U R 2 Good 2 B 4got10.

Your best friend 4ever,

Hush

Best friend 4ever? Dallas wondered if anything lasted that long. She thought her father would be around forever and then he died. Nothing was forever, Hush. —So why are you trying so hard, Dallas said to the words on the page, filled with rage. In a few days, she’d call to tell Hush to her face that it was over between them, that they could never be friends again.

Bobby ran out of the apartment when his mother came home from work.

—Where you going?

—I’ll be right back, he said before she could ask him again about the job he didn’t have.

It was a summer day. Bobby played basketball with his friend Lalo; the hoop a jacked-up crate hanging from the fire-escape ladder. He didn’t want to think about anything but the ball, Lalo’s sloppy dribbling, and how easy it was to beat his ass. He was so caught up in victory, he didn’t notice the arrival of White-boy Arnold. Arnold was thirteen and lived on another block, but wanted to fit in so bad, he walked with an extra bend to his knee and said everything in the past tense.

—Checked this out, he said, pulling out a .22 revolver, cracked open to show two bullets inside, ready for an assassination. But Arnold wasn’t planning to assassinate anyone. The gun was his father’s, a retired cop who collected guns and kept them in a leather case in his bedroom.

Bobby licked his lips over and over again, afraid of what trouble White-boy Arnold was bringing. Instinctively, he was thinking of ways to get away from there, out of the afternoon sun. For the first time ever, he was hoping that his mother would call him from the window. But everything got real tranquil and the gun on Arnold’s hand was shooting off light beams in all directions, making itself larger than it was.

—That’s a’ight, Lalo said as he looked around. He walked over to a parked car and slid his hand under it, tucking a package in his pocket.

White-boy Arnold had a nervous bounce to him.

—Let me hold it? Bobby said. Ever since the new precinct opened up, the number of cops had tripled on Quepasó Street. Didn’t Arnold know that?

Bobby grabbed the gun by the handle, laid it flat on his palm. He hadn’t realized how heavy they were. How dangerous they felt in the hand. The metal was cold, like a beer bottle just out of the fridge.

—Yo, son, my father got a case of them shit. You ever need to get strapped, you talk to me. White-boy Arnold hit his chest to show loyalty.

Dallas dialed Hush’s number, and when she heard her voice, she was tempted to hang up.

—Hello, Hush said in a soft voice.

Dallas paused and regretted pausing, because then Hush would know she was nervous.

—Hello? Hush asked again.

—Hi, it’s me, you wanna meet?