Riding Invisible by Sandra Alonzo Page A

Violeta’s daughter, maybe Will is stuck inside himself forever.
    Those words of Tavo’s: YOUR MAMA AND PAPA, THEY HAVE A MORE BAD LIFE, NO? Those words were starting to sink in.
    So I gathered my junk and stuffed everything in my backpack. Then I opened my wallet where I’d kept my salary and dropped every penny of it, over a hundred bucks, on the table/bed where I’d eaten and slept and drawn and written and talked and grown for the past two weeks—had it only been two weeks? It felt more like a lifetime, and I’d spent it in the company of the best man I’d ever known.
    â€œThe money is for your family,” I told Tavo, “and for Violeta’s daughter.” My voice echoed inside the small trailer, a quiet empty sound, and I knew I was strong because of him. Of course, Tavo said he could not take my money, but I was already outside and the bills remained on the table.
    and when my feet hit the driveway
    I wanted to fly
    become a cloud picture
    live in the sky
    float around to choose my own shape
    and never come back down
    and never come back down
    The sound of gravel and leaves crunching under my tennies reminded me of the day I’d arrived on the ranch. Back when I was a runaway. Shit. It would be easy to bolt through the darkness, hide in the hills, and return before dawn to quietly saddle Shy, hop on, and blast out of there. I’d find a new trail, ride through creeks and on pavement, so they couldn’t track us. I’d create a different life.
    I glanced over my shoulder and spotted Tavo standing in front of the trailer. My guide.
    â€œGo home, son,” he told me. “Everything is gonna be good.”
    I didn’t move and kept staring at Tavo’s image, the glow of moonlight surrounding his solemn form, the only time I’d seen him look completely powerless.
    â€œGo!” he said, his voice breaking.
    And while my heart exploded into tiny, aching pieces, we crammed our bodies inside Mom’s car. The tires spun on the gravel, and we zoomed down the driveway, and the Triple R became a void. Gone. Erased! Did it ever happen? Because at that point in time, I was just a passenger being delivered to Hell while All That Stuff That Changed Me in Palmdale banged against my chest.
    But hey, I’ve got my journal. I have my REAL thoughts. There were nights on the Triple R when I dreamed about my brother, and I was in this place running and running without going anywhere, and Will was behind me holding a pair of silver scissors raised high, aimed at my back, his expression cold and vindictive. I’d wake up breathing in short spurts, carrying an icy knowledge about the reality of my life. And now I’m home. I have to get past my fear, deal with it, conquer it. I have to find a way to be strong. It’s huge, this art of surviving.
    Will’s here. Will is here!!! How am I going to endure my brother’s shit after everything I’ve learned? Tavo’s race horse story jumps into my head, the one about his amigo, the dude who raises horses for the track. One horse was smart and quiet, and he learned real fast. He was a good boy. But the brother horse, the older one, wasn’t so smart. He never listened. What a stubborn horse he was. He actually bit his owner on the arm.
    So which horse is gonna win the survival race in our family? I guess we’ll have to find out.
DAY ONE—
    Friday—2:14 p.m.—at school
    I’M STARTING OVER—THIS IS DAY ONE AGAIN inside the famous Adventure Journal.
    I’m sitting in my history class, and I don’t have much to write about except that I’ve been looking everywhere for Christi and haven’t seen her. I still have this sweet image of Grass and her hips and that belly button ring, too. She lusted after me. Is that not what happened? (Even though she treated me like some kind of worthless Latino loser.) But I guess that kiss made me “a hottie” in her eyes, right?