Part I can be found (here).
I resisted the urge to grab my bike and
pedal away as quickly as possible. I’d never seen a dead person, much less the
body of someone I cared deeply about, someone like Helen Delgado. I’d
practically grown up sitting at her kitchen table, watching her roll tortillas
and tamales, mooning over her while she listened patiently to my babbling. I
was afraid to walk around the crumpled Mercury, terrified by what I might see,
but Ricky was my best friend and I couldn’t abandon him to deal with this on
his own. I inched over and stood beside him.
Read the rest (here).
