When they tell stories of my padre, he sounds perfect. He was funny. Handsome. Smart. Moral. Hard working. A good husband. A devoted father. If he was so perfect, why did he leave me to care for his wife and children? That's what I remember. That he died.

-Paco Testas

BEFORE ...

Jaime scanned his profile in the tiny mirror on the medicine cabinet. He worked a handful of gel through his hair to tame the bedhead mane flaring around his head. "Hello, caliente," he complimented the figure. His reflection returned the greeting with a very attractive grin - if Jaime could say so himself. Despite the sacredness of this morning ritual, his madre invaded the bathroom.

"There's such a thing as knocking," he told her, flushing slightly at the idea that she'd overheard him.

"Buenos," she greeted. She was already showered and dressed in scrubs. She squeezed in at the sink next to him to apply in quick succession a torrent of makeup products that did who knows what. "You're up early."

"Got some stuff to do before school," Jaime said.

She cocked her head to stare at him over the rim of her glasses. "Any reason you're wearing perfume of your papá?"

Now he knew he was blushing. "What? A chico can't smell nice?" He retreated to the hall.

"Ve, bonito," she teased after him. "I'll see you after school."

Jaime's padre and hermana were still sleeping so the house was silent apart from the snapping of cosmetic products from the bathroom. He grabbed his bag and slipped out of the house.

The morning was crisp and cool enough to see his breath. The sun already bleached the night into oblivion. Despite his jacket, goose bumps erupted over his skin. It took him thirty minutes to reach Paco's. It was a ramshackle of a house, with broken tiles missing from the roof and the sagging face in bad want of a paint job. It was actually Paco's tío's house. And it wasn't in a part of town his parents would ever let him go. In fact, they'd flip if they found out Jaime had so much as set foot there let alone went almost every day.

Jaime rapped at the window on the end where Paco slept. Cardboard had been crammed over the windows to block the light. When all remained silent, he pounded the glass. At one corner of the window, a finger peeled up the cardboard, then darted back as though burned by the light.

"Come on, vato," Jaime called. "You're gonna make us late."

No movement.

"Paco!" he beat the wall this time.

Paco swore and the cardboard shield came down. "You're gonna wake up my tío!"

"Let's go. It's already seven."

"Man, I'm not going."

"Why not?"

"Got this stupid assignment I couldn't finish."

"What period?" Paco answered so softly Jaime almost didn't hear him. "Seconed? Paco, that's your Spanish class!" Jaime burst out laughing, then added gravely, "It's your mother tongue. How can you stand the sight of yourself?"

"It's not my fault the teacher has it out for me!"

"We have a field trip. We're off 'til after lunch so no excuses."

"Oh yeah. That community service thing." Paco considered. "Yep. Definitely not going."

"Get your stuff," Jaime said. "I'm not missing home room again." But the cardboard was replaced. "Paco?" A honking snore emanated beyond the window. Jaime sighed, then paced to the front door and calmly tapped the doorbell twenty times in a row.

From within the bowels of the house, Jaime heard a thud — presumably Paco leaping out of bed — and a deep voice let loose a string of profanities — presumably Paco's tío woken up.

Paco's voice came, "Okay already!"

Ten minutes later, Paco shuffled out of the house, delirious with sleep. "Mano, my tio's gonna kick me out you keep doing this."

"If you'd come to school on your own I wouldn't have to."

"I was sleeping," he grumbled.

"Hence the shouting and banging," Jaime said. "I'm gonna start a service. Jamie's School Escort: Making sure your slackers get to class since 1986. Hablamos espanol." Jaime tapered off as he examined his friend. Paco wore a wrinkled wifebeater top and shorts that looked as though he'd slept in them — which he probably had. He hid his buzzed head under a faded orange bandana and his backpack looked too light to contain anything heavier than a pen. But that wasn't what caused Jaime to stare.

Paco shifted under the scrutiny. "What? Got drool on my face?"

"What's with your eye?" Jaime said.

"It's called sleep deprivation."

"You get hit?"

Paco scoffed and started toward the street. "No big deal."

Jaime was right on his heals. "What happened?"

"Will you chill? I'm not Brenda, Jaime."

"Then what happened? And don't try giving me some 'I fell' crap."

After a moment, Paco rolled out his shoulders and boasted, "Some cholos thought they could take me. They were wrong."

"You got jumped?" Jaime's tone was anything but impressed. "Freak, Paco. Were they those gang members? What happened?"

"Kicked their butts. That's what happened."

"Was it those same guys?"

"I dono. Maybe."

The two walked on in silence. Jaime didn't know what had started the whole thing and Paco claimed he didn't either. After a few fights and dodging them in the street, the cholos had followed Paco home one day. After that, he hid out at his tío's hoping the whole thing would blow over.

This had to be the third time this week Paco had run into trouble. The constant toll was starting to show. The mischievous spark in Paco's face was smothered under lines of worry. He'd practically dropped out of school. And to top it off, Jaime heard that Paco had been hanging with a group called The Posse. Apart from their name not being very original, The Posse was the rival gang of the cholos who'd been hassling Paco. That meant protection. But that safety came at a price; one Jaime hoped Paco was far from considering.

"I'll think of something," Paco said as though responding to Jaime's thoughts.

Jaime glanced at him, then said seriously, "Well, Milagro has a bunk bed in her room." Paco hit him and the two laughed.

Loose Spanish translation as taken in context:

buenos - good morning
caliente - hot
chico - guy
cholos - gangsters
hablamos espanol - we speak Spanish
hermana - sister
madre - mom
mano - bro
padre - father
papá - dad
perfume - cologne
tío - uncle
vato - dude
ve, bonito - go, handsome