“!Levantate¡”, mom says in a loud-obnoxious tone that wakes, Osvaldo, Monica, Patria and me up for school. When I finally sit up, I look up to the clock and it reads, 5:30 on the dot. “It’s too early for this” I groan. Osvaldo chuckles, “Ven, we have to get there before they do-”. Monica interrupts, “you know what will happen if they do. Blah, blah, blah we know!”. I sigh and walk towards the bathroom and begin to prepare myself for the long day.
I look at my reflection in the the cracked mirror and see a silhouette more than a solid figure of a 15 year old boy. My eyes are sunken in and dark, emotionless. I have a faint bruise on my left cheek. I lift my shirt to reveal the long scar from the bottom of my left nipple to my belly button. “The mark of a coward”, I say with regret. I could have had them, I thought.
I began to remember the moment I was pushed onto the gritty brick wall. SMACK! I begin to feel the burn from Patty’s leather glove. He’s holding me back with his elbow to my neck, threatening to kill me with one jab. I begin to choke and start to lose consciousness. I hear wheezing laughter from Joey and Patty. “You ain’t that tough now aren't ch’ya?” Joey manages to compose himself but Patty’s laughter is too much to handle. Patty then takes out his shiny new toy, a switch blade. I snap back into reality when I heard a loud knock on the door, “!De prisa hijo vas a llegar tarde a la escuela!” My mother yells enough for the whole neighborhood to hear. With the time on my mind, I took a shower that lasted one minute.
My family's name is Torres. The Shark’s family name is Bonanno. My family occupies all of White Plains Road and Bronx Park East. While the Shark’s family occupies all of Arthur Avenue and  Mott Street. This rivalry began during the late stages of prohibition or so that's what Don Coqui tells Osvaldo and I. “Los Mafiosos, son los criminales aquí. Nosotros somos, los héroes.” He would say in his cancer stricken voice. Don Coqui would tell us that he, alongside his friends would smuggle alcohol to make a profit. But when the Mafiosos became intertwined with our own business, Don Coqui was left in ruins for what the Italian Mafia had done. “!De una forma u otra, Leonardo me lo vas a pagar¡”, his voice breaks but shows a hint of determination with each word.
Don Coqui was my grandfather. He was the one who established the family business as it is known today, Cuban Cigars. Ever since the bankruptcy of the bootlegging business, Don Coqui became involved with ‘old friends’ who were creating a small business in Havana, Cuba. I never met these so called ‘friends’. But I know that they were not Italian. My father was once discussing business at home where I found myself more and more curious as to what they were talking about. “Entonces vamos a transportar los cigarros a Colombia?” My father said with a confident tone. “!Pues claro¡ Tu padre aseguró él cargamento. Estamos listos para enviarlo.” A deep-husky voice came from across the room. “Vamos Juan, podemos hacerlo.” He coaxes. “¿Pero why is it so far?¿Porque no puedes hacer California? Cuesta demasiado dinero para esa docena de cigarros para mandarlos a Colombia”. My father says unsure of whether or not to go ahead with the order. “Hagámoslo entonces”, he says with a deep sigh and a hint of reluctance. A week later my father was killed by the mafia.
As I finish my breakfast I look at the time, 6:02. By the time I put on my coat for the harsh winter, everyone was dressed and fed. Monica and Patria are touching up any makeup that might have missed a place to cover up. I look down at their shoes and chuckle. They must be insane if they're gonna even make it half up the block in five feet worth of snow in those Mary Janes, I thought.
When we finally set foot on the snow, it felt like mounds of marshmallows that were too heavy to pick up. As we made our way to Fordham, I became nervous. I could hear my heartbeat pound as loud as drum as we inched closer and closer to Arthur Avenue. My breath began to get rapid and I couldn't breath. Osvaldo noticed and stopped me. “¿Que te pasa? There's no one here.” He's says, reassuring me with a light chuckle. I can hear the sounds of cars passing by and the cold winter wind soaring in all its glory. “¿Ves? No one's here. It's just you, me, Monica, and Patria.” He nods at them as they wait impatiently. “Vamos a llegar tarde if we stay here.” I nod in reluctant agreement and continue our way to school.
Osvaldo was a hardworking student. He got straights A’s and the top of class and school. The death of our father was hard for my family and especially Osvaldo, who began to rebel against school, against mom, and against me. He began to get into Don Coqui’s business of Cuban Cigars and changed completely. He dropped out of school and became involved in the business full time. He would take my sisters and I to school and he would go on his way to the family headquarters to discuss transports and orders. Osvaldo was given a Colt Python gun for his birthday from Don Coqui as protection from Leonardo Bonanno's men or the Sharks. Osvaldo would say that he would only keep one bullet in the gun “just in case those calzones come to play”. From that day on, I was forever haunted by those words.
When we've arrived to school Patria and Monica went right through the doors to the school as if nothing was holding them back. For me, I took my time saying my goodbyes to Osvaldo, praying that I will see him again when I got back out. “No te preocupes. Everything is going to be alright. Ok?” He asks me with his dark brown eyes staring right into mine. I sigh a long hard sigh, “Ok”. Osvaldo smiles and ruffles my hair, “that's my brother.”
As I turn to to reach for the door I count to three, “one...two...th-” I'm interrupted in my thoughts, “-are you gonna go in or what?” I'm frozen in tracks, literally. I can recognize that accent anywhere. But it can't be, can it? No, this is a Spanish school. Isn't it?, I thought “Uhh, hello? Are you stupid or something?” I turn slowly to see the figure standing behind me. A calzone, I thought in amazement. “What are ya lookin’ at? Are you gonna go in or what?” The figure speaks with agitation clearly present in its tone. I move aside to let him through. He rushes past me and I'm left dumbfounded by my encounter.
By some miracle I make it to my first period class Introduction to American Literature, a minute shy from being late. I take the only available seat in the class, front and center. As I sit down I feel the eyes of 11 students on me. I hear the whispers of the students in the back of the room. I can only grasp onto one word, “coward”. Someone taps my shoulder behind me, I ignore them and begin to take notes on today's lecture, The Catcher in the Rye. The class and I have been reading it for awhile, me personally, have read it 100 times. Ever since it has been published in 51’, I've been mesmerized by the creativity of JD Salinger and his choice of character description. Here you have this character Holden Caulfield, he this straightforward young man who is expelled from college. Holden uses this to his advantage and leaves his college for something bigger than a dorm room. He can actually live without fear. I want to live without fear. The fear of getting killed. The fear of being alone, I thought.
Mrs. Alisa interrupts my thoughts, “Now class, I will be pairing students into groups of two since there is now 12 of you. So Samantha and Felipe, you two will be working together-”. She makes her towards me and I begin to become frantic. My legs are shaking like a pair of chicken legs just waiting to run for an escape. “Alfonso and Luca, you two will be paired together-” I hear a sudden movement from behind me, “NO! How can you put with one of them?! Don't you know who I am? Don't you know who is he?” Luca asks in complete anger. Mrs. Alisa was completely caught off guard by Luca’s outburst, “Luca can you calm down! I put you two together because I know what history both of your parents have. It is time to change that.” Now she caught me completely off guard with this. What the hell is she doing?, I thought to myself.
“Yeah Mrs. A, I don't think this is gonna workout you know? I mean he's apart of them, the hell am I gonna do with him?” The moment I closed my mouth, I soon regretted the words that had escaped from lips. Mrs. Alisa opened her mouth to talk but them shut them again. Everyone in the class only stared waiting for some kind of communication. “Well, I feel the same way.” Luca says with a smug face. I don't like you, I thought to myself. “You two will work together whether you like it or not!” Mrs. Alisa said practically screaming in our faces. We both sucked our teeth and got to work on our analysis.
“I hate Holden.” Luca says in a quiet-yet stressed tone. Does he not know who he's talking about? Wow these Italians are on something else, I thought to myself. “Coming to think of it, I hate everyone!” Luca said without holding back. “You know nothing!” I burst out shouting. Students look but don't pay attention to it. “Oh yeah?” Luca stands up from his chair and begins to get closer to face. “What ya gonna do about it?” He whispers. I begin to get up and stand in front of him. “This.” I say with confidence. His eyes lower to my hands balling up into my fist. In one swift move my fist makes contact with his jaw. SMACK! It's almost as if a balloon was popped and everyone heard from 1 mile away. “Ahh!” Luca wales in pain. I feel a sharp pain in left hand. My adrenaline rush is kicking in and I manage to get my things and leave the class and the school.
I'm running through the deep snow as a inch closer and closer to my home. From there I found the spare key where we keep under a loose brick on the wall. I opened the door and quickly shut it as I got in to escape the outside. I became well aware of what I had just got myself into. I'm a dead man, a real dead man, I thought to myself. I sat on the couch and faced the grandfather clock for the rest of the day. Until I heard key jingle on the lock. I stand up to see who it is, mami. Why is she crying? Does she know what I have done? All these thought ran through my head until she saw me. “Mataron a Osvaldo.” Her voices breaks as those three words are muttered slowly. “¿Mataron a mi Osvaldo! Ay Dios mío porque?”

A New Beginning:

The day I discovered my brother died, my world was destroyed. Without him, I wouldn't be here. Without him, I wouldn't be here. Here, finding the bastard that killed my brother and my father. My brother was found on the sidewalk shortly after I punched Luca. Luca, the one who I punched. I punched him. Him. Luca. Everything's coming together. I now know it was because of Luca. He must have told the Mafia. They targeted my brother. Leonardo targeted my brother. That thief killed my brother. He took someone from my life that I truly cared about. Now it's time for me to take something of his. I reach for the drawer and open to reveal the Colt Python. CLICK. The bullet is still in place.