The Charity Chip (13 page)

Doctor Barilla took a sip of the wine. “Doctor of Postmortem Pathology.” He picked a piece of cheese and winked. “I’ll be helping in the morgue.” He laughed as he bit into the cheese. “They don’t want a doctor with my reputation around any live patients,” he said through a mouth full of cheese, “but at least it will be steady work.”

“Steady work is good. Will you still continue seeing patients here?”

“In the mornings, as my schedule permits. I’ll be working afternoons and evenings in the morgue.” Doctor Barilla finished the piece of cheese. “How did you fare at Caritas after I left?”

Julio slid his left hand across the table. “I am now an official member, charity chip and all.”

Doctor Barilla slipped on his reading glasses and examined Julio’s hand. “The wound is so small, but you can see a slight bump where the chip is.” He ran his fingers over the chip. “Is it uncomfortable?”

“It still throbs a little, and the skin around it is tight, but it’s nothing.”

“Well then,” said Doctor Barilla, releasing Julio’s hand and raising his wine glass, “we have a double cause to celebrate.
Salud
!” This time the doctor took a gulp of the wine from his glass.

Julio eyed the glass in front of him but didn’t join in the toast.

“Drink up, my boy. Celebrate!”

“I really don’t think I should,” said Julio. “I’m only fourteen.”

“Bah! It is wine—grape juice with bubbles, the blood of Christ. Drink up!” Doctor Barilla stood and raised his glass. “To Julio, may you never go hungry again.”

Julio stood and raised his glass. “To Doctor Barilla, may you wear the title of doctor proudly.”

“
Salud
!” said Doctor Barilla and finished off the wine in his glass.

“
Salud
!” echoed Julio and drank the wine. The grape juice with bubbles went down easy. As soon as Julio set down his glass, Doctor Barilla poured it half-full of wine again.

Doctor Barilla filled his own glass and raised it up. “To the future!”

“To the future!” echoed Julio. The second glass of wine was better than the first. It felt good to finally be celebrating something for a change. He set his glass down on the table in anticipation of another toast, but before the doctor could recharge the glass, the stairwell door scraped against the uneven concrete announcing the arrival of Raúl.

“
Bueno
, Raúl is home. We should invite him in for the celebration,” said Doctor Barilla.

“No. We can’t,” said Julio. “I haven’t told him about Caritas yet.”

“Invite him in, and we’ll tell him. I’ll get another glass.”

“No, no, I don’t want to do that.” Julio grabbed his glass and put it in the sink. “I want to wait a couple of weeks and make sure that Caritas is as good as they say it is.” He backpedaled for the door. “Congratulations on the new job, Doctor.”

Doctor Barilla held up his wine glass and shrugged. “
Salud
, Julio.”

Julio nodded at the doctor and hurried up the stairwell. When he pushed past the black plastic, he saw Raúl sitting on his sleeping mat holding up the jersey to the candlelight. Then Raúl looked up and saw Julio wearing the identical blue-and-white jersey.

“Are you hungry?” asked Julio. “I got us dinner.” He sat down across from Raúl, broke himself a piece of bread, and offered the loaf to Raúl.

Raúl put down the shirt and took the bread. “
Buen provecho,
” he offered as he tore a chunk of bread from the loaf. He set the bread on the tray and helped himself to a slice of cheese. “Looks like you had a successful day.”

Julio took a bite of his bread and opened his bottle of milk. “It was a very productive day. How about you? What did
you
get today?”

“It was slow. Nothing really. We played a little soccer and skated at the plaza for a while.
El Infierno
was a bit slow tonight.” He grabbed the other bottle of milk and asked, “Where did you get the jerseys?”

“Oh . . . the jerseys? I was working traffic on El Paseo and met this rich lady from over in Lince
.
She offered me a job.” Julio took another drink of his milk and let the lie settle over the conversation. He reached for a slice of cheese with his left hand.

Raúl reached out and grabbed his wrist. He held Julio’s hand up to the candlelight. “You got chipped?”

Julio jerked his arm free, and some of the milk sloshed out of the bottle onto his bed. “The only way the lady could pay me was if I got chipped. So I got chipped, and now I can take care of us both.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m not lying! I got caught by the police, and she saved me and gave me a job. I didn’t want to tell you about it until I knew it was for real.”

“Police? Job? What’s her name then?”

“Graciela.”

“Does she have a last name?”

“She didn’t tell me.”

“What’s she look like then?”

“She’s tall and thin with . . . red hair and long fingers.”

“Long fingers?”

“Yes, you know . . . long fingers,” said Julio as he wiggled his fingers.

Raúl rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I know you’re not telling me the truth.”

Julio jumped to his feet and wagged a finger in Raúl’s face. “I brought you dinner and a new shirt, and all you can do is call me a liar! If Mamá hadn’t made me promise to take care of you, I would kick you out right now and let you take care of yourself.”

Raúl ignored the angry outburst and tore himself another piece of bread. “You get a job and suddenly you’re my mother? I don’t need you. I can take care of myself.”

“Hmph. If you’re so good at taking care of yourself, why do hang with
los mALditos
? You need somebody to take care of you, don’t you, little boy?” Julio braced himself for Raúl’s reaction, but Raúl just rolled his eyes and grabbed the last slice of cheese. Julio sat back down.

They finished eating in silence, but as soon as Raúl finished drinking his milk, Julio continued. “I got us each a toothbrush and some toothpaste. Go brush your teeth before bed.”

“
Sí,
Mamá,” answered Raúl. “Hey, since we’re twins, why don’t you let me work for you some of the days and we can share the money? We look enough alike that she will never know the difference. What do you say?” He frowned and held out his hand. “Help out your poor unfortunate twin brother?”

Julio shook his head. “How do I know you will do a good job?”

“You don’t trust me? Your own twin brother?” Raúl feigned shock and disbelief.

“Stay away from
los mALditos
for a week, and I’ll talk to her about getting you a job.”

Raúl stood and faced Julio. “I don’t need your pitiful help. Sergio can get me a job making three times what you make anytime I want it.”

Julio knew it was true. The gangs were always in need of spotters, runners, and drug
mulas
. The work was dangerous, but it paid well. “You know Mamá would never approve of that.” He stood and faced Raúl. “Don’t you remember what she used to say?
The work you do will define you.
Who are you, Raúl?”

Raúl drew close enough for Julio to smell the cheese on his breath. “I’m your twin brother, and I live in an unfinished apartment above a drunken doctor in a rat-infested barrio. Maybe if I work hard like you, then someday I can move up and live in a run-down house of my own, or a government-run barrio, and my kids can play in the dirty streets of a rat-infested barrio too. You are right,
hermano
. The work I choose will define me.” He poked a finger in Julio’s chest. “And I certainly wouldn’t choose to be like you.”

Julio was stunned by his brother’s candidness, but he didn’t blame him for feeling that way. How many times had they struggled just to stay alive? What hope did they have for a bright future? He knew those feelings well. For just a moment, he thought about telling Raúl about Caritas. He could explain it all too him. He could give Raúl hope. But he liked having an advantage over Raúl for a change. Instead, he looked away.

“I’m going to go brush my teeth,” snapped Raúl. He grabbed the toothbrush and started for the door. Before he slipped past the black plastic, he stopped and looked back at Julio. “At least you picked the right jersey,
hermano
.”

C
HAPTER
T
EN

El Contrato

(The Contract)

^E
arly the next morning, Julio slipped on his new Alianza jersey and skated for Caritas. He noticed the tire shop on Renovación with the green house beside it and remembered his conversation with Carmen. He hoped she wouldn’t say anything to Isak.

When he arrived at Caritas, he stuffed his skateboard into his backpack and stood in front of the door for a moment. He was excited to be here. He swiped his hand in front of the sensor and heard the click of the door as it unlocked. When he entered the study room, he was surprised to find that he was the only one there. He looked for Carmen, but the kitchen was empty. He slid in front of one of the computers, and the screen came to life with a greeting.

He put on the headphones, but before he could select anything, a video presentation began. It was Isak. “Consider this your first warning,” began Isak. “You will remember that you signed a contract agreeing to strict membership rules. You have violated the rule against alcohol use. If you continue this practice, your spending privileges will be suspended, and you will be expelled from our program.”

Julio panicked.
Suspended? Expelled? I’ve been in the program one day. I didn’t drink any—

He remembered drinking the wine with Doctor Barilla the night before and put his face in his hands.

As soon as the video of Isak was finished, a presentation on proper nutrition began. The woman’s voice admonished him to choose healthy foods and avoid excess items such as soda, candy, or other junk foods with little nutritional value.

Julio looked down at the tiny wound in his left hand. Now he understood why it didn’t authorize the purchase of more Inca Kola. When the computer finished scolding him, he found the orientation segments again and watched them with more interest. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the back door open, and Carmen pushed her way through the door with her arms loaded with bags of food. He pulled off his headphones and rushed over to help her.

“
Gracias, mi hijo
. You are a gentleman,” she said as he handed him some of the bags.

Julio followed her to the kitchen with the bags of food. “Do you have more?” he asked. He hoped that his help might continue to buy Carmen’s silence about Raúl.

“The deliveryman has a few more things for me just outside in the alleyway,” she said, still breathing heavy from carrying the bags. “It’s the door down the hall and on your left.”

Without being asked, Julio hurried out of the kitchen and headed for the back door. He swiped his hand across the sensor and tried to open the door, but it remained locked. He turned his hand around and tried again, still locked. He went back to the kitchen.

“I can’t get the door open,” he told Carmen with a shrug.

“Of course not,” said Carmen as she smacked her hand across her forehead. “Students don’t have access to that door.” She grabbed a lanyard with several keys hanging beside the large stainless steel refrigerator and slipped it over Julio’s neck. “The keys are labeled—hallway and back door.”

Julio found the key for the hallway door and inserted it into the keyhole just below the chip sensor. He opened the door and made his way down the hallway to the alleyway door. The deliveryman had already unloaded everything and drove off as soon as he saw Julio. Worried about someone stealing the groceries before he could get them into the building, Julio propped open the alleyway door with a board and set the boxes in the hallway before closing the back door. It took him three trips to haul the groceries to the kitchen for Carmen, but when she treated him to a bowl of yogurt with strawberries for his help, it was all worth the hassle.

When he got back to his computer, Graciela was playing a game at the computer next to his. “How did the shopping go, newbie?” she asked louder than she needed to because she hadn’t dropped her headphones.

“I made the mistake of buying too much soda,” yelled Julio so she could hear. “It was embarrassing.”

Graciela laughed and slipped one earpiece back. “I told you to pay attention. Looks like you didn’t take my advice about new clothes either.”

“I got a new shirt,” protested Julio.

“A new soccer jersey hardly counts for clothing.” She looked over at him and rolled her eyes. “Besides it’s an Alianza jersey.
Viva
, La U!”

Julio shook his head. “I figured you were too smart to be a fan of La U.”

“I’m smart enough to know which Peruvian soccer club has won more championships.”

Julio thought of a dozen clever retorts but decided it might be better not to make any waves. “I don’t remember much about my father.” He put his hand over the logo just above his heart. “But I remember my father cheering for Alianza. That was enough to make me a fan as well.”