Three more shovels’ worth of dirt, and I had a plan. Two more after that, and I was praying for a distraction. All I needed was a distraction. I have never in my entire life been more grateful for someone breaking wind as I was at that moment when Juacinto did just that.

Amidst their juvenile male giggles I lept from the shallow hole, rolling across damp, cool grass. Thank goodness for their natures being both puerile and lazy. With agility I hadn’t remembered using since childhood I rolled up to my knees, then to my feet, and I was running. They were shouting, half at me, half at each other.

A metallic schunk made my stomach drop, but then I heard Juacinto, “Cero, no! Abuela says no shooting!”

Thank goodness for abuela, I said to myself, huffing and puffing. But then I thought, Screw abuela. She got me into this mess in the first place with her crazy visions. It was official: Abuela Cruz was off my list of favorite people. Okay, so she was never really on it, being creepy and all.