He scratches the pimple on his chin. I try to think of something to say. A sparrow perches on the leafless bough, perched on its claws. Against the sky it appears as a black silhouette.

Hey. Who do you run with? the little Mexican says.

Shut up, the big one says, nudging him. He gestures for his friend to wait, holding his hand out flat. The little one frowns, looking at his shifting feet.

Run with?

I think you know what he means.

Nobody, I tell him.

He studies me.

So then what about your car?

It isn’t mine.

You steal it? he says, eyes widening, as if he might be in the presence of someone supremely stupid.

No I didn’t steal it.

What then?

It’s my brother’s.

Some kind of a brother you have.

What do you mean by that?

Let you drive a car like that. Could be dangerous.

Finding no words, I shrug and look away, which is difficult since he stands so close I can feel his hot breath in my face. These guys are from little small-town gangs at best. There is no way any of them would deal up here because the wetback cowboys would kill them. They are nothing. Nada. But they know they have me here alone and you can feel their excitement at the novelty of me. They want to make a bigger deal about this than anyone from back home—from a real city—would bother about. Like a short man with a stiletto, annoying yet dangerous. I try to glance over at the back door, but Stone is not there. All I can see are some chrome pots hanging from the ceiling inside.

Where you taking it to? he says.

I gotta go, I say, stepping aside.

They tense, stepping towards me. The wall is behind me and in my jeans pocket my ice pick seems to announce itself. Maybe I should lower my right hand toward it, but they could notice. It is hard, but I keep my hand in front of me, a knuckle pressed against my belt buckle.

What’s the hurry?

I told the tow truck guy I’d meet him by his truck.

Stone?

Yeah.

He has a name, he says.

I don’t answer him.

He know you’re Mexican?

I ain’t no Mexican.

What do you mean by that?

Nothing.

We say nothing. They do not look at each other, though something is going on between them. The leader eases his hand lower by his back pocket. In the high dark branches of the leafless tree yellow blossoms perch like brilliant algae. All birds have stopped their chirping and it is deadly quiet. No sound on the highway. In the restaurant no sound, nor in this parking lot. Something about the heat. The time of day.