Crossing the Wire by Will Hobbs Read Free Book Online Page B

inside, then climbed onto the roof of the carrier. For a second, I thought the wind would blow me off, but I kept my balance and got down fast. My hands held, my legs cooperated, and I dropped to safety in front of a brand-new Suburban.
    â€œEasy as can be!” cried the boy, whose bright smile was gleaming in the darkness. So were the brand-new Suburbans as they caught some light from above and from slits in the metal walls. “How do you like it? Pretty good, no?”
    â€œHow come no police today, no soldiers?”
    â€œSometimes it’s hot and sometimes it’s not.”
    â€œHow far can we take this train?”
    â€œAll the way to Nogales, I’m pretty sure. These cars are heading to Phoenix, that’s what I heard. Hey, there’s some blood showing through your hat. Are you bleeding?”
    â€œMaybe,” I said. I took my hat off carefully.
    â€œBleeding, but not that bad,” he reported. “Got some stitches under there, I bet. Radical look, how it’s shaved all around the bandage. How do you like mine?”
    â€œYour what?”
    â€œMy haircut!”
    I took another look. I remembered an animal I had seen in a book. “It’s wild,” I said. “Sticks up like porcupine quills.”
    His smile vanished. “Like when a porcupine is afraid? My head looks like the rear end of a frightened porcupine, is that what you’re saying?”
    â€œKind of…I mean, it looks really good.”
    He started laughing. “I like that, Stitches. That’s a good one. How did you get hurt?”
    â€œJumped off a train last night—lots of police and soldiers.”
    â€œI was on the same train. You jumped too soon. You weren’t the only one to get hurt. Did you hear about the woman from El Salvador?”
    â€œNo, nothing.”
    â€œThey say she was on her way to New York City to work in a restaurant. She lost both her legs, but was still alive when they took her away. I heard she has three small children back home. It could have happened to you. You must be new at this.”
    â€œFirst time.”
    â€œIt’s simple. Don’t try to get on or off if the train is moving faster than you can run. Last year I saw a man get killed in four pieces. A couple of weeks ago, some Maras threw me off, and the train was going way too fast. I got lucky. I bounced like a rubber ball.”
    â€œWho are Maras?”
    â€œWhere are you from, anyway?”
    I hesitated. “Chiapas,” I said.
    â€œNo way.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œIf you were from Chiapas, you’d know what Maras are.”
    â€œSo, what are they?”
    â€œTell me first, where are you really from?”
    â€œNear Silao, where they put together these Suburbans.”
    â€œSo how come you said you were from Chiapas?”
    â€œBecause when I say I’m from Guanajuato, nobody believes me.”
    â€œI would have, if you gave me a chance.”
    â€œI was born in Chiapas.”
    â€œSo, you’re Mexican, that’s what you’re telling me.”
    â€œNo identification, that’s the problem. I feel like the whole Mexican army is after me. They seem to think I’m from Guatemala.”
    â€œI’m Julio,” the boy said, and stuck out his hand. “Julio from Honduras, a small village outside of San Pedro Sula.”
    â€œVictor,” I said as I offered mine. “Victor from Mexico, a small village outside Silao.”
    â€œDon’t lie to me again, ’mano—okay?”
    â€œPromise.”
    â€œYou’re not very good at it. You’re the worst liar I ever met.”
    â€œSo, what are those Maras you were talking about?”
    â€œThe biggest and worst gang there is, if you’re from Guatemala or Chiapas. They’ve taken over the railroads. They rob everybody who’s trying to get across the border into Mexico. You got any money?”
    â€œEighty centavos.”
    â€œI