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a bottlebrush tree, my back tense and rigid, my hand ready to throw the rock.
    Fear surged through my body, suffocating me with the certainty that there was someone near, watching me.
    I waited a long time.
    But nothing stirred. Had I only imagined the footsteps? I decided the only way to find out if someone was stalking mewas to make myself visible. I held my breath and stepped from behind the bottlebrush tree.
    “Come out and fight!” I yelled.
    A breeze ruffled through my hair like a stranger’s fingers. If someone was still there, hidden behind the oleander bushes, he chose not to show himself.
    Finally I picked up the dog and walked to the street. I kept casting glances over my shoulder, expecting to see someone suddenly spring from a bush and grab me.
    I stopped at Thrifty and went to the rows of vitamins in the back near the pharmacy. I wanted something for Mom, something to help her keep her promise, but I didn’t know what to get her. When no one was looking, I stuffed brown bottles of vitamins C and A and multiples in the back pockets of my bagged-out jeans and pulled my sweatshirt low to cover the bulges. Usually Ana came with me, and I stole perfume and makeup while she kept the salesclerk busy with talk about condoms, tampons, and douches. Then on the way home we’d laugh at all the questions Ana had asked and try to think of new questions that were even more embarrassing for her to ask the next time. A rush of loneliness for Ana came over me. I held the puppy to my face, its wet tongue licking my nose, to keep the tears from coming. I wondered who could make me laugh again.
    I grabbed a can of dog food, stuffed it in my waistband, and walked up to the cash register, my face a stone, thevitamins rattling in my pockets. I picked up a pack of Tic Tacs and shook them like maracas to cover the sound of the pills clicking in the bottles in my pockets. Then I gave the cashier a dollar.
    The cashier didn’t look at my face. Her eyes wandered through the store over boxes of chocolate-covered cherries and cans of tuna as if she were taking inventory.
    I stopped shaking the Tic Tacs and tried to figure out what she was seeing. Then the store manager walked over to us with quick steps that made me nervous. My legs tensed, ready to dodge him and run out the door.
    “Dogs aren’t allowed in the store,” he said, his voice like tumbling gravel.
    “What?” the cashier said. She looked around her counter as if she were trying to find the dog, then looked up and saw the puppy resting in my arms.
    “Sorry,” I said, and shook the Tic Tacs. “I’ll leave the dog home next time.”
    When the manager walked away, the cashier handed me the change. I took the coins, and when she looked away again I grabbed three rolls of Life Savers and walked outside.
    A block later I stopped and stared in the window of a botánica crowded with artículos religiosos, bright-colored flowers and herbs, and statues of Jesus, saints, and fierce-looking deities I didn’t know. A handmade sign advertisedthe prices of ducks, chickens, and female goats for sacrifices to the Santería god of the seas.
    Two women dressed in white, wearing beaded bracelets, went through the front door. Brass bells on woven strings bounced against the glass, and heavy rosewood-smelling incense rushed over me in a thick pink cloud.
    The door stayed open, as if inviting me inside. I stepped closer. Brass charms, candles inscribed with prayers, and packets of roots, leaves, and herbal remedies lined the walls behind the counter.
    An old bent woman biting a thick cigar gave me a strange look and walked over to the entrance, the hem of her long yellow dress sweeping across the floor.
    “Ah, you a bad one, you are,” she said, the cigar wagging at the corner of her mouth as she spoke. “You got no future. No future on your face. None at all.” She smiled and blew smoke into my face.
    I breathed in the acrid smoke.
    “You need a cure, I think. I could give you what