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about their children. But my day starts at five thirty in the morning. I work hard with the kids at day care. My feet are always sore. And I’m exhausted when I get home. If I let myself worry about Mateo all the time, then I wouldn’t sleep at night. I need my sleep!”
    â€œBut sometimes Matt doesn’t show up for track practice,” I say. “And his coach starts asking me questions I don’t know how to answer.”
    â€œSweetie, it’s not your problem, is it?” Mom gently pushes my long curtain of hair behind my ear so she can see my whole face. “Your brother is sixteen now. I have to start trusting him, don’t you think? I never get calls from the school. He’s polite most of the time. He helps out around the house when I ask. So I let some other things go.”
    I smile at my mom and hope she’s right about trusting Matt.
    It’s hard to focus on my homework on Sunday. I can’t stop thinking about what I saw and how I hid. I regret doing nothing. Maybe if I’d yelled, they would have taken off sooner. Then I might actually be able to face Zenia again without feeling utterly lame.
    The other thing bugging me is that my brother suddenly has an iPod! He had the earbuds plugged into his head this morning. When I asked him where it came from, he just shrugged and said he saved his allowance.
    Abuelo gives us each twenty bucks a week. No way Matt could have saved enough money for an iPod. He’s always got new T-shirts and hoodies. I wonder if he actually bought any of the stuff, like he said he did. It makes me queasy just thinking about how else he might have gotten these things. When I put all the pieces of the Matt puzzle together, I don’t like the shape it’s taking.
    I can’t wait for Sunday to end so I can go to school Monday and start thinking about something else for a change.

chapter eight
    During the peak of track-and-field season, the coaches are relentless. They regularly call early-morning practices on top of the after-school practices. And they like to see us all out on the field by 7:30. So it’s early to bed for Matt and me Sunday nights.
    On Monday morning, I pound on his door at 6:45 to make sure he gets his butt moving. All I get is a growl. When I leave shortly after seven, I still can’t hear my brother moving around in his room. My grandfather promises he’ll get Matt up.
    I let out a sigh of relief when I spot Matt loping across the field as the coaches step out of the school. I know he can be a jerk, but I don’t really want him to get in trouble. Shauna and Justin showed up a couple of minutes before him. Justin gives Matt a salute, which Matt returns with a half grin and a raised eyebrow.
    As soon as he reaches the track, Coach Reeves blows his whistle, and the entire team gathers around. Usually he’s smiling, full of pep and armed with sayings to try and inspire us on a Monday morning.
    â€œ Awards become corroded, friends gather no dust ,” are the first words out of his mouth. His face is stony. “Anyone know who said that?”
    We all stand in stunned silence. “Only one of the most brilliant American track-and-field athletes ever, Jesse Owens,” he says. “Surely you know who he is, don’t you?”
    We all nod, even though I’m positive half the kids don’t really know who Jesse Owens is.
    â€œHis running-broad-jump record stood for twenty-five years,” says Coach. “He won four medals in the 1936 Olympics in Berlin. Do yourselves a favor and google him, okay? Anyone want to try and guess what Owens meant by that?”
    We stare at the ground, our shoes and then each other. Nobody wants to meet the coach’s eyes for fear he might ask them to answer. Plus he’s acting pissed off about something.
    â€œHere’s a clue,” he says. “It’s about friendships forged on the competitive athletic field. It’s about how much