The heat outside was enough to boil water. Inside it was no difference. Well they say that the heat can get to you. That heat can make you do things unimaginable or impossible. Little known fact was that the heat can also make you feel all dead inside. And at that moment you just wanted to lie down and lay still. Quiet and still. But nonetheless still breathing.
And that was exactly what a little 14-year old boy was doing outside on a porch of a broken down house. Lying down and just breathing. Because that's exactly what he was used to. Breathing, no matter how hot it gets. Just. Breathe.
"Oh my god, this is so boring" he thought. "Wish I could just go outside."
"And do what?" he countered his own thoughts. "No friends, no family, hell, I can barely even remember my name."
He had no idea how he got there. He just knew that he was there. By the way, where is there? Well, Las Cruces. Obviously. It just had to be a barrio off the Mexican-American border. And it also had to be so hot.
Our protagonist was suddenly awake. The heat might have snapped him. Or maybe it was just the sharp sting that the metal can thrown at him left.
"¡Oh mira! El monstruo está tomando una siesta!" (Oh look! The freak is taking a nap!) some kids were laughing.
"¡Oye! ¡Espera!" (Hey! Wait!) "¿Cuál es mi nombre?" (What's my name?) The boys and girls were laughing and joking at him. They weren't any different from him. They were his same age. They were also Mexican like the boy, or so they thought he was Mexican. Still they were his age.
"¡Espera!"¡Espera!"
"¿Cuál es mi nombre?"
" mi nombre"
"¿Cuál es mi nombre?"
The boy tensed up. He was used to all the bullying he'd been facing since the day he got here. Maybe they were taunting him because he was just new to this barrio. Or maybe the locals were just as mean as the barrio itself. Maybe they were just as mean as the sun.
"It sure would be nice to have a friend." the boy thought. It wasn't that he liked to be alone. But then again, alone was all he had left. And alone was what kept him strong.
"¿Por qué estás monstruo solo?" (Why are you alone freak?)
The boy got up to see that one kid, he looked the oldest, had made his way towards him. Normally the children just let him be. But then again they were also getting bolder and bolder every day.
"Fueron sus padres tan avergonzado cuando naciste que sólo te dejó?"(Were your parents so ashamed when you were born that they just dumped you?) the kid asked.
The lost boy didn't say anything. They just didn't understand it. They didn't understand things. They just didn't understand him. It was aggravating, it really was. But he always kept his anger in check. This wasn't his neighborhood. It was theirs. Their turf.
The kid got really close to him. All the other children had crowded around the little scene."Su padre debe haber sido un borracho"(Your father must have been a drunkard) he said with a sneer that elicited the laughter of all those gathered.
But the laughter didn't last long. The kid flew backwards as our boy punched him full in the face.
"¡Hijo de puta!" the kid remarked as he flung himself at our boy.
It wasn't a tough fight. The kid didn't last long. But it was still a fight. Our boy just blew the fuse. Maybe the heat did get to him. Maybe the heat cracked him. He sure as hell didn't like to fight. But he wasn't fighting. No. No. No. Our boy was not fighting. He was fighting back. He was fighting to keep standing. He was surviving.
With a final punch to the kid's stomach, our boy got off him. The children around were all stunned. It was as if someone nuked Las Cruces and there were no more voices to scream. Not a single hoarse voice to scream their protests. Hey! Wait! I got a new complaint! No. No. No. Nada. Not a sound.
" No me importa lo que la gente dice de mí. Pero. Dejar a Mis. Padres. Fuera. De. Este." (I don't care what you people say to me. But Leave. My. Parents. Out. Of. This.)
"Oh," the boy said switching to English, "and by the way, I do have a name."
He faced the crowd.
"My name's Rex."
Rex slept well that night. He felt redeemed. He felt victorious. Somehow, he also felt quite different. Like something inside him was about to go off in flames. Like something was going to explode. He ignored it though. Tonight he was just going to sleep soundly. No explosions were needed.
The boy awoke in the middle of the night. Or maybe it was in the early morning. But the important thing was that he awoke. He felt like the sun swallowed him and spit him back out. He felt charred and broken. He couldn't lift his head. Perhaps sleep had gotten the best of him. But his head was splitting in an uncontrollable headache. He sat up and looked around his rundown shack. Or at least what was left of it. What was left of the shack or the town itself. He didn't observe for long though. He passed out silently in what he could only feel as the sun itself swallowing him and the remains of the town. He was just waiting to be spat out.