Quetzalhuitzilin

Early morning, before the sun is up, Marcus wakes to the tapping of rocks on his window. He opens the shutters to find Diego and Luisa outside. It's the first time he's seen either in weeks. Nobody has been talking since Roberto's death.

They're wearing bandannas to hide their faces and each carries a mochila filled with spray paint. "Come on Marcus," Diego whispers.

"What are we doing?" Marcus asks.

"We're going to paint una muralla for Roberto. It's Diego's idea," Luisa whispers. "Keep your voice down, and hurry up.

They gather Miguel and Silvia and ride their bikes in the dark, silent streets. A lone dog barks halfheartedly, but they speed by, and it subsides. High up the sun slides golden light down the skyscrapers, slowly undressing the world's nightgown with his gentle touch.

The canal water is lower today, and swift, to swift to swim, if any of them could have ever thought of swimming their again. The water churns with dark reflections and underground secrets. A small shrine has been erected by Roberto's parents, and Marcus notes what his friends have brought- a favorite candy bar, a manga, flowers, glasses. The toy alligator from Marcus is partially submerged under the other gifts.

Next to the canal in the alleyway where they always left their bikes. They pull out the spray paint and shake them up. Diego pulls out stencils, familiar with the rattle of the can and the quiet activity, and Silvia takes to the work avidly. Miguel and Luisa are more timid, working in broad strokes, avoiding the detail work of the others.

Marcus picks up the bottles, and a strange feeling wells up in him. This is right. This will make things better. He sets to work with the others, completely absorbed in the task of painting brilliant green feathers, deep indigo and purple blushes in a swirling deep blue background, angry red and orange and yellow streaks like tears spattering the foreground.

After a couple hours work, they step back from the little mural. "It's nothing like El Robot de Madera could do," Diego says critically, "But I think we did a pretty good job, capos."

"I think it's brilliant," Luisa declares.

Marcus critically examines their work. He's always been a good artist, but this is the first time he's done something like this. "It's a good start," He concedes, gesturing to the rest of the wall, "but I think it would look a little lonely if we didn't do some more."

Miguel nods. "Definitely."

They leave again as silently as they came, each peeling with waved goodbyes to their own homes. It is hours since they started, and the streets are already crowded with grandmothers seeking produce and grandfathers smoking on the street corners. Cars clog the roads.

Behind them, hunkered in the shadows near a canal-side shrine, a graffiti hummingbird shimmers like a jewel with a thousand colors on the wall, waiting the warm embrace of the sun.