"Michael, come downstairs, your chorizo is going to be cold and you'll be late for school!" my mom yelled as I was running down the hallway and into the kitchen. "Thanks, Mom," I said and started to engulf the entire plate of beans, eggs, and pork sausage. "Now, I know that it's your first day of school today, but you'll make a lot of friends, don't be nervous" my mom stated. My sister was quietly eating across the table and watching my mom and me.

"What is she going to do while I'm in school?" I asked my mom. "She's going over to Abuela Patricia's house as soon as you leave. She has this great daycare that she runs for the neighborhood, and since she knows about our situation, she is more than willing to help us. Honestly, living in a neighborhood full of immigrants is a great thing" my mom said. "Just curious, but why Mom"? I replied. "Well, not only do you have the neighborhood matriarchs like Abuela, but there is simply more bonding and safety here. For example, did you know that they have so many community events happening in November to celebrate All Saints Day and La Dia De Los Muertos? Stuff like that keeps our kids out of trouble." she explained. "You're going to be late!" she then said suddenly when she looked at the clock. I then grabbed my backpack and ran past the cultural grocery stores, restaurants, and community center, making my way to my first day of high school.

When I walked into my classroom, I found myself sitting down at a desk that was in the middle of the room, surrounded by other desks. I then out of nervousness didn't talk to anyone, but simply watched people sit down; I also noticed how people wearing mostly red and the number 14 sat on one side of the room, and people wearing mostly blue and the number 13 sat on the other. And because I was sitting in the middle, I discovered that I was sitting in between the two, and saw that people from both sides were staring at me; I ignored them and was relieved to see the teacher walk in.

"Hi everyone and welcome to your first day of high school" Mrs. Douglas stated to the class. "Now, before I call attendance, I would just like to say that due to the recent ICE raids that have been happening recently across the country, I feel it is important to say that all illegal immigrants are welcomed to our school and our district. As it their right to an education under Plyler V. Doe regardless of citizenship or legal status" she continued. Hearing this, I felt very comforted, as, since my mother, sister, mother, and I crossed the border, we have always been looking behind our backs. Mrs. Douglas then after calling attendance started class, announced that we would be reading The Circuit by Francisco Jimenez for the next 2 weeks; I knew from then that this would be my favorite class.

After finishing Geometry, I slowly walked to the Quad, and got in line, waiting for my school lunch in the cafeteria. And not knowing anyone, I simply watched how the students around me talked to themselves, and in groups, conversed together.

"You're Michael right?" I heard, and turning to my left, saw this guy from my literature class; he was wearing almost all blue. "Yeah, I'm Michael, what's up?" I then replied. "Are you new here? My crew and I have never seen you before" he stated and gestured to a group of guys and girls wearing mostly blue in one corner of the quad. "Yeah, I just moved here about a month ago, I live in _____" I stated. "Nice, I know that neighborhood, they have the best Mexican food there. I'm Mark by the way" he remarked. "And since you're new here, let me introduce you to the group" he continued. After Mark and I got our lunches, he led me to his friends, who welcomed me with open arms. In the conversations over lunch, they used phrases such as "we got you", or "if you need anything let us know". However, when I got up to throw my lunch away, I saw a group of guys and girls wearing red, and many stared at me, glaring while I walked to the other side; I shook off their hostile looks and sat down with my new friends.

And as I began to hang out with Mark and his gangs more during lunch and eventually after school, I started to wear more blue clothing and hung out more on their side of town. My mom started to take notice of this after a while, asking me "Why aren't you volunteering at the community center anymore?", and "Why are you wearing so much blue? Add a new color to your wardrobe". As my presence in the small and safe immigrant community continued to dwindle, she worried more and more. She finally exploded when she saw who I was hanging out with when she picked me up from a friend's house.

"Michael, why are you hanging out with them, they are not nice people! I mean, not only is their neighborhood not safe, but there is something very sketchy about them, and I don't like it" she yelled. "Mom, please they're my friends, they got me" I explained, trying to ease her worrying. "That's what they say to recruit you! Trust me, they say that stuff when you first meet them but leave you to dry when you're in trouble on the street. Stay away from them" she stated firmly. "I don't want you ever going back to that neighborhood again," she said. "You don't control me or what I do! It's so boring over here in our community, and all everyone talks about is home!" I replied.

"Well, at least it's safer over here than where you were! At least there is much more of a community in our neighborhood that fosters education, career, and family. What do your 'friends' got? Money, guns and drugs, that's not a life, and I am not going to let you live like that! We moved into a neighborhood full of immigrants because it was safer and because I wanted a more tightly knit community. And with the people you are hanging out with right now, they are just using you, they're not your family nor your friends. I can't believe that you are hanging out with those hoodlums now!" she explained.

When we got out of the car, I ran into our small house and slammed my bedroom door shut. I was so mad for my mom insulting my friends, what she was saying about them using me was not true, it couldn't be. I continued to be in disbelief when I suddenly got a text from Mark, writing "Yo, wanna hang?".

I was able to a couple of minutes later sneak out of the house and made my way quickly over to Mark's. "Hey, I need you to do something for me," he said as soon as I arrived. "See this bag of, let's call it flour? Well, it would be great if you could take this to my friend's place a couple of blocks away from here, off of _____ and _____ street. Can you do it?" he asked. "Sure, but isn't that close to enemy territory?" I replied; the group who glared at me during lunch dominated that area. Mark looked at his watch, "yeah, but they shouldn't bother you. Now, my friend needs this bag, so if you could do that now, I'd owe you one" he stated. I found myself a couple of seconds later walking away from his house, following the directions he gave me.

About 15 minutes later I found myself less than a block away from my destination, and took out the bag of "flour". I then continued to walk slower to Mark's friends when someone stopped me. "Hey, Mike! It's me, Chris from English, I wanna talk to ya!" he yelled. I turned around, and as he approached me, saw that he was wearing mostly red, and was walking fastly towards me.

"Mike, man I wanted to talk to you about something. You know Mark's friends right, you would say you're in his crew?" he asked. "Yeah, why do you ask?" I replied. "Well, my friends and I would like to give a message to him and his buddies" he stated, and was put his hands in his back pocket. "Sure, what is it?" I said. "You", and in a sudden and swift movement, I felt a sharp pain in my stomach.

I fell to the ground, as Chris put away the knife. As I looked down and felt my stomach, I saw my fingertips turn red, and the world became blurry until it all became black.

From then on, looking back I remember only in unclear moments, where I was at a hospital and there was a police officer in the chair. When I awoke again, I was being interviewed by an ICE official, who was holding the bag of "flour" in his hand and asking me the same question in both English in Spanish. And when I "awoke" for the last time, I found myself looking out of a bus window, looking at a desert, and the bus slowly approaching a large fence structure.

When we stopped and were let through the fence, the environment looked very much the same, and we continued driving until we reached this small town. Then everyone on the bus was forced to get off, and I found the air to be dry as I stepped onto the gravel and into the hot sun.

I saw a man looking around, and tapped him on the shoulder. "Sir, where are we?" I asked. He laughed a little, then responded: "we're in Mexico now amigo, we just crossed the border". As I saw the letters "ICE" marking the back of the bus, I saw my mistake and felt my legs give way.

At least gravel is softer on the knees compared to sidewalk cement.

For Further Reading:

In less than 7 hours, 41 shot, 5 fatally as violence rips Chicago

The Myth of the Criminal Immigrant

Two charts demolish the notion that immigrants here illegally commit more crime