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came up to us. He wasn’t more than two years old.
    â€œLook, Mommy,” he said, pointing to Oscar’s foot. “That boy has an ouchie.”
    The mom looked very embarrassed and picked him up quickly. As she carried him away, I heard her saying, “That’s not nice, Hudson.”
    I glanced over at Oscar to see if he felt bad, but he didn’t seem to. I tried to imagine how I’d feel if people stared at me all the time. I feel self-conscious when I get a zit. Having a clubfoot was like having a five-pound zit with blinking red lights on it. I looked at Oscar smiling and laughing with Alicia and considered how much inner strength it took for him to have such a great outlook on life.
    Alicia was talking nonstop to both boys, blabbering on in Spanish, waving her hands around in the air. Every once in a while, she’d turn to me and give me a quick translation. She was trying to explain why a person would juggle chain saws, which is no easy thing to explain in any language, when you think about it. When she stopped for a breath, I took the opportunity to interrupt.
    â€œSo what do you think of Venice?” I asked Oscar and Eddie.
    â€œIt’s like the outdoor market at home,” Oscar said. “Only no mangoes.”
    â€œAnd with lots more girls in bikinis,” Eddie observed.
    â€œMy brother, all he thinks about is girls,” Oscar said to me.
    â€œNo, Oscar. I think about soccer, too,” he said, patting his blue-and-white soccer jersey. “Girls first, soccer second, food third, sleep fourth.”
    â€œSchool last,” Oscar added.
    â€œI’m not smart like you,” Eddie snapped.
    â€œI’m not fast like you,” Oscar snapped back.
    Then they said a few words to each other in Spanish. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but I knew exactly what was going on with them. It’s hard when you’re twins. You try not to be competitive, but everyone is always comparing you to each other, so it’s really hard not to be. Like with Charlie and me. She’s thin, I’m not. I’m funny, she’s not. She’s quick, I’m strong. She’s fashionable, I’m sloppy. She’s cool, I’m sort of a dork. No matter how hard we try, we are always measuring ourselves against each other. And here were Oscar and Eddie doing the same thing, which wasn’t really fair because Oscar was born with a major disadvantage. At least that’s how I saw it.
    We stayed on the boardwalk for another half hour, just hanging out and talking. Oscar described their house in San Francisco Gotera—two white plaster rooms in the back of a little restaurant their mom ran. At night, Oscar would do his homework in the restaurant while his mom cooked for the customers and his dad took Eddie to play at the soccer field. Then Oscar would take out his colored pencils and spend the rest of the night drawing superheroes. He must have been a very good artist, because he told me he even painted a mural of the Avengers on the wall of the restaurant. When I asked what his town was like, he told me about the big adobe church in the square that was cool in summer and smelled like incense and candle wax. It was where he and Eddie had been baptized, and where his mom went to pray for his leg to heal. He described fun Sunday rides on his dad’s motor scooter over the dusty roads to the river, where they’d swim and catch tadpoles. Eddie didn’t talk much, but then, it’s hard to talk when your tongue is hanging out over every pretty girl who walks by.
    We talked until the sky was beginning to fade into the hazy lavender of dusk. I felt like I had known Oscar for much longer than just a couple of hours.
    â€œWe should get back to the club now,” Candido said. “It will be dark soon.”
    Oscar didn’t want to leave, but Eddie was all for it.
    â€œLet’s go visit the girls,” he said. “I think Lily,