Crossing the Wire by Will Hobbs

picked a rich one. How do you expect to get across the wire without coyote money?”
    â€œI don’t know, to tell you the truth. Do all these people on these freight trains have coyote money?”
    â€œAlmost all of them. You have to be really crazy, really stupid, or really poor to cross the border without a coyote.”
    â€œWhat about you?”
    â€œI’m all three. It’s going to be a long ride, Victor. Let’s make ourselves comfortable.”
    Julio said we were going to search for keys to the Suburbans—they must be hidden somewhere. It was too much trouble for the factory to send the keys separately to El Norte. “My best friend’s brother-in-law works at the plant in Silao,” I said.
    â€œSo?”
    â€œHe just does.”
    â€œWeren’t you about to say that he told you where they hide the keys?”
    â€œNothing that helpful.”
    â€œThey might be anywhere,” Julio said as he slid under the first car. I went to my knees and started searching the next one. It was like trying to milk a goat in the pitch dark. After searching behind the grill, the license plates, and the underside of the engine, I felt a bump on the side of the frame near the back, under a smooth strip of tape. A minute later, we were inside the vehicle, enjoying the comfortable, plastic-covered seats.
    Julio, in the driver’s seat, turned the electricity on but not the motor. He turned the radio on and started punching through the channels. “What kind of music you like?”
    â€œAnything—ranchera, mostly.”
    â€œI like ranchera.” He kept punching until he found that loud,clear signal from Radio XEG in Monterrey. “There, we have music. Everything is lively and good. You got any food, got any water?”
    â€œGot water.”
    â€œI don’t believe you. You think you’re going to just fly across the border like a bird or a bat? What is your plan?”
    â€œEvery man is entitled to make a kite out of his pants.”
    â€œThat’s a good one! Where’d you get that?”
    â€œFrom my father—he’s dead.”
    â€œWell, mine isn’t, but sometimes maybe he wishes he was. You can’t eat if you can’t work.”
    Julio must have found a hidden switch. Suddenly his seat went way back, almost like a bed. He laughed and pretended he was snoring, then grew quiet as he drifted off. For the time being, getting to know each other was over.
    I figured out how to make my own seat go back and fell asleep despite my hunger, the pounding of my wound, and the fact that I had to pee.
    I woke to the sound of the car door opening. Julio climbed out and stood over a crack in the floor. I could hear his stream splashing on the car below. I started laughing, and he did, too. He said to cut it out, he couldn’t concentrate. He got back in and I left to do the same. When I got back I asked him what to do about the other kind. He said not to even think about it.
    â€œHow did you know about getting inside here?” I asked him.
    â€œA guy told me.”
    â€œEver done it before?”
    â€œNever.”
    â€œBeen to the States before?”
    â€œLast year, but it wasn’t easy. I would’ve crossed into California—San Diego—but I heard they built a big metal wall all across there. I decided to try to find my aunt and uncle instead, in Texas.”
    â€œWas it easy to cross into Texas?”
    â€œAre you kidding? It took me eight tries.”
    â€œWhat is it really like in the States?”
    â€œYou’ll have to see for yourself. It’s impossible to explain. It’s so different, it’s like another world.”
    â€œIs it good? Is it bad?”
    â€œIt’s both.”
    Julio didn’t like to talk about it, same as my father. “Papá,” I once asked my father, “why is El Norte so rich?” He only smiled and made a joke: “God gives money to the wealthy