Author's Note: The dialogue on the television, and between Isabella's grandparents, is spoken in Spanish. I only wrote it in English to avoid the pain of translating every line.
Isabella's grandfather, Juan, finally got home, after another day of selling Marlboro cigarettes on the street. He walked the entire way to and from his stand; about a mile from the house, in a semi-commercial district. To the unaccustomed person, this would be a long walk, especially with the heat and the hilly nature of the streets. Juan was used to it though; this had been his work ritual for decades.
He walked in through the kitchen door. Hearing his wife in the laundry room, next to the kitchen, he turned the other way, towards the master bedroom. Juan stored his box full of merchandise, and plopped into the bed, turning on the small television in front of him. He changed the channel to a network from Juarez that usually did news flashes throughout the day. Most of these "breaking news" reports concerned scenes of cartel shootings and dead bodies. The news flash airing now was about an ambush that happened near the downtown. Juan was not surprised, and he watched with little interest.
The reporter spoke, "At around 3 in the afternoon today, there was a shootout between a band of gunmen and a truck of Mexican soldiers. The scene happened on the Eje Vial Juan Gabriel (name of the major avenue), during a traffic snarl. It all started when one of the gunmen opened fire from a pedestrian bridge, fatally wounding a soldier. The firefight raged for ten minutes, with civilians stuck in the crossfire. When the traffic cleared, reinforcements came to assist the soldiers. All in all, two gunmen and one soldier were killed. One gunman was arrested. Another is suspected to still be at large."
The report continued. "At the same shootout, an innocent bystander was wounded. The victim was sitting inside a public transit bus that was next to the ambushed convoy, when he was shot. As the traffic cleared, the bus rushed to the hospital, where the person was taken in and treated. Reportedly, he is an American citizen, a teenage boy, by the name of Phineas Flynn. He is currently in serious condition."
A file photo of the teenager was displayed on the television. Juan grew disgusted with the nature of the story, and turned the television off. Isabella's grandmother had finished loading the washing machine, and walked into the master bedroom. She greeted her husband.
"Hey Juan, how was today?"
He replied, "It was a bit slow, but I got decent business. I need to restock on more light cigars though."
"I saw that you were watching the TV. What was on?"
He sighed. "Nothing, Nicha (her name). They ambushed some Mexican soldiers and killed one. There was also some triangle-headed boy that got shot in the crossfire."
She gasped. "Oh my, the things that happen these days. Did they reveal information about the boy?"
"They said he was a teenager. He looked about 15. He was also an American citizen."
Nicha started to wonder. "Really? What was his name?"
Juan thought for a while. "I'm not sure, it started with a P…Phineas, I think."
Immediately, the color drained from her face, and her hands started shaking. Juan noticed, and asked, "What? Do you know him?"
She replied softly, as if speaking louder would confirm what she was thinking. "It's Isabella's best friend."