Trece (thirteen)

by Giovanni Guzman

“What’s up ese? You ready to get your official entry into this shit?” Mendoza asked.

“Yeah homie, I’ve been ready. A true Salvadorian like me was born to be in this shit. It’s about time SOL called me already,” Benito answered.

“Alright then, let’s see if your words show what you about.”

Inside, Benito’s heart kept pounding faster and faster as his fear grew, but that was something he couldn’t show no matter how strong it was. Fear was something the gang would never accept because it was a sign of weakness. So he kept walking as Mendoza gave him a tour of the whole barrio.

“As you can see, the tags on the walls represent all the territory that we own. That means that we can’t let any of the other rivals take over our shit. Do you understand that? This is ours. Blue is the color that will always rule this side.”

“Yeah! I got you. You act like I don’t know how the hood works, ese. I mean I know I’m only 13, but damn. I’m smarter than you think.”

“Now as soon as we to get to the crib, you’re on your own. Once your seconds are over, you’ll finally be one of us. So be ready for the unexpected.”

“Hey check this out, the main little ese is finally here. He looks about ready?” Sol said. “What y’all think? What’s up Benito? You ready, or what? Well you better be ‘cause the homies are.”

As soon as Benito said, “yeah,” SOL began to count.

“1...2...3...” Everyone started hitting Benito furiously, making sure every punch and kick counted for the 13 seconds. Fists were buried into his face, every single one drawing blood. As he got hit in the mouth, his teeth cut the inner part of his lip. With every kick to his stomach, he screamed, wishing it would stop. SOL finally called out, “13!” and the initiation was over. Benito was officially a member of the Mara Salvatrucha.

“Alright homies, give it up for this brave little carnalito. I think he made a statement here today. He deserves to be respected now. So I expect just that.”

Benito slowly started to get up, struggling to maintain his balance. Despite all his pain, he had a smile on his face. He knew he had done it and it was something he felt proud of.

“Look at this little one. He still got a smile on his face. I think I just found him his nickname. Aight everyone, listen up. Let me introduce y’all to the newest brother of the hood: Lil Smiley.”

Once Smiley was completely up and had recovered slightly from the brutal beating, the smile on his face grew even bigger. Seeing all of his new brothers clapping in front of him made him realize that he was now part of a big family. A family fighting together to keep their true colors alive.

A week after his initiation, it was time for Smiley to continue his journey. The cuts on his face and the bruises on his arms were the sign that he had done it.

“Hey, Mendoza, come here ese! Now that Smiley is a true homie, I want you and him to go to the train tracks. Take your gun and the machete that’s on the wall and you know what to do,” SOL ordered.

“Orale, I got you.”

“Oh, and make sure nothing happens to him. His life is in your hands. I want both of y’all back alive.”

“Smiley! Let’s go. You heard the man, let’s cut. Grab your machete and bring me my gun too. Make sure it’s loaded ‘cause we’re getting our hands dirty today.”

When Smiley grabbed the gun, he felt invincible. He had seen people fire a gun before, but he had never actually held one. Unfortunately, he had not yet gained enough respect to get his own. For now he had to stick to the traditional weapon of the gang: the machete.

“Listen to me, Smiley. Now that you one of us, it’s time for you to start putting in work for the hood. Like I told you before, we can’t let other bitches take over our territory. Once we get to the tracks, you have to watch your back ‘cause you never know who’s out there.”

“Okay Mendoza, I got you. But what am I supposed to do?

“You’ll see when we get there, little man. Just be ready for anything.”
The only thing Smiley could think of was that they were getting ready to kill someone. He knew the weapons were not just accessories to carry around. Whatever it might be, he had to be ready. Like they said in the hood, “You can’t be scared to die ‘cause you never know when it’s going to happen.”

“Let’s go, Smiley. It’s now or never.”

“I’m right behind you, man.”

“Have your machete ready ‘cause you can’t let anyone catch you slipping out here.”

Both Mendoza and Smiley started to head to their destination. To make sure they were ready, Mendoza made Smiley snort two lines of coke, just like Mendoza had done when he was initiated into the gang. Smiley had never done it before, but he liked the feeling of it. He felt like he could fly, and even if he got shot, the bullets wouldn’t hurt him.

“Hey man, this shit is not too bad after all. I’m liking this a lot. See, I told you I was born to be in this shit. I could probably beat your ass right now if I wanted,” Smiley said.

“Shut up, Smiley, you’re getting a little too cocky there. Don’t let those lines control you ese, ‘cause that’s when you start losing it. You see the bitches standing over there by the train? That is the reason why we came out here.”

“YEAH, I’m the king in this motha fucking shit.”

“Smiley! Listen to me. Stop messing around.”

“Sorry. I’ll shut up man.”

“You see the two that got the number 18 tatted? One of them is going to be your first kill for the hood. Yeahhh man! This shit only gets better and better. You feel me?”

Smiley didn’t know what to say but he remembered what Mendoza had said a week ago: “Be ready for the unexpected.” So far, unexpected had been the perfect word to describe the situations that he had to face. He couldn’t be scared or turn back now. He grabbed his machete and waited for further instructions.

“This is going to be a piece of cake Smiley, don’t even trip, vato.”

“Whatever you say man, I’m just the follower.”

“This is what we going to do. We’re going to sneak up on them from behind. I’m going to shoot the first one in the head like a snap. That’s when you are going to jump at the other one and slice him with the machete. If you hit him straight in the neck, he should drop like a fucking chicken. Just ‘member you only get one shot at this, so be ready.”

“Okay, yeah.”

Even though Mendoza had made everything sound easy, Smiley knew it wasn’t. How did he expect him to do such a thing?

“Follow me, and stay close.”

Mendoza made sure every single step he took didn’t make noise. As they got closer and closer, he pointed his gun at the target.

“1...2...3,” Mendoza counted with his fingers.

Two bullets were fired, striking the target directly in the back of his forehead. The victim didn’t have a chance to even know what had hit him. Out of nowhere Smiley jumped at the other guy, slicing his neck with the machete. Blood immediately scurried down on the shirtless body of the rival covering the number 18 tattooed on his chest.

“MARA SALVATRUCHA, PUTOS!” Mendoza shouted to the bloody bodies that lay there motionless.

“Yeah Smiley! That’s what I’m talking about. You gave it to that bitch good.”

Smiley stood in shock, not knowing how to respond to what had just happened. Was this really how he wanted to live his life? Doing drugs and killing people for some stupid color. He dropped the machete as he looked at his shaking hands.

“Hey vato, you okay man? Listen, that’s how the first time always is. Don’t let it get to you. Come here. Take another line of this shit, I’m sure it will make you feel better.”

Speechless, Smiley snorted two more lines, hoping it would make him feel like before. Far away, Mendoza heard people approaching. He knew that whoever it was, they weren’t important. As the people got closer, Mendoza began to noticed that they had guns.

“Oh shit, these bitches weren’t alone. Fuck!

Two shots were fired, one hitting Mendoza on the chest, the other in the head. Those were his last words. He didn’t even have the chance to warn Smiley.

“Mendoza!”, Smiley shouted in agony.

Three more shots were fired, two of them missed Smiley completely, but he other ripped right through his stomach. As he fell down to his knees, he tried to stop the blood with his hands, but his attempts were worthless. Behind him stood the man who had shot him. Having no mercy for how old Smiley was, he pointed the gun at his head and buried three bullets directly into his brain.

“Fuck the MS13,” he said, as he pointed his other gun and fired at Mendoza again.