Free Efrain's Secret by Sofia Quintero Page A

it.”
    I get it. “If the customer’s five-oh …” My stomach flips so much, it rattles my rib cage. I remind myself that the guys clocking in front of the bodega across the street from my building are there day and night, week after week, and I’ve never seen the police arrest anyone. Then again, I don’t live in Hunts Point.
    Nestor motions for me to follow him. “Let me introduce you to the other guys.” I should know where to steer the dope fiends and crack heads since I’m not trying to sell that mess, but, honestly, I don’t need new friends. I just want to make my ends selling weed and go home to study.
    As we make our way to the other end of the block, I see a few brothers hanging out across the street. Nestor stares straight ahead as we walk toward the corner. “And those are Hinckley’s soldiers.”
    “Hinckley.” Trace mentioned him the day I met with Snipes. “The competition?”
    “That’s another thing, E. We have our turf, and they have theirs. No trespassing.” But there seems to be more to keeping the peace than sticking to our side of the street. My stomach gives another flip. An SUV pulls up to the curb, and LeRon liftshimself off the lamppost and approaches it. Nestor stops walking and signals me to hang back. As we wait for him to finish his transaction, I say, “Yo, Nes, do you ever think about quitting?” Without looking at me, he just shrugs. “C’mon, have you ever met an old corner boy?”
    Nestor chuckles. “You right about that.” He kicks at a tuft of grass poking out of two slabs of concrete. “Even a dude that lives for this can have a rough night and get to wondering where else he could be instead.”
    “So what crosses your mind on a rough night?”
    “That at least I’m not dead. Or in jail.”
    I shove him. “You got jokes.”
    Nestor laughs and shoves me back. We shove each other all the way to the bodega, where he introduces me to Snipes’s soldiers. But the entire time, I’m chasing a nagging thought around my head. I just let Nestor pull me into the game instead of pushing him out of it.

Chide (
v
.) to voice disapproval
    I creep by the living room, where my mother and sister have fallen asleep in front of the television. Moms must’ve dozed off first because it is way past Mandy’s bedtime. And rather than put herself to bed, Mandy just curled up into my mother’s lap and fell asleep.
    Even though I’m dead on my own feet, I remember to lock the door to my room before emptying my pockets on my bed. What do I have to show for my first night on the street? Forty dollars. I check my pockets for another ten-or twenty-dollar bill I might have missed, but there isn’t anything in there but some pennies and the wrapper of a Halls cough drop.
    Forty dollars.
    Exhausted or not, I quickly do the math and get Nestor on the phone. He sounds all spry, which just annoys me even more. “Yo, Nes!”
    “E.? Hey, bro, I think this is the first time you’ve called me in years. What’s up?”
    “I just counted my take….”
    “Yeah, count that paper.”
    “That’s all it is, kid! Paper!” I check myself and lower my voice before I wake up my moms and sister. “Forty dollars ain’t squat. I might as well go back to tutoring.” I swear if I had Mr. Sweren’s home number, I’d call him next.
    “But Snipes doesn’t take out taxes,” Nestor laughs.
    “Forget this,” I say. “This ain’t worth it.” I don’t need to be standing out on Hunts Point Avenue all hours of the night hoping I don’t get sick. Or worse … busted.
    “Wait, E., hold up!” Nestor finally gets serious. “Okay, I’ma be real with you. If you want to make more money, you have to do three things. One, you have to hustle. You’re in sales, bro, and it’s just not enough to wait until a customer approaches you. See how when a car pulls up the way other guys are on it? You want to make serious cash, you better start throwing elbows.”
    I don’t like the sound of that.