We were having even more fun because we knew it wouldn’t last. Less than half an hour later the buglickers from Planetary Security showed up with the repair crew. To run us off and look for whoever was responsible for the “sabotage” while the others were fixing the leak.
He showed up wrapped in a gray overcoat, trying not to draw attention. Sort of hard to do when you’re ten feet tall and your reddish Colossaur armor is peeking out through the folds of your clothes. Really hard to do on Earth. Impossible here in New Cali, Barrio 13, where we can smell a xenoid ten light-years off, even if he’s mounting a human “horse” from Body Spares. Which wasn’t the case.
When Dingo saw that it was a Colossaur and that he was alone, he gave a signal and the triplets ran out to ask the visitor for “some credits, Your Excellency, please.”
If he had been from any other race and not a native of Colossa, maybe we would have all ganged up on him. To beat him up and rob him, of course; what else could a xenoid wandering around alone in Barrio 13 expect?
But fifteen kids are no match for one of those armored monsters, not even in the sort of dirty fight we all love. Better use cunning, not strength.
Bubo, Babo, and Bibe were the best beggars in the gang: they knew how to make genuine-looking wounds with printer ink and sandpaper. Their specialty: Colossaurs. They’re always moved by what they think are magenta disease sores, and their guilt complex makes them more generous. Since the virus is endemic among them, and they were the ones who brought it to this planet…
How come I wasn’t suspicious of him from the start? He didn’t try to shoo the triplets away for fear of disease, like all the others of his race do. But he didn’t give them a single credit, either. Very strange… And since everything strange is suspicious, it was very likely we would have tried stoning him right there. Just to frighten him so he’d run off. We couldn’t have even tickled those armored plates—even rifle shots just bounce off of them.
Then, in that hoarse voice they all have, he said, “Kids, I’m looking for Leilah, Friga’s daughter. They told me she lives around here…”
That’s when we stopped playing and gathered around him, feeling surprised and keeping quiet but trying not to look too interested. The first thing you learn on the street is that giving away your emotions is always a bad move.
Some of the guys in the gang had joined so recently they only knew me by my street name, Liya. The ones who did know me stared at me out of the corners of their eyes. Like they were inspecting me, checking to see how much I might be worth, for that xenoid to show so much interest in me, how much woman there was in the nine-year-old girl I was. And it wasn’t much at all. I pretended I didn’t notice them sizing me up.
Even if I hadn’t seen Dingo make a sign, I’m not such an idiot I would have identified myself just like that to the first xenoid who came around looking for me. In Barrio 13, when they come from the outside looking for you, it’s hardly ever for anything good.
Of course, I had no way to know that this day and this Colossaur were going to change my life forever.
“Leilah… Sounds familiar,” Dingo said grudgingly, looking down at the ground.
“Do you guys know her?” the Colossaur insisted.
“Maybe yeah, maybe no.” Our gang leader sort of casually stuck his hand out palm-up, one of the few gestures that doesn’t need any translation anywhere in the galaxy. Money always talks, same on Earth as on Colossa.
And moving so fast we could barely see it, the xenoid grabbed him around the waist with his huge three-fingered hand and hoisted him in the air. His tiny sunken eyes shined when he looked at him from close up, and though some of the guys picked up rocks, something told me Dingo wasn’t in any real danger.
“I like that… Business sense from a young age,” he told Dingo, nearly sticking his tongue into the short, bristly chestnut hair that gave him his street name. “You people will inherit the Earth… or what’s left of it when we finish.” He brought Dingo closer to his snout. Dingo wrinkled his nose: must have smelled bad.
“What’s your name, future businessman?” asked the Colossaur.
“Jeremí… Dingo.” Dingo was scared to death. But as the head of the gang he had to look just the opposite, or every snot-nosed brat would challenge him to a fight for the leadership. If he survived this one.
“Ah. Jeremías, and they call you Dingo?” The wide mouth filled with sharp teeth bent in a caricature of a smile. “Look, Jeremías, you look like an intelligent kid, and I’d love to have a nice long talk with you… but I don’t have much time.” He pointed at us with his other hand. “Which of them is Leilah? I’m not going to eat her, and I’m not from Planetary Security. I have some business that might concern her…”
“I could…” Dingo dared suggest, seeing a chance for the gang to maybe make a profit and trying to get back some of his authority, which had been placed in doubt.
“I don’t doubt you could, perfectly well… But she’s the one I want,” the Colossaur shook his head. “For, let’s say… sentimental reasons.”
“Leilah’s still a virgin. I have an eleven-year-old sister who’d be cheaper for you,” piped up Silk, who’d never exactly been subtle or had a sense of timing. He’d basically just admitted that I was there, the moron.
“Shut up, stupid!” I hissed, furious, and jumped him, trying to pull his cap down over his nose.
The part about my virginity was true… But it wasn’t the sort of thing a girl was supposed to let a guy talk about in front of the whole gang. And it’s not like it did Silk any good to go around saying it: the two of us were steady, and everybody knew it… So if I was still a virgin, it was mainly his fault. Ten years old and still not able to get up an erection that was worth the trouble. Aside from his baby face and his corn-silk hair, Silk was a perfect idiot. I don’t know what I saw in him…
He resisted, of course, and we wrestled. He was stronger, but I was angrier, and I would’ve gotten him in the end. But before I could pull his cap all the way down to his neck, the Colossaur grabbed me with his other hand and picked me up to look me over.
I stuck out my tongue and put on my best Down syndrome face, cursing the moment I decided to start playing in the hydrant water. I’m normally so dirty that nobody notices my face… We call it “Barrio 13 makeup.” It’s very handy for keeping people from giving you a second glance, and keeping those Cetian pigs who’re always hunting for little girls from carrying you off to one of their slave brothels.
My Abuela always told me that my coffee eyes and chocolate skin would be my downfall one of these days. And if this wasn’t the day…
“Hello, Leilah,” the monster said to me. He was trying desperately to sound polite.
“She’s not Leilah!” the whole gang screamed together, even Dingo. “She’s…”—and that’s when they really gave me away, because some of them said “Liya,” my street name, others “Mary Jane,” which is like saying John Doe or Juan Pérez. That is, nobody.
I was done for.
“Ah, well. If she isn’t Leilah, she’ll do just as well.” The Colossaur set Dingo down and gave him something. “Here you go, chief… For your trouble. You have half an hour to use it up… Then I’ll report it missing and they’ll close the account.”
Dingo’s eyes shone with greed when he realized it was a gold card. The bank only gives them to people who have more than a hundred thousand credits in their accounts… and not to all of them, either. I’d never seen one outside of a holodrama.