Perfect Glass (A Young Adult Novel (sequel to Glass Girl)) Read Online Free PDF Page B

crossed to the other side of the street, heads down, eyes averted. A couple of the older women made the sign of the cross.
    I put the truck in park and got out, leaving it in the middle of the road. The guy in the car behind me yelled in English. I told my legs to move; they felt like they’d fallen asleep.
    Just as I reached them, the group shifted. I caught the metallic flash of a knife. The blade was small, no more than three inches long. Still long enough to kill.
    The guy pushed his chest into Raf’s to hide his blade. As he drew back his arm, I didn’t even think. I lunged at the guy blindly, like a clumsy idiot. I surprised him. When he turned to fight, he lost his balance and fell, his knife hand beneath him.
    “
Hijo de
…,” Raf hissed the final word, but I knew what he meant. And I knew he was talking to me. I was the son of a very bad woman in this situation?
Really
?
    Distantly, I heard sirens. People around us had stopped to stare.
    “You shouldn’t have done that, Henry,” Raf yelled. “They love locking up
Americanos
. Now get out of here!”
    Nothing made sense. The bad guy with the knife, who looked only fourteen or fifteen, lay motionless on the pavement.
    “It’s too late now,” Raf said. “Just do not tell them where we live. I promise you they will go after your family for money.”
    After that, things happened in flashes, in heartbeats.
Ba–boom, ba–boom
. Officers in, guns drawn.
Ba-boom, ba–boom
. Raf cuffed, me cuffed.
    My knees were kicked, swiftly, from the back, forcing me to kneel on the hot sidewalk. They knocked Raf into the same position. He pleaded with the officer holding him, motioning toward me with his chin on every other syllable. The officer just shook his head, giving him the universal
stifle it
look.
    I heard English and turned. The guy from the car behind me, the one who’d yelled when I parked in his lane, told an officer he’d seen the whole thing.
    “The white kid was just a good Samaritan,” he said. He pointed at my truck and tried to say everything again in Spanish. It must have been good enough because the officer began taking the American’s statement.
    An ambulance finally arrived. A paramedic rushed to the fallen
pandillero
, rolled him over carefully, and took vitals. The knife had entered his body just under his collarbone on the right side. A small circle of blood slowly crept outward toward his shoulder. I could tell his arm was broken by the wild angle it made. He had a nasty contusion on his right temple, which took the brunt of his awkward fall.
    The paramedic found a pulse, counted it, strapped on a blood pressure cuff, and started an IV drip. The kid had survived; I nearly fell on my face from relief.
    The paramedics spoke quickly to one another as they ran their hands along the kid’s body, looking for other injuries.
    I caught Raf’s eye as he strained to hear the news. “What are they saying?”
    “He passed out when his head met pavement. Probably has a
conmócion cerebral
. Knife wound is okay. Arm’s broken.”
    “Concussion? But he’ll be okay, right?”
Was I asking Raf for reassurance?
    “
No sé
. I do know this—they’ll be ready to blow somebody down for that. You should’ve run while you had the chance.”
    “I wasn’t leaving you,” I said.
    Raf’s heated glare burned holes through me. “If you think I’m gonna thank you for messing up my peace, you’re dead wrong,
hombre
.” An officer motioned for him to quiet down.
    I closed my eyes and concentrated on the silver lining here—Raf was okay, the other kid would be fine, and my lungs worked even if my heart had broken. As they carried the injured kid off on a stretcher, he roused and lifted his head to look at Raf. He said something just loud enough for us to hear, but I didn’t catch it all.
    I looked at Raf.
    “He said we’ll both die for that,” Raf translated.
    I felt as responsible as if I’d driven the knife in myself. I should’ve seen Raf’s