family of five older siblings, an incompetent mother, no money, and no supervision. When Maya was born, eldest sister Luz, fifteen at the time, was the de facto parent and resident adult who had been holding the family together for years. But when Maya was two, Luz married and moved out, then little by little, the others followed so that now Maya was the only one left. Luz still lived in Santa Barbara with her husband and young son, but the other four were long gone and seldom communicated with Maya or their mother.
        Since as long as Maya could remember, it was her greatest dream to be a flamenco dancer. Each summer, watching the historical parade, she was transfixed by the beautiful flamenco dancer leading the parade so gracefully, so boldly, with so much emotion. She would jump up and down imitating the dancers, making everyone laugh and say, “She wants to dance too!” When at four or five she realized the dancer leading the parade was a dignitary, a celebrity: the Spirit of Fiesta, she vowed that someday she would be that girl.
        But early on, she learned that such goals were not an option for people like her and the dream faded. Her life was one of anguish, turmoil and violence with the only safe place being deep inside herself. She was a worthless little nothing; ugly, distrusted, and a burden to anyone with the misfortune of knowing her.
        And then during the past year, her world had brightened unexpectedly. The Community Center on Carrillo Street, across from the welfare department gave free flamenco lessons and Maya signed up. She was a natural, excelling beyond anyone’s expectations and was even invited to dance on the Sanchez Family float. But, exhilarating as this was, she did not trust this dream. She knew it was only a matter of time until the other shoe would fall, and now it had. The past year had been nothing more than a cruel hoax.
        On Maya’s first night of freedom, her mother allowed her to prepare a real dinner. She made bean tacos and lima beans. As she sat at the table squishing the beans with her fork, chewing a tortilla and drinking a glass of orange juice, her mother described the protein powder that makes you strong.
        “I can sell, Maya! I sell vary mush!”
        Maya was silent.
        “I sell vary mush an’,” now in Spanish, “the lady will send me to the convention.”
        “What convention?”
        “The convention, mija. At the place in LA.” Then again in Spanish, “A hotel so large and magnificent. She sends me there. I sell the powder and go to LA.”
        “Oh,” Maya managed to say