Page 67 of Fake Love

It brings back memories of when my dad would take my mom and me to the flea markets down in Los Angeles and San Diego and buy us everything we wanted.

I wanted an agua fresca? He would buy the biggest cup that they had.

My mom wanted a torta de jamon? There he went to stand in the long line just for her.

And I can’t forget about the huge bags of candy that we would buy to take back home. Not that they lasted long, I would finish a whole bag of paletas de chile in a week.

The second I stepped through the barrier of the festival I was in my happy place.

“Hola, si me puede dar una libra de mango seco,” I say to the lady at one of the stands asking for a pound of dried mango.

The lady gives me a smile and gives me a bag full of mango.

“Sometimes I forget that you speak Spanish.” Annaleigh says from next to me.

I give her a smile. “It’s the hair, for sure.”

I’m Mexican American, the half Mexican in me coming from my dad.

Growing up, I was always called guera since my mom’s genes just so happen to be a lot stronger than my dad’s, what with me getting her dirty blonde hair and her not so tan complexion.

People are always surprised when they hear me speak Spanish and they are even more surprised to find out that it was my first language, but it doesn’t bother me. I always loved sharing that part of me with others and seeing their shocked faces might have been a little fun.

I’m both of my parents and love the fact that they came together and created me.

“It’s definitely the hair.” Annaleigh laughs and the three of us continue to walk the remainder of the street festival.

About two hours at the festival we decided to grab some food here and find a place on the grass to eat and enjoy the atmosphere.

Everyone is laughing and dancing and having a good time, even more so because San Francisco decided to gift us a nice sunny day.

Time passes by so quickly that when I check my phone to check the time I see that it’s a little bit past four in the afternoon. We will definitely not be able to catch the game, which will probably be over by the time that we make it to the park.

I make sure to shoot off a text to Maddox telling him that we are still at the festival. He won't see it until he gets back into the clubhouse but at least I let him know.

The girls and I continue to catch up and enjoy our afternoon. I ask them about the coffee shop and they ask me about Maddox.

Apparently they’ve been keeping up with our relationship since the first picture I posted. That was only close to two months ago but it seems like it has been forever.

I’m about to answer a question that Courtney asked when I turn and notice a few people running.

That’s odd, especially since they’re all coming from one direction.

“Why are they running?” I ask out loud, prompting both of the girls to turn to where I’m looking.

As the people running come closer to use, more people start to join them and it’s not in a fun type of way. No by the look on their faces it's from panic. Men and women are picking up kids and others are grabbing people by the arms and dragging them along.

A large group of people run by us, some falling to the ground, causing us to get up and grab our things and look at each with panic.

“Hey! What’s going on? Why is everyone running?” I ask one of the guys that tripped a few feet from us. The panic clearly in my voice.

I make eye contact with Annaleigh and Courtney and they both look terrified as we slowly start walking.

“You have to run. Someone said that they heard gunshots go off and they saw people get shot.” The guy yells out before he continues to run.

Every inch of me goes cold as I digest the guy's words.

Gunshots.

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