Free Ana of California by Andi Teran

and waving in hats that matched the theme of their vehicle. Everything from fire ants, snapping turtles, and even a man in a clown costume on a unicycle ambled along the road to cheers from the workers.
    â€œWhat’s this?” Ana asked Vic, who was also staring in awe.
    He shrugged in response.
    â€œKinetic Sculpture Race,” Manny said as he took off his hat and waved it toward the road. “Happens every year all along the coast. People spend months building these crazy things. Fun, no?”
    The people powering the dragon pulled a lever and the makeshift beast roared to life, shooting a plume of fire out of its mouth that made everyone cheer. It was unlike anything Ana had ever seen before, and she couldn’t help but cheer along too. She’d been to the Pasadena Rose Bowl parade once, when she was living with the Fergusons, but had caught only a glimpse of the floats through the legs of the crowd. A lobster with working claws, followed by three guys peddling a shoe the size of a car, passed by. Mannyseemed to know a few people and tipped his hat every now and then, earning him hoots and honks.
    Ana finished her lunch, as did the others, and they all watched the end of the parade. Her back ached and her eyes were heavy, so she shook herself up as the last bikes approached. They were louder than the others and unadorned. It took a moment before she realized they were motorcycles of various colors and shapes; their only embellishments were the riders themselves, who wore costumes like silver disco suits, cowboy outfits, and more than a couple roughed-up versions of Elvis. They weren’t as lively as the homemade sculptures, but they’d dressed up for the event and revved as they passed the farm.
    The last two riders rode alongside each other. The larger rider was outfitted in blue and green, and a few flags attached to the back of his bike flapped along in the wind. The smaller rider wore a yellow and black jumpsuit with a pair of wings, which fluttered like a bumblebee as both riders slowed their bikes as they passed. Ana didn’t know if the sunstroke was setting in for real, or if it was just her tired delirium, but she let her hand float up and sweep the air in a slow-motion wave.
    Â â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢Â 
    A bbie couldn’t help herself. She waited until she saw everyone head back out into the fields and went up to the guest bedroom. Nothing was out of place, so she opened the backpack that remained tucked into the bottom of the armoire. Abbie was already aware of Ana’s limited wardrobe—which she was prepared to launder regularly with nary a word that might blemish her pride—but as she fished around in the old army sack, she pulled out a notebook. Page after page wascovered in elaborate pen drawings. One was the backyard of a dilapidated house, its yard barren and swirling with ribbons of dust. Another depicted a schoolyard with dried grass that resembled thick hair entangled with insects and bits of torn paper, remnants of truncated poetry. She flipped the page and stopped at an unfinished portrait of a sad-looking dog with a torn ear. It was rendered in almost photographic detail and backed by a tattered quilt. Underneath, written in letters resembling spray-painted graffiti, was the word CHELO .
    â€œAstonishing” was the word Abbie said aloud, scaring herself, and her reflection in the armoire, in the process. She couldn’t help but flip through the entire thing, heart racing, mouth agape, as she uncovered what felt like secret maps to a neglected city most startlingly alive.
    She put the notebook back in the bag when she heard the screen door open downstairs. It was only Emmett coming in with a box of beets.
    â€œWhat’s with the expression, Sis?” Emmett said, taking a cookie from the tray on the stove as Abbie entered the kitchen. “Up to no good?”
    â€œI’d say the same of you. Those cookies are for later.”
    Emmett