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  “I hope you don’t think you’re too good for us, or something.”

  MJ still didn’t answer.

  The truth was they’d been so mean to her that even the thought of showing up for gymnastics practice made her want to cry.

  Her silence and the way she was ignoring them made Madison angry.

  “Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

  MJ sighed. She paused her Lucha Dominion video and slowly raised her chin, staring up at the three of them.

  Madison’s expression was like something out of a comic book panel. She looked like a Marvel villain who’d just been beaten up by Wolverine or something.

  “Are you still watching that junk?” she asked, nodding at the frozen image on MJ’s screen.

  Madison had always liked making fun of her wrestling obsession, but MJ was used to people doing that.

  It only hurt now because wrestling was one of the things she shared with her papi.

  “Obviously,” MJ said, too quietly to even be heard through her grinding teeth.

  “I told you what my dad said about people who watch wrestling, right? How they can barely be smart enough to tie their shoes?”

  MJ blinked hard as if she’d just been stung by a bee. The mention of Madison’s father hurt even worse than any of her insults. She remembered all too well the way their coach felt about wrestling. He’d always barked at her to “turn that junk off” whenever he caught her watching her tablet before practice.

  “I didn’t try out this year because I just don’t want to do gymnastics anymore, that’s all.”

  Madison glared at her.

  MJ waited, her heart beating faster. She felt like she was sweating, and she hoped they couldn’t see it.

  “You are so pathetic,” Madison said after a while.

  There was so much hatred in her voice. MJ couldn’t understand why.

  Madison kicked over the plastic bottle of chocolate milk sitting opened on the ground beside her. MJ had to scoot away to avoid the milk that spilled across the cement. She reached down and picked up the bottle while there was still some left inside.

  Madison watched her and laughed. The other girls didn’t laugh. They just stood there with nervous smiles on their faces. She wished they’d say something, but she knew they were too scared of Madison and her dad to ever do it.

  Fortunately, they walked away after that.

  It wasn’t what they did to her that really bothered MJ, it was that she had to take it. That was the part that made her feel so powerless and angry. She wanted to fight back, but she didn’t know how.

  MJ drank the sip of chocolate milk that was left in the bottle, and then she unpaused the video she was watching.

  Listening to Corrina made her feel better.

  Wrestling was still there for her, even if Papi wasn’t, and it helped her deal with the real world.

  It didn’t fix things, but it helped.

  Shipwreck

  MJ would never have guessed that losing a drone over a wall one day could change her life, but it did.

  It was the last present her papi had given her before he left them. It was red and black and looked like a helicopter from the future, and she could control it with an app on her phone that he’d shown her how to use.

  MJ liked it because she didn’t have to go outside to play with the drone. She could sit in her bedroom and control it from the window, sending it dive-bombing at soda cans she’d set up in their new backyard.

  She hadn’t felt like arranging any new targets that day, so instead MJ aimlessly guided the drone in zigzagging patterns inches above the dying grass. A six-foot concrete wall separated their yard from the house next door. The top of it always seemed to have seeds and pods from a nearby tree scattered over its rough surface.

  MJ navigated the drone above the wall and carefully let it settle close to the top without quite touching. Gently edging it forward so its round body tilted, MJ revved up the speed and let it fly. The force created by the drone sent dried yellow pods shooting out from under it on both sides, clearing the top of the wall. It was satisfying to watch, and MJ felt proud of herself and her little electronic pet.

  That satisfaction turned to sudden panic when the front of her drone snagged against a particularly rough spot in the concrete and went flipping end over end beyond the fence, disappearing into the neighbor’s backyard.

  “Uh-oh,” she breathed quietly to herself.

  MJ couldn’t see where it landed. She tried to summon it back into the air with the controls of her phone app, but the drone wouldn’t rise. It was either stuck on something, or the crash had damaged it.

  MJ felt that bubbling begin in her gut that happened when she knew she was about to be in trouble.

  She put her phone down on the windowsill and pushed herself up by the edges of her seat, unfolding her legs and hopping down from the chair. MJ bolted out of the house as fast as she could run, charging across their backyard to the place at the wall where her drone went down.

  She realized she had no idea who lived here; in the four months since they’d moved into the house, she and her mother hadn’t really met anyone on the street yet. MJ had only seen an aging truck parked in the driveway next to theirs from time to time, but it hadn’t been there when she’d come home from school, so she was pretty sure nobody was home.

  Standing next to it, the wall seemed a lot taller than it had when she looked down at it from her bedroom window. MJ licked her lips nervously, thinking she should just wait until that truck pulled back into the neighbor’s driveway and then she could go knock on the door and ask for her drone back. Then she thought about what would happen if the neighbors didn’t come home before her mother did. She could just not tell Mom about the drone, of course, but what if the neighbors found it and brought it over? Then not only did MJ crash the expensive gift, she would also have lied about it.

  And it was a gift from Papi; not just a gift, but his last gift to her.

  Running through every possibility like that made her head hurt. MJ shook her head to clear away those thoughts, telling herself that she was acting like a dork, and that she wanted her drone back.

  She bent at her knees and launched herself into the air, reaching up and gripping the top of the wall. The unfinished concrete dug into her fingertips, but she was easily able to pull herself up and swing her legs over.

  It actually felt good to move her body like that. MJ wouldn’t tell her mother, but she missed gymnastics. MJ missed the way she felt free when she flew across the practice mats or walked the balance beam. It was everything that happened when she stepped off the mat that she couldn’t stand.

  She dropped down into the neighbor’s backyard, landing solidly on her feet. The backyard hadn’t been mowed in weeks, it seemed, and the grass was up to her ankles.

  Still, she spotted her crashed drone lying next to an old, cracked marble fountain with a sculpture of Our Lady of Guadalupe on top of it. MJ recognized the image of Mary from her abuelita’s candles. She sprinted over and picked up the drone, examining it for damage. The plastic body was chipped where it had snagged the rough concrete, but other than that MJ couldn’t see anything that would prevent it from flying. She hoped its inside parts weren’t messed up too bad.

  MJ looked up from the drone and really took in the yard for the first time. Other than the disused fountain, there was only one other thing on the overgrown grass, but that thing dominated most of the space. She wasn’t sure how she hadn’t noticed it when she first hopped the fence.

  Something giant was covered by a dirty canvas tarp in the corner of the yard. Whatever it was, it was twice as tall as MJ and the size of two minivans. MJ crept toward it, curious. At first she thought it might be a project, maybe some old boat somebody was working on restoring on the weekends. Then MJ noticed the tarp was split down one corner, revealing a piece of what was hiding underneath.

  The object poking out was a tall, rusted metal post.

  MJ squinted at the lon
g rectangle. There were ropes or cables connected to two sides of it, and under those, hanging from the edge of some kind of platform, large pieces of cloth draped down to the ground.

  Her eyes widened as she recognized what she was looking at.

  She walked over to the exposed corner of the tarp and touched the metal post carefully. It was rough on her hand, but it seemed solid, like it wouldn’t easily tip over.

  MJ hesitated, biting her lower lip. She knew she shouldn’t be there, let alone doing what she was thinking about doing.

  She bent down and placed her drone back in the grass. MJ reached out and grabbed two handfuls of the canvas tarp. She gave them a tug. The tarp barely moved. Taking a deep breath, she dug her heels into the ground beneath the tall grass and pulled as hard as she could. Slowly, the tarp began to slide over the top of the object. MJ had to turn around and drag the end of the tarp she was holding over her shoulder. The rest of it finally pulled away and after trudging over a dozen steps MJ felt the bulk of the tarp drop to the ground.

  She let go of the piece she was holding and turned back to take in what the tarp had been covering up.

  It was a wrestling ring, just like the ones she’d seen on TV all her life. It certainly wasn’t as impressive as those, nowhere near as polished and clean. In fact, this ring looked to be in terrible shape. The “ropes” looked to be wrapped in duct tape that was several different colors. The canvas covering the inside of the ring was dirty and torn in many places, several of which were also patched over with duct tape. The turnbuckles that connected the ropes in each corner, which were usually covered by pads, were mostly just exposed, rusted metal rings.

  MJ didn’t care, however. She’d never been this close to a real wrestling ring before, and she thought it was amazing.

  It’s not yours, a voice that sounded a lot like Mom’s said inside her head. This isn’t your yard. You shouldn’t be messing around with other people’s stuff.

  All of that was true, but how often would MJ be alone with a real-life pro-wrestling ring?

  Besides, how could she be in more trouble than she already was?

  She crawled underneath the bottom rope and across the stained, taped-over canvas, standing up in the middle of the ring. It didn’t feel the way she thought a ring floor would feel under her feet. Her family members who thought pro wrestling was dumb always compared it to a trampoline. It didn’t feel like that at all. The ring floor felt solid underneath the layer of canvas on top of it.

  MJ gently rocked back and forth from the tips of her shoes to her heels. There definitely was some give to the ring, though. She gently bounced up and down several times. It felt like jumping on wooden boards with nothing underneath them. She didn’t think it would feel good to fall on this floor, however.

  “¡Oye!”

  It was a deep, angry voice, and as it hit her ears MJ jumped and felt her blood rush and go cold.

  She looked over her shoulder. An old man in a black suit and tie was standing at the back door of her neighbor’s house. She hadn’t heard the truck pull into the driveway, but this had to be its owner.

  He reminded her of pictures MJ had seen of her grandfather, though she’d never met the man, who passed away long before she was born. The deep lines in this old man’s face and his steel-gray hair, perfectly combed back, were exactly like that image of her abuelita’s husband. Her new neighbor looked much tougher, though, without the kind smile her grandfather always displayed in those old pictures.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing in there?” he demanded, sounding angrier with every word. “I should call the cops right now!”

  MJ couldn’t force words from her brain to her mouth. That only made her panic more. Without thinking, she looked away and ran to the corner of the ring nearest to the fence, quickly climbing up the turnbuckles. She balanced herself easily on the top rope and gingerly leaped from the ring to the top of the fence.

  “Get down from there!” He continued to yell angrily at her. “Hey, I’m talking to you, girl! Come here! Come here, I said!”

  He was still raging loudly as MJ dropped over the fence into her own yard and ran into the house, slamming the back door behind her.

  Señor Arellano

  That evening they ordered pizza for dinner and MJ tried to say as little to her mother as possible. Fortunately, ever since they’d moved, MJ’s mom was used to her daughter not saying much during dinner, or really any other time they were together.

  It was almost eight o’clock and MJ was sitting on the living room floor in front of the couch, scrolling through YouTube clips without actually watching anything. Her mother was in the kitchen rinsing and putting into the dishwasher the few dishes they’d used. MJ was starting to think that maybe she was in the clear, at least for the rest of the night.

  The knock at their front door sent MJ’s heart leaping up into her throat. Her first impulse was to run to her room and close the door, but she knew that was pointless. At a loss for anything else to do, she pulled in her arms and legs and tried to make herself as small as possible against the front of the couch. She felt stupid, knowing she couldn’t turn herself invisible no matter how much she wanted to, but she tried all the same.

  Her mother came out from behind the kitchen bar and walked across the living room. After checking through the peephole to see who had knocked, she unlocked and opened their front door.

  It was the old man. He was holding her broken drone in hands that looked as though they’d been through a war a long time ago. They were scarred and withered, though somehow, they didn’t look weak. He’d changed out of his suit and tie and was now wearing gray slacks and a black polo shirt with a logo on the breast.

  Peeking over the couch, MJ noticed the logo right away, even in her panicked state. It was a large red luchador mask, with a V sewn to the left of it and an A sewn to the right of it.

  The old man was smiling. He didn’t look mad anymore, which made MJ feel better, but she was still terrified of what was about to happen and how Mom was going to react.

  “Buenas tardes, señora,” he greeted MJ’s mother. “Mi nombre es Álvaro Arellano. Soy su vecino—”

  “I’m very sorry,” her mother interrupted him, smiling uncomfortably. “I don’t speak Spanish.”

  MJ knew that was always a sore spot for her mother, especially with Papi’s family, who were all from Mexico and whose native language was Spanish. MJ’s grandpa, Mom’s father, was a white man from the Valley, where her mother was born. Even though he’d married MJ’s grandma, who was from Tecate, and even though MJ’s mother was half Mexican and looked like it, they didn’t speak Spanish in their house when MJ’s mother was a little girl. It always seemed like it embarrassed her mom when people spoke Spanish around her, especially when they assumed she did, too.

  “Oh. Excuse me. My name is Álvaro Arellano. I’m your neighbor.”

  Her mother seemed relieved, not only that the old man spoke English, but that she had a new subject to talk about instead.

  “Oh! Hello! It’s very nice to meet you. We’ve been meaning to introduce ourselves around the neighborhood. I’m Vivian Medina, and this is my daughter, Maya.”

  “I believe your daughter and I met earlier today. She was in my backyard.”

  “Oh?” Her mother looked back at MJ and frowned. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know that happened.”

  “No, no,” Señor Arellano said quickly. “I guess she lost one of her toys over the fence, and she was just trying to get it back. Actually, I . . . I think I owe her an apology.”

  Her mother’s frown only deepened.

  “Maya!” she called to MJ. “Get over here!”

  MJ swallowed, setting aside her tablet and standing up slowly. She walked around the couch with her head down and her eyes on the floor, not looking up until she was standing beside her mother.

  “Hello, Maya,” Mr. Arellano said.

  She tried to smile. “Hi.”

  He took a deep breath. “Listen.
When I met you this afternoon, I . . . I had just returned from Mexico. And I’m sorry to say I wasn’t in a very good mood. You see, I was there for . . . for a funeral.”

  Her mother’s frown softened, as did her eyes. “I’m very sorry to hear that, Mr. Arellano.”

  He nodded. “Gracias. Thank you.”

  “May I ask who passed?”

  Mr. Arellano dropped his head for a moment. When he raised his eyes to meet Vivian’s, it looked as though he’d been blinking back tears.

  “My grandson,” he said quietly. “He was fifteen.”

  MJ watched her mother’s hands cover her heart.

  “I am . . . so sorry.”

  MJ felt her own stomach twist into several knots. For a moment she wasn’t afraid of being punished anymore, she just felt a deep wave of sadness to hear that someone not much older than her had died.

  Mr. Arellano cleared his throat.

  “Anyway. I wanted to apologize for yelling at you like that, Maya, and I wanted to return this.”

  He held out her drone.

  MJ didn’t do anything at first. She couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d just told them about his grandson.

  “Maya,” her mother nudged her. “Take your helicopter. Say, ‘Thank you.’”

  “It’s not a helicopter,” MJ grumbled, low enough that no one said anything.

  She reached up and took the drone. “Thank you.”

  Mr. Arellano smiled, still looking sad, and nodded to her.

  “I’m sorry I was in your ring. I just . . . I’ve never been in a real wrestling ring before.”

  “Maya loves the TV wrestling,” her mother added, although she sounded confused at the mention of the ring.

  MJ frowned. She hated it when Mom called it “TV wrestling.”

  “I understand,” Mr. Arellano said. “Don’t worry about it. I was just afraid you might hurt yourself. That thing is such an old piece of junk.”

  “Why do you have a wrestling ring in your yard?” MJ asked.