“What is this?” I asked.
He held it closer to me, urgently. “You need to be careful. This is important,” he said. “It’ll explain everything.” I didn’t look at him, didn’t want to see that big twitching eye. I shook my head.
“Take it,” he hissed, shoving it into my hands.
“I have to go,” I said.
“You have to listen to me,” he said, pointing to the snake. His fingernails were caked with dirt and what looked like blood. “They’re coming. It will come after you too.”
“What are you doing out here?”
The familiar voice made me look up. It was Alvaro, Connor’s uncle, holding a six-pack in one hand and adjusting a pair of Ray Bans with the other.
“I thought it was you,” he said. “You okay? You need a ride?”
I opened my mouth but nothing came out. “Come on,” he said softly, putting a hand on my shoulder. “You shouldn’t be here by yourself this late.”
He tossed my bag into the backseat of his Jeep as I slid inside. “Fasten your seatbelt,” he told me. I followed his order listlessly, letting my head sink into the soft leather as we pulled away from the curb. I watched the twitchy-eyed man stare as we drove until he was out of sight.
“You know anything about what happened at school today? About the fight?” he asked.
I shrugged.
“You must know something. Must have heard something, at least.”
“Where’s Connor?” I asked.
“He’s at the police station, in a holding cell. He can spend the night in there,” he said. “I’ll get him out tomorrow. He has to learn that’s not the way to handle things, punching people in the face.”
“That’s not fair,” I said. “And it was my fault he hit him, anyway.”
“Oh, so you do know what went down.”
“Sort of,” I said. “This guy I know was…saying something to me. Something really awful. And I guess Connor heard him and, well, you know.” I mimed a kid getting punched in the face and tried to smile, but Alvaro didn’t smile back. He just sighed this really deep, tired sigh. “I guess it was kind of my fault.”
“Hey, look at me,” Alvaro said. I did. His face was set in a stern frown. “Did you punch that kid? Did you break his nose? No? Then it wasn’t your fault. You’re not responsible for other people’s actions, Jack.”
“And as for fair,” he continued. “You think the system’s gonna go easy on a kid that looks like him? This isn’t the first time, and I’ll be damned if it’s not the last. He is not gonna end up like his parents.” He put his hand to his mouth and grimaced at some painful, private memory.
I was quiet for a moment, watching the crumbling roads dissolve into the freeway we’d merged onto, the endless landscape of pavement and steel and nothingness. “He’s lucky to have you around,” I said. My throat felt tight and I tried to swallow it down.
His face softened. “Hey, relax. Look at your fists. You don’t need to be all worked up.”
I realized I’d been holding onto something tight. I unfolded the picture of the snake that I’d crumpled into my hands.
It was an insurance advertisement. The guys around here got paid to hand these out. They handed them to everyone.
They meant nothing.
I watched where the snake had landed on the car floor. Oddly, I felt a pang of disappointment. Just a moment ago, this piece of paper had seemed so important to that man. Like he was really trying to tell me something, some secret meaning that would make sense of everything.
The eyes of the snake seemed to glower at me, vague and incomprehensible, the black and white image of the giant cobra so menacing on the clean white piece of paper.
I checked my phone. Nothing from Jess.
As we pulled up to Alvaro’s house I could feel the exhaustion sinking in, slowly pulling me under. But I was glad to be here, where Connor lived, with his uncle whose every movement didn’t leave my teeth on edge, didn’t have me waiting for the next sharp word, the next big fight. He was calming. So was the slow, ticking sound of the wall clock, the gentle humming of the fridge. Everything in here was so smooth and clean and quiet. I sat down on a stool at the kitchen island while he sorted through his mail.
“You want some coffee? Tea?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“You must be hungry. How long were you out there by the 7-11 with that creepy guy?”
“Not long.” I felt embarrassed, having run off like that. Where was I even trying to go? “My dad was drinking and saying all kinds of stuff, so I left.”
Alvaro nodded and then reached into a cupboard, pulling a tube of Neosporin and a box of Band-Aids. “You mind if I take a look at those hands?”
I stared down at my bruised, beat-up knuckles. I hadn’t even felt the pain after smashing my fist into that wall. “I think I’m okay.”
“You mind if I take a look anyway?”
I shrugged and let him examine my hands, let him apply the Neosporin that burned like hell when it touched an open cut. “So, your dad’s been drinking, huh?”
“It’s his favorite pastime.”
“And you just left home? Thought you’d go hang out at the Strip for the night? Hang out with the homeless guys and the hookers?”
I grinned. “Something like that.”
“What about your mom? Does she live with you guys?”
I winced. “Sort of. I mean, yeah. But she went out for a while. I don’t really know if she’s coming back.”
He tore open a Band-Aid. “I should call your dad, let him know you’re staying here at a friend’s and that you’re okay. I feel like that’s the responsible thing to do here, you
