“I tried to push him off and get away but he was, like, twice my size. ‘No!’ I told him. But he wouldn’t let me go.”
In his mind, Diego recalled Mac pressing against him…. Shorts off. Grabbing Diego’s hand, forcing it to touch him. He couldn’t tell Vidas that.
“I tried to get away, but my legs were tangled in my underwear, caught around my ankles. And I thought, If I grab my shark’s tooth, I can cut him. But he had my arms pinned.”
Diego’s voice became expressionless, like he was telling someone else’s story. And yet his heart raced as he recalled Mac pressing into him from behind. And the pain. Excruciating pain. Skin tearing, Mac pushing inside him.
“I cried for him to stop. But he covered my mouth and told me he loved me, that I was his boy. My head was turned sideways and I saw his gun beside the bed and thought, I’ll get the gun. But what if he used the gun on me? I was having all these mixed-up thoughts. And then…”
Diego hesitated, unsure about the next part.
“And then it was like…I was floating up into the air, looking down at my body. I could see what he was doing to me, except I wasn’t inside my body anymore.”
Diego paused, waiting for Vidas’s reaction. “Do you think I’m crazy?”
“No.” Vidas shook his head. “Other people describe leaving their bodies when raped.”
Diego flinched. Why had Vidas said “raped”? Rape was something that happened to women, not guys.
“It’s a way of dealing with the trauma,” Vidas went on. “What else can you remember?”
It took Diego a moment to get back into the memory. “It was like I floated outside, over the ocean. It was night and so quiet. And there was this one shark, still circling the boat…. It rolled onto its side…and its eye looked up at me, like blaming me.”
Diego had forgotten about that shark till now, just as he’d tried to forget about that night.
“Blaming you for what?” Vidas asked.
“I don’t know…. For not stopping Mac maybe?”
Vidas nodded as though to register the answer. “What happened after that?”
“I guess I came back somehow. The next morning Mac put his finger to his lips like what had happened was our secret, and he didn’t say anything about it. As if it never happened. I remember thinking, Well, maybe this is what dads do with their sons. I was so stupid! I wanted a dad so bad. I slept the whole trip back; I hurt so much. At the pier, everybody was excited about the trophy fish he’d caught.”
“Did you tell your mom what happened?”
“I didn’t know what to say.” Diego slumped back against the holding cell wall. “She saw my underwear stained and asked what I’d eaten, as though I’d eaten something that made me bleed. So I told her, ‘No! Mac hurt me.’ She gave me this blank look. Then she raised her hand and slapped me, telling me not to ever say anything like that again. She’d never hit me before. Never. I started crying, sobbing. Then she cried too, putting her arms around me, and said, ‘He’s going to marry me and be your father and take us out of here. Do you understand?’ It was the only time she ever hit me. And after that I never told anybody what happened.”
Diego let out a long breath, exhausted and relieved, feeling like some weary swimmer finally reaching shore.
“That’s a huge secret for a boy to carry,” Vidas said, his eyes brimming with compassion. “It took a lot of courage to trust me with it.”
Diego nodded, not quite believing he’d finally let the secret out. He did trust Vidas—lots.
“I’m sorry it happened,” Vidas continued. “You’re not to blame. You didn’t deserve it.”
“I know,” Diego said, his lip beginning to tremble.
“You didn’t deserve it,” Vidas reiterated, as though to make sure Diego heard him.
Diego pulled his arms close next to him, feeling on the verge of tears.
A knock banged at the door and the bailiff spoke through the Plexiglas: “Ready? Your case is next.”
A wave of apprehension seized Diego. He turned to Vidas. “You’re not going to tell the judge all this, are you?
“Only if you want me to.”
Diego shook his head and quickly wiped his cheeks. “No!”
“Then I won’t.” Vidas stood. “What the judge will want to know is: Are you going to keep assaulting people?”
Diego got shakily to his feet. “I don’t want to.” He knew it was a lame response, but it was the most honest one.
The bailiff unlocked the door and took a firm hold of Diego’s arm, leading him to the courtroom, together with Vidas.
CHAPTER 15
AS DIEGO ENTERED THE COURTROOM, his mom turned to him from the front row, her face pained with worry. Diego glanced away, ashamed for her to see him like this, being led like a criminal. The bailiff released him at the defense table, where he slunk down into the chair beside Ms. Delgado and glanced up at the judge.
“So, what do we have here?” Judge Ferrara asked no one in particular and read aloud from a folder. “‘Detention hearing for assault and battery.’” He adjusted his glasses and glanced at Diego, his eyes blinking with recognition. “Oh, I remember you. You’re the smart aleck who told the court you should be on probation. Am I right?”
Diego’s face flared red. Too embarrassed to answer, he glanced down at the table. From across the courtroom, Vidas replied for him: “Yes, your honor.”
“Let the boy speak for himself,” the judge grumbled, “since he’s so smart.”
Diego gazed up and tried to keep his voice steady. “Um, yes, your honor.”
“Well, apparently”—Judge Ferrara’s voice grew louder—“probation isn’t enough for you. What do you think you need this time? To stay in jail?”
Diego swallowed the fist-size knot in his throat. “I don’t know, sir.”
“Oh, so you’re not so smart anymore!” the judge said and turned to the prosecutor. “What does the county recommend?”
“As you’ll note, your honor”—the prosecutor stood to speak—“this is Mr. MacMann’s second assault. He clearly presents a danger to the community. For that reason, we request detention till trial.”
Diego listened in disbelief. A danger to the community?
“Counsel, what’s your response?” Judge Ferrara asked Ms. Delgado.
“Your honor”—she got up from her chair—“while we appreciate this is a serious charge, I’d like to point out that overall Diego is doing well. He makes good grades. He behaves at home. And Mr. Vidas reports that except for this incident, Diego has abided by the terms of probation, including restitution—which he paid out of savings from his weekend job. I believe that given these factors, keeping him out of his home, work, and school would do more harm than good.”
She sat down again and the judge leaned back in his leather chair. His somber gaze moved to Diego’s mom. “He behaves well at home?”
“Yes, your honor.” Her voice came out shaky and uneven. “He’s a good boy. He helps me a lot with his little brother.”
“His little brother?” Judge Ferrara scoffed. “You think he’s setting a good example?”
Diego withered in his seat as his mom replied, “No, not with this, your honor.”
The judge shifted his gaze across the room. “What light can you shed on this, Mr. Vidas?”
Diego’s legs began to jiggle beneath the table. Would Vidas keep his word not to say anything about what he’d told him?
“Your honor,” Vidas began, “as Diego’s counsel stated, overall he’s responded well to probation. Apart from this incident, he’s made progress in dealing with what I believe is the core of his anger. Unfortunately, as you’re aware, sometimes it’s two steps forward and one step back.”
Diego relaxed a fraction. Obviously Vidas was on his side. But Judge Ferrara scowled, unpersuaded. “And a step back means he assaults someone again?”
Vidas pressed his lips together without answering.
The judge refocused his glare on Diego
. “So, Mr. Smart Aleck! I’m not convinced that you won’t go off on somebody else. Maybe with three more days of detention it might sink in: If you keep this up, your new home will be jail.” He jabbed his thick finger at Diego. “Comprende?”
Diego nodded, picturing his bleak cell. “Yes, your honor.”
Outside the courtroom, he was allowed only a few seconds to visit with his mom. He expected her to scold him again but instead she wrapped her arms around him, her eyes shiny with tears.
“Take care of yourself,” she told him. “¡Cuídate!”
A second bailiff handcuffed him again to return him to juvie.
Seeing his mom so upset unsettled Diego, making him feel like he’d betrayed her. What if Vidas told her what Diego revealed and blamed her for not stopping Mac? Would she get in trouble? Without her, what would happen to Eddie—and to him?
As soon as he got back to the detention center, he asked the intake officer, “Can you phone my PO? I need to talk to him.”
“We’ll put in a call,” the man replied. “Now go eat lunch.”
Diego was picking at a plate of ham and mashed potatoes, feeling too tense to eat, when the loudspeaker blared across the dining hall: “Diego MacMann! Your PO’s on the phone.”
Diego hurried to the office, pressed the phone to his ear, and blurted into the receiver, “Is my mom going to get in trouble?”
“Your mom?” Vidas asked, confused. “Get in trouble for what?”
“Because of—you know—the stuff I told you.”
The other end of the line was silent a moment. “Diego, I’m trying to help you and your family, not hurt you. Don’t you understand that?” Vidas paused and waited for him to say something, but Diego didn’t know what to say.
“Tell you what,” Vidas continued. “I’ll make a deal with you. I won’t tell anybody about what you told me unless I check with you first. In turn, you stay out of trouble in detention and we’ll talk more at your next appointment. Deal?”
The reassurance helped to calm Diego a little. The remainder of the day, he kept to himself, ignoring the other boys as they called each other “fag” and “homo.” Vidas was right: Guys teased each other that way all the time. He’d been stupid to let it get to him.
When bedtime arrived, he learned that he was still under suicide watch. Once again, he had to strip to his underwear, and the steel door locked behind him. He dropped onto the bare mattress, the stink of disinfectant wafting up at him.
In the silence of the cell, the fresh memory of Mac and the boat began to flash back through his mind. With each image, his heartbeat quickened, his chest tightened. When the staff came around, it was Mac’s face that peered through the door window, once again coming to get him, wanting him.
Diego scrambled back against the concrete wall. His breath came deep and fast. Even though the face disappeared, he felt like he couldn’t get enough air. His fingers gouged into his skin, wanting to peel the flesh off. Anything to make his feelings go away. Desperate, he slammed his fist against the cell block wall. A surge of pain shot up his arm. A sudden liquid heat filled his body. And his panic slowly subsided.
He lay back down, cradling his aching arm beneath the rough blanket. He hated this place. He hated his life. He hated himself.
The next three days dragged on forever. Meals consisted of mountainous heaps of food, as if to keep the kids busy eating.
After breakfast, all detainees were supposed to do schoolwork, but instead most horsed around—clowning, punching, burping, farting, climbing out of their seats, yelling over at the girls, throwing paper, calling each other “queer,” making noise, noise, and more noise—while the staff kept shouting at them to do their work.
Diego reminded himself of his deal with Vidas and stayed out of trouble. He was one of a handful of inmates who actually did any schoolwork, and the staff asked him to help this quiet Mexican boy his same age who could barely read any better than eight-year-old Eddie. It reminded Diego of how much he missed his brother.
The other person he thought a lot about was Ariel—especially at night, when he lay alone in his cell. He stared up at the metal-barred window to the outside, recalling their kiss and wondered, would she even talk to him anymore after this?
During the afternoons, while the girls stayed in a separate area, the boys were set loose onto a basketball court. Diego sat at the edge of the concrete, leaning against the thirteen-foot-high barbwire-topped fence, and watched them play, push, and knock into one another while he waited for the time to pass.
Following dinner, everybody had to stay in a central area, where they watched the blaring TV, argued over programs, played cards, and made up rap lyrics. Again, the noise was earsplitting.
During his last evening, Diego found an old tattered scuba diving magazine. He’d always wanted to learn to skin-dive but that cost money, more than he’d ever had. After flipping through the magazine photos, he read an article about a diver who’d actually faced off a shark—and had survived.
Perhaps the story led to the unsettling dream Diego had that night. It began on an ocean beach with Vidas. In his hand, Vidas held an orange-colored starfish and was playing a version of hide-and-seek. While Diego closed his eyes, Vidas would bury the starfish in the sand. Then, Diego had to hunt for it and dig it up. When he brought the starfish back, Vidas threw it into the surf and told him, “Now try to find it!”
Diego waded into the waves and searched through the water but couldn’t see the starfish anywhere. Vidas told him, “Maybe you should ask your shark to help you.”
With that, the dream changed to the middle of the open ocean, where Diego floated under the surface in a metal-barred cage like in shark-diving videos. Even though he didn’t have scuba gear, he was somehow breathing underwater. And circling him was the ghostly form of the shark.
Above him on a boat, Vidas was throwing scraps into the water for the shark. And the food was falling into Diego’s cage.
“Stop!” Diego shouted underwater, bubbles streaming out of his mouth. “Stop it!”
Unable to hear him, Vidas kept tossing scraps. The shark moved closer to the cage, baring its huge teeth. Suddenly it charged. The massive jaws rammed through the steel bars.
Diego woke up screaming and slammed against the cell wall. His skin shone wet with sweat in the light from overhead. Catching his breath, he stared up at the metal bars of the window and thought about the dream. It made no sense.
Why had Vidas fed the shark and let the scraps get into Diego’s cage? Was he trying to hurt Diego?
Too disturbed by the nightmare to fall back asleep, Diego stayed awake, waiting for morning and the staff to let him out.
CHAPTER 16
ON THE MORNING of Diego’s release from detention, he got back the shark’s tooth and replaced it around his neck while waiting for his mom. From the moment she drove up, he noticed the cross look in her eyes.
“I can’t miss any more work,” she scolded him on the drive to school. “Next time you get locked up, you can stay there.”
He glared across the car at her. Why did she always have to undermine him? She never believed in him. “There won’t be a next time,” he muttered. “How’s Eddie?”
“Crazy to see you. Don’t tell him about jail, okay? He doesn’t know.”
Once again she was making him keep secrets, but he couldn’t really blame her. He didn’t want Eddie to know he’d been in jail either.
“Has Mr. Vidas phoned you?” Diego asked, anxious to find out if he’d kept his secret.
“No,” his mom replied. “Why? Was he supposed to?”
“No. Just wondering.”
They were both quiet until his mom’s expression softened. “Ariel called.”
“She did?” Diego sat up. “You didn’t tell her, did you?”
“I didn’t have to. She’d already heard about it.”
Diego slumped back in his seat. Would Ariel want any more to do with him?
“You look like you put on
weight,” his mom said. “Was the food good?”
“It was all right,” Diego mumbled, his mind still on Ariel.
At school, he was required to meet with the vice principal for discipline before he could be admitted.
“Let’s get one thing clear”—Mr. Wesson leaned across his desk toward Diego—“I don’t care how good your grades are, I won’t tolerate criminals in my school.”
“I’m not a criminal,” Diego protested.
“Then stop acting like one. If you give even a hint of trouble, I’m tossing you out of here. Got that?”
Diego felt like walking out right then and there. Just forget school. But instead he muttered, “Got it.”
When he walked to class, it seemed as though people stared at him and steered clear. Maybe he was just being paranoid.
As he approached his locker, he saw Guerrero for the first time since the mall. Gauze covered his nose, apparently broken during their scuffle. Seeing him bandaged up like that gave Diego a twinge of guilt, but not enough to apologize. At least now Guerrero kept his mouth shut and left him alone.
At the sight of Diego, Kenny burst into a huge smile. During lunch he asked, “So how was juvie?”
“It stank. Literally.” He’d missed Kenny, the friend he knew he could always count on, no matter what. “You want to come over after school?”
“Sure.” Kenny nodded eagerly. “You bet.”
At the end of the day, Diego spotted the other person he wanted to see. She was standing across the hall at her locker. Upon seeing him, her expression tightened. The friends she was with exchanged glances and leaned close to her—probably telling her that he was beyond sketchy; he was bad news.
He closed his locker, said a prayer, and walked toward her. She flashed a glance at her friends and they moved a few lockers away, their cold stares fixed on him.
“Um, hi,” he said, not knowing what else to say.
“Hi.” Although her voice had an edge, she didn’t sound angry. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, thanks.” He jammed his hands into his pockets. “Um, how are you?”