He loved you more than he loved living.

Catalina squints her eyes. Head back, chin jutting. I wrote him a letter. Never come back.

CATALINA JONES BY LINDSAY SMITH 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 60

Catalina Jones sticks out her jaw, tightens her grip on the handlebars. Don’t touch my bike.

The boy in the baggy pants backs off, raises his hands. They stare each other out. Joey blinks. What?

First thing. And a tear slips down Catalina’s insolent jaw. First thing Joey, my family. I never had family, you know that?

I never meant family, Joey says.

Sam looks up from the work of art he is painting on the subway wall. Catalina, you a cry baby.

Catalina rounds on him. Shut your mouth.

Joey throws an arm around Catalina’s shoulders. Anyway Catalina, we your family.

A train clatters overhead. Aztec runs along the tunnel yelling, her voice echoing. Catalina! Catalina! Your dad is calling for you!

Catalina pulls away from Joey and holds out a hand to Aztec. Don’t stress little one. I’m coming. She looks back over her shoulder suddenly, says straight…