1.

The rat crawled out of the shadows, and my cousin Lalo pulled the trigger.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

Every pellet missed.

The rat skittered into a dark part of the appliance repair shop.

Uncle Val got Lalo the pellet gun to shoot what he called critters. Water bugs the size of hard-boiled eggs came from the flooded basement and ran between aisles of busted refrigerators, washers, and dryers. Any time Uncle Val saw one, he stomped down with his flip-flopped foot and crushed the black beetles to pulp. It made the sound of Grandma stepping on a Frosted Flake.

The rats, though. They were the worst.

Lalo woke up many mornings with holes in his socks.

 

2.

Lalo was sixteen, and I was 11.

We lived in the same house for a summer after his stepdad decided he didn’t want Lalo at his house anymore. He was getting into fights at school and breaking into cars in neighboring suburbs, but the third strike came when he stole $1,300 out of the safe at Big Burger, where he dunked fries three times a week to, as his mother put it, build character.

There was a new baby in the house—a boy—and Lalo’s mom told him she couldn’t have him and his poor attitude around her new family. He had to go live with his dad, who was fresh out of jail for driving drunk too much and who lived in our grandma’s basement while he tried and failed to get through the 12-step program at St. Joes, the church were Uncle Val was an alter boy with dreams of becoming a priest before he went to the army and took his first pain pill.

Me and Lalo had a lot in common. Both our moms vanished, and bam—there we were at Grandma’s.

Lalo was like a big brother to me.

He showed me things.

 

3.

In the alley behind Uncle Val’s shop, the city slapped wanted posters on the telephone poles. But instead of WANTED, they said TARGETED. Instead of a sketch artist drawing of a criminal, there were cartoon drawings of rats with red eyes and sharp teeth and greasy fur. These posters gave the block permission: Shoot to kill.

The rats stayed outside most of the time, but whenever Uncle Val was on a bender at Rudy’s Bar and the shop was empty a while, they infiltrated. So Uncle Val showed Lalo how to aim the pellet gun with the little orange plastic sight at the end of the barrel. He showed Lalo how to kneel behind an oven and use the stove top to prop the gun. He showed Lalo how to wait, and that was the greatest lesson of all.

How long do I have to wait, Lalo asked.

Long as it takes, Uncle Val said.

 

4.

Sometimes he waited hours.

Lalo’s shoulders and neck ached from looking down the barrel so long. His knees went numb pressed into the concrete floor. But the longer he waited, his mind wandered farther and farther from the shop.  He was in a jungle. He imagined he was Rambo waiting for the enemy.

To survive a war, Lalo told me, you gotta become war.

 

5.

Lalo pulled the trigger and then he pulled it again and again.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

The rat fell over. Lalo’s first hit.

He jumped in victory, but when the rat saw him, it summoned the strength it had left and scampered into a dark corner packed with filing cabinets. Lalo waited a long time for the rat to return, but it never did. He never found out if the rat died or lived to show off the wound.

Lalo put the pellet gun in his backpack and brought it to grandma’s, so we could practice in the basement.

 

6.

Lalo showed me how to aim with the little orange plastic piece at the end of the barrel. He showed me how to use the ironing board to prop up the gun.

He showed me how to wait, and that was the greatest lesson of all.

We aimed at the cardboard Christmas tree box grandma kept under the workbench. I targeted the UPC code. Lining it up with the orange plastic piece, I pulled the trigger and pulled it again and again.

Every pellet missed but one.

Nice shot, Lalo said.

He took the gun back and propped it on the ironing board. He lined up his target and pulled the trigger again and again and again.

Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop.

The pellet holes spelled a word, and that word was his name.

L A L O

Lalo shot his name into the Christmas tree box, and it didn’t fall over bleeding, and it didn’t crawl in the dark to die, and we were alive, waiting.