{"product_id":"becoming-beatriz-isbn-9781623541828","title":"Becoming Beatriz","description":"\u003cb\u003e\u003cb\u003e\"A compelling read about the quest for fame!\"\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e      \u003ci\u003e—Debbie Allen, star of \u003c\/i\u003eFame \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\"Redemption is a heartbeat away.\"\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e     —Guadalupe Garcia McCall, author of the Pura Belpre Award winner Under the Mesquite\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eBeatriz dreams of a life spent dancing--until tragedy on the day of her quinceañera changes everything.\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e Up until her fifteenth birthday, the most important thing in the world to Beatriz Mendez was her dream of becoming a professional dancer and getting herself and her family far from the gang life that defined their days--that and meeting her dance idol Debbie Allen on the set of her favorite TV show, \u003ci\u003eFame\u003c\/i\u003e. But after the latest battle in a constant turf war leaves her brother, Junito, dead and her mother grieving, Beatriz has a new set of priorities. How is she supposed to feel the rhythm when her brother's gang needs running, when her mami can't brush her own teeth, and when the last thing she can remember of her old self is dancing with her brother, followed by running and gunshots? When the class brainiac reminds Beatriz of her love of the dance floor, her banished dreams sneak back in. Now the only question is: will the gang let her go? \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSet in New Jersey in 1984, Beatriz's story is a timeless one of a teenager's navigation of romance, her brother's choices, and her own family's difficult past. A companion novel to the much-lauded \u003ci\u003eLike Vanessa\u003c\/i\u003e.♦ It's 1984, and  15-year-old Beatriz Mendez knows there is a rule she cannot break:  \"blood in, blood out.\" Members of the Diablos, a Puerto Rican gang in  her neighborhood of Newark, N.J., get jumped as initiation--and leaving  the gang usually means being killed in the streets. Beatriz's older  brother, Juan \"Junito,\" is the leader of the Diablos; when he and  Beatriz are attacked by the Haitian Macoutes, a rival gang, Junito is  gunned down and Beatriz is beaten. Having watched her brother die,  Beatriz's priorities shift drastically. Her dream of becoming a dancer  like Debbie Allen is put on hold as the pressure to return to the gang  builds--\"time to start thinking 'bout getting back in the game,  princesa\"--forcing her to think about the street violence in which she  has taken part.\u003cbr\u003eWith Junito gone, the Diablos' new leader, DQ, has big  plans to up the ante in the fight against the Macoutes. As Beatriz tries  to break ties with the Diablos, and begins a friendship with a new boy  at school named Nasser, someone starts leaving her photographs with  mysterious messages written in Creole. Slowly losing the trust of the  Diablos, with the danger of being jumped by the Macoutes at every turn,  Beatriz is torn between finding a form of safety in her old life and  escaping violence by embracing her love of dance.  \u003cbr\u003e Tami Charles's beautifully written follow-up to\u003ci\u003e Like Vanessa\u003c\/i\u003e creates a believable character in Beatriz, one with an intensity of  spirit likely to draw in fans of Elizabeth Acevedo and Tiffany D.  Jackson. With its realistic portrayal of life in Newark in the 1980s,  Charles's author's note reveals the parts of her own life that inspired  Beatriz's story. —Clarissa Hadge, bookstore manager, Trident Booksellers \u0026amp; Cafe, Boston, Mass. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eDiscover: \u003c\/b\u003eIn this rhythmic teen read, after  witnessing her brother's death, 15-year-old Beatriz must choose between  her life as a gang member or moving forward to a life without violence  as a dancer. \u003cbr\u003e—\u003ci\u003eShelf Awareness\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e♦ In a city where \"cocaine is king,\" can a teenage gang leader dare to dream of another life? Newark, New Jersey. 1984. Beatriz Mendez and her older brother, Junito, lead the powerful Latin Diablos gang. Everything changes on Beatriz's 15th birthday when a Haitian gang leaves Junito for dead and Beatriz badly injured. A \u003ci\u003eLike Vanessa\u003c\/i\u003e (2018) spinoff, this page-turner opens dramatically with a visceral fight scene that introduces a fierce protagonist. Beatriz is a Spanglish-speaking Puerto Rican badass with \"a blade tucked inside [her] cheek…to use on anybody who tries to step.\" In the aftermath of Junito's death, Beatriz struggles to maintain her standing as a Diabla, raise her grades (mostly D's and F's), and support her grief-stricken zombie of a mother. Though \"dancing ain't gonna pay the bills,\" she allows her childhood dream of becoming a dancer to glimmer through her tough exterior each week when watching her favorite TV show,\u003ci\u003e Fame\u003c\/i\u003e. Told in the first person, this narrative is full of passion and humor, with flashbacks rooted in Beatriz's beloved salsa music. Realistic newsprint clips effectively add context. A friendship\/romance with a new boy contributes depth while avoiding predictability. As Beatriz transcends her trauma and self-doubt—\"No such thing as a gangbanger turned famous dancer\"—readers experience a necessary portrayal of a young Afro Latina woman who makes her own path, one that isn't straightforward, told in an extremely realistic voice. Inspiring and fresh.                   —\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Fifteen-year-old Beatriz Mendez lives a split life between school and gang life, caring for her mother and enforcing gang rules, dancing with an attractive Haitian boy, and carrying a razor blade tucked in her cheek. Set in the 1980s, Tami Charles’s gritty Becoming Beatriz shows Beatriz’s limited choices and the strength she finds to create new ones. \u003cbr\u003eBeatriz, her brother Junito, and her mother leave Puerto Rico for New York City to escape her father’s abuse. Junito turns to dealing to augment the scarce income from their bodega. He forms and heads a gang, the Diablos, which leads to his death in the book’s opening pages. His mother’s grief renders her a vague, emotionally absent character. The dancing that once defined Beatriz now feels worlds away. \u003cbr\u003eBeatriz is also in New York at a time when\u003ci\u003e Fame\u003c\/i\u003e was at its height and Debbie Allen served as the toughest taskmaster every dancer ever wanted. The only remaining bond between Beatriz and her mother is the television show, and the power of hope that is defined within it is evoked by the plot. Tryouts come to the city, and Beatriz is lured back to dance. But gang life—blood in, blood out, the trap set for Beatriz with her gang initiation at twelve—still looms. \u003cbr\u003eBeatriz is an intense lead, fully aware of the fact that the people and things that she loves could destroy her. Her narration is sympathetic, even through difficult events. She wriggles through narrower and narrower choices, always striving to find another way. In the tough and hopeful \u003ci\u003eBecoming Beatriz\u003c\/i\u003e, gangs and hatred can destroy families from the inside out, but talent and grit help people to heal and rise. \u003cbr\u003e—\u003ci\u003eForeword Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e \u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003eIt is the mid-1980s and Beatriz worships the TV show Fame. Her mom brought Beatriz and her brother, Junito, to New Jersey from Puerto Rico to escape their abusive father who particularly targeted Junito for not being masculine enough. Beatriz dreams of dancing professionally like her inspiration, Debbie Allen, but when Junito is murdered by Haitian gang leaders, she steps up her involvement with the Diablos, their Newark gang. A Shakespearean twist brings the beautiful and nerdy Haitian Nasser into Beatriz’s life. Nasser’s multifaceted brilliance inevitably wins Beatriz’s heart and leads her back to her passion and commitment to music. Family and school dynamics are spot-on as authority figures range from completely clueless to vitally aware. The language is improbably tame at times for a girl who conceals a razor blade in her cheek every day, but the accurate and immersive ‘80s music, fashion, and historical references outweigh these scattered lapses. Some of the Spanish dialogue is defined by context, but English monolingual readers may need to translate a few phrases or miss out on details. Similar to \u003ci\u003eThe Hate U Give\u003c\/i\u003e, this book offers readers painful and intimate experiences with injustice through an intensely effective first-person narrative. VERDICT Compelling romance with insightful commentary on racial, cultural, and LGBTQ discrimination alongside the realistic depiction of gang dependency and its impact \u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e—School Library Journal\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003eBeatriz, first introduced in Charles’ \u003ci\u003eLike Vanessa\u003c\/i\u003e (2018), wanted to dance and become famous for it, until the day of her fifteenth birthday, when a rival gang drove by her family’s bodega and murdered her brother, Junito. He’d been the head of the Diablos, and Beatriz a blossoming Diabla, though she still harbored her dreams of meeting Debbie Allen and making her Fame dreams come true. After her brother was taken from her, though, she stopped dancing. It takes her a year of floating along with the Diablos and trying to do what she thinks Junito would have wanted before she goes back to dreaming and, ultimately, becoming whom she was meant to be. Though the situations and story line are heavy, and the average modern reader might not easily relate to a gang in the ’80s, Beatriz’s often funny, descriptive first-person narrative is a welcoming avenue into her story. Readers with diverse backgrounds will feel at home with Beatriz’s identities as Latina, Black, and American, and everyone will be cheering her on, right up until the satisfying, heartwarming end.                                                                                                         —\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAt 15, Puerto Rican Beatriz Mendez has been a Diabla for three years, but the death of her older brother, Junito, at the hands of a Haitian rival gang and the increased pressure to prove her loyalty lead her to question the criminal, often violent path she's accepted as inevitable. Charles creates a vivid sense of time and place in her second novel, set in Newark, N.J., in the 1980s. Beatriz's talent for dance leads to the chance to audition for her favorite television show, \u003ci\u003eFame\u003c\/i\u003e. This opportunity, along with the consequences of her brothers untimely death, challenge her to make difficult choices about her present in order to become who she's meant to be, regardless of expectations from her fellow Diablos, her tight-knit family, and larger society. Her growing friendship and attraction to Nasser, a new classmate of Haitian descent, and her kinship with \u003ci\u003eFame'\u003c\/i\u003es Debbie Allen are meaningful additions, providing outside perspectives into what Beatriz considers an inescapable, normal lifestyle. A memorable portrayal of an ambitious young woman whose growing  belief in her won skill and worth allow her to reach beyond her current circumstances. \u003cbr\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCharles presents the story of an Afro-Puerto Rican teen, Beatriz Mendez, who is torn between her own desire to be a dancer and the expectations of her blood and chosen families in mid-1980s New Jersey. After the gang-related murder of her brother, Junito, Beatriz feels responsible for taking on his role as leader of the Diablos gang. Failing in school and dealing with her mom's sadness, Beatriz sets aside her love for dance. however, when her favorite TV show, \u003ci\u003eFame\u003c\/i\u003e, announces a casting call for extras, Beatriz must try to balance her \"gang life\" with her \"dance life.\" Can she navigate between the two, or will she finally be honest with herself and choose to follow her dreams? Through Beatriz's voice, Charles presents a strong, smart, and sometimes snarky teenager who is trying to gain control of her choices, to finally become her true self; and whose family has encountered abuse and injustice and developed mechanisms of survival. Integral to the story are explorations of drugs and addiction and their impact on Black and Latinx communities; machismo and homophobia in Puerto Rican communities; and media and dreams as ways to escape one's realities or to find new ones. An author's note and information about gangs and the 1980s drug epidemic, Debbie Allen (dancer, choreographer, and star of \u003ci\u003eFame\u003c\/i\u003e), and ACT-SO (Afro-Academic, Cultural, Technological, and Scientific Olympics) are appended. \u003cbr\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe Horn Book\u003c\/i\u003eTami Charles is a former teacher and full-time author of picture books, middle grade and young adult novels, and nonfiction. As a teacher, she made it her mission to introduce her students to all types of literature, but especially diverse books. While it was refreshing to see a better selection than what she was accustomed to as a child, Tami felt there weren’t nearly as many diverse books as she’d hoped for. It was then that she decided to reignite her passion for writing. Tami is the author of the middle grade novel \u003ci\u003eLike Vanessa\u003c\/i\u003e (2018) and the picture book \u003ci\u003eFreedom Soup\u003c\/i\u003e (Candlewick Press, 2019).\u003cb\u003eFriday, April Thirteenth\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e They say when you see a wishmaker flower, you’re supposed to make a wish and blow.  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I thrust my body to the ground, press my face to the pavement, and wish away the first gunshot and the panicked faces and screaming voices circling around my ’hood. The wishmaker juts out of a gap in the sidewalk—pays me no attention. Instead it searches the sky for the sun and leaves me realizing this shit’s all my fault. I should’ve let Junito be. \u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Crack!\u003c\/i\u003e The second shot rings out louder than the first. I still hear the radio from the bodega blasting Héctor Lavoe and Willie Colón’s “Todo tiene su final.” A minute ago, I’d begged Junito to dance salsa with me. Ignored his warnings to stay in the house today. Pulled him into the rhythm and lost myself in the lyrics—everything has an end.  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Ain’t this some bull. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Crack! Crack!\u003c\/i\u003e More bullets soar above us, shattering the window of our bodega. Shards of glass land on me. I pant through heavy breath and squinted eyes, screaming my brother’s name. I turn my head and see Junito reach for the Glock in his boot. He aims it at the silver Trans Am and pops off a couple rounds.  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It’s not cold out, but I shiver. Questions fill me up faster than bullets slice the air. Who ordered this hit? Why does God hate me? Because that’s the only explanation I got for him making my birthdate and death date one in the same.  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e And who made up that stupid wishmaker flower saying anyway? Because whoever did can kiss my nalgas. Twice.  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The silver Trans Am comes to a screeching halt in front of the bodega.  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e More shots. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Who are they? What do they want? \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Junito jolts upright, glass falling off of him, and fires off again. I stay on the ground, my chest heaving in and out, tiny pieces of asphalt piercing my cheek. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But then tires skid and smoke against the asphalt before accelerating down Broadway. Just like it happens in the movies. This is the magic of Junito Mendez. No matter what, he always forces the bad guys away. I’d seen it before—but not like this, not this bad, not this close to home. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e DQ  yells out from the bodega, “We’re good in here!”  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Todo bien!” Mami cries out, but I can hear the lie in her voice. On the surface, we’re fine. Just a busted store window and some penny-candy buckets with fresh bullet holes. Look a little deeper, though, and you’d see the truth. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Junito stands up and flashes DQ  a knowing look. Then, he starts to run down the alley toward to the empty lots. And even though he told me to stay inside earlier, I follow him. Listening is not my thing apparently. The farther I run, the quieter the music gets.   \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Don’t worry. They’re gone.” I can barely get the words out from trying to keep up. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Junito whips his head around fast, the anger in his eyes stabbing right through me. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “What are you doing? I told you to stay back!” His voice is untamed. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Why didn’t \u003ci\u003eyou\u003c\/i\u003e stay?” My voice matches his now. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e We finally stop running and tuck ourselves against the brick wall of the abandoned alley, positioned between two buildings. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “I don’t need to be on the scene when the police show up, that’s why. Por dios, you don’t listen!” Junito pulls two loose bricks from the bottom of the wall, wipes the Glock clean, and tries to hide it in the empty space. He can't make it fit. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e In the distance, I hear the faint sound of sirens, see Junito frantically searching his pockets. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “¡Carajo!” he curses. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Why were they coming for you, Junito? Tell me right now!” I demand. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e In the past, we’ve had one, maybe two gangs outside of Newark try to claim our spot. Never worked though. Junito was a force like that. Either you bowed down or you caught the heat.  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Junito finds the switchblade in his boot and starts pounding out another brick like mad. “Not today, Beatriz. All you gotta know is I ain’t letting nobody take over what I built. And sometimes you gotta send a message to let people know that.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Translation: Something went down last night and Junito started a war.  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Oh yeah? And if these pendejos don’t back down like the others? What then?” My voice loses its balance.  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Junito finally gets the brick loose and jams the gun inside. “You ain’t gotta worry about that.”   \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me in real slow. Together, we take turns breathing. Inhala, exhala. Just like Mami always says to calm us down. “Let’s wait a couple more minutes before we go back, and when five-o start asking questions, let me do the talking,” Junito says. “Everything will be fine.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I want to believe Junito. That it’ll be okay.   \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Let’s talk about something else,” Junito insists. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I lift my face to the midmorning sky, picture myself flying through those clouds. “You ever wonder what you could be outside of this place?”  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Junito fixes his eyes real hard on the ground. I know this ain’t no kind of life for us. He knows it too. But what choice do we have? Go back to being dirt poor, like  we were when we first got here? Or worse, return to Aguadilla? Even if I wanted us to go back to the island, I already know what his answer would be. \u003ci\u003eHell no. There’s a monster waiting for us there.\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “I’d start fresh . . . in San Francisco.” Junito hesitates before he says the last part. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I feel a sharp twinge in my stomach. Because deep down I know who he would go there for. The infamous TJ Martin. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Anyway, that ain’t possible right now.” Junito adds the switchblade to the hole and slips the first brick in. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A familiar voice creeps inside my head. The one that  repeats over and over again that I’m the reason Junito can’t live the way he wants. But I won’t carry that load all by  myself. Papi’s the first to blame. Then me. And the Diablos.  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I look at my watch. The tick of each second feels like an eternity. I’d spent the morning practicing the dance for my quinceañera and then dodging bullets. Tonight I would have to pretend that none of this ever happened. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “There’s gonna come a day when we won’t have to do this no more, Junito. One day I’ll be a professional dancer and make enough money to buy Mami one of those big houses over in Vailsburg or Mount Vernon. Maybe even away from Jersey.” I face him square on. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But Junito laughs, pointing the second brick my way. “What I tell you about watching that stupid show Fame? That’s television, pipe-dream stuff. This is reality.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Anger builds up inside. “Whatever, Junito!” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “When you live in a city where cocaine is king, dancing ain’t gonna pay the bills.” He crawls to the edge of the building and takes a peek down the alley. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Junito doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Right there in the midst of the abandoned buildings tagged with my first graffiti—\u003ci\u003eFame, I’m gonna live forever\u003c\/i\u003e—in the empty field where my dancing dreams once bloomed, I envision a life far away from this place.  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I don’t notice there’s someone behind me. Only hear the click of a gun and feel the hot metal kissing the back of my head. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Looks like we get a two-for-one today.” His accent sounds like he’s from Nigeria or something, mixed with French too. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I suck in air, turn around, and see a yellow-scarfed face and two eyes, burning like a distant sun.  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Junito springs up. His legs take flight, arms like wings, he throws the brick in his hand at homeboy, knocking the gun out of his hand. The sickening sounds of cracked noses and hard blows to the gut ring over and over. Junito bobs to the right, the dude weaves to the left. And there I sit, star-ing at the dude’s gun a few feet away from me and Junito’s neatly tucked in the wall. Hypnotized by the sounds and the fiery eyes in them both, an inner voice cries out: \u003ci\u003eGet the hell up, Beatriz. Grab a gun. Any gun. \u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My wrist turns limp as I dig into the hole, wrap my fingers around the trigger, and rise up to finish him off. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Before I can do anything, homeboy gives me a swift punch to my right cheek, the gun tumbling out of my hand. The crunch of my jawbone is like a bomb going off inside of me. The whole universe spinning, and I pull out the blade I keep hidden inside my left cheek. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Homeboy comes in for the double hit, his fist like heavy metal against my face. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My hand slips, and the blade slices through the guy’s bandana not even a full inch. He screams as the bandana falls to the ground, revealing a thick goatee and a holy cross symbol tattooed on his neck. A single red drop of blood dances through his beard and lands on his shirt. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Oh, you messed up now,” he says, grasping a chunk of my hair in his oversized hands. Junito flies in for an uppercut, but instead catches a foot to the gut that sends him airborne. I punch and punch at the air, at this messed-up life, and at homeboy until I’m out of breath. But he just lifts me from the ground and throws me headfirst against the Dumpster. My back arches in slow motion until it crashes against the asphalt. I lie there, unmoving. He stomps his foot against my jaw again, and my whole world goes black.  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Behind closed eyes, I can hear the sound of my heart-beat pulsing through my head, feel the release of his foot. Hear the pounding, blow by blow, as Junito continues the fight. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He’ll get to his gun, or even homeboy’s, and finish the job. Three years as a Diabla and my body count is still zero. I’ve never even touched a gun until now. The small blade hidden in my mouth has always been my only weapon. And Junito wants to keep it that way. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Any second now and this will be all over. Junito  and I will run home and put on the biggest show for the police.  \u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Officer: Where were you during the drive-by, young man?\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Junito: Officer, my sister and I were taking a stroll in the neighborhood. We weren’t even here.\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I’ll get ready for my quinceañera, because turning fifteen is a big deal. Go with Mami to pick up Abuela from the airport. Let them both have their way with me. Do my hair, fluff my dress, all that proper “señorita” nonsense. That’ll make Mami happy. I mean, the woman sold her other bodegas to pull off this expensive-behind, wannabe wedding.  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A single shot rings out. The blast courses through my entire body, seems to echo all throughout Grafton and Broadway like an explosion thundering in the sky. I can’t move. It’s like someone presses pause on the entire city of Newark. The music, the sirens, the cars—they all disappear.  \u003cbr\u003eBut when the darkness of my mind clears, and I open my eyes, it’s Junito who I see lying on the ground, shaking uncontrollably, hands pressed against his chest—blood erupting like a busted fire hydrant in the dead of July. I beg my legs to move, to get up and push me toward Junito, but homeboy’s not done with me. He locks his rock-hard boot on my shoulder, points the gun at the space between my eyes. I lie there helpless, thunder moving through me as I watch Junito bleed and bleed. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “This is for Gaston. Got that, muchacha?” He leans down into my face and the heat of his breath finds its way to my skin. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Confusion floods in, wild and unforgiving. \u003ci\u003eWho the hell is Gaston? \u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Just hurry up and get it over with.” He’s going to shoot me too. Keep my eyes on the clouds. God’s up there, waiting for me. Even though I’m pissed at him right now. I count down the seconds until I see the white light:  \u003ci\u003eFive . . . four . . . three . . .  \u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Before I can reach two, homeboy leans down again and puts his lips close enough to brush against my earlobe. Drops of his blood fall on my shoulder. He whispers: “Nou pap janm bliye!”  \u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e  What did he just say? \u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I hear a car and turn my head. At the end of the alley, the silver Trans Am screeches to a halt, and the passenger door flies open.  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He releases his foothold, grabs his bandana off the ground, and runs away, with his gun in his right hand and Junito’s in his left. When he gets to the car, he does the strangest thing. He turns around, flails his arms out like wings, takes a bow, and yells out, “You talk? We’ll be back.”  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I lock eyes with the person driving the car. Study the image from a distance. It’s a girl. Dark sunglasses cover her eyes. Mounds and mounds of blonde dreadlocks spill out from her bandana. Another yellow bandana covers her mouth. She pulls it down, puckers her fire-red lips, and blows a kiss. Homeboy hops in, and they speed off under a sun-filled sky. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My legs finally give me permission to move. I roll over, grab my stomach, and vomit what feels like everything I’ve ever eaten for the past fifteen years. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Get up, Junito!” It hurts to say each word. I wipe the blood from my mouth with the sleeve of my shirt and run toward my brother. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “¡Ayúdenlo!” I scream, but my jaw is locking.  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The sirens grow louder, closer. I press a hand hard on Junito’s chest, begging him to hold on just a little longer. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “They’re coming. I hear them.” More pain fires up in my jaw.  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “I’ll . . . be . . . okay. Don’t . . . leave . . . Diablos. . . .”  I cover his lips before he can finish his sentence. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Diabla for life!” I’m sobbing now. “Te lo juro.”  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Junito stops shaking, and I scream, “Don’t leave me!” over and over again. Out of nowhere, the cops come running down the alley, guns drawn, mouths moving in slow motion. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My ears become soundproof. All I see is them gesturing for me to lie on the ground. Like a dog. Hands behind my head. Feet together. Don’t move. Be still. But I move uncontrollably. One cop jumps on top of me. Then another. I can’t breathe. Half my face is pressed into the grass. I wonder if Junito’s gone already. If he sees the white light, like I do, coming down from the sky. Then I feel more hands. Damn near fifty of them, exploring my body, searching for something, anything, to connect the dots. My lips position themselves to speak. One final crack in my jaw kills all of my words.  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “We need to check the kid’s pulse!” someone yells.  \u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Yes, save him please! Hurry! \u003c\/i\u003eI plead inside my head.   \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Someone tosses me on a gurney. Places two fingers on my wrist and starts counting. Slaps a mask on my face. Rolls me toward a flashing swirl of red, white, and blue. Doors shut. Engine roars. Tires screech. Last thing I see out the back window is Junito lying in the field like some kind of science project.","brand":"Charlesbridge Teen","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46299932328165,"sku":"NP9781623541828","price":12.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781623541828.jpg?v=1767722339","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/becoming-beatriz-isbn-9781623541828","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}