approached a house on Mason Street, someone called them from behind. It was Brian Maguire, a family friend two years older than Maya. He was smallish, had neatly combed red hair, a round, pale face with freckles, blue eyes, and a muscular build. He and Maya had known each other since early childhood, spending birthdays and holidays together. He was like a brother to Maya, and sometimes a protector.
“C’mon, le’s go,” Simpática urged.
“Just a minute,” Maya said. “I want to talk to Brian.”
As Simpática continued up the walk, Brian asked Maya, “What are you guys doing?”
“Selling Albin,” she moaned. “I hate it.”
“What is Albin?” he said.
“Protein powder. It’s supposed to make you healthy and give you more energy.”
Brian pondered this.
“Mom thinks she can make money selling it but she isn’t making any. Hardly anyone wants to buy it, at least from her.”
“Why are you going along?”
Maya looked defeated. “She’s making me. I’m grounded.”
They heard a door shut and realized Simpática had been let inside.
Brian smiled coyly. “Wanna go for a little walk?”
Maya weighed the significance of this, then impulsively said, “Okay.”
They began walking up Mason Street away from the house but heard the door open and shut again and Simpática now conversing with someone outside. Maya froze in her tracks.
Brian’s smile widened. “You wanna disappear?”
She looked at him. This would be blasphemy. But even though she knew her mother could see her, resumed her stride.
“Maya!”
She gasped and her step faltered, then she did something she may have never done before: she openly defied her mother, keeping pace with Brian. She told herself they could pretend they didn’t hear her.
“Maya!”
Her mother’s roar was unnerving. Brian took three more steps, then succumbed to his panic and broke into a run, Maya reflexively staying with him. They ran for two blocks until they reached the bridge just before Alameda Padre Serra at the base of the mountains.
“Down there!” Brian