The Chicano/Latino Literary Prize (24 page)

I hope you get out soon. I miss your face.

Love,
Mousie—VHS

April 19

Randazzo,

I was glad to hear from you, homie. I guess by now it's getting to you, being locked up. Counting those fucking bricks gets real old too quick. The rap you've got keeps you away from the rest of the vatos in there. By the way, I knew Puppet got picked up for questioning but he's not out yet. This is a desmadre for the barrio 'cause la placa is playing “surveillance” in the Horseshoe. The vatos aren't even able to hang out at the park without the pigs busting in. We can't even walk the streets without being stopped. Last night one of the chavalos got stopped and frisked at gunpoint—the vatito is only 13!

Then they wonder why we don't got any respect. You know me, ése, I've been around a long time, I've seen a lot. ¡Qué chinguen su madre, fucking putos! I could tell you a lot of stories but they'll only censor them in the mail room there. I'll tell you when you're out. These are things you gotta know to survive 'cause now you got a chaqueta with la ley. So, you're gonna be getting it from la placa once you're back on the streets, so prepare yourself. You're also gonna get mierda from some of the homies. You gotta understand
that the heat's on in the barrio, paranoia has hit everyone, and then there's the vatos who want rank over you. They're gonna use this in their favor. You know who they are but not everyone in the barrio knows.

The challenge is yours, homes.

Después,
OSO—VHS—SJ—14

April 19

Dearest Mom,

I got your letter. I guess you're pretty worried. I'm sorry. I know I keep blowing it. But, I didn't do it. You'll see. I'll be out of here in no time. They don't have anything on me, I'm just a suspect. There are no charges.

Never mind about what people say. I keep telling you that's a real problem you have, always worrying about what everyone will think and say. I hope you're feeling better and that you're going to work. This is nothing. I swear.

Tell Mike I'm sorry and I'm glad he's there for you. He's firme, even if he's not a vato loco and never was. He's been good to me, always let me be me.

Don't worry about el jefito. He's never around when I need him so he shouldn't say anything about anything. If he wants to help, fine, if he doesn't he should butt out. His sons aren't so bad—they are my half-brothers, even if we never see each other or spend time together. Have you seen Stretch? He looks just like me, but bigger and I'm a vato loco and he's a jock. I like him. I always wanted a kid brother, I mean he is a kid brother but he's never around. You know what I mean.

Dad probably knows. The word gets out quick in the streets, Stretch knows. Don't bother calling him. Let him call you. Don't worry, okay? I'll be out soon. I miss your cooking.

I love you, Mom.

Your son,
Randy

April 20

Q-Vo Oso—

I got your letra, homes. Good to hear from you. I swear I needed to hear from you. People write, you know what I mean? It's different with you and what you got to say. You know what I'm going through. I'm going fucking crazy in here.

I've been in here one whole week, I mean I've been in here longer than that before but not like this. I think they're playing games on me. I still don't got a court date, and there are no charges. They can't keep me here too much longer. You don't think someone is throwing a rata on me, do you? Or, maybe they think they can get someone to say I did it and it'll be pretty soon so that's why they won't let me out. The last time I broke probation, I skipped the county line and fucked up by driving off the cliff in Santa Cruz. I guess that could have been worse, I could have killed myself. But it's illegal to keep me here like this, but they're still doing it. They said just the fact I broke probation again will keep me here. This fool told me I broke probation by going outside the county without a legal guardian. You know how I told you I was at a party in San Fra? My probation officer hasn't even come around.

I guess what's really bothering me is that it's Saturday night and I ain't getting any. Mousie wrote me. Boy, she's something else … I told you. She don't make it hard for me—ha ha, actually, she makes it very hard. She takes care of it, too. She's got huevos, she could have been a vato. She'll tell you off in no time. She's good to me, but I know she ain't fucking loose. She says she'll wait for me. What do you think?

Yvette wrote to me too. I love her. She is so nice and different than any of the other rucas. Except Mousie. I want Mousie in reserve, you know, when Yvette can't make it. But, oh boy, Yvette. She's soft, like a dream. She smells like warm milk, and she tastes so good. Every time I kiss her, it's like I don't want to stop, like being lost in a cloud that floats, forever. Boy, I better stop. This only makes me think that I ain't got either one. Tonight I'll thank this fucking system for not tying my hands up.

Do me a favor, homes. Get in touch with Father Mateo at the church and tell him I need to see him. I need to talk to someone soon. He's the only one they'll let in.

Drop me a line.

Your Homie,
Randazz-O
VHS—San Jo—14

April 20

Randazz-o,

What's going down, ése? Seems you're on a streak—puras chingaderas. Could it be you're getting a little too sloppy, not covering your tracks?

This is the third time you get picked up in one month—for different cargos. ¿Qué pasa, ése? The word out on the streets about this rap ain't too good. You're getting in over your head, vato. The first time was grand theft, the second was suspect in a case of arson, and now this.

You know what they say, locote, the third time is a cinch. You're in: Big Time Felon. You're not even eighteen! I guess that gives you rank in the streets, in the barrio. Rank don't rank where you're at. I could have told the homies about you—you're a bit too pushy too soon. Your timing is off and timing is what you need to be on top. You bring desmadres on yourself and you bring it on the rest of us. Barrio Horseshoe is hot with the pigs 'cause of you and nobody's liking it. Between you and me, homes, I think you're better off in there.

Of course, this could be a game la ley is playing, trying to put a torcida on you for good. Lock you away. Being the leader that you are in Horseshoe, they want you off the streets.

But, I don't think so. Like I said, this is between you and me. When you get out, IF you get out, we'll take care of business. Just you and me. Suave.

Al rato,
PaYaSo
San Jo Norte—14—VHS—Y—Qué