With the five of them working together on it, Fernando and his friends got the goat pen built in what seemed like no time—fencing, lean-to, water troughs and all. Fernando hadn’t recruited Chico and the others to the task, just as he hadn’t recruited them to scrounge materials for him. When he’d said what he

Fernando spent his summer days working at the construction site. He spent his summer nights roving about town with Chico and his mongrel crew. Smoking hand-rolled cigarettes and drinking cheap booze. Playing soccer under the flickering lamplights. Getting themselves into and out of scrapes. It was a bit surreal, if Fernando paused to reflect on

A sudden hush fell over the clamoring crowd. Like a tide they receded before the advance of a man whom Fernando would have readily believed was half Neanderthal. His crude features sloped downward into a blunt, trollish scowl. The chair opposite Fernando groaned like it was dying as the man sat himself down on it.

By the end of the workday, Fernando wasn’t sure what he’d accomplished besides busting up himself and everything around him. Chico seemed impressed with him, however. Onto a shaded beam Fernando collapsed, chugging water from an old milk jug and trying to catch his breath. Grinning, Chico clapped Fernando on the back where he sat.