly, requiring money that we surely didn't have. I turned to her, mouth agape.

"H-how could you afford this?" I stuttered incredulously.

She smiled sweetly, revealing rows of yellowing teeth. "We've been saving up for this, mi hijo." Such replies only left me more nonplussed.

"But why?"

Her grin widened to a Cheshire cat's and she placed a furrowed hand on my shoulder. "I didn't just get this for leisure, silly! Didn't you always say that you wanted to go to America someday?"

My eyes widened profusely. Is she serious? When we lost my father to border patrol officers years ago, such aspirations became fairytales to me, and she had ordered me to promise her that I would never try to cross it. "B-but you always said-"

"I know what I said," she replied waspishly as her smile became a scowl. "But times have changed. Things have gotten worse without your father, in case you haven't noticed. You're a brilliant boy, but won't prosper here. That's why you must go to America."

I was unsure of how to respond. Of course, she was right. After my father's passing, we had no source of income. However, we did have a farm for sustenance. But the days were becoming hotter and drier as summer made its entrance. I recalled the last few summers and shivered involuntarily. On top of providing for our impoverished neighbors out of the kindness of our hearts, we barely had enough for ourselves. And my mother hadn't the strength to tend to the farm herself. How would she be able to go on? I instinctively inquired just that, to which she smirked and replied, "You know that nice boy that lives next door? Antonio, I believe it was?"

I mirrored her former scowl. Stupid Antonio. That carefree attitude, his ostensibly immortal grin, his undeniable handsomeness… And there he was, dashing towards us, smiling, his emerald irises veiled. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly when he stopped running.

"Ho-hola, Eduardo… Your mother told you that I'll be helping her while you're gone, no?" He was well aware that I didn't like him and always feigned a frightened-puppy attitude whenever I was around. I nodded warily, went to him and leaned so my lips were right by the shell of his ear.

"Listen," I sibilated, "You'd better take good care of my mother. If you forget about her, or let her starve, or get her in any sort of trouble, I'll come back and either castrate you or kill you. Depends on my mood that day. Understand?" He shuddered and I smirked devilishly, but when I pulled away and walked back to my mother, he said nothing. When I stood side-by-side with her, she whispered in my ear.

"Eduardo, just in case you don't make it across," she began, "I want you to know that I'm very proud of you. And if you wouldn't mind… Say hola to papá for me, won't you?" I gave her a small nod. I was on the verge of tears but held them back. I straddled the bike before gingerly sitting down and turned to face the two of them. Antonio was still smiling, as was my mother, though the tears streaming down her cheeks refracted the harsh sunlight and blinded me. I waved before setting off.

I pedaled northward for what seemed like hours. Sweat coursed in rivets down my back and I abandoned my shirt. Fortunately, there was no one at the border, though I did have to avoid a few boisterous, gun-toting Americans that wanted to purge all traces of Mexico from their precious, star-spangled home. I sighed with relief as I passed what seemed to be the last of them. I made it.

Eventually, during the evening, I reached a city area. Light radiated off the polished tiles of the sidewalk and jet-black lampposts stood proudly to further illuminate the nighttime scenery. Lovers, friends and families promenaded the streets, chatting amiably. The tree branches that loomed over my head, adorned with long, snake-like strings of light bulbs, were leafless and curled, reminding me of the talon-like fingers of my mother. I frowned. Would I ever see her again? Would she be alright with Antonio? Would she try to follow me and end up like my father, impregnated by lead and-

My train of thought was cut off abruptly by two lithe arms wrapping around me. I leaned my bike against the nearest lamppost and turned to face the offending person.

It was a teenage girl no younger than I. Her dirty blond hair was tied back in twin pigtails. Her jocund, azure eyes were hidden behind her horn-rimmed glasses. She donned a brown bomber jacket with a furry collar and a crimson shirt that she had tied up to only cover her chest. Her Daisy Dukes were tattered and her cowboy boots compensated for the lack of leg coverage by going up to her knees. She was giving me an odd sort of puppy-dog look that reminded me of Antonio, which brought out an automatic grimace.

"S'wrong?" she inquired in a thick Southern accent.

I blushed slightly. S-she's pretty cute… "Nada," I muttered. She smirked evilly.

"Hey, you was talking in Spanish just then! 'R'you Mexican?" she asked. My eyes widened and I pressed a finger to her lips. Her obscenely loud tone was sure to invite attention, and I certainly didn't want anyone knowing I was an illegal immigrant. Not after how far I'd gotten. I nodded swiftly to answer her question and her smirk widened.

"Please don't tell anyone…" I pleaded.

She gave me a once-over and replied, "Well, you are pretty cute… Sure, I won't say nothin'. I sighed relievedly before she continued, "On one condition." I nodded doubtfully, unsure of what she would ask.

She pressed her thumb to my lip, cradling my sharp jaw with her palm. "One kiss. One kiss or I'll squeal to high heaven." I scowled. I'd never even had a girlfriend before! I had nary a guess as to what to do. Apparently, I had taken too long in my rumination and she craned her head away from me, cupping her hand around her mouth like a megaphone. Instinctively, I cupped her chin, turned her to face me, and pressed my lips to hers.

The sensations that I felt mirrored the fireworks that had just begun in the sky. It felt wonderful.

Though my initial intentions were for it to be nothing more than a chaste peck, it became more passionate and I let it linger. When I finally pulled away from her, my lips were left tingling and her eyes had become hazy. She smiled.

"Awright, I won't say nothin'," she announced. I grinned widely with my eyes shut, but felt her poke my shoulder. I opened them and saw her giggling quietly.

"You might wanna put on my jacket," she suggested. I raised an eyebrow quizzically and she gestured towards my bare chest. I looked around and noticed some other girls gawking at me. I blushed profusely and she howled with laughter at my mawkish reaction. I promptly put it on and thanked her. She wrapped her sun-kissed arms around my neck and our eyes met.

"Now, where were we?" she asked. I smiled and kissed her once more. America sure is great, I noted. I opened my eyes briefly and looked up at the sky. I wish you could've made it, papá. You would've really liked it, I think.

Translation Notes:

Spanish:

papá:father

nada:nothing

querido:affectionate term, sweetie/my love, etc.

hola:hello, hi

mi hijo:my son

dale:hurry

Editor's Note:

This is a short story written for a contest... So, if you're a judge from it... Just know that that person is me.

Anyway, the objective of the contest was to write a story under 1500 words (not sure why it said 1548 on here... it's fine on Microsoft Word) based on a picture of a bike in a night scene. The winner gets a gift certificate for $100. It ends October 10th. Wish me luck!

I don't typically ship MexAme, but when I got the idea for this, I couldn't help but picture Mexico... And this general pairing... Ha, same thing happened with something I wrote for school. Winded up being RusCan and I put it up here, ha ha. Anyway, Mexico's a fanmade character and I didn't base his appearance on anything in particular.. Wait, did I even describe what he looks like? Eh, whatever. Oh, and yes, the girl is not 2P!Fem!America. She's the original one you see more often. I think.

Oh, Antonio is Spain, by the way. During the Spanish Civil War, a bunch of Spaniards went to Mexico. I can imagine that the Mexicans are feeling overwhelmed by it and that they might be taken over... This was mentioned in the uncut version.

Oh, by the way, if you're waiting on Lost in Hopelessness, sorry about the lack of an update, ha ha. I just wanted to get this over with first.

It was awful cutting this down... I had to cut off 300 words... Bleh. Well, I'm still happy with this version!

Anyway, thanks for reading!

Prinny