Free This Side of Providence by Rachel M. Harper Page B

envelope and says, “I’m sorry,” as he takes it, looking like he actually means it. She shakes his hand hard like a man.
    â€œI’ll get you the rest,” Lucho says, looking him right in the eye.
    He smiles and nods and doesn’t say anything. I’m surprised she doesn’t look pissed. When I see him heading toward the door I back up and try to make it look like I was just walking up the stairs.
    â€œYou should be careful on these streets, little man,” he says to me as he’s leaving. “Some kid just got shot on his front stoop. Right in the projects on Hartford Avenue.”
    â€œYou mean a drive-by?”
    â€œNo, it was an accident. His own uncle shot him. Right in the head, too. That’s fucked up.”
    He leans over to tighten the laces on his Jordans. They look brand new, like he scrubs them every night with a toothbrush. They’re almost as white as he is.
    â€œI heard about that,” Lucho says. “They were fighting over a parking space and the gun went off. It was a little kid, too, like no more than ten.”
    â€œWho was it?” I ask, figuring I know almost all the kids in that project.
    â€œI don’t remember his name. Something Spanish. At first the cops thought it was this white kid from Johnston or something because he was a redhead and had all these freckles. But then his grandmother came out and said he lived there with her and that it was her son who shot him.”
    Redhead. Freckles. Grandmother. My heart is suddenly pounding. “It wasn’t César, was it? César Martinez?” My stomach drops as the pieces fall into place.
    â€œI don’t know, maybe,” Lucho says. “All I remember is the red hair.”
    â€œHe’s short and kind of chubby and he’s always saying crazy things.” I wish I had a picture of him but we don’t even own a camera.
    Snowman shrugs. “You should call the hospital if you think it might be your friend.”
    â€œI’ll call,” Lucho says quietly, walking into the house.
    â€œAnd they say the projects get a bum rap.” Snowman takes the porch steps two at a time. “We can’t even keep a kid safe in his own frontyard.” He puts on his headphones and walks away, shaking his head.
    I call out for Luz to bring Trini home. She says, “Just a minute,” but keeps playing so I yell back, “Right now,” and something in my voice makes her listen. I watch as she lifts Trini out of the sandbox and cleans off her clothes. That sandbox is the most popular toy on our block, but the truth is it’s just a pothole. A while back it was small like a box of kitty litter but every winter it gets bigger from all the cars driving over it, and now it’s the size of a car itself. A big truck from the city filled it with sand one day, promising to patch it up, but that was two years ago and they still haven’t come back.
    Luz asks me what’s wrong but I don’t want to scare her so I say nothing. We go inside and wait for Lucho to get off the phone. When she hangs up she tells me she’s sorry. She says the hospital wouldn’t tell her anything, so she called her aunt who lives in the projects and she said it was César. She said he’s in surgery right now.
    â€œThat’s good,” Lucho says softly. “That he’s not dead already.” She looks like she’s reaching for me, but then she puts her hand on the wall instead, her fingers spread wide. It makes a hollow sound, like it could crumble under her touch.
    I shut myself in the bathroom to be alone. It’s the only door in the house with a lock that works from the inside. I feel like I’m gonna faint or puke or shit my pants. I close my eyes and the room starts to spin so I grab onto the sink to keep from falling. Everything inside me feels hot and tight. I make a fist and punch the wall. It feels good so I do it again. The second time