A half hour later Chuy had the idle back under control. He and Tomas were gathered around the engine again, listening to it hum. Chuy wiped his hands on a rag and handed to it Tomas, who did the same.

"Hey Unc," Tomas said. "I almost forgot."

Chuy looked up. Tomas tilted his head toward Chuy's truck.

"You know the gangbanger stole your wheels?"

Chuy nodded. Tomas straightened his head. He held the rag by a corner and spun it around in circles. Chuy frowned.

"He's dead," Tomas said.

Chuy felt a twinge in his stomach. The backs of his hands went cool.

"What?"

Tomas nodded. He stopped spinning the rag, then started again.

"What happened?" Chuy said.

"They stabbed 'im."

"Where?"

Tomas shrugged.

"Somewhere that killed him."

Chuy looked down at the engine.

"I meant where was he. I thought he was still in prison."

"He was."

Chuy looked up again.

"Who stabbed him?"

Tomas stopped spinning the rag.

"Someone from his gang. They say he was cuttin' a deal with the cops."

"How do you know about it?"

Tomas shrugged.

"His aunt or something lives near here. It's all over the neighborhood."

Chuy nodded once and looked back down. He watched the engine vibrate. He took a deep breath and tapped his fingers on the top of the fender.

"Shut it off," he said.

His voice was hard. Tomas froze for a second, then slipped his head inside the driver's window and cut the ignition. When he was standing next to the open hood again, Chuy looked him in the eye.

"Tell me you're not in his gang."

"I'm not in any gang."

Chuy stared at him for a long moment.

"You're telling me the truth."

Tomas nodded.

"Say it."

"Yes. I'm telling the truth, Uncle."

Chuy stood up straight. He put his hands behind his hips and stretched his back. He walked around to the other side of the car and looked at Tomas. The boy turned toward Chuy and blinked up at him.

"You swear to me?" Chuy said.

"I swear."

Tomas turned back toward the car.

"They don't want me."

Chuy folded his arms. He studied the side of the boy's face.

"What do you mean?"

Tomas shrugged and said nothing.

"Out with it, Tomas. What do you mean by that?"

"Like I said. They don't want me."

"And that's a bad thing?"

Tomas hesitated, then shook his head.

"Do they give you any trouble?" Chuy said.

Tomas shook his head again.

"No."

He glanced up at his uncle, then looked away.

"I'm nothing to them," he said.

Chuy watched the boy's suffering.

"And that's a bad thing?" he said again.

His voice was gentle and quiet. Tomas spread his fingers out on a fender and stared at them.

"I'm nothing to anyone," he said.

He almost whispered it. Chuy's heart missed a beat. It lurched heavily in his chest and he felt sick. He stepped forward and wrapped an arm around his nephew's delicate shoulders.

"You're something to me, Tomas. You're very important to me."

Tomas still stared at his fingers. Chuy looked down at the side of the boy's face. Tomas blinked, then blinked again.

"The kid who stole my truck. They wanted him, right?"

Tomas nodded.

"And he's dead. Right?"

Tomas nodded again. Chuy squeezed him hard.

"You stay alive, Tomas. I would miss you too much."

Tomas nodded a third time. He ran the back of a greasy hand across his nose. After a moment, Chuy gestured at the engine.

"Let's get this wreck of yours out on the road and see if it still chokes going into second."