The boy regarded him without hostility. But there was determination in his eyes, a stubborn committment to reveal nothing. Hernandez had seen this look before. He had seen it in the squadroom and it had been worn by hardened criminals and by docile housewives; it was the same look, it never varied. It was a look which plainly stated, "You are the Law, and anything I tell you will be held against me."
"Hello, Alfredo," Hernandez said.
"Hello," the boy answered warily.
"Your mother's worried about you."
"She hass nothin' to worry abou'."
"Well, she seemed to think so. Came all the way over to the police station because she thought so. What about it, Alfredo?"
Alfredo sighed deeply. "I'm goin' to church, Mr Hernandez," he said. "I got nothin' to tell you."
"Your mother thinks you've got plenty to tell me."
"My mother doesn't know. She don' know this neighborhood."
"I know this neighborhood, Alfredo," Hernandez said flatly, and their eyes met, and in the boy's eyes was a recalculation now, a quick estimate of Hemandez's knowledge of the streets, an appraisal of the extent to which he was a neighborhood boy, and the extent to which he was a cop like all the rest. "Now what's all this about?" Hernandez asked.
Alfredo made his decision in a single moment. The decision changed nothing. Hernandez could not help him, Hernandez was the law, there was nothing he could tell him. "It ain't abou' nothin'," he said.
"Your mother said somebody's going to kill you, is that right?"
Alfredo did not answer.
"Answer me!" Hernandez said, and he seized the boy by the shoulders and forced the contact, forced eyes to meet eyes levelly and honestly. "Answer me!"
Alfredo remained mute, his eyes probing Hemandez's. And then he nodded.
"Who?" Hernandez asked.
"The… the boys," Alfredo answered. His shoulders ached where Hernandez gripped him. His eyes remained locked with the detective's.
"Why?"
"No reason," Alfredo said.
"Is there a girl involved in this?"
Hernandez released his grip tiredly. This was an old story, and he had heard it many times before. "What'd you do to the girl?" he asked.
"Nothin'."
"Come on."
"Nothin'."
The room went silent again. Hernandez stared at the boy. Patiently, he asked, "Then why do they want to kill you?"
"To show they big shots, thass all," Alfredo said. "They tink iss big to kill." He paused. He was talking more freely now, but he still wondered how far he could trust Hernandez. In a very low voice, he said, "She am' even his girl. China ain' nobody's girl."
"You must have done something to the girl!" Hernandez said angrily.
"Nothin'! I swear! I swear on my mudder's eyes. Nothin'! I ony say hello to her. She a nice girl, smilin' an' everything, she smile at everybody. So I say hello. Iss somethin' wrong with dat? On the islan', you could say hello to girls, nobody bodder you. So now I am come here the city, an' now I cann say hello."
"How long have you been in this city?" Hernandez asked.
The boy shrugged and turned to his mother. "Mama?"
"He's a year now," she said. "We took the girl over first. His sister. Alfredo we left with his grandmother in San Juan. A year ago, we could afford to bring him here, too."
"Where's the girl now? Your daughter?"
"She.belongs to the Girl Scouts. Today, they went on a picnic. Honeyside Beach, you know that?"
"Yes," Hernandez said. "You like this city, Alfredo?"
"Sure. I come from La Perla, thass where my gran'mudder lives. La Perla, thass a big
"I know La Perla."
"It means The Pearl, but thass jus' a joke, you know? It's not sush a pearl. Here iss better. Not so poor, you know? There, it iss all dirty an' mud, an' iss poor all the time. Here iss better." He paused. "But what can you do here?"
"You can do a lot here, Alfredo."
"Yeah? You go outside the neighborhood, they call you 'spic.' It's my fault I cann speak English so good? How I'm spose to learn? There's only one teacher in all my high school who speaks Spanish!"
"Others have learned English, Alfredo."
"Sure, I know. I'm tryin', ain' I? I do pretty good, don't I?"
"You do fine."
"Still…"
"Still what?"
"Am I… am I spose to join a gang or somethin'?"
"Do you belong to a gang now, Alfredo?"
"No, I don' belong no gang. In Puerto Rico, we don' have this bullshit, these gangs like here. In Puerto Rico, you can say hello to girls, you can hang aroun' like whoever you want, you know? An' there's none of these dope. The kids here take dope. So I don' wann take dope, an' I don' wann belong to no gang. I ony wann to go my own way, nobody should bodder me."
"So how'd you get into this mess?" Hernandez asked.
"I say hello! I swear to God, all I say is hello! So Zip, he…" Alfredo cut himself short.
"Who?" Hernandez said quickly.
Alfredo was silent for several seconds. Then, as if finally committing himself, he said, "Okay. Zip. He sees me an' he says I bodderin' his girl. He says I don' go to church or they wash me."
"You ever been in trouble with this Zip before?"
