{"id":713,"date":"2013-11-01T00:18:16","date_gmt":"2013-11-01T00:18:16","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/saraalva.com\/?page_id=713"},"modified":"2013-11-01T03:56:56","modified_gmt":"2013-11-01T03:56:56","slug":"713-2","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"http:\/\/saraalva.com\/?page_id=713","title":{"rendered":""},"content":{"rendered":"

Excerpt<\/h1>\n

<\/h1>\n

SILENT<\/h1>\n

PART ONE<\/h2>\n

<\/h2>\n

Chapter 1:\u00a0New Shoes<\/b><\/h2>\n

 <\/p>\n

I eyed my opponents warily, hoping they wouldn\u2019t be too<\/i> tight today. If I could get in at just the right angle, and with just the right amount of force\u2026<\/p>\n

With one swift movement, I shoved my right foot into the dirty Converse sneaker. That was the best way to do it, but it didn\u2019t really make any more room for my big toe. A lump of nail pressed up against the fabric, where it was starting to tear the canvas away from the rubber sole.<\/p>\n

Damn. Just when were my feet supposed to stop growing, anyway?<\/p>\n

I\u2019d outgrown my shoes enough times by fifteen to know I\u2019d have that awkward, painful limp by the end of the day. For a second I considered trashing the sneakers and putting on flip-flops, but the teachers would probably throw a fit if they saw. No sense inviting trouble. It usually had an easy enough time finding me as it was.<\/p>\n

Looked like I was just going to have to suffer through it. I sighed, beginning the torture of my left foot as well.<\/p>\n

\u201cAlex!\u201d My mother\u2019s voice easily carried through the thin walls. \u201cIf that bitch PSA counselor calls here one more time about you cutting class, you won\u2019t be able to sit for a damn week!\u201d<\/p>\n

From the kitchen came the sounds of clinking beer bottles, which meant her boyfriend, Hector, was getting an early start on his day.<\/p>\n

Or maybe not so early. Fuck, I\u2019d be late if I didn\u2019t hurry.<\/p>\n

I grabbed my backpack off the floor, ignoring the little cockroach that scurried away from its now-exposed hiding place. It quickly found somewhere to slip off to between the wall and floorboards, probably joining hordes of its kind. Gross as it was, it was my own fault\u2014I\u2019d left some tamarindo candy in my bag after Giselle\u2019s quincea\u00f1era<\/i>.<\/i><\/p>\n

The train blasting past the house gave me yet another reminder of my tardiness. It rattled the walls and kicked up dust through my open window, adding to the fine layer of soot that blanketed the lone piece of furniture in my room\u2014an old white dresser I\u2019d rescued off the curb a few years back. Of course, it wasn\u2019t exactly white anymore.<\/p>\n

Taking off as fast as my too-tight shoes would allow, I scrambled down the short hallway and got all the way to the front door before Hector grabbed me and slammed me against the wall.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere the hell is my shit?\u201d His stubbled face pressed close to mine, blowing foul beer-and-morning-breath up my nostrils.<\/p>\n

I pushed back and easily freed myself from his grip. He wasn\u2019t going to be able to jerk me around like this much longer.<\/p>\n

\u201cGet the fuck off, man. I have school.\u201d Some of the paint chipped off the wall behind me and fell onto cracked linoleum as I stepped away.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know you took it, hijo de puta<\/i>. You fucking touch my shit again, I don\u2019t care if you are your mami\u2019s son. You living in my fucking house. I can kick you out like I did your puta<\/i> sister.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFuck off, Hector.\u201d<\/p>\n

He raised his arm and struck my chest, making me bang my head into the wall. More paint\u2014or maybe a bit of drywall from an already cracked surface\u2014fell to the ground. Hector\u2019s rage-filled eyes darted over to observe the damage, and before he had a chance to regroup, I ducked, whirled, and burst out the front door.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I ran for a couple of blocks. I didn\u2019t really need to, because Hector was far too lazy to actually come after me, and probably too out of shape to catch me if he did. I was sure he\u2019d just storm back to the fridge and pull out another beer, then crawl into bed next to my mother and\u2014<\/p>\n

I cut off the image before it went any further, distracting myself by pounding the pavement as fast as I could. People tended not to run through the streets in my neighborhood unless they were in trouble\u2026and when you were in trouble, you weren\u2019t going to be running at no jogging pace. If fitting in meant dashing down the road like I had the cops on my tail, I was okay with that.<\/p>\n

That is, I was okay with it until my toes started to feel like they were going to bruise black and blue from the pressure. I eventually limped to a stop, sensing a bit of cool air against my foot where it was not meant to be. One look down confirmed my fears\u2014my sock was clearly poking through the front of my right shoe.<\/p>\n

Fuck. Like I didn\u2019t already look ghetto enough.<\/p>\n

I started hobbling at an awkward pace, trying to find the balance between the usual I do as I please<\/i> saunter and the I really should get to school<\/i> speed-walk. It was hard to look cool with my feet busting out of my shoes, but I still fought to maintain the image, giving my usual head-nod to the bums outside the local liquor store.<\/p>\n

A stray mutt\u2014with a lot of pit bull in its mix\u2014bounded across the street in front of the little tienda <\/i>where we bought groceries. Mr. Jimenez instantly appeared in the doorway with his broom, shaking it in front of his solid potbelly. When that failed to scare the pup, he resorted to shoving it away. He made the same shooing motion toward me as well, probably because I\u2019d been known to lift a bag of hot Cheetos or two on occasion.<\/p>\n

I gave him a sarcastic wave and decided to cut through the projects, keeping my head down, as always, when I passed anyone particularly shady-looking. Most of the prostitutes had hidden themselves away by this hour, but one strung-out druggie was still wandering down the littered sidewalk. She muttered loudly to herself about needing a goddamn pillow, scratching pointlessly at the lice that had already set up long-term residence on her scalp.<\/p>\n

I used to look for Mimi around there, but deep down I knew she\u2019d never be that close to home.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I barely made it into school by the second bell, when the principal\u2019s booming voice came over the loudspeaker to threaten us into heading to class.<\/p>\n

\u201cEy, cabr\u00f3n<\/i>, where you been?\u201d Jos\u00e9 appeared among the crowd of scattering students. He slapped my hand in greeting.<\/p>\n

A short kid, and swarthy\u2014like me, of course\u2014Jos\u00e9 and his round cheeks hadn\u2019t quite grown out of that baby-fat stage, though I could tell from the new slicked-back hair routine he was desperately trying to look older.<\/p>\n

\u201cS\u2019up.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou keep this up, man, you gonna fail again, then you\u2019ll be the oldest kid in high school.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShut the fuck up.\u201d I shoved him into some nearby lockers, as was my right. Yes, I was old for a freshman, and yes, I\u2019d been held back\u2014in the fifth grade. But fuck if that wasn\u2019t a lousy year. I\u2019d had other shit to worry about besides how many fucking words I could read per minute.<\/p>\n

Jos\u00e9 pretended to be pissed, but one of the advantages to being older was being bigger, and I knew he wouldn\u2019t mess with me.<\/p>\n

\u201cShit, man, what the fuck. I was just kidding. Besides, you gonna get tons of freshman pussy being all old and shit. The girls love that shit.\u201d<\/p>\n

I mechanically bumped fists with Jos\u00e9 in agreement.<\/p>\n

\u201cEy, what about that girl in pre-algebra\u2026Blanca\u2026she fine<\/i>, and you can just tell she gonna be real easy. She\u2019s like dying to lose it. You should get with her this weekend.\u201d<\/p>\n

My shoulders tensed but I rolled it off, shrugging. \u201cNah, man. I don\u2019t got no money to buy condoms right now\u2026and ain\u2019t no way I\u2019m gonna knock up some freshman.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah.\u201d Jos\u00e9 nodded, all serious-like. \u201cNo way.\u201d<\/p>\n

I briefly wondered how many other guys had had this same conversation in the hallway, only to have their women become one more statistic.<\/p>\n

I had high hopes I\u2019d avoid that clich\u00e9.<\/p>\n

~*~<\/p>\n

I slipped into homeroom during the one-minute grace period, pulling out a book so I could pretend to be busy if Mrs. Elridge set her evil eye on me.<\/p>\n

She looked pretty groggy this morning as she sipped her morning coffee. Hopefully she wouldn\u2019t be too strict on the \u201csilent reading\u201d bullshit. On the other hand, too little sleep made her cranky, which she damn well liked to take out on us.<\/p>\n

\u201cEdgar Alcazar,\u201d she droned from behind her computer, calling roll.<\/p>\n

Edgar, the runt in the first row, raised his pipsqueak hand. \u201cHere!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAlejandro Alvarez.\u201d<\/p>\n

Bitch. No matter how many times I told her to call me Alex, she insisted on using my full name, adding an extra throaty rasp on the j<\/i> like she wasn\u2019t the whitest lady I\u2019d ever seen.<\/p>\n

\u201cEy, ey, Alex.\u201d<\/p>\n

Diego was trying to get my attention from a few desks away. He was too cool to pass a note or reach out to tap my shoulder\u2014not that I would have minded the contact\u2014so he just jerked his head at me until I looked over.<\/p>\n

He wasn\u2019t my closest friend, and I did have weak moments when I wanted to change that. With his soft olive skin and Anglo features he could almost pass for a White, but I knew he\u2019d much rather belong to the barrio <\/i>instead\u2026which was one of the reasons he was best kept at arm\u2019s length.<\/p>\n

I leaned over to hear him once Ms. Elridge had taken my attendance.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy sister said she saw your sister up at 68th<\/sup> the other day.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah?\u201d I perked up.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, they say she got a new boyfriend.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA real boyfriend?\u201d I stupidly asked, and damn it if I didn\u2019t let a little hope slip into my voice.<\/p>\n

Diego gave me a look like no seas tonto<\/i>. \u201cYeah, I\u2019m sure he\u2019s Prince fucking Charming.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHuh. Yeah.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSilent reading!\u201d Ms. Elridge ordered, and I slumped back into my chair. She passed down the aisle, eyes peeping out from over her tiny glasses. For a moment her gaze went to the floor, and I tried to hide the gaping hole in my shoe by covering it with my other foot.<\/p>\n

Ms. Elridge pursed her lips and moved on.<\/p>\n

The bell sounded a little while later, and I hopped up with the rest of the crowd, slinging my bag over my shoulder as I strode toward the door. I never rushed to class\u2014only losers did that\u2014but I was probably a little slower than usual thanks to my damn shoes.<\/p>\n

\u201cAlejandro?\u201d Ms. Elridge\u2019s voice stopped me in my tracks.<\/p>\n

Damn. Maybe there was something to be said for rushing.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI couldn\u2019t help noticing your shoes,\u201d she began, fidgeting with a pen in her hand. \u201cAre you planning on getting new ones anytime soon?\u201d<\/p>\n

I squinted in shame. \u201cNah, teacher. My mom, she don\u2019t\u2026doesn\u2019t have no job, and I spent all my money on a new D.S. game before I realized my shoes had got so tight.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOn a D.S. game,\u201d she repeated, one eyebrow tilting up. \u201cThat might not have been the smartest choice, whether your shoes were tight or not. Where do you get your money from, by the way? Gift money? Allowance? Or do you work?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUh, gift money,\u201d I stuttered.<\/p>\n

And that would\u2019ve been true, if Hector had gifted me his weed to resell.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell next time, consider saving it for something more valuable. Maybe you could start a college fund.\u201d<\/p>\n

I gave her a blank stare, which was what she deserved. They could ram college-readiness down my throat all they wanted\u2014didn\u2019t mean I was going anywhere.<\/p>\n

\u201cRight, teacher. Can I go to class?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right, Alejandro.\u201d She sighed, and I knew she could tell she hadn\u2019t made much of an impression. \u201cSee you tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n

~*~<\/p>\n

Hector\u2019s pick-up wasn\u2019t in front of the house when I got home. I thanked God for small miracles and bounded inside, putting on my brightest face.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, Mom.\u201d I plopped down on the lumpy couch by her side and kissed her cheek.<\/p>\n

She was all done up\u2014false lashes, a ton of makeup, and fake blond hair hanging stiffly to her shoulders. I knew she felt like she had to work to keep Hector\u2019s interest, since he was only thirty-two, but I sometimes missed the soft halo of dark curls she\u2019d had when I was younger.<\/p>\n

\u201cHi, baby,\u201d she responded, her eyes barely shifting from the TV. She absentmindedly ran her freshly-manicured nails through a hole in the upholstery, plucking out some of the stuffing.<\/p>\n

Her favorite telenovela was on, so I smartly waited till the commercial before interrupting again. \u201cMam\u00e1, do you think I could get some new shoes?\u201d<\/p>\n

She frowned. \u201cI just bought you shoes the other day.\u201d<\/p>\n

I rolled my eyes and worked on keeping my cool. The other day, the other year\u2026who was counting?<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease, Mami. The teachers at school are starting to notice.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t have no money right now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou could ask Hector\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHector\u2019s not gonna buy you nothing.\u201d She cut me off. \u201cHe\u2019s pissed at you.\u201d<\/p>\n

I blinked, striving for the face of innocence. \u201cWhy, Mami?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou think I don\u2019t know?\u201d She snorted. \u201cI\u2019m not stupid, Alex.\u201d<\/p>\n

Damn.<\/p>\n

\u201cBesides,\u201d she continued, sighing, \u201cyou know he don\u2019t like that I can\u2019t give him a son, and you remind him of that.\u201d<\/p>\n

I used to feel a twinge of guilt every time my mother brought up how having me caused that infection\u2026until the day Mimi told me that was the best thing that could have happened to her. Having a kid with Hector would only have made a bad situation worse.<\/p>\n

I wiggled a little closer, lacing my fingers with hers. \u201cYou don\u2019t have to say the money is for me.\u201d<\/p>\n

She batted me away. \u201cAy, go get a job like other kids your age. You should already be in high school last year, you know. High school kids work.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat job?\u201d I asked, throwing up my arms in frustration. \u201cWhat kind of job you want me to do while I\u2019m going to school?\u201d<\/p>\n

The telenovela was back on, taking my mother\u2019s focus. \u201cI don\u2019t know. Pick up cans with the immigrant children.\u201d<\/p>\n

I resisted the urge to call my mother a bitch, even in my thoughts. She was more out-of-it than she was outright mean.<\/p>\n

But I did need those shoes.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I left her and headed down the hallway, taking full advantage of her distraction. She didn\u2019t notice me slipping into her room\u2014or his<\/i> room, as he constantly reminded me.<\/p>\n

I slid the dresser drawer open as quietly as I could. The last time I\u2019d jacked some weed from this spot, I thought I\u2019d left enough in the bag to keep him from noticing. But he had noticed, obviously, and there was none in there anymore. Time to check the other hiding places.<\/p>\n

I rummaged through the remaining drawers, the closet, and underneath the mattress before I finally found some in the hollowed out bedpost. I took a decent handful, even though I knew I\u2019d probably be in for an ass-kicking later. With any luck, I\u2019d have new shoes to make the running away that much faster.<\/p>\n

~*~<\/p>\n

I exchanged the torn sneakers for my flip-flops and wandered over to the squat black and white buildings of the projects. We\u2019d lived there once\u2014just me, my sister, and my mom. Yeah, the places were crappy and some of the residents sketchy at best, but it wasn\u2019t like living a few streets away in an old crumbling house was all that much better. Besides, Hector\u2019s name was on the lease for the house, and that alone made it suck in my eyes.<\/p>\n

Our old neighbor, Andre, was sitting in a lawn chair in front of his place, smoking and drinking a beer, as usual.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey,\u201d I said as I approached. \u201cWhat up, man?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, Al. Whatcha up to today?\u201d<\/p>\n

After a quick glance around, I pulled the plastic baggy halfway out of my pocket. \u201cYou need?\u201d<\/p>\n

Andre grimaced and wiped his forehead with his arm before taking a long drag of his cigarette. \u201cNah, chico. Not today.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d I blurted out. \u201cBut I only gave you a dime sack last time\u2026you must be out by now. C\u2019mon, Andre.\u201d<\/p>\n

Damn, could I sound more desperate?<\/p>\n

\u201cListen, listen.\u201d He put up his hands. \u201cDon\u2019t flip, man, but I found me another supplier.\u201d<\/p>\n

My left eye began twitching. Andre was one of the few people I knew well enough to feel comfortable dealing to. Without him, my moneymaking days were close to over.<\/p>\n

\u201cSomeone else? Who?\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked away. \u201cFranky.\u201d<\/p>\n

Franky? That fucking gangbanger was moving in on my tiny turf?<\/p>\n

\u201cFranky? Jesus Christ, why?\u201d I pressed, trying and probably failing to keep from sounding like a whining child. \u201cDon\u2019t I always give you the good stuff\u2026the best price?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou do, you do, little man\u2026but it\u2019s about supply. Franky works for the big dogs\u2014they always got stuff. You a kid stealing weed off your old man.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHector is not my old man!\u201d My hands curled into fists. If Andre hadn\u2019t been twice my size, I probably would\u2019ve taken a swing at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cEasy.\u201d He stood and pulled a box of cigarettes from his pocket to offer me one. I took it because I couldn\u2019t really think of anything else to do, and I obviously needed to calm down.<\/p>\n

\u201cTell you what I\u2019m gonna do,\u201d Andre said. He lit up my cigarette and waited till I\u2019d drawn in a few times before throwing an arm over my shoulder. \u201cI\u2019ll buy it off you today, \u2019cause I can see you really need it\u2026but I can\u2019t keep it up. You gettin’ too old to freelance\u2026don\u2019t you wanna get jumped in? You\u2019d make real money then.\u201d<\/p>\n

I twisted away. \u201cNah, man. I\u2019m cool. Lemme just sell this and go\u2014I gotta go buy me some shoes.\u201d<\/p>\n

Andre shrugged, pulling out a wad of cash from his pocket. \u201cSuit yourself. But you\u2019re probably gonna have to make a decision about where your loyalties lie pretty damn soon. You ain\u2019t no baby no more. You sell to the wrong person\u2026you could get yourself in real trouble, man.\u201d<\/p>\n

We finished our transaction and said our goodbyes\u2014possibly for the last time. There was no way I was joining a gang in these parts\u2014and not for the reasons everyone thought. I wasn\u2019t too good for it, and I wasn\u2019t chicken\u2026but I also wasn\u2019t stupid.<\/p>\n

A gang in the ghetto wasn\u2019t no place for someone like me.<\/p>\n

\u00a0~*~<\/p>\n

Available from:<\/h2>\n

\u00a0\"amazon<\/a>\u00a0\"Are<\/a>\u00a0\"BN<\/a><\/h2>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Excerpt SILENT PART ONE Chapter 1:\u00a0New Shoes   I eyed my opponents warily, hoping they wouldn\u2019t be too tight today. If I could get in at just the right angle, and with just the right amount of force\u2026 With one swift movement, I shoved my right foot into the dirty Converse sneaker. That was the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/saraalva.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/713"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/saraalva.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/saraalva.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/saraalva.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/saraalva.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=713"}],"version-history":[{"count":10,"href":"http:\/\/saraalva.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/713\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":737,"href":"http:\/\/saraalva.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/713\/revisions\/737"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/saraalva.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=713"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}