– Fuck your shitty car!

It is as if Fernando never left the game of football, it is as if a ball has just been fumbled into the midst of the scene and everyone else on the field is scattering from it as he charges to scoop it up.

He barrels at Hector, whirling the minibat above his head, Timo dodging out of the way.

Hector spins himself about and begins to pedal away. George scrambles to his feet. Paul yanks his bike free of the ice plant, Ramon ignoring him and starting to climb back inside the Impala. He makes it halfway inside before Fernando returns and raps him across the back of the neck with the minibat and shoves him across the seat, climbing in behind the wheel, Timo diving into the back.

George and Paul are both on their bikes, riding in the opposite direction from Hector.

Fernando hits the hydraulics, boosting the Impala high on its shocks, screeching away from the curb in a tight circle that takes him after the rapidly disappearing Hector, and reveals Andy, where he has been hunched at the rear of the Chevy, now utterly exposed, but with no one left to see him.

He stands there.

Across the street, three small girls are frozen in the midst of a hopscotch they’ve chalked on the sidewalk. Andy waves at them and they run shrieking into their house.

Rocks and broken glass outline the space the rear half of the Impala occupied at the curb. His eye catches on some flecks of blood; his brother’s. In the middle of the street is the hammer that slipped from George’s pocket when he went down. Andy bends, picks it up, looks both ways along the street, walks over the sidewalk across the dead lawn and onto the Arroyos’ front porch.

George and Paul ride around the corner.

George’s handlebars were twisted to the side in the crash and he has to ride with them at an angle. They both pedal onto the lawn.

Paul picks some ice plant from his front spokes.