*Flash Back* 12 Years Ago
"Papa," I exclaimed as I ran to him on the sand covered beach. His line backer shoulders clenched in concentration. I came to a skidding halt behind him. My breathing had turned into
gasps as I had darted and slid across seaweed and sand; trying to catch up to his fast paced march. I did not understand why he was so cheerless today. It was pleasantly warm out and the
sun was beginning to set and you could see bonfires lighting up across the beach. "Papa! Please wait," I whimpered, scared that he was angry with me. He chuckled his warm hearty laugh,
which startled me out of my contemplation. His laugh spread whispers of light through my 5-year old body, and gave me hope that things may begin to get better.
"Oh mi pequeño ángel, yo nunca te olvidaré," he said amusedly in his thick Spanish accent. His voice was slightly strangled but still had his regular playfulness. I was still breathing hard,
from all of my sprinting when he plucked me off the ground and cuddled me to his clothed cotton shirt, desperately. I inhaled softly, burying my face into his musky woodland scent. I took the
time I had been given to quickly analyze his ragged face. He had been doing much better since we had visited Mama's grave 3 years ago, in LA. At least that is what people had told me, at the
reunion of her death.
He hastily took a glance at my face when he thought I wasn't looking and looked fearful and anxious. I began to surf my thoughts thinking of anything that had upset him today. Nothing
had seemed out of the ordinary except everybody had seemed to be on edge. Abuela, abuelo, mis tíos seemed furious with mi Papa today. They had sent him quick disgusted stares, which
traveled from him to his mujer joven. I couldn't help but feel like; I was out of the loop of everything. Mujer joven had been quite touchy with me today, and that had irritated me to no end.
My fingers began to clench when she tried to braid my long raven hair. She had tried to lecture me on how it was unlady like to keep my hair out; instead of listening I had cussed her out in
Spanish,which had not made Papa happy. Though I could see his amusement in his eyes whether he wants to admit it or not. Trying to relax my fisted hands I began to run my small thin
fingers aimlessly over the Gang tattoo my father had encased in his shirt on his right shoulder that matched mine. It was a Tribal Star. I remember him calmly explaining that I got it to
protect me from other street gangs that held grudges against us. He told me, that people were fools to ever mess with the Zarates, and that he never wanted me to face what mi Mama had
to face.
We suddenly sojourned. I was broken from my reverie. I slowly unsettled my head from his shoulder, to find some explanation why his grip on me had tightened considerably. I glanced
over my own shoulder and saw an old white zorra. She had long fake blond hair, and a porcelain face that reminded me of a China doll, her body was lithe but unmistakably fake. She had been
goo-goo eyeing my Papa whose muscles had been constricting tighter and tighter each moment the zorra gawked at him. She reminded me of the scary movie that had the living dolls in it
that ate your brains if you did something naughty.
I became confused as I felt moist dripping water soak through my plain shirt. I fixed my eyes on Papa as he slowly began to pry my hands off of his shirt. I was baffled at why he was
placing me on the creamy sand. He swiftly swabbed his warm, moist tears away and took a glance at me affectionately. Papa took his eyes away from me, and began speaking rapid Spanish
with the old Zorra. I could only make out the words, "cuidar de mi pequeño angel." Papa crouched down like an angry tiger and squeezed me firmly whispering in my ear, "Little Angel, no se
olvide de mí o de su mamá. Por favor, no cabe duda de que nosotros hayamos amado a ustedes, pero nunca los errores que hicimos."
He rose up stiffly and turned around like a springing top, and sauntered away from the beach leaving me with the old Zorra. I felt tears prick my gray eyes as a white heat fell over my
body as I realized that he had given me up. I crumbled to the ground loudly, sobbing with my head in my hands. I screamed so loud that everybody on beach flinched. I whispered to the warm
night quietly, "¿Qué hice? ¿Dónde estás?" The lady wrapped her hands around me and whispered to me, "Don't worry buttercup, everything will be ok." She wrapped her plastic hand around
mine and tugged me up. She dragged me across the beach to her yellow mini-van; Chattering constantly while all I could hear was the loud crack of my heart breaking into pieces.
*End Flashback*
I woke up with a start as I rubbed my palms into my soaked eyes. My mouth was pulled into a tight frown as I covered the heart wrenching sobs that threatened to escape my mouth.
Trying to calm my self I looked across my room only stopping at my black guitar, and my pictures. My room was still not packed and I knew I was going to hear an earful about this later from
my Mom. Uhh…. how I despise her standards for packing. I was once again Zen; I heard a soft rap on my black door that was the passageway to the biggest mess in the world.
"Enter if you dare bitch," I called out shakily. My brother Hexton cockily came into the room and surveyed the disaster that was my way of packing. His eyes glanced up at me and
softened considerably. Hex jolted into my bed and tangled himself to me.
"Ace, don't worry…. Don't worry…. It's ok," he cooed softly. "What happened," he said evenly.
"Nothing," I said shakily trying to gaze on something beside his bright Emerald eyes that demanded my fucking attention.
"Ace," he warned softly as he kissed my hair affectionately and brought me closer to his chest.
"I just had a … bad dream," I said brokenly. He cuddled me the way Papa used to.
"Ok," he said softly, "Lets get on to better things...what in the hell of Satan did you do to your room niña?" He said jokingly
"Excuse me imbécil, but if I do remeber which I do you were the one who said leave it to the end." I replied mock-angrily. Truthfully, I was happy that the atmosphere was beginning to
clear up again. It was no longer thick with hate, scorn, sorrow, anger that all came from living in San Diego just a 2 hour drive from la Tierra agrietada. It was instead the way it was supposed
to be, happy, light and clear with a 100% percent chance of moving to La Push, a good 7-day trip away from la tierra agrietada.
AN: I hope you like it!! Please send and R&R any ideas or thoughts about the story, I look forward to hearing from you!
~ACE