syllable! Miguel awoke from his deep sleep and sat up, his eyes still not returning. He had just had a dream of flying. A pretty girl with fair skin and glowing dark eyes grabbed his hand and taught him how to fly. At first he was afraid that he would fall, but once he got up, they began to fly up and down like a pair of dolphins. His only fear at that time was that the girl would disappear. syllable! He opened the plastic shutters, and it was the eight- or nine-year-old children of the neighborhood; these fearless warriors were shooting with water guns. One by one, like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, they were shot and swung their bodies exaggeratedly, pretending to die. "Stinky boys, don't fucking hit my car." He cried. The "warriors" looked up and saw him, and as soon as they slipped a cigarette, they ran away. From here to the foot of the mountain, it used to be a camping evangelistic venue, but now it is a cheap hotel. Half of the tenants were migrant workers from Mexico, who gave everything they could to buy a mobile home and bring their families north. The other half were white, and they had "retreated" to this wasteland. It is more than 800 meters away from the main road, and is separated by a fence on three sides from the surrounding alfalfa land. Miguel lives with his sister, half-brother and stepfather, who have been living here for three months. They had lived in the Wenabe Valley for almost a year. Two weeks ago, Miguel had just graduated from Tuft Mona Union High School, but did not attend the graduation ceremony. He barely knew the other classmates and was afraid that his stepfather Russell would be there to embarrass him. That night, Alicia organized a cake soda party, which was attended by four people in the family. Halfway through the party, Russell was drunk and tearful about how proud he was and how he wished Miguel's mother would live to see it all. Everyone had spoken a lot that day, and when he went out, Miguel struggled to close the door. In the front of the trailer, eleven-year-old Troy sat in the "kitchen" tapping the TV. They were about forty miles away from Los Angeles, and to enhance the signal, the program was transmitted by satellite. But obviously the effect is not very good. "What are you doing?" Miguel roared from under his pillow. "The TV images are messy—clumpy." "You can't beat it well. It could be a TV station thing. Let it go. But Troy's patience was limited, and ten seconds later, the image was still getting better, and he slammed the TV again. Miguel opened the sheet to see what was going on. It was already eight o'clock in the morning, and he should have gone out to look for work. "You see," Troy pointed to the scrolling screen, "should I punch it twice?" "No, Kung Fu Master, I told you that it's not a problem with television, it's... Anyway, it's the problem with the TV station. His brother wasn't convinced, so Miguel changed the subject." Did you take your medicine? "Eat later." Troy's kidneys were not good, and their mother died of this disease. He was supposed to take a small dose of hydrocortisone every morning, but because the drug was expensive, the family allowed him to skip it for two or three days a week. As long as he eats normally and does not have much pressure, the problem of not taking medicine for a day or two is not very big. "Have you eaten?" "Nothing." "Alicia, what are these plates piled up here?" Apparently, the plates in the pool were waiting for someone to clean up. Alicia ate her own breakfast and left it alone. At the moment, she was lying in the passenger seat in front of her, cutting down a picture from a fashion magazine. She heard Miguel shouting at her, and turned the Volume of the Walkman even louder. She was fourteen years old, plain looking, but her temper was getting bigger and bigger. That spring, hormones began to work on her, and she began to grow up quickly, began to diet, and began to wear white tight T-shirts, which had almost become informal uniforms in her school. Miguel came over and was about to loudly reprimand her for her selfish behavior when she saw a red truck on the other side of the driveway— a sharp brake that stopped. The driver yelled angrily at the phone in the cab. His name was Lucas Foster, a local farmer who had hired Russell Cass to work in the fields this morning. Some pests that specialize in eating crops have infiltrated sandy farmland in the north. That's a good thing for the Cass family, as they desperately need cash. The farmer walked over with a lettuce in his hand. Miguel knew that the day was going to be ruined again. He walked over to the door: "Good morning, Lucas. What happened? "Is your dad here?" The muscular young man roared. Alicia slipped out of her brother's side and stood in the sun and said, "He went to your field to withdraw the medicine," she said. "He's been out for a long time." "So, where the fuck is he?" Well? Miguel made up a story that Russell's plane had malfunctioned the day before, but the man didn't let him finish. "The donkey is fucking fucking restless: he's hanging around with the eight hundred dollars he's carrying to buy insecticides, but here, those damn bugs are eating my crops!" Lucas heard himself shouting. Calm was immediately restored. He was only three or four years older than Miguel and felt that he should not be spoken to that way. Now he cursed himself for his poor children and their upside-down father. "Maybe he's cheering." Miguel said with a glimmer of hope. "No, I just called my dad, he didn't fly in the sky." Lucas replied. "When will he be back?" Just wait until tomorrow and let the bugs eat all my crops? Miguel felt ashamed and hated not being able to find a hole in the ground to climb into. His stepfather was the town's notorious drunkard, and there were often times when he was embarrassed, but nothing was more uncomfortable than this one. Miguel didn't blame Lunians, he was going crazy. Behind him, Troy was still filming the TV. "Troy, don't shoot!" Miguel warned. "If he doesn't take off when I get back, I'll call Antelope Airport to find someone else." I can't wait any longer for that—day. "Okay, that's it, that's fair. I immediately went out to look for him. He grabbed the keys to his motorcycle and jumped out of the car. As the two of them walked outside, Alicia stopped them and asked Lucas if she could get her to hitchhike to the market. "No!" Miguel roared, turned to her, and said, "Go inside and make breakfast for Troy, and you are not allowed to go anywhere until now." Miguel started his motorcycle and froze for a moment, wondering where to go first.