The Second Helmet

Chapter 1: Helmet

The second helmet appeared on the counter of Rivera Computer Repair on a Saturday morning.

It was black, nearly new, and still smelled faintly of plastic and fresh foam. A strip of masking tape had been pressed across the visor. On it, in Mateo’s slanted handwriting, were two words: FOR LENA.

Elena saw it through the shop window before she opened the door.

For a moment she stood on the pavement with one hand around the warm paper cup she had brought him. The street was waking slowly after an early rain. Water shone in the cracks of the road. Across from the shop, the bakery had raised its metal shutter halfway, and the smell of sweet bread drifted into the cool air. Somewhere inside Mateo’s shop, a small electric fan clicked each time it turned.

Elena had not spoken properly to her brother in six days.

She pushed open the glass door. A brass bell gave its tired little ring.

“We’re not open yet,” Mateo called from the back.

“Good,” she said. “Then you can’t pretend to be busy.”

The shop was narrow and deeper than it looked from outside. Old keyboards stood in a plastic basket near the door. Phone chargers hung from hooks in clear bags. A row of repaired laptops waited on a shelf, each one tagged with a customer’s name. The air smelled of dust, solder, and the lemon cleaner Mateo used every morning, though he never cleaned the corners.

He came out wiping his hands on a gray cloth. At twenty, he still had the round face he had worn as a boy, but lately there were shadows under his eyes. His dark hair had been flattened on one side by a cap.