“Spring is the best part of the year,” Manny thought to himself as he walked down Cicero. The trees in the islands of grass that floated along the dead seas of pavement were beginning to show flecks of green, and the early morning sun peeked through them and onto Manny’s face. He took a deep breath, and the cool air slid down and filled his chest. For these few moments, he could forget the cigarette butts, the pop and beer cans, the broken bottles, the tar-splotched, gum-encrusted sidewalks, the boarded up apartments and houses, the graffiti covered CTA stops, the gunshots, the isolation, the chaos—and see nature for what it was intended.
Traffic was starting to pick up. An old guy with a raggedy grey sweater stood in front of the corner store fidgeting with his keys and the harsh screeching of rusty security shutters followed Manny’s ears as he walked past the carnicería. An old Geo beater rattled past, its muffler making white sparks against the asphalt, and a ’97 Toyota Camry sped past it with an out of control sub-woofer and gold spinners. What kind of idiot puts spinners on a car like that? Manny laughed to himself. Front doors slammed, kids ran to their busses, and the middle-eastern couple that lived in the apartment building across the street was fighting again.
The spell was broken.
His little brother Raul walked a block ahead so he could have a couple extra minutes on the playground before the bell rang. He was a 6th grader now; officially in middle school (as he constantly reminded everyone), and he was way too grown to be seen walking with the rest of the family. He wore gel in his hair now and had started stealing Manny’s cologne when he thought he wasn’t looking… even though the smell flooded every single room in the house. Manny always teased him about it. “You want to attract the ladies, man, not kill ‘em.” But Raul was hard headed, so Manny started buying the cheap stuff.
“Wait for Cici,” Manny yelled to the little man, who pretended not to hear.
“I said esperate Raul… Boy, quit playin’, I know you hear me.”
Raul scowled and turned back. “Alicia, hurry up, you’re going to make me late.”
The younger girl ran to catch up; her pink backpack bouncing, smacking her back and rattling the pencils inside their plastic case as her feet collided with the ground.
They turned the corner, and the school came into sight. It was a drab building in front of an asphalt playground with a huge steel A-frame sprouting out of the ground, and a couple of net-less basketball rims. Apparently the winter had managed to kill even the swing chains, and they weren’t coming back anytime soon.
Child-pitched, carbonated screams reached their ears from a block and a half away, and Raul began to speed up again. Manny shook his head as Alicia’s shorter legs worked double time to keep up, but before they could rush through the black fence that sectioned this asphalt from the rest of the city pavement, Manny stopped them.
