“Ale?” I asked, rushing over to him. He had been clinging to me just a few minutes before, but in the heat I hadn’t noticed what I realized just then as I touched his head. He was burning up with fever.

“Oh, Jesus,” Sebastian said, running over, too. “Ale? Not now, not now.”

“I still have antibiotics,” Jesse said. “If he’s got something bacterial, it’ll help.”

Oh God, this was ’trosh. The tightness in my head swelled until I thought it would burst. But watching those kids hover over Ale, offering him their help, my chest felt tight, too, like my heart was getting so big it might explode out of me. I was cradling Ale in my arms. I lifted him up off the puke-covered couch while Jaden started wiping up the mess with some old clothes that we’d worn into rags. I picked him up and carried him to his bedroom. As I did, Sebastian told Jesse to get the antibiotics.

All the thoughts of street fighting and guns were out of my head. All I could think about was how we were going to get things back to upswing for this boy that I’d taken in months ago, taken care of, this boy that I loved with all my heart. I was shaking again. I tried to stop it, but I couldn’t.

“Ale?” I said.

“Sí?” he murmured.

“You’re going to be fine. I promise. You’ll be okay. You’ll feel better in a couple of days. And after that, no matter what happens in this building, no matter what happens to me, you’re going to hide out in this room, and nobody will hurt you. You’re just a little boy. Nobody would want to hurt you. You’re going to grow up and be a real upswing person, I know it. And a real upswing artist, just like you want to be. Better than the one who painted on the side of our building. I know it. You will be safe. You will be safe. You will be safe.”

I was rocking him back and forth, saying it over and over.

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