Con Mis Amigos - On My Block / HIATUS

freeridge santos

I bounced down the street, confident in my newly thrifted ribbed tube top.

"Ay, ay, ay! Mamacita!" a pitched voice called to me from across the street.

The happy going music in my head instantly was put on pause and caused me to cross my arms over my chest and uncomfortably propel away.

"Hey! Don't worry about that," I heard another voice holler to me after the sound of a shut door. "the people here are just—"

I fastened my pace, assuming it was another creepy old guy trying to come after me. What did I get myself into?

"Hey, wait up! I have short legs!" the voice called out again which made me stop in my tracks.

I turned around and was met with an, I would say, short Mexican boy. His back was hunched over, with his hands on his knees, heaving, like he was trying to catch his breath.

I stood there until my eyes were met to the unidentified individual in front of me. His tired, russet eyes looked into mine as he gaped in front of me as if I was some sort of extraterrestrial.

"Yes?"

He snapped out of his trance and formally introduced himself. "Sorry, I'm Ruben. But my friends and family call me Ruby. So just call me Ruby, you know? I don't think I fit the name Ruben," he dusted his shirt off. "Oh sorry, what's your name? I'm normally not this off but I have to get to school orientation and I don't wanna get there when the lines are too long. Like my older brother Mario always says, 'It's all about the right first impression.'" He nodded and walked by my side. "Are you new?"

"Yeah, I just moved in with my dad this morning," I said as I followed along the path I was originally taking, assuming Ruby would follow after me. "My name is Mariana."

"You're headed to Freeridge orientation too right, Mariana? Just making sure so we're going the same way and you don't switch up on me. I don't want to end up being late and sweaty for my ID."

"Yeah." I ended the conversation and continued walking.

"So, have you been around the neighborhoo-" Ruby's attempt of making a conversation was cut off by the continuous sounds of grunts and yelps coming from nearby us.

The short boy quickened his pace and looked off to the side, facing me and not the poor man being beaten by a group of other guys.

"Wait, what's-" I didn't get to finish my sentence by Ruby grabbing my arm, pulling me closer to the side of him, and giving me a look to shut up. He leaned himself closer and whispered in fear,

"We don't look when someone's getting ganged up on, okay? Just look away and keep going."

And that's exactly what I did.

"Who are they? The ones in those tank tops and shorts."

"They're a gang. The Freeridge Santos. There's been a long rival between them and the Prophets for as long as I can remember," he sighed. "And just to be clear because you're new here, we're on the Santos block. Whether you're in the gang or not, you wear your colors. This is our side, not the Prophets."

"I'm not sure I'm following."

"You don't have to, just remember that this is the Santos block, which qualifies as our block. We don't wear green. That's a Prophet thing. We're more like, black. And beige. You don't have to only wear those colors, but I'm just saying," he took a break,

"The Santos were created by some guys centuries ago. It just gets passed on from generation to generation. That doesn't mean if your family wasn't apart of the original Santos, that you can't join but once you're born into it, it's really hard to get out of. If you were born a Santo, you die a Santo," Ruby sighed in defeat.

"Oh and one last very important thing, don't cross Spooky."

"Who's Spooky?"

"He's the leader of the Santos now. His real names Oscar but, most of us call him Spooky. Mainly for case in point, he is really scary."

"Really scary?" I smirked back at him. I didn't believe it. The people here might be crazy weird but scary?

"W-well yeah. Maybe for you, he'd be really scary. I mean I'm not that afraid of him, although let me just tell you, many people are. But I'm not one of those people," the short Latino tried to redeem himself.

"Oh, but make sure you call him Oscar to his face, alright?"

"Alright."