Hey I had fun writing this chapter. I hope you guys have just as much fun reading it. Let me know how you like it, let me know what you think is gonna happen.

Cruz

"What do you mean, jumped into the Blood?" I asked frantic, looking at my father and best friend horrified.

"A.J. go get your mother. Cruz, go get towels," Papá barked at my brother and I.

A scrambled towards my parents room, but I stood there frozen, watching Rio breath raggedly and Papá slid his shirt off revealing my blood and bruising. I couldn't wrap my head around what was happening, Rio told me he would never join a gang, he promised.

Papá turned to me, "Cruz! It's going to be okay, just go get towels and the first aid kit in the bathroom."

I didn't meet my father's eyes I just stared at Rio, his eyes closed. He looked even worse with his shirt off. It seemed like somebody attempted to rip his skin off , but didn't get very far. Blood was coming from every direction, from every possible limb.

I'm sure I looked horrified. I couldn't blink, speak, I couldn't move even if I wanted to. My eyes were glued on Rio.

Papá was saying my name, but I refused to meet his eyes. Then I felt his strong hands clasp onto my shoulders and he shook me a little, "Cruz! Cruz, just let me clean him up, go find Paco."

I closed my eyes hoping that when I opened them it would just be a dream. When I clicked my eyes opened instead of my room I was staring into my father's eyes.

"Alex, what's going on?" Mi Mamá asked fumbling down the stairs, A.J. right behind her.

She gasped when she saw Rio.

"A, take your brother upstairs. Get me Paco," Papá told A.J.

A nodded and grabbed my arm, "Come on, Cruz," He coaxed me.

I probably should've fought him, for running to get Papá. I probably should've stayed with Rio, but I didn't, I couldn't. I let A lead me up the stairs, unable to think or act for myself.

We passed Paco's door and A knocked and opened it. Paco was sitting on his bed, hip Ipod in, and his sketchpad out. He didn't notice us at first, he just kept making small strokes with his pencil on the paper.

"Paco!" A called to him.

He looked up, "What the hell? What's wrong?" He asked pausing his Ipod and putting his pencil and sketchpad on his bed.

A looked at me secretly telling me to explain to Paco, but I couldn't. I couldn't say it out loud.

Paco got up and came over to me putting his hands on my shoulders just like Papá did, "Cruz, are you hurt. Where's the blood coming from?"

I met his eyes, his cobalt blues to my sky blues, I breathed the word, "Rio."

His eyebrows shot up in confusion. And bit

A saved me from explaining, "Rio's downstairs, he's beat pretty badly. Papá wanted your help."

Paco dropped his hands from my shoulders and nodded, he left the room and A took my arm and led me to our room.

Once the door clicked behind us, A sat down on his bed, while I walked over to window and stared down to the ground where Rio laid a couple minutes before.

"I believe you," A said to me from his bed.

I continued to look down at the ground, "Huh?"

"I believe that you're not in a gang," He said in a breath.

"Why do you believe me now, because I've never come home with signs of a brutal beating. Yeah, A I'm not in a gang. I have no fuckin' intentions of joining a gang."

A sighed, "I get that now."

I didn't answered I just continued to stare at the ground. A didn't say anything more, he just lied on the bed and kept his eyes on the ceiling.

I took my eyes off the ground and sat down on my bed.

"You're full of blood. You might want to wash up," A.J. told me.

I shrugged, "What's the point. It's three in the morning, we should go to bed. We have school in the morning."

A nodded and walked over to flip the light switch. I didn't get under the covers I just laid on top of my comforter and started to listen to my brothers breathing become slower. A let out a few light snores telling me he was sound asleep.

I slipped out the door and crept to the top of the stairs so I could look down on the scene. Mamá, Papá, and Paco were all gathered around the couch blocking my view of Rio. They were talking in hushed tones so I couldn't make out what they were saying.

It looked like somebody just used our coffee table as a surgical table. First aid supplies were everywhere and towels were stained with blood. I couldn't decide if I was more scared or pissed off. I wanted more than anything to go down there and see if he was okay, and confront him at the same time, but I couldn't find the strength to stand up from my spot on the top stair.

Papá steeped back from Rio and headed to the kitchen. I got my first glance of him. He looked a lot better without the blood dripping from his face, but he still looked beat up. His eye was bruising already, his ribs were growing purple as well. He had cuts all over his face and torso. His eyes were closed and his chest was moving up and down slowly, he was fast asleep.

Mamá started cleaning the first aid stuff up, and Paco just sat down in the chair across from the couch and shook his head. After a couple minutes Papá came back with some ice and a bottle of water. He scanned the room and his eyes rested on me on the stair case, I refused to meet his eyes, I refused to let him know that I saw him look at me with fear and pity.

Papá said something to Paco and Paco glanced to where I was. He slowly got up from the chair and started heading towards the stair case. As he climbed the stairs I could feel the vibrations of his weight on the wood surface.

"Come on, Cruz, let's go talk," He said once he got to me and grabbed my arm.

I didn't give into his pull when he tried to get me on my feet, instead I kept my eyes on Rio.

"Cruz, come on. He's fine, just beat up pretty badly, but he's fine. You can talk to him in the morning," Paco said in a tone of voice I've never heard him use before, his voice was full of compassion.

That tone of voice made me get to my feet and let him lead me to his room. He let go of my arm once he closed the door behind him. I sat down on his bed and glanced down at his sketchpad. He sat on the floor across from his bed watching me.

I picked up the sketchpad it was a drawing of Juli, his girlfriend, "She's pretty."

He nodded, "You're covered in blood don't you want to change?"

I pretended I didn't hear him, "Do you love her?"

He sighed, "Sí, I think I do."

"Do you tell her?"

"Cruz, what's this all about?"

I shrugged and flipped through the sketchpad. He had amazing talent, I never was really interested in it before. There was pictures of everybody I knew in that pad. There was a picture of A sketched with his costume on for one of his plays he did the year before, Licia was sketched with her cheer uniform on, Mamá and Papá were holding hands and staring into each other's eyes, my uncles laughing together, my cousins, and the most recent one was of me. I was holding my skateboard, wearing jeans and a hat tipped to the side.

I focused on my picture for a long time, Paco was quiet and just sat and watched me observe his art. I asked him, "Why don't you just take pictures?"

He shrugged, "Pictures aren't the same, they don't pick up my point of view. They pick up the general point of view. Photos aren't memorable, but sketches are."

I nodded and traced my finger around my figure, "Do you think everything happens for a reason?"

He nodded, "I think it doesn't matter in the end whether you asked the hottest girl in the grade to prom, or if your parents died. I think it all plays out like it's supposed to in the end, the bump in the road only make you stronger."

"So say your best friend gets jumped into a gang, even though you begged him not to, you shouldn't beat yourself up for not making sure he kept his promise?"

He sighed again, "Cruz, this is no way is your fault."

I stood up and threw his sketchpad on his bed, "Maybe, I was too stupid to see it coming. You can't argue you with that! You tell me I'm stupid everyday!"

Paco got to his feet too, "Cruz!"

"What are you just gonna tell me that I'm not stupid. You should of thought about that fifteen years ago, I have feelings. I know I'm stupid, I get called stupid by you, A, my teachers, hell even my tutor doesn't want to work with me. Now, I'm seeing that I am stupid, that I really should've caught this. It's my fault that Rio is in a fuckin' gang, I knew better!" I yelled more to myself than at Paco.

"Cruz," Paco tried to calm me down, but it didn't work. I wondered out of his room shaking my head.

I sprinted down the stairs, past Rio and my parents. I seemed to be doing this a lot lately, I seemed to be trying to run away from my problems. My skateboard was in the front lawn, I grabbed it and rode away without a look back.

I had no clue where I was going, I just knew I had to get away. I had to get away from the proof that my best friend was half dead in my living room, had to get away from my family who couldn't understand me, I had to get away from me who couldn't understand why I didn't see it all coming, why I couldn't grasp that my world was falling apart.

I put my skateboard to the pavement and just rolled away, away from life, away from being the kid who couldn't grasp simple algebra. Instead I rolled to the kid who had a future, a future on a board with four wheels, but was thinking I had a future on a skateboard stupid too? I was beginning not to trust myself, I was beginning to think that Paco and A were right all along. I was kidding myself if I thought I could do anything with my life.