I can't breathe. My pores are oozing anxiety. My head is spinning with possibilities. Will I make it? Will I survive freshman year again? There is a celebration when you are finally a sophomore in high school. You are used to the school's bullshit. You are used to the upperclassmen jeering and the teachers being idiots and life just being life. Everything has steadied. But, once you're comfortable, it strikes again. Everything is different though. You have no fall back. You can't run home to Mommy and Daddy. You're eighteen, not fourteen. You have to suck it up and be an adult. So, take a deep breath and try again.

But I have had all summer to breathe. Now, my bubble of security is closing in and suffocating me. The thoughts in my head run to the safety of my memories. The safety of familiarity. Every staged bad college experience roams free like a pack of lions. They are hunting the happiness and gnawing away. A new roommate? Hope she isn't like that obsessed girl in that one movie. Frat parties? Yikes, you could end up getting raped like on all of those cop shows. Boyfriend? Hope he doesn't cheat. Teachers? I hope they don't push you off a cliff like in that drumming movie. The pack corners its prey and pounces.

I remember tipping my chair back to be cool, and always having that one day where the chair leans back a little too far and your lungs jump into your throat. I've always wondered if that is how the gazelle who couldn't run fast enough feels when the leopard grabs its throat. What are its last thoughts? Man, I wish I had gone to see Lisa. She had a nice tail. That's a nice patch of grass over there? Why don't the cheetah sever trip? Can a guy get a break! The blood is draining; the air is waning. College has me by the throat now. There is no going back. I just hope that wherever I go after this is better than high school.

My white name.

One by one, we were pulled,

Goaded into big houses,

And the doors were locked shut.

My brother, just a baby, cries.

The woman who calls me Juan

Tells Maria to shut her kid up.

My mother is not named Maria.

We look at two sticks,

Crossed with a man in the center,

pinned by nails in his hands.

Forlorn, with twigs on his head,

The women call him my savior,

But I have just been captured.

At times, I feel like him.

They call it escuela

And make us read the ink

That blots our papers.

We do our English names.

My sister is Teresa,

My brother is Carlos.

I am Juan, but I do not feel like Juan.

My mother works hard,

So hard blisters erupt on her hands

And her body never moves without cracking.

If my father were here,

He'd say not to protest,

But he died trying to protect us.

He failed, and now we all suffer.

The village has cone down with something.

My mother coughs blood,

My brothers' noses run incessantly.

Shaman tries to heal them

But receives lashes to his back

And a white man takes over

They die a few weeks apart.

Now, alone with Teresa,

I begin to hate my new role

The mask I put on every day.

But the whites are pleased.

To them, I make good progress.

To them, I am a success.

They ship me off to a place called Espana.

Espana is dirty with filthy white people.

The land is gray and hard.

The sky is black with soot.

They do not appreciate their animals;

They raise and eat them for fun

And play games with their buffalo

I cannot respect them and never will.

Yet, I am paraded for the people

Who sit in their seats

Wearing crowns of gold like the savior.

They nod and smile at me

The way my brother and I smiled at a kill.

I am just flesh to them.

I cannot wait to go home.

But, I've never returned.

I was a good man so they married me.

I was a good husband so she swelled.

My children are nothing like me.

They wear Spanish clothes

And they speak in the tongue of my captors.

One day, I will bring them home.

One day, they will breathe my clean air.

One day, they will eat the sweet fruit

And take the rite of passage into adulthood.

One day, they will see their grandmother

Who the whites threw in a shoddy ditch

And told us that is the way.

One day, I will re-educate them.

It was just a normal day at the office for Emilia Velasquez. Armed with her headset, telephone, and computer, she trudged through phone calls, redirecting callers to the elevator music of silence until she remembered to answer their questions. Her eyes drooped as the day continued. When she was young, she didn't think she'd end up like this. Of course when she was young, she had more time to do her true calling. Underneath the layer of make up, mom clothes, and saggy skin, she was once Celeritas, a super fast woman. Of course, she wasn't born that way. Her water supply had been contaminated with a poisonous chemical called Radioactive D, which enabled her to have such powers. Most other people had powers too, but a lawsuit had forced them not to use or talk about them. Fortunately for Emilia, she had two god-fearing parents who thought daily doses of religion could fix her. So, she got to keep her powers along with memorize every passage of the Torah.

She beeped in another call about a computer screen filled with static, when her cell phone rang. She promptly put the caller back on hold (much to their dismay) and answered. The voice of her son, Fabio, came through in loud sobs. "Mommy, I left my lunch on the table and the lunch ladies said I had too much debt to keep getting lunch and not paying for it."

"I thought you only borrowed one time. Plus, I gave you the money to pay them back."

"Yeah, well, sometimes I don't like my lunch so I get the school one instead."

"You mean I cussed out your principal over nothing? Dam- Fabio, if you don't like your lunch, either get a job to pay for the school one or pack it yourself."

"But Mommy..."

"I don't want to hear it. I'll be by at lunch time."

"Can I have MacDonalds?"

"Did you honestly just- Goodbye, Fernando."

"I'm Fabio."

"Whatever."

As soon as she hung up, her nosy coworker, Betty, had rolled her chair to Emilia's desk. "Aww, Fabio forgot his lunch?"

"What?"

"You know, my little Jenny does it all the time. I just got sick of it and gave her lunch money for a month. It worked so well that I've been doing it ever since. Maybe you should just pay for his lunch like I did."

"Isn't Jenny like twenty-five?"

"yeah but-"

"I thought she had kids of her own."

"She has three but that's not the-"

"This is customer service, please hold." Emilia pressed the button on her telephone. "Well, look Betty, I have to go get my kid some food and try not to strangle him. I'll be back in five."

"Oh, so should I-"

Emilia didn't hear the end of the sentence. The raced out of the office and down the stairs, since Betty's equally nosy friend, Frank, was at the elevator. Emilia raced down the twenty flight of stairs only to hear, "Hey Emilia, Betty texted me and said Fabio forgot his lunch again. Do you help with anything?"

"Yeah, Frank. Actually, I'm running low on cash and-"

"Say no more. Betty told me about you going to marriage counseling. That must take a lot out of your wallet. Here, have my lunch. It's vegan. It'll be good for him."

Emilia took the lunch and looked at Frank. "Is there a reason you just carry this around with you?"

"I don't want anyone to steal it."

"It's vegan, Frank. No one is stealing it. but thanks. Fabio will love it."

Emilia raced out of the building and towards her car when she heard, "Help! Help! He's assaulting me!"

Of course he is, Emilia thought. She ran towards the alley where two hobos were fighting. One had pinned the other and was rubbing his mold covered sock in the other's face while he other yelled in agony. Emilia pondered for a second then moved on. Down the street, she heard her phone ring again.

"What!" she screamed at the caller.

"Mommy? I'm sick. Can I come home?" her middle child, Luciana, whined on the other end.

"Yeah. I was just on my way to bring Fabio his lunch. I guess I'll stop by and get you too."

"Thanks, Mommy."

She hung up. Just as she did, a woman ran down the street clutching a purse. Another woman chased after her screaming, "Help! She has my purse!"

"Can we get through one day without me saving the fricking planet!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.

She tore of her blouse and raced after the crook. She tackled her with lightning speed and tore the purse away from her.

"Thank you so much," the woman said. She sifted through the purse, grabbed the wallet out, cackled evilly, and raced off. "By the way, you aren't wearing an undershirt."

Emilia looked down at her chest and was mortified to her the saggy worn out bra was on display to the world. she pulled her shirt back together and helped the woman up. "I am so sorry about that."

"It's okay. That was my ex-husband's wallet. All she got away with was a bunch of unused condoms and some maxed out credit cards. but that's anyway uh, boob lady."

"It's Celeritas," Emilia groaned. She raced back to her car where she had a dirty EcoGreen T-shirt that her dog had used as a chew toy. She put it on and sped out of the parking lot and into a long line of traffic. With a sigh, she aid her head on the steering wheel, which caused a chain reaction of horn blowing.

By the time she got to the high school, it was 11:50. Lunch was in full swing. She dropped her son's lunch off at the principal's office and got her daughter who was sleeping in the nurse's room. Just as she was leaving, she got another phone call.

"Hey Mom. It's Fernando. Something's beeping and I don't know what it is."

"What? Aren't you in school?"

"No. We had an off day. I told you this on Saturday."

"You said you had an off day on Monday."

"Yeah, I know. It is Monday."

"No, it's Tuesday. You mean you didn't go to school today?"

"Yeah, but it's okay. It's March. Teachers don't expect us to care anymore."

"The state test is coming up in a week and you have to be there to study."

"It'll be fine, Mom. When are you coming home? I'm making cookies."

"Why are you making cookies?"

"I just wanted some. How long was I supposed to cook them again?"

"Fifteen minutes."

"I thought that was a four..."

"You left the cookies in for forty-five minutes? Look, just take them out. Your sister is sick so I'll be home in a few minutes."

"But they're going to smell burnt!"

"What did I say?"

"Ugh. Fine."

"I'll see you in a bit. Love you."

Emilia hung up and started the car. Halfway home, she got another call. "Hey, it's Jake. You know, the guy who sits two cubicles from you? Betty said I should call you and let you know we have a meeting in ten minutes."

"Of course we do," Emilia said with an eye roll. 

His eyes were welling with tears as he looked at the man on the ground. I tried to speak but he just shrugged me off. My guardian, as the state calls him, isn't exactly the emotional type. Zorion Yago was one of the most ruthless gang leaders in the world, according to the America's Most Wanted list. Known for his gang's brutal acts of violence on the streets of Providence, most people wouldn't expect him to be crying over a stabbed man, but I knew better. It wan't the killed, it was the killer.

Zorion ran the streets of Providence ever since he immigrated to the United States from Nicaragua. Most people look at him like he's the godfather, but to me he's more like the epitome of the American dream. He came with nothing, and in two years time, he had an empire. It was just built on the blood of enemies. He was coming up on his tenth year when he got bad news. His third cousin, Isabela, had overdosed in some crummy apartment in the Bronx and her three kids were alone in that apartment. Once the constable found out the kids were illegal, they were due to be shipped back. Zorion sent a few guys to talk to the sheriff while he got the papers. Eight hours later, I saw him for the first time in my life.

I don't remember much about my life before Zorion came on the scene except that my mom always had needle marks and my brother never stopped crying. That's the lie I tell him. I didn't want him to worry, but I guess now I have to come clean. We came when I was three. That's what Yesenia says. She was five and can remember it better. Mama came for a better life for us but that all changed when she met Eden. I can remember him perfectly. Green eyes, slick blonde hair, a cigarette always dangling from his mouth... Mama was turned on by his words and within two months, he was living with us. Mama worked three jobs to crape up enough to eat while Eden cheated on her with any girl he saw. It wasn't until our cousin Dolores talked about me wetting the bed that she noticed something was wrong.

But, Mama was pregnant and dumb and in love. When Lazaro was born, Eden was at our house with the neighbor. When Lazaro would be up crying, Eden would slip out, leaving my mother passed out and me and my sister to try to assuage his cries. When Lazaro was saying his first words, my mother was through with Eden. She had caught him in our room and grabbed a knife to cut him. She didn't kill him, but he was gone. We were fine, so it seemed. Our mother took us to a doctor, but there were too many forms to fill out so she just left. But, the stress was building inside of all of us. Our mother only made it two weeks with knowing. She overdosed on Lazaro's first birthday. Yesenia was on the right path until she met a guy who tried to manipulate her. Zorion buried him a few months into their relationship, but not before Yesenia got pregnant with twins. And then there was me...

Zorion wiped the tears from his face. The whole way home he blasted Lil Wayne, but I could see he wasn't in the mood. I turned the radio off, and received the coldest glare ever. We were locked in it for a few seconds before he turned away. More tears were forming.

"I had to do it," I mumbled.

"You don't have to do anything. You should've called."

"It would've been too late."

"No, it wouldn't have! Dammit, Erlea. You were going to college! You were going to be something. Now, you killed someone. We can clean it up and get rid of the evidence but it doesn't erase what you did!"

Tears were falling from my face. He ignored them.

"And why were you even at that damn club? You're only eighteen! Didn't I tell you not to drink until you're legal? Your sister drank when she was too young and nearly got herself killed. Is that what you want? Do you want to end up in a fucking grave, Erlea?"

Sobbing, I turned away from him. I hated when he compared us. Me and Yesenia may have been through the same thing but we were not the same. Yesenia had three kids, no husband, and three jobs. I was going places. Twelve years after everything, I had turned my life around. I worked my ass off in school to make sure I didn't have to drop out when I was sixteen like she did. I babysat and saved and worked to pay for my own college so Zorion wouldn't have to give me anything. I didn't even want to go to that club, but it was too late. It was all too late. The man who had ruined my life before was ruining it again.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Zorion said.

"That was Eden," I sobbed.

"What?" The car was stopped and his mood had completely changed. Angry drivers whizzed past us.

"That was Eden," I said a bit louder.

He just nodded, put the car back into Drive, and continued home. Lazaro was up waiting for us.

"Where were you guys?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"I had to help your sister. Go to bed," Zorion replied. He kissed his forehead and directed him towards the stairs. "Night, Laz. Love you."

"Night."

I tried to saunter upstairs, but he pulled me into the parlor instead. Blood still stained my dress, and I couldn't stop crying. Zorion handed me some tissues and waited until I stopped. After a while, he looked at me and sighed.

"I didn't know that was him," he said.

"You were right. I ruined my life."

He pulled me into his arms and patted my head. "You didn't ruin your life, okay? We're going to fix this."

"You shouldn't have to. The therapist said I should be okay. The doctor said it too. But, he kept trying to hit on me and said he'd hurt Yesenia if I didn't go out back and- and-"

He just held me tighter as I cried. "I understand."

"No you don't. He did things to me I can't begin to get over."

Zorion looked at me. "I know, Erlea. I understand. It happened to me too."

"But you're a-"

"Stone-hearted killer?" he laughed. We'd always laugh at how the media portrayed him, but this time, I couldn't find the humor. "I didn't start out this way, you know."

"But who could hurt you? You're-"

"Zorion. Yeah, I know. Listen, I don't like to talk about it. Just know that what you did was right, okay? Any jury could see it, but we'll just let that dirt bag rot like he deserves, okay? Not even a mother can love someone who does that to a child. We're going to get you cleaned up."

He stood and offered me his hand. I hesitated. "Does that mean you don't believe I'll be like Yesenia?"

"I know your sister made some mistakes, but that isn't you. You're destined for greatness, Erlea. Now that that scumbag is dead, you can get it."

No, no, please not again. I hate becoming that... thing. Why does this always happen! My body was beginning to change. I shuddered at the thought it. My hair was migrating towards my feet which were becoming increasingly large and bulbous. I was sweating as my whole body painfully swelled. my form disappeared. I was becoming a sausage. My head, the last thing I had was becoming mushroom shaped. Oh no! Oh no! My body was shrinking, shrinking, shrinking! My bones were popping out of place and disappearing. my organs were realigning until they had become a shaft. My brain, the only part of me that was still attached was migrating towards the mushroom top. Suddenly, it was complete. I had transformed. I sighed and looked at myself. It happens every time I watch porn. I don't become the sexy girl. No, I become the dick. Always the dick. I sigh and close my eyes. At least I always dream I'm me again.

There once was a man from Phoenix

Who always dreamed of seeing Venus.

He decided to chase his hope

And bought the perfect telescope

But all he saw was his neighbor's penis.

Don't see yourself through your eyes. See yourself through mine. I mean, who do I run to when I've done something stupid? Who never fails to make me feel better when I had a bad day. Who know the only word that can make me smile and laugh at the same time? I know you're thinking you're hopeless because the people at school treat you like shit but they won't be here in three years. I will. They're irrelevant background noise in your story, and I'm the supporting character. I know I have the tendency to talk about myself too much and to not listen like I should, but I'm here and I'll always be here, even if you have to speak louder to make sure I hear you.

Look, I'm afraid of heights but I'm here on this ledge with you. Even if I fall you and you live, this will be worth it because you're the important one in this. I know you don't like when I talk like that, but to me, it's true. I'd give my last drop of blood to save you just like I know you'd do for me. I'd cut my fingers off wrestling a knife from you and only be mad I can't flick you off with that hand anymore. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, which is why I want you to think in terms of me and not in terms of you. You just see trash but I see the dirtiest diamond ever. I mean seriously, who is going to get my dirty jokes and punch me when I fart in the car?

I know just seeing a tear fall from my eyes worries you because you think I'm the strong one through this, but I feel the same hearing you talk about yourself in such a negative way. I mean, where am I going to get a better brother from another mother? And to replace such a stellar part? I'd rather gouge my eyes out with a paper clip like I almost did in fourth grade. I've never been one to call you out on your bullshit, said no one ever, but this is the worst idea you've ever had. I mean, do you know what will happen to me if you do this? I'm going to do it too and go to the gates of hell, grab you by the neck, and strangle you until the devil needs to put on a coat.

Can't you see that this is killing me? I mean, I love you. Not in the way your ex-girlfriend was supposed to, but as someone I can't fathom being romantic with because I don't want to lose you as my friend. I would rather lose my sense of taste (and you know how I love to eat) than see you be in pain. Please, put the knife down. Let me clean you up and let's go watch Family Guy. I can't lose you. You're the most important thing in the world to me.