Free No Second Chances by Malín Alegría

warehouse.
    Santiago snorted, “Can you believe that kid?”
    Fabi smirked. She was carrying a pitcher of freshly juiced Leafy Valley Mojo. Of all her cousin’s schemes, this had to be the craziest one. She sighed loudly to no one in particular as she tugged down on the supertight red dress she’d borrowed from her tía .
    Chubs greeted them at the doorway. He was dressed in a yellow bodysuit and black cape — like a bumblebee on steroids. Once inside, Fabi, Milo, and Santiago gasped at the enormity of the scene. A professional wrestling ring stood in the center of the warehouse under beams of harsh lights. Hopping around the mat were two shirtless middle-aged men in bright masks. A short balding man in a striped shirt was refereeing the match.
    Santiago knew that although Lucha Libre was known for its colorfully masked fighters, high-flying maneuvers, and fancy holds, the rules were similar to American wrestling: pin your opponent to the mat for three counts and win the match. Santiago liked the masks. In some Mexican matches, the loser’s mask was permanently removed and his head shaved. Santiago fingered his famous locks and was glad that this would just be a friendly game.
    Lucha Libre was all about anonymity. However, in a town as small as Dos Rios, there wasno such thing as anonymity. Santiago recognized City Council member Rey Garcia III and his old Sunday school teacher on the mat. As a kid, Santiago had liked to watch Lucha Libre on TV with his grandma Trini. His grandma called the luchador a people’s hero. In the ring, every man was a fighter, no matter his class, education, or background. On the mat, every man was equal.
    The little boy from outside slid up to Santiago. “I hear you’re going to fight that big guy,” he said, gesturing toward Chubs. Santiago smiled at Chubs’s menacing bumblebee costume.
    He leaned in to the boy’s ear: “I have a secret potion that’ll help me get real strong.”
    â€œYou do?” The boy sounded impressed. Santiago winked.
    Â 
    Twenty minutes later, Santiago and Chubs stood in the center of the ring, bathed in a coat of olive oil, masked, and ready to begin.Santiago raised his arms overhead, showing off his outfit. His purple pleather pants and matching sleeveless top looked great against his skin. To think he’d almost missed them, because they’d been misplaced in the women’s fitness section! Santiago raised the lip of his silver mask — to let in some air — and took a moment to glance around at the audience.
    There were people of all ages chatting boisterously in the lines of folding chairs set up around the ring. Children in brightly colored wrestling masks and even the hot dog vendor watched with enthusiasm. Santiago couldn’t help but get caught up in the feverish energy of the arena.
    Suddenly, Santiago spotted his dad standing alone at the back of the room. His mouth went dry. Why can’t he just leave me alone ? Annoyance flared up his spine. Santiago took a deep breath and tried to focus on all the potential customers. But then he noticed Juan “El Payaso” Diamante with his daughter, MariaElena, sitting in the VIP section of the room. Now, he definitely felt sick — he might even throw up.
    From the right side of the arena, someone called out his name. He leaned over the rail to see a group of girls from his school cheering enthusiastically for him. Maria Elena also heard and she narrowed her eyes at him. So much for anonymity , Santiago thought. Behind him stood Fabi and Milo. In her trembling hands, Fabi held the pitcher with the magical elixir.
    Chubs stared with a dazed expression from across the mat. His gold-colored mask and bathrobe couldn’t hide his discomfort. Santiago gestured for him to take off the bathrobe. Chubs’s eyes widened.
    â€œDude.” Santiago hurried over and tugged at his cousin’s robe. “You got to take this thing