“I’m not a traitor!” she bellows, spit flying out of her mouth. Pedro runs to his mother’s side, trying to convince her to go back inside, but she pulls away from him to shove a finger in Mom’s face. “How could you do this to my family? You’re the traitor! You’re a liar!”

Pedro looks at me from behind his mother like he’s begging me to intervene with my mother, too, and I snap out of my daze to loop my arm with hers.

And just then a car drives by. A big D logo on the side.

Mom and Dona Eulalia are so busy yelling at each other, they don’t notice the Deals Deals lawyer sticking a camera out of the passenger’s window to photograph building facades. I’d recognize his bone-chilling grin anywhere.

Pedro sees him, too, and I know we’re thinking the same thing. When Pedro turns back to me, I see fear in his eyes. He has to know we won’t survive if our mothers keep fighting like this. While we’re distracted by petty fights, Deals Deals watches the flames rise with amusement.

The lawyer nods at me in greeting before rolling his tinted window up. It makes my skin crawl.

“Mom, please!” I shout, tugging on her arm. “Let’s go home!”

Mom finally gives in. And Pedro persuades his mother to return to Sugar, too.

Back inside Salt, Mom dashes into the office and I follow.

“What happened?” I ask, still shaking after seeing the lawyer, but Mom ignores me.

She sits at the desk, opens a drawer, and begins pulling bills out, studying them one by one, and circling deadlines with a red marker. I sit down in front of her desk.

“Mom.”

She looks up, a hand wrapped tightly around the edge of the disconnection notice we got from the utility company.

“Dona Fernanda came by when you were at Vozes,” she says, her voice trembling a little.

“The catering client?!”

“I got the job.”

But she doesn’t sound as happy as she should. After the fight that just happened outside, I know there’s another side to this.

“I’m guessing Dona Eulalia got fired...?” I ask.

“No.” Mom takes a deep breath. “Dona Fernanda wants Eulalia and me to work together.”

“What?! We can hardly coexist on the same street!”

Mom’s hand closes into a fist, crumpling up half of the bill accidentally. “You know, Lari, if I could step away from this commitment now, I would. But what choice do I have?” She stares at the disconnection notice. “I need to cover these bills. And I want to make your transition into college comfortable.” Mom tosses the paper aside in an angry outburst that’s so unlike her, breathing hard through her nose. She shuts her eyes, like she regrets the gesture. “I’m sorry... I’m sorry...”