“An illegal one.”
Sashanodded brusquely, avoiding the sympathetic darkening of Mateo'seyes.All that was over.He just wanted to convey the bare bones sothat the boy would trust him.“Not for long.I had friends,sponsors, a lot of help.I'm telling you this because I think Icould help you.”
“What—with immigration?”Mateo smiled.He cautiously took upone hot mug and sipped from it, regarding Sasha over the rim.“Respectfully—your British authorities are like...well, likelittle chihuahuas beside American bulldogs.”
“You said your friends and relatives around here would abandonyou if you got caught.Deny you.I know they've got a lot staked ontheir jobs, but that's extreme, isn't it?”
“Not really.I don’t blame them.”
“Are they worried about their own immigrationstatus?
“It isn’t that.They’re legal, most of them.It’s just that Iam a black goat they wish didn’t belong to their flock.”Mateohesitated, then plunged on.“My father has links to the Colombiancocaine trade.Only small time,bajonivel.But my relatives here, they want tolose the connection.”
Sasha took this in.Mateo had coloured, but it was hard forSasha to be shocked, not with Stefan Petrica in the background forperspective.Don’t worry—my dad’s a Romanigang lord...“Okay.Where’s your fathernow?”
“Back in Mexico.He brought me here with him when I was just akid, hidden with a truckload of migrant farm workers.He isn’t abad man—I think back then he believed he could get away, startagain.”
“Did immigration catch up with him?Or theColombians?”
“I’m not sure.But either way he had to run, and he left mehere with my aunt.”
“All right.”Sasha opened his laptop and turned the screen upbright against the sun.It had been Laurie who'd first taught himthat there might be a difference between a migrant and a refugee,between someone who chose not to go home and someone who couldn't.Laurie who'd fiercely protected him, walked at his side every stepof the way.It was a debt Sasha could never repay, but Laurie hadlaughed, kissed him, said he’d find a way to pay it forward.“I’msorry to ask questions about things which must be painful to you.Did you ever go back to Mexico—leave this country at all—since youarrived?”
“No.I haven’t dared.”
“And did you...”Sasha tapped through site after site, chasingthe thread of an idea.“Did you manage to get into a schoolhere?”
“Yes.The authorities are fierce with adults, but with childrenthey sometimes look the other way.All a kid needs to get intoschool is an address, and Aunt Rosa gave me that.”
“And you graduated?From high school, I mean?”
Mateonodded.He looked at Sasha in a mix of pride and frustration.“Idid well.But now I am stuck.To get into a college or to take myGED I’d need far more documentation than I’ve ever had.And themoment I left school, I was liable for arrest and deportationanyway, so...”He shrugged.“Here I am.Underground in paradise,picking leaves out of pools.Likely to stay that way.”
“But you want more than that.”
“Of course I do.I’m good at math and science.This countrydoesn’t love me, but I couldn’t live here all these years withoutlearning to love it, or some of the people here anyway.I thoughtabout training to be a nurse, a paramedic...What’s the point,though?”
“The point is...”Yes.There it was.Just a month or so before,Obama had sent a flurry through Republican waters and caused a fewripples in his own by deciding that it wasn’t fair that illegalminors should be packaged back off to their countries of origin.“Have you heard of the DACA memorandum—Deferred Action forChildhood Arrivals?”
“I heard something about it.I didn’t pay much attention.Itsounded like more empty promises.”
“No, this one went through.It was a half measure, nothing likethe DREAM Act was meant to be, but...”Sasha turned the screenround so that Mateo could read it.“Look.It means that theenforcement agencies should at least consider individual casesbefore throwing kids out.It’s all pretty vague at the moment, butthere’s some ground rules in place—you had to have been broughthere before you were sixteen, have stayed here for five yearscontinuously and graduated from a high school.It’s early days.They’ll be looking for test cases.”
“What—people like me?I wouldn’t stand a chance.They’d onlyhave to hear about my father, and...”
“What would happen to you if you were sent home?”
“If my father's still alive—I'm not sure.If a man runs awayfrom the bosses there, sometimes they take his family to persuadehim back.”
“You might be abducted.Good.”Mateo raised an eyebrow, butSasha ploughed on, copying a chunk of text from a website andpasting it into his word processor.“Potentially that gives yourefugee status too.Listen—all of this is very vague.And even ifyou did jump all the hoops, it doesn’t guarantee you permanentlegal status.The very best you’ll get out of it is a stay ofexecution—the right to work and study here for another twoyears.”
“But that’s all I want.”
“And in two years...Well, I doubt that DREAM will go through,but there may be some kind of change in legislation that would beof long-term help to you.”
Mateosat quietly.Already he seemed more solid, as if even the promiseof progress, status and a chance had made a difference.“Why areyou doing all this for me?”
“So far I’ve done very little.This is just information—stuffeveryone should have access to, but often it’s more convenient togovernments and authorities if you don’t.”
