Luna is a sixteen year old teenager with a past that no sixteen year old should have been through. After years of abuse and violence, Luna finally finds a way to cope after all the trauma she's been through. SURVIVE. That's Lunas goal in life, what...
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I've never felt more important in my whole life—seriously, me. Gael Diaz is standing right in the driveway of the Italian mafia's house eating a burrito de frijol con huevo my mama made me before leaving the house while being surrounded with men pointing their guns at my face. Six very hot Italian men. Correction: six very pissed hot Italian men with guns. Seriously, I think this is my "I made it moment," the moment Jimena always talks about. She says the characters in the books she reads usually have this moment. I always thought Jimena read sweet, innocent poetry books, but it turns out she reads these romance books with non-innocent scenes, not to mention some of them have a shirtless tattooed man as a book cover. Not so innocent now, but I love her all the same.
We have even joined a reading club together. Of course, our friends gave me shit for it, but it's alright since I'm surrounded by very hot women who all seem to see me as attractive. Well, back to the topic at hand, I should seriously stop eating my burrito, but it's hitting the spot. Either way, I reach for my pocket very slowly to avoid a bullet between my eyes and put out my phone and dial Luna.
"Jelly!" I call her the nickname I gave her, which seems to put the guards more on edge; I just give them my most charming smile.
I'm surprised when she greets me in English before switching to German and warning me that I'm a speaker in front of the biologicals. I pre-warn them about the food that will be gone in the next hour or so before I let Luna know about my location and situation. She doesn't even let me finish before she hangs up—RUDE.
I take another bite of my burrito. "So how's your day? Have you guys ever tried a burrito de frijol con hu—" I start to ask the guard before getting interrupted by three pairs of arms; I instantly hug them back. "Group hug!" I say at the same time as one of Luna's relatives—Paolo Vinci, if I remember correctly—joins in the hug, but not without slapping my ass. Thiago made us memorize every single one of her relatives the moment she moved to Italy just in case of emergencies. I push Paolo out of the hug—discreetly, of course—but the moment he is out, he comes right back in like it never happened but drops my burrito in the process. It takes everything in me not to smack him, but if I am to get a meal out of these people, I have to play my part. I take the time to look at my surroundings to see where the guards are at only to discover that the whole fucking family is currently staring at me, some with confusion and others with anger.
"So am I going to get killed or what?" I ask my three favorite chipmunks when we release each other, "Because I really don't want to die. I'm still pretty young, and I haven't gone to a Shakira concert yet—" I start rambling before being interrupted by the burrito killer—oh, my bad, Paolo Vinci.
"Come on, we don't get many visitors here; you have to see—" He starts before being cut off by such a rude person, ME, but I don't give a shit. I'm not friends with someone who can't understand the importance of a burrito. "Yeah, that's cool and all, but I'm here to talk with these three little chipmunks if you don't mind." I tell him in the most polite way I can.
