Page 2 of Her Hidden Smile

They look happy.

“Is Izan going to steal her purse?” I asked.

Luis looked down at me and stared. “Does it matter?”

It mattered. Izan didn’t just take the ladies’ purses, he made sure that he pushed them down. He liked it when he hurt them. There was something wrong with Izan.

“Look, Jorge is at the parade. He’s picking pockets, so yeah, Izan is going to grab her purse while you distract her. It’ll be easy because the man is carrying all those shopping bags.”

I eyed the lady and the man. I watched as they came out of another shop with another bag of stuff they didn’t need. The pretty lady was laughing up at the man. He had his arm around her waist.

Did they like each other?

My grandmother said that my mama and papa had loved each other very much. Did these two Americanos love each other?

“Go!” Luis shoved me so hard I fell forward, but I caught myself before my face hit the cobblestones. There had been little to share for breakfast, so we were all hungry. That made even Luis angry. I knew my job. I had to distract the yellow-haired lady while Izan came by and grabbed her purse. But still, I had to protest. The lady wasn’t just holding her purse, it was over her shoulder. Every time Izan grabbed a lady’s bag from her shoulder, she was for sure getting hurt.

“Can’t we choose someone else?” I begged. “Look at her purse. Izan’s going to hurt her for sure.”

Luis grabbed me by my shoulders. I winced as he squeezed the bruise I got from Izan this morning. “Look at all those shopping bags. She’s rich. We need the money. If you don’t do this, I’ll let Izan at you.”

I could see by the look in his eyes, he meant it.

I twisted out of his grip. “I’ll do it,” I promised.

“Wait,” Luis muttered. “Give me the jacket. You look too good wearing it.” He grabbed the collar and yanked it off me.

I didn’t flinch, even though it really hurt my shoulder again.

“Now get going.”

I saw the man and lady were heading toward the cathedral. That was good. There were some beggars already there. I would be just one more. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Izan. He was near the far edge of the cathedral stairs. All I had to do was get them talking to me, then Izan could come up behind the lady and take her purse. It’s what we always did. We’d been doing it since I was five, after we escaped from the orphanage.

I walked a little funny as I rushed up to them. The last kick in the back that Izan had given me had really hurt, and now I couldn’t walk straight, but at least I hadn’t made a sound. When I was almost to the lady and man, one of the older beggars tripped me. I slammed to the ground, my chin scraping against the cobblestones.

“That wasn’t nice,” the pretty lady said in Spanish. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Who was she talking to? How did she know how to speak in Spanish?

Soft hands helped lift me up. I saw that she’d put her purse on the ground.

Good. Izan wouldn’t hurt her now.

“What’s your name?”

Her eyes were really pretty. I’d never seen somebody in real life with blue eyes.

“Honey, can you talk to me? Can you tell me your name?”

I eyed her purse again, then scanned the plaza to see where Izan was, but I couldn’t see him. I was finally standing, and she was trying to brush the dirt off my clothes, but that would never work. I’d been wearing the same clothes for over a month.

“Sharon, honey,” the man interrupted, “we need to go.”

“He looks hungry.” She turned back to look at me. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Where was Izan? He never waited this long.

I looked up into her pretty eyes. “Renzo. My name is Renzo,” I mumbled.