“Yo, Red, wait up.”
Sienna tried to ignore the gruff voice dogging her steps that afternoon in Nickerson Gardens. She crisscrossed a yard full of sagging clotheslines and old men rolling dice. She had to figure out where she was going to crash that night. Another gray wolf was spotted in the projects and she wasn’t trying to be his next meal.
“Sienna Red . . .”
The fourteen-year old stopped dead in her tracks. Only one person ever called Sienna by her full name. She looked back at the men playing dice and could almost swear that her father was now standing there among them. Watching. The only real problem with that: her father had died four years ago. Sienna blinked. Rubbed her eyes hard and kept stepping.
“Yo, Red, wait up.”
She sighed and quickened her pace, but was no match for Looney and his long ass legs.
“What’s good, Red?” The gangbanger with the five gallon forehead reached out a fist, and Sienna reluctantly dapped it with her own.
“I can’t hang out today,” Sienna said. She liked Looney; sometimes, it felt like he was an older brother, but she couldn’t avoid all the rumors.
Looney was out of breath. “Hold on a sec, Red. I need to holler at you.” For every bead of sweat that ran down his face and fell to the ground beneath his feet, another drop replaced it.
Sienna stopped walking momentarily to place a hand on her hip. Looney had red hair like Malcolm X. An oversized red tee shirt matched his red Converse All Stars. And then there was the red bandanna he wore as patriotically as any flag with 13 stripes and 50 stars. She loved to do quick sketches of Looney when she had time and he would slip her a few dollars like she was Elizabeth Catlett or something.
“I need a favor,” he said as he scanned the parking lot.
“Nah, I’m busy.” Sienna lied.
Looney had a backpack slung over his shoulder. He took it off and held it out to Sienna. It was a Jansport with a genuine leather bottom, the kind Sienna always wished she could afford when the kids at school made fun of her torn Eastsport.
“Need you to drop this bag off at my Granny's house. I can’t explain right now, Red, but whatever you do, don’t lose it; don’t open the bag, don’t look inside.”
Sienna tried to argue, but Looney thrust the backpack into her arms and ran off. Two men in black were at his back.
It had been over a month since Sienna had visited Granny. It was the last week of school, a few days before summer break. Sienna had been so proud that she would begin her first year at Centennial High School in August. Looney had told all the kids in the neighborhood that Granny was organizing an event at the recreation center in the Jordan Downs Projects. Most older kids couldn’t risk attending due to gang affiliation, but Sienna wore neutral colors and had a good time. Granny donned a feathered hat like Sienna had seen the sanctified ladies wearing in church. She shook her head when the DJ cut on a popular song the kids loved dancing to.
“Howl at the moon,” the singer crooned. “Cause you’ve always been a lone wolf, even in a packed room.” Sienna wrote the lyrics in her sketchbook next to a ink drawing of the performer. She added a self portrait on the page too.
“I don’t know why they call this R&B,” Granny admitted to Sienna. “I feel the rhythm, but I don’t hear no blues. Bobby “Blue” Bland and Muddy Waters were back in my day. If that music was devilment, what kind of wicked spirit are these singers filled with today?”
A car engine backfired, and Sienna flinched.
She took a deep breath and slipped the Jansport backpack on, pretending it was the first day of school. The straps melted into her shoulders like butter on a Roscoe's waffle. Bringing the bag to Granny wouldn’t be much of a hassle. She might even get a nice cold glass of lemonade as a reward.
There were more weeds than grass in the yards Sienna cut through on the way to the bus stop. She stopped to pick up two dandelion puffs and blew them to make her wish of making it to college come true. The wind carried the seeds past a Palos Verdes blue butterfly. One seed traveled miles away from the parent plant before disappearing into an endless baby blue sky. Sienna made a quick sketch of the rare blue butterfly in her book and then moved on. When she walked past a packed basketball court, the smell of marijuana smoke mixed with the musk of sweaty bodies. The rubber smack of the ball bouncing off the blacktop reverberated in Sienna’s ears long after she left the pickup game behind and the memory of her father’s last game. They won that night, but he lost his life. Caught by a stray bullet.
The bus stop was all grimy bench and crooked sign. Sienna stood off to one side and looked at a little boy nearby holding a sad melting scoop of vanilla ice cream in one hand and his mother’s sweaty palm in the other. The mother looked young enough to be a teenager herself. From the corner of her eye, Sienna saw the bus from a distance. It roared to its stop, and the door shot open. The little boy and his mother coughed while Sienna squinted through the thick black plume that burped from the exhaust pipe of the peeling, orange-painted behemoth. Sienna paid her fare and went straight to the back, where the beatboxing and impromptu lyric poetry of freestyle rapping created a lulling buzz. Sienna removed her backpack, placed it on the empty seat next to her, opened her sketchbook and did a quick pencil sketch of the boy.
After a short ride, Sienna got off for another bus to take her to the Jordan Downs Projects. She had been standing alone at the second bus stop for about ten minutes when she noticed two girls approaching. They were crossing the street and heading straight for her. Sienna was trying to figure out what to make of them. They looked lost. The taller one wore a Dodgers cap, a white tee shirt, and faded blue jeans. Tomboy. The shorter girl wore a colorful embroidered dress and a huipil. Sienna knew nothing at the time about traditional garments indigenous women wore in Oaxaca, but she would learn more over the coming years.
“I've never seen a Tejano shirt like that before,” the girl with the Dodgers cap said. “Where did you get it?”
Confused, Sienna looked down at the colorful portrait plastered across the tee shirt she’d thoughtlessly pulled over her head the day before. Her best friend’s mom had let Sienna sleep on their ratty couch that week.
“Oh. Do you like Selena? I’m more into Aaliyah, but this was just something to wear.” She may have been homeless, but she tried to dress pretty, even if it meant shoplifting.
The girl with the Dodgers cap introduced herself as Bachué, and her little sister was Zulaica. They had just moved to California from Texas.
“Our padrastro Carlos has lived here in Los Angeles since he was a kid. And mamá just got married and moved in with him.”
Mama. The word was like a punch to Sienna’s gut. Sienna liked to remember her mama before she started drinking. Before the track marks and the faraway look in her eyes. She was brilliant and wanted to be an actress, like Beah Richards. The last time Sienna ran into her on the street was back in February. Sienna had stopped and asked for money so she could go on a field trip. For a moment, Tammy had looked at her daughter with recognition. Her burst of love was fierce. She reached into her purse, but the pimp was coming over, yelling about kids chasing away his customers. Tammy's shoulders sagged, and her smile crumpled. Cinnamon took over, and there wasn’t a trace of Tammy left. She shook her head and looked away guiltily. “Get lost, kid. This ain’t no place for you to be.”
The lost kid with the embroidered dress tugged at her backpack. “The gardens?”
“Huh?” Sienna looked into Bachué’s brown eyes.
“I said, do you know how to get to the Nickerson Gardens? The bus driver told us to get off here, but we haven’t seen any gardens around this place.”
Sienna smirked. “When you find them, let me know. I was born and raised in Nickerson and haven’t seen the gardens yet.”
Bachué and Zulaica explained that they were supposed to meet their mother at her new apartment in the Nickerson Gardens, but they had gotten lost. Sienna recognized the address they had written down on a piece of paper. Didn’t even leave you any breadcrumbs, Sienna thought to herself, remembering the story of Hansel and Gretel.
“I can show you how to get there if you come with me to drop off this backpack first.” Zulaica wasn’t sure they could go with a stranger, but Bachué talked to her, and the sisters agreed.
On the way to the Jordan Downs, the bus broke down on a detour, and the girls had to wait on the side of the road for hours. Sienna read her book while Bachué killed time doing jumping jacks. Zulaica looked like she was about to cry at any second, but the tears never came. Every time Sienna looked up from her book, Zulaica looked in her direction, but she would try to play it off and look away. I don’t have the answers, Sienna thought to herself. I’m not as lost as you are, but I’m waiting just the same. When the bus finally got up and running, the driver tried to explain why another one hadn’t arrived, but the angry passengers were too frustrated to hear him out.
It was already getting dark when the girls finally reached the Jordan Downs projects. They got off the bus and headed down the sidewalk across from auto parts stores, junkyards, and a dystopian industrial wasteland of chemical companies and towering smokestacks shooting smog off in the distance. The sunset was the color of spilled oil reflecting firelight. The streetlights were on as a patrol car pulled silently alongside Sienna, turned on its red and blue lights, and stopped. Zulaica looked down at her feet, and Bachué looked over at Sienna as if she could provide a cue. Two white men in blue uniforms with gleaming silver badges sat inside the car. Sienna saw a wolf tattoo on the bicep of the driver, and underneath it was the Latin word Romulus, which identified him as a member of the LAPD gang, the Wolfpack.
A strong white light as powerful as a spotlight illuminated the area where the girls were walking. An officer’s voice boomed through the PA system telling them to keep their hands where they could see them and to get against the wall.
Sienna was about to comply when she thought about the Jansport backpack and realized she had no idea what she was carrying. There could be guns, drugs, or anything inside. The way the guys had been chasing Looney in the parking lot, Sienna knew whatever it was; she didn’t want to get caught with it by the police.
“On the count of three, we have to run.”
“What?”
“One, two, three.”
Sienna took off like she ran varsity on a track team. Bachué grabbed Zulaica’s hand and tried her best to keep up. Adrenaline pumping. The officer in the driver’s seat cursed and rushed out so fast that he forgot to put the car in park or to close the driver’s seat door behind him. His partner huffed and puffed until he heard the cop car collide with the vehicle behind it. The patrol car was on a slight incline, and the back had rammed into the front of an Oldsmobile. The officer who had been in the driver’s seat chased the girls, while his partner ran back to the patrol car swearing under his breath.
The sound of a growling dog at their feet was unmistakable.
Sienna ran down the sidewalk until she spotted a chain-link fence. She scrambled over. Bachué helped Zulaica climb. The girls ran into the shelter of the Jordan Downs projects while the officer climbed over. Teenagers began throwing bottles, rocks, and other projectiles at him. He fired a warning shot to scare them away, which drew a larger, angrier crowd. When the girls stopped to catch their breath in a playground, they heard the officer pounding on a resident’s door, begging the lady inside to let him enter.
“What was that about?”
“I don’t know how the police are in Texas,” said Sienna, “but the LAPD is the biggest gang in town.”
Sienna took off the backpack and looked at it like it was alive. She was scared to do it but didn’t have a choice. She had to know what it was hiding. Inside was a manilla envelope full of photographs showing police officers planting evidence and accepting bribes. And the officer that was chasing them was among them. Sienna stuffed the envelope back into the backpack and started pacing.
“This is worse than I thought.”
“Mamá will know what to do.”
“OK, let's get this bag to Granny, and then I’ll take you both home and tell your mom everything.”
Sienna led Bachué and Zulaica through the maze of identical decaying townhomes. The bars on every window made the place look like a prison camp. Stray dogs roamed to and fro, and packs of teenagers clung together, baring their teeth at each other. When Sienna and her companions finally reached Granny’s run-down unit, Sienna sighed with relief. Zulaica gasped and grabbed Sienna’s arm. She pointed down, and Sienna saw a fresh trail of blood leading right up to Granny’s door.
Sienna touched the door softly to knock, and it swung ajar as if someone was waiting on the other side. Sienna took a step back and waited a few seconds. She caught her breath and then looked at Bachué and Zulaica. “You can stay out here and wait if you want to.”
Bachué shook her head. “We’re right behind you.”
Zulaica looked up at a full moon glowing in the sky. “Luna Llena,” she whispered in awe.
Sienna looked up at the yellow moon, and the hair stood on the back of her neck as she stepped into the darkness. The light in the kitchen was blown. Sienna felt along the wall, but nothing happened when she flipped the switch. She groped in the dark as her eyes struggled to adjust. The smell of a gas leak brought tears to Sienna’s eyes.
“Granny, . . . why you sitting with the lights off?”
Sienna heard a growl and then saw eyes glowing in the dark. A blur of movement before she felt the impact. The claws of a mighty set of paws dug into her skin as a creature covered in fur wrestled Sienna to the floor.
“Nahual,” Zulaica cried.
Big glops of hot, stinking saliva dripped onto Sienna’s face as the creature pinned her down and opened its mouth.
Bachué hit it in the head with a cast iron frying pan, making the brute yelp. Sienna kicked her legs upwards and pushed the creature back. She scrambled for a weapon before the predator rushed in for a second attack. Before she could find something, the beast barreled into her in the blink of an eye. Sienna crashed into a kitchen chair hard enough to break it. She rolled underneath the kitchen table. When she reached for a chair leg, the creature snarled and snapped at her with a row of deadly teeth. Sienna kicked the beast, and it ripped off her shoe.
A light flickered in the room from a dead light buld and Red saw her father again.
As the creature’s powerful jaw turned her sneaker into shreds, Sienna grabbed a chair leg and shoved it into the monster’s mouth. In one massive bite, the chair leg turned to wood chips. Sienna grabbed another and thrust it in vertically. The creature tried to bite down, but the jagged edge of the broken chair leg stabbed the roof of its mouth. The beast made a terrible sound, like a whining dog. Sienna rolled from under the kitchen table and picked up what was left of the chair. She lifted it above her head and swung it as hard as possible. It connected with the side of the creature’s face. Zulaica threw a lamp at the animal and missed. Bachué tossed a vase. The beast groaned, and the girls ran out of the apartment. The monster was on their heels in no time.
Outside the apartment, a pitbull was barking and yanking against its leash while the owner yelled at it to calm down.
“What the hell kind of dog is that?”
The creature reached the doorway and slumped down, making a final choking noise.
Sienna collapsed against a tree and saw blood on her tee shirt. A surge of clouds eclipsed the moon and the form of the creature shifted. Sienna inched forward. An arm with a wolf tattoo and the name Romulus written underneath was hanging out of the doorway. Above the arm was the torn sleeve of a police officer’s uniform. Looking up at Sienna was the pale face and blue lips of the officer who had chased her earlier. His neck was elongated like the body of a Python if it had swallowed a crocodile whole. But his hands and feet were large paws and one foot had a dewclaw. Sienna unzipped the backpack and took out the envelope. She dumped the photos, and they scattered across the disgraced officer’s body. The last one landed next to his gang tattoo as Granny and the residents gathered to see what was causing so much commotion. They were not surprised by the photos. “Been trying to tell you,” they told the reporters. The police tried to claim the cop was born with werewolf syndrome, but reporters told the truth of the matter.
“Let’s get you home,” said Sienna. “We have a story to tell your mom.” They talked into late in the night and into the next morning about Nahual and her father and the Palos Verdes blue butterfly.
Contributor’s Notes
Milagro Jones is an English Major with a concentration in Creative Writing at UCLA. As a formerly homeless, formerly incarcerated single father, he uses his gift of writing to entertain while bringing awareness to social justice issues. Milagro is an alumnus of the AmeriCorps program Public Allies and served as an inaugural member of the National Youth Forum on Homelessness. When he is not writing and working on homework, he spends time with his daughter and volunteers in the community.
