Free Efrain's Secret by Sofia Quintero

the library.
    “Bye, Candace.” I stay until the door clicks behind her. Then I practically skip out of the school like a little kid.

Novice (n.)
beginner, someone without training or experience
    “This is how we do this here, kid,” he says as we hover between the Chinese takeout and the Dominican bakery. We’re practically under the Bruckner Expressway, so we have to yell to hear one another. Sometimes I glance up and watch the truck exhaust gray the air. I pin my chin to my chest and pull my collar over my nose. “First of all, E., don’t just run up on anybody who rolls through with wide eyes and slow feet, you feel me?” says Nestor. “Hunts Point’s hard-core, man.” He points to places as he mentions them. “You got the terminal market down that way, the hookers back here, the jail barge over there….”
    “Jail barge?”
    “Eight hundred beds just floating on the water, bro. Remember when we were little how they were building that juvie right across the street from IS 162?”
    “Yeah, Horizon.” One day after Rubio got Mandy and me kicked out of St. Gabe’s, he picked me up from 162. No matter how much I begged her not to, Moms told him I was having trouble with some of the other kids. On that walk home, Rubio pointed to my junior high school and said, “You go here,” then he motioned across the street to Horizon, “or you go there.” Like I needed to hear that. Rubio should’ve saved his bad attempt at cleverness for the ruffnecks that were wailing on me.
    Nestor says, “While they were building Horizon, they putsome kids on that barge.” Nestor’s good for that kind of information. He’s into all kinds of history and even mythology. I bet he watched
The Bronx Is Burning
and caught inaccuracies. Sometimes he veers into superstitious nonsense, but for the most part, the kid be on point. “With all that’s going on down around here,” he says, “the po patrol this area like you wouldn’t believe.”
    Including us
, I think. Then I ask, “So, how we go about stacking that paper?”
    Nestor grins at me like I’m the Luke Skywalker to his Obi-Wan Kenobi. “Okay, check it. Someone rolls up on you wanting to cop. You see that cat over there leaning up against the lamppost?” Nestor points to this guy ogling a chick who wants nothing to do with him. He wears a golden yellow Yankees cap and matching jersey.
    “You mean Frazzle over there?” Why would any major league franchise churn out merchandise that looks manufactured by Garanimals? “Stick to the navy and white, son.”
    “For real, kid!” Nestor cackles, laugh dancing and giving me a low five. “Not only is that, like, sacrilege, dude looks like an egg yolk with legs.” We crack up good over that one. Nestor, Chingy, and I, we used to stay laughing. One time we were rolling so much, Moms swore we were sniffing markers or glue or something like that. I’m usually not the funny guy on the set, but hanging out with Nestor and Chingy would bring the jokes out of me. Man, I miss that.
    Nestor returns to his businesslike tone. “Okay, first let me say this. Never speak plain ’cause you never know who’s listening besides who you talking to. Don’t worry, though, ’cause I’ma teach you all the codes and signals. So the customer tells you how much he wants, you quote the price, he pays you in full. And I don’t care how well you think you know somebody, E. No pay, noproduct. If a customer stiffs you, Snipes dips into your pocket, so don’t be getting charitable, you feel me?”
    “No problem,” I say. “I’m not here to
darle fia’o a nadie.”
I have no time, money, or interest in extending credit and collecting debts.
    “Then you signal to my man LeRon over there, and your customer swings by LeRon to pick up his package. Got it?”
    “Why I can’t I service him directly?” I ask. From what I remember from economics class, middle men cost money.
    Nestor smirks at me. “C’mon, valedictorian…. Think about