Boy was crossing the street after visiting Cuito when a slow-moving car drove by. It was a new car of a make and model he couldn’t identify. Pearl-colored with a faint pink undertone that looked almost iridescent. It was being driven by a young unnatural blonde woman in big mirror sunglasses with a big white Pitbull dog sitting calmly and collarless in the back seat. The driver and the dog turned their heads to look at Boy as they passed him.
Boy smiled. The blonde smiled back. The dog moved over to the car window closest to Boy and stuck its head out, seemingly to get a better look at Boy.
The pearl went on, and Boy continued walking until he got to his house at the end of the block, where he hesitated before going in. The incongruity of a young blonde with a Pitbull cruising the Southside in a rare car gave him pause.
“Qué fregados is that doing here,” he thought.
He turned in the direction the blonde had gone and was surprised to see her coming back.
The car slowed as it neared Boy, who stood on the front porch not knowing what to think.
Just before it reached him, Boy’s sisters’ drove in from different directions, cutting off the pearl.
The blonde stopped, took off her sunglasses and stared at Boy.
Boy looked back at her for what seemed only a second or two.
“Hey, hey!” his sisters said.
“What?” Boy asked.
“You daydreaming o qué?” one of the sisters said.
They both looked toward where Boy had been staring.
Boy was about to say what he was looking at, but didn’t speak when he realized the pearl was no longer there.
That evening, he went back to Cuito’s house to tell him about his experience.
“White car, white dog and white-haired ruca?” Cuito asked.
“Simón,” Boy said.
“She knows where you live?” Cuito asked.
“I guess so cuz…,” Boy said.
“Maquina!” Cuito exclaimed.
“Whaaat?” Boy said.
“Y you looked into her eyes?” Cuito inquired,
“A little cuz she took off her sunglasses,” Boy said.
“How long?” Cuito shouted.
Boy thought about when the blonde took off her sunglasses and realized he couldn’t remember more about the moment.
“Don’t remember,” he said to Cuito.
“Eeee! A la maquina!” Cuito said.
“That’s the devil, ese. You’re in trouble now.”
Boy frowned and took a deep breath as if to protest. But Cuito cut him off.
“Chale. We ain’t talking más about this susto in my chante cuz it’ll come to me,” Cuito said, pointing to the door.
Boy left feeling quite unsettled. But this time he looked long and hard both ways before he crossed the street.
