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CHAPTER FOURErnesto jogged to the pizzeria to do his shift. The barrio looked so peaceful this time of day, at dusk. Kids were riding their skateboards, twisting and turning, and coming down with amazing agility. The skateboards clattered, and the kids screamed with laughter. Guys were mowing their lawns, and you could begin to smell the aromas of cooking dinners. Ernesto looked at the skateboarders—boys, eleven or twelve, maybe a little older. They were just kids. They loved baseball and football. Some of them were already into rock and rap. They formed innocent little gangs that were about fun and games.
But in a few years some of them would turn into guys like Condor and Coyote. The street was like a nightmare scenario, an evil spell cast over the young. It was like a deadly dis
