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I catch sight of Luis with one of my bandannas on his head and my gut tightens. I yank it off him. “Don’t ever touch this, Luis.””Why not?” he asks, his deep brown eyes all innocent.To Luis, it’s a bandanna. To me, it’s a symbol of what is and will never be. How the hell am I supposed to explain it to an eleven-year-old kid? He knows what I am. It’s no secret the bandanna has the Latino Blood colors on it. Payback and revenge got me in and now there’s no way out. But I’ll die before I let one of my brothers get sucked in.I ball the bandanna in my fist. “Luis, don’t touch my shit. Especially my Blood stuff.””I like red and black.”That’s the last thing I need to hear. “If I ever catch you wearin’ it again, you’ll be sportin’ black and blue,” I tell him. “Got it, little brother?”He shrugs. “Yeah. I got it.
