bottle man's yard and stand quietly across the wash from his shack. It sits on the edge of the desert, an old mesquite tree towering above it, bottles of all shapes, sizes and colours tied to the branches where they tinkle softly when the wind taps them against each other.
The ground under the tree and all around the shack is thick with broken glass, but the pieces have no sharp edges. It's like they've been rolling against each other in an ocean for years until they're smoothed like pebbles, even though they actually come from when the monsoons blow hard and the bottles in the tree smash against each other.
Luz grins at Maria and pulls her into the yard. Maria's heart is pounding so loudly in her ears that she's certain that it, alone, will wake the sleeping bottle witch, but Luz proceeds steadily toward the river of broken glass. When they reach its edge, Luz lets go of Maria's hand and removes the tin and a clear sandwich bag from her pocket. She presses the tin against her lips, then offers it to Maria. Maria kisses it as well.
Luz seals the tin inside the bag, then removes one sandal and uses it to gently push aside the glass shards until a small well forms. Maria doesn't breathe, certain they are about to be caught by the bottle witch, but the sound of shifting glass only blends with the soft clink of bottles high in the tree branches above them. Luz places the tin in the hollow and smoothes the glass back over as quietly as she can. She slips her sandal back onto her foot, then reaches for Maria's hand and together they tiptoe back across the yard. When they reach the wash they run like cats being chased by coyotes.
Maria has been cleaning the bedroom windows until she's afraid her hand will go right through the glass. But curiosity has the better of her. It's almost an hour later and the gang still hasn't come out of the house next door. If they're planning a "surprise party" for the owners, the busted door's a dead giveaway. If they're robbing the place, they're sure being choosy about what they take.
Finally she goes on to other work, glancing out windows on that side of the house whenever she can. By the time she's finished her day's work, the gang still hasn't emerged. As she locks the Andersons' door, Maria is tempted to peek in the windows next door to see what they're up to, but she doesn't risk it. She learned a long time ago that while minding your own business might be boring, it also keeps you alive.
She wonders if Luz still has that law book in her head: The World According to Lucia Chaidez . Back in the day, everything was Luz's business if it piqued her curiosity.
Maria walks down the street, takes one turn, then another. When she reaches the gate, the guard lets her out. She crosses the street and waits for the bus. A few moments later Connie sits down beside her, looking as tired as Maria feels. Connie undoes her hair, runs her fingers through it, then puts it back in a ponytail. She's dressed like Maria, in work clothes: sweats, T-shirt, sneakers. She leans back against the bench and stares up into the sky. Santo del Vado Viejo might be a city, but it's also in the desert. It's a desert sky up there, blue and sharp, and it goes on forever.
"The VVers are skating tonight," she says. "Are you going?"
Maria nods. She wants to say something about what she saw today, but the words feel locked on the tip of her tongue. Instead they talk about Baby Luna, the new jammer for Los Vampiros. They're still waiting for the bus when the first police car pulls up at the Desert View gates. They watch as two more vehicles enter the gated community.
"I wonder what's going on in there?" Connie says.
Maria shrugs. She's feeling a little bad about not having called 911—even if Luz was one of the gang invading the house next door. She doesn't care if the people who own it got robbed, but she doesn't want anybody to have been hurt.
"I'll bet it's Los Murrietas," Connie says. "They've been hitting gated
The ground under the tree and all around the shack is thick with broken glass, but the pieces have no sharp edges. It's like they've been rolling against each other in an ocean for years until they're smoothed like pebbles, even though they actually come from when the monsoons blow hard and the bottles in the tree smash against each other.
Luz grins at Maria and pulls her into the yard. Maria's heart is pounding so loudly in her ears that she's certain that it, alone, will wake the sleeping bottle witch, but Luz proceeds steadily toward the river of broken glass. When they reach its edge, Luz lets go of Maria's hand and removes the tin and a clear sandwich bag from her pocket. She presses the tin against her lips, then offers it to Maria. Maria kisses it as well.
Luz seals the tin inside the bag, then removes one sandal and uses it to gently push aside the glass shards until a small well forms. Maria doesn't breathe, certain they are about to be caught by the bottle witch, but the sound of shifting glass only blends with the soft clink of bottles high in the tree branches above them. Luz places the tin in the hollow and smoothes the glass back over as quietly as she can. She slips her sandal back onto her foot, then reaches for Maria's hand and together they tiptoe back across the yard. When they reach the wash they run like cats being chased by coyotes.
Maria has been cleaning the bedroom windows until she's afraid her hand will go right through the glass. But curiosity has the better of her. It's almost an hour later and the gang still hasn't come out of the house next door. If they're planning a "surprise party" for the owners, the busted door's a dead giveaway. If they're robbing the place, they're sure being choosy about what they take.
Finally she goes on to other work, glancing out windows on that side of the house whenever she can. By the time she's finished her day's work, the gang still hasn't emerged. As she locks the Andersons' door, Maria is tempted to peek in the windows next door to see what they're up to, but she doesn't risk it. She learned a long time ago that while minding your own business might be boring, it also keeps you alive.
She wonders if Luz still has that law book in her head: The World According to Lucia Chaidez . Back in the day, everything was Luz's business if it piqued her curiosity.
Maria walks down the street, takes one turn, then another. When she reaches the gate, the guard lets her out. She crosses the street and waits for the bus. A few moments later Connie sits down beside her, looking as tired as Maria feels. Connie undoes her hair, runs her fingers through it, then puts it back in a ponytail. She's dressed like Maria, in work clothes: sweats, T-shirt, sneakers. She leans back against the bench and stares up into the sky. Santo del Vado Viejo might be a city, but it's also in the desert. It's a desert sky up there, blue and sharp, and it goes on forever.
"The VVers are skating tonight," she says. "Are you going?"
Maria nods. She wants to say something about what she saw today, but the words feel locked on the tip of her tongue. Instead they talk about Baby Luna, the new jammer for Los Vampiros. They're still waiting for the bus when the first police car pulls up at the Desert View gates. They watch as two more vehicles enter the gated community.
"I wonder what's going on in there?" Connie says.
Maria shrugs. She's feeling a little bad about not having called 911—even if Luz was one of the gang invading the house next door. She doesn't care if the people who own it got robbed, but she doesn't want anybody to have been hurt.
"I'll bet it's Los Murrietas," Connie says. "They've been hitting gated
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