"So now I have to work two jobs just to survive." He lit a cigarette, offering a flat summary. "Hauling bricks on a construction site during the day, washing dishes in the back of a kitchen at a Spanish restaurant at night. This is the United States of Arica; if you want to live, you have to give it your all... We’re here."
"Where are we?" Li Wei peered through the grimy car window, sizing up the gray concrete building outside that resembled a moldy loaf of bread.
’This clearly wasn’t Don Quixote’s ho.’
"This is the lobby for the New York City Administration for Children’s Services, the ACS," Don Quixote said. "For us—well, mainly for —this place is the land of hope."
He whipped the beat-up Toyota into a parking spot marked "Official Vehicles Only," then quickly pulled out a disabled parking permit and tossed it onto the dashboard.
Li Wei couldn’t help but ask, "Are you disabled?"
"What?" Don Quixote caught on, then said smugly, "Of course not."
"Listen, Li Wei," he said, unbuckling his seatbelt and turning to face him. "The reason I adopted you and beca your guardian is because of the United States of Arica’s damn laws. As your sole guardian taking in an orphan under eighteen, the state governnt will give us—give **—a check for 1000 USD every month. It’s what they call a ’kinship foster care subsidy.’"
"So I’m just a walking, talking monthly check?" Li Wei laughed. "And here I thought this was about family."
"If family or love were worth a damn, I wouldn’t have had to sell one of my balls to make rent, kid. I wish family was a real thing more than anyone, believe . It’d be even better if it was worth so money," Don Quixote said, patting Li Wei’s shoulder. "Now, get out of the car."
With that, he spat into his filthy palms and desperately slicked back his greasy hair, trying to form a respectable swept-back style. Then, from sowhere, he produced a pair of gold-rimd, non-prescription glasses and placed them on his nose.
Because the whole process was perfectly legal, and because Li Wei’s pretty face had a significant effect on a plump Mrs. Debbie, the 1000 USD check was soon in Don Quixote’s pocket.
This put him in a great mood, and the excitent still hadn’t faded by the ti they were back in the car.
"Listen, kid," he said, stowing the forged disability permit and starting the engine. "We’re in the sa boat now, right? These ACS paper-pushers have nothing better to do than give poor schmucks like us a hard ti. They have to co by every month to see if you’re still alive and how you’re doing."
"We’ll split the money fifty-fifty," he said. "500 USD for , the rest for you. If you need to pay for room and board, this 500 will be your living expenses. All you have to do is deal with that bunch of morons from ACS once a month. How about it?"
"850 USD," Li Wei said. "Or no deal."
He had looked into the cost of living in the United States of Arica before he ca. In New York, 500 USD was barely enough to survive, even if you scrounged for discounted vegetables every day and bought nothing else.
The cost of living in the United States of Arica was shockingly high. Transportation and a phone plan alone would eat up 200 USD a month. What’s more, judging by the sll wafting from Don Quixote’s grimy shirt, there was no way he had a washing machine at ho. Li Wei would have to spend money at a laundromat every month.
"Are you robbing , you little brat!" Don Quixote yelled. "I haven’t even charged you for utilities!"
"But without , you wouldn’t even get that 150 USD," Li Wei said coolly. "I’ll even add another fifty for you. A twenty-eighty split. Otherwise, I’ll report you to ACS for abuse next month."
Don Quixote turned to stare at Li Wei, demanding, "Aren’t we family? I’m your guardian! Your elder!"
"You’re the one who said it," Li Wei shrugged. "This is the United States of Arica, and I don’t want to sell one of my balls just to eat."
"Good. You learn fast," Don Quixote said, flashing a set of yellow teeth in a grin. "That’s the spirit. Welco to the United States of Arica!"
For the next while, Li Wei watched the beat-up Toyota crawl like a snail along the highway between Brooklyn and Queens. The sky had turned a dirty, purplish-gray by the ti Don Quixote suddenly wrenched the steering wheel, exiting the highway and diving into the crowded streets of Sunset Park.
The Chinese signs beca more frequent here—Fuzhou Fish Balls, Wenzhou Hair Salon, Jihui Celestial Dynasty, Immigration Services, and other such storefronts were cramd between mottled red-brick buildings. If not for the occasional xican movers passing by and the mirage-like silhouette of Manhattan’s skyscrapers in the distance, Li Wei would have thought he’d ti-traveled thirty years back to the old district of so third-tier county seat.
"We’re here," Don Quixote said, expertly parking the car illegally beside a fire hydrant. "An alley off Eighth Avenue."
Li Wei got out, dragged his two suitcases, and followed Don Quixote to the side of a three-story red-brick building that looked like it could crumble at any mont. There, a rust-covered, half-height iron gate led down into the ground.
"Watch your head," Don Quixote muttered. "And walk quietly. If the dog upstairs hears you, it’ll start barking its head off in the middle of the night."
As the iron gate swung open, a musty sll washed over them. Li Wei wrinkled his nose and followed him down into a basent apartnt that had been converted from a cellar used for storing junk.
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