La Linea Read Online Free PDF Page B

air.
    I was embarrassed. Lalo and Chuy had not only given me their most precious possessions; they’d given me the only things of value they owned.
    And I felt ashamed. I had nothing for either of them. Worse than that, I hadn’t even thought about giving them a present. I stood, shifted my body, and stuck my hands in my pockets. I kicked the ground with the toe of one shoe, and looked out into the night.
    But Lalo and Chuy didn’t care. They didn’t expect a thing from me. They knew me and my life upside down and inside out. How could I give what I didn’t have?
    Lalo let me off the hook. A familiar sparkle appeared in his eye. “I have an idea. Let’s meet in ten years, when we’re twenty-five. What do you say, Miguel?”
    He said it as a challenge. He said it in the same way he used to dare us to smoke or drink or skip school. It seemed like a present I could give. It was a promise I could keep.
    Chuy jumped on the idea. “Yeah! Diez años. Aquí mismo, en San Jacinto. Okay, Miguel? Okay?”
    I nodded. We shook hands, sealing the promise we’d made. Our eyes traveled from one to the other. These were my best friends. I could see in their eyes the belief that somehow we’d always be the same, that we’d always feel the same.
    Papá had been gone seven years. It seemed like forever. Ten years was an eternity. Chuy and Lalo couldn’t know something I’d learned from Papá’s absence: that it wouldn’t be long before I forgot the way Chuy tilted his head when he listened, the way Lalo crossed his arms when he talked, how much Chuy loved to joke, or how much Lalo hated to lose.
    My friends still believed they would somehow remember everything about me. I knew they would forget.

CHAPTER 10
    I slept badly and, for once, it wasn’t Elena’s fault. Every time I started to fall asleep, I jerked awake. When I finally got up before dawn, Elena’s bed was rumpled but empty. I guessed where she was. I knew she didn’t want to watch me leave in person.
    I surveyed everything I’d packed for the journey and pulled Don Clemente’s packet from its hiding place. I put the money in my pouch, checking to be sure it didn’t bulge beneath my clothing. I packed Lalo’s soccer jersey and stuck Chuy’s knife into my front right pocket.
    I looked in the cracked mirror above the dresser one last time. I saw the same high cheekbones, the same familial dimples, the same slightly hooked nose.
    But I hardly recognized me. Somehow, it seemed my outside hadn’t caught up with my inside. There were my very same deep-set almost-black eyes and eyebrows that swooped up at the ends. How could I look the same and feel so different? I peered again at my reflection—the same old face, the same old Miguel.
    I picked my way in the half-light of the dawning morning down to the corral and the little barn. Sure enough, there in the darkness, I could just make out Elena’s form. She was curled up on the straw, lying next to the dog and the cow. This was her other bed. The gentle breathing of the animals, the warmth, and the sweet smell of the hay had always been able to put her to sleep.
    I left Elena alone. I wasn’t going to tell her I was sorry I was leaving and she was staying. Why should I? She hadn’t wished me good luck. She hadn’t even said she’d miss me. She’d said nothing to me, nothing at all. Well, she’d have to get over it, sooner or later.
    Abuelita had prepared some food for the first part of my trip. She packed and unpacked it several times, fussing over where it fit best. She finally tucked the oranges and apples away on the sides of my backpack and lay the tacos on top.
    â€œI have something else for you, m’ijo. ” Abuelita lifted her Virgen de Guadalupe medallion from around her neck.
    I’d never seen her take it off, not once in my whole life. The bright blue of the Virgin’s