THE BIG MOVE (Miami Hearts Book 2) (12 page)

              “Perfect,” Raul said, grinning. “Perfect,
nena
. Tomorrow. I look forward to it so much. I’m never going to be able to share you. You’ll be with me forever.”

              Antonio turned me around and marched me stiffly home — the long way.

              “Pack a backpack of your belongings,” he muttered at me, glancing at the faces of everyone we passed, frequently checking over his shoulder. “Go and do it the moment we get to your house. I’ll talk to your uncle.”

              “What are you talking about?” I asked as he jerked me along. “What are we doing? You’re hurting me, Antonio.”

              “I’m sorry,” he said, but he didn’t loosen his grip. “We have to hurry. I didn’t think Raul would let us go, but he was surprised enough to do so. I think once the surprise wears off, he’ll realize his mistake and come after us. That’s why we need to move you to a safe place.”

              It hit me like a load of bricks — I was in danger. I was in danger, my family was in danger, Antonio was in danger.

              “Oh my God,” I breathed.

              “It’s going to be okay,” Antonio told me, hustling me around the corner. We’d finally reached the block my uncle’s house was located in. “I’m going to get you out of here.”

              “They’ll look for me everywhere,” I said, my teeth chattering even though it wasn’t cold. “They’ll never stop searching until they find me. There isn’t a place in this country I can hide.”

              “That’s why I’m getting you out of here,” he said, and pushed me through the door to my uncle’s house.

              “Well, hello,” my uncle said, startled a bit at our sudden entrance.

              I tried to say something, but Antonio shoved me toward my bedroom.

              “Go,” he urged. “I’ll talk to your uncle. Pack the backpack. Only the essentials. All the money you have.”

              I would’ve tried to strain to hear what Antonio was telling my uncle in the kitchen, but panic brought a dull roar to my ears. Raul wanted me for himself. I was going to become like Maribel, dead in the eyes, accepting her fate. Raul and his gang would kill anyone who stood in the way of what he wanted, and what he wanted was me. I would live out a pathetic and painful existence, and then he would put me out of my misery. Did Raul really think he could retain my soul if his was the hand that ended my life? It frightened me to think that he did, made me even believe it could be true.

              I shoveled some clothing into a bag, a photo of my father I always kept near me, a pathetically small collection of bills and coins I kept in a small shoebox. It was so hard to save money, especially since I’d never had a purpose for it before. Even if my aunt and cousin had fled the country, necessitating the amassing of money, I’d never thought I’d need that kind of cash.

              A thought struck me. Where, exactly, was Antonio going to take me? He hadn’t seemed as daunted as me by the idea that there wasn’t a single place in this country I could hide. Could he be planning on taking me out of Honduras? My cousin had the same dead eyes as Maribel, the extinguishing of hope, ever since she got back. What future did I have to look forward to? Being one of Raul’s girls? Failing at getting out of the country? Death?

              “Sol!” Antonio called. “Are you ready?”

              What did you pack in a bag you were taking to flee your existence? I just didn’t know anymore. I closed the zipper, tightened the drawstrings, and swung it on my back.

              “Ready,” I said, even though it was a lie. Could anyone ever be ready for one of these things?

              I rejoined Antonio and my uncle in the kitchen, my eyes roving over familiar sights that I was only just beginning to realize I might never see again — the couch and the rocking chair in the sitting room, the tired old refrigerator in the kitchen that wheezed and clicked at all hours, and my uncle.

              His face was tight with worry and I knew he was thinking of his wife and daughter — my aunt and cousin — and their own journey. They’d been faced with nearly the same threat as me, and they hadn’t been successful at escaping it. Each day that passed that we heard no word from my aunt, my cousin seemed to turn a little more translucent, fading away from reality piece by piece. We all feared the worst, even if we couldn’t talk about it out loud.

              “Antonio will take care of you,” my uncle said with a conviction that surprised me. “He is a good man. Do as he says, and he’ll keep you safe.”

              I looked at Antonio. We loved each other, but it was startling to hear my uncle call him a man. Up until now, what Antonio and I had shared had been referred to as simple puppy love — two kids infatuated with each other. But as I looked at him, the resolute wrinkle marring his smooth brow, I realized that he was a man. Maybe he’d even become one today, making these hard decisions for me to keep me safe.

              “Here,” my uncle said, fumbling in a cabinet on top of the refrigerator before retrieving a ceramic jar. “You will take this.”

              He opened the container to reveal a roll of money he’d probably been squirreling away ever since my cousin had turned up again on our doorstep, planning to send her away yet again to get her out of this hellhole.

              “
Tio
, I can’t,” I said, tears springing to my eyes. “This is for her. This isn’t for me. You keep saving for her and let me figure my own life out.”

              “I have considered you a daughter the moment we took you in,” he said, holding me at arm’s length before kissing me carefully on each cheek. “You have already borne witness to such horror. I can’t see you go through anymore. You are going to get out, and you are going to need this money to do so.”

              I hugged him tightly, tears streaming down my face.

              “We need to go,” Antonio said hoarsely, urgently.

              “But now?” I cried, foundering in the newness of this reality. “How? We need to make contacts, connections.”

              “There isn’t time,
hija
,” my uncle said. “You must go now. It will all work out. You’ll see.”

              We embraced one last time and Antonio led me out the door. Night had already fallen, and I shivered, gripping my love’s hand tighter. We did not, under any circumstances, go out after dark, but this exception showed me the severity of the situation.

              “Where are we going?” I whispered, out of breath already at our swift pace.

              “To my house, first,” Antonio said. “I’ll pick up whatever money I can. Then we’ll catch a bus.”

              “What bus?” I asked. “Where to?”

              “As close to the border as we can get,” he said grimly, opening the door to his grandmother’s house and pulling me inside. “
Abuela
?”

              Antonio wasn’t honest with his grandmother about where we were going, but I couldn’t blame him. He just hadn’t wanted to worry her unnecessarily. Sure, fleeing the country in the middle of the night because a gang member had expressed interest in me was something to worry about, but it was our problem to deal with.

              My problem, really.

              “Antonio, wait,” I said, grabbing his arm as he stuffed some clothing into a backpack, just as I’d done at my own house.

              “We can’t waste any time, Sol,” he said, squeezing my hand before extricating himself from my grip. “I don’t think Raul remembers where I live, but it’s only a matter of time before he figures it out.”

              “I don’t think you should come with me,” I said quickly. “This isn’t your problem. It’s mine. You have your
abuela
to take care of, and I don’t want you to ruin everything you’d hoped for, all your plans to fix Honduras, just to protect me. I don’t want to be the person who squashes your dreams.”

              Antonio took my face in his hands and kissed me. “Sol, my dreams are worth nothing without you. I never imagined them coming true without you by my side. I have to protect you, keep you safe, or I’d never forgive myself. It’s ridiculous to think that I’d let you go to America without me, you know. I’m not going to let you drive your new Ferrari without me.”

              I had to laugh at the childish imaginings of the riches of America that awaited us. “My Ferrari and your dude ranch. I remember. Do you still want to be a cowboy?”

              “I will be anything if it means I get to be with you,” he said. “Now, come on. We can’t stay here a second longer.”

              We stuck to the shadows as we made our way to the bus station, which wasn’t hard to do. Most of the streetlights were burned out, and no one bothered to replace them. We slid in and out of alleys, stepping over piles of garbage that overflowed from the cans that lined the pavement. This country turned into something different entirely once the sun went down, and I’d always been warned to stay indoors.

              There was a sharp, repeated rap of gunfire behind us, in the distance, and for the first time, I wondered if it was coming for me.

              “Almost there,” Antonio kept chanting quietly. “Almost there.” I didn’t know who he was trying to comfort — himself or me.

              But by the time we got to the station, the last bus had left. We’d hurried, but we hadn’t been quick enough.

              “Shit,” Antonio mumbled. “We can’t stay here. It’s not safe. We have to go.”

              “But where?” I asked, uncomfortable at the nearly deserted station. “Are we just going to walk all the way out of Honduras?”

              “We’ll keep moving until morning,” he said, resolute. “I’d say that we could use our money for a taxi, but it’s a long way to America, Sol. We’re going to need everything we have.”

              It was a nightmare to drift through the city, slipping down one long alleyway after another, afraid of what we’d find behind the trash bins. For the most part, we went unmolested. There were droves of homeless people, and they liked to keep to themselves.

              “Are you pimping her, boy?” an old man asked, pointing a crooked finger at me. “How much?”

              Antonio hurried me away, not bothering to respond. We tried to stay away from anyone. Any person who was out in the streets this late at night had no business doing so. There was nothing good out here at this hour.

              By the time the bell tolled five in the morning, I was exhausted, my feet dragging. Antonio had to cajole me from doorway to doorway, prod me to keep going. I wanted to quit, to give up, to just sit down and sleep for a while. I’d run out of adrenaline long ago, and now I was just tired.

              “The buses will be running again,” he said. “Let’s go back to the station.”

              It wasn’t until we were in our seats, the bus rolling down the street and on its way toward the border with Guatemala that Antonio allowed me to sleep.

              “We’re safe now,” I murmured to him, snuggling up against his shoulder. “Rest.”

              “I’ll stay awake while you sleep,” he said, his face determined. “That’s the best way.”

              I didn’t have the energy to argue with him, and slept nearly to Guatemala. Antonio had stayed doggedly awake, his face pinched with exhaustion.

              “You should’ve woken me up,” I said, feeling guilty. “Really. I slept for hours.”

              “It’s all right,” he said. “I’ll sleep now.”

              It was scary to be our eyes and ears, scary to scan the rest of the passengers and wonder if any of them meant us harm. I was the one in charge of our safety as Antonio rested. But at the same time it was exciting to see places I’d never witnessed before. I had never seen the entirety of Tegucigalpa, let alone all of Honduras. I knew I should feel sad for leaving it. It was the only home I’d ever known. But we hadn’t had a choice. We’d had to flee or face the consequences of crossing MS-13. I thought about my uncle and cousin. I hoped they were all right, and that Raul would leave them alone.

              “Hey.”

              I looked behind me to see another boy and girl sitting behind us. I didn’t remember seeing them board the bus. Perhaps they’d picked different seats to begin with.

              “Can I help you?” I asked. They were several years younger than Antonio and me.

              “Where are you going?” the girl asked.

              “On a trip,” I said, deliberately vague. “It’s my first time out of the city.”

              They exchanged a glance. “Ours, too.”

              The boy leaned closer. “They told us not to wear our school uniforms near the border. The soldiers are stopping the buses and pulling all the kids off.”

              My blood ran cold. “Why would they do that?”

              “Lots of kids are leaving,” the boy said. “Parents are sending them away. They say they’ll let you stay in America, if you can just make it there. But the government knows it looks bad that all the kids are leaving, so they’re trying to stop us.”

              “Have you done this before?” I asked, wondering just how he got all his information.