The Sleeping Cinderella of BoyleHeights

“Can you give me a life that’s worth getting out of bedfor?”

That was the first thing Darla Escovido ever said tome.

And for a long time after she said it—too long a time—I just sat there in silence, blinking my eyes stupidly like a fighter being counted out by the referee. Finally, I rallied enough to say, “Well, that’s a hardquestion.”

She shot back, “Because of me, or just because it’s a hardquestion?”

I was a little quicker on the uptake this time. “It could hardly be because of you, Ms. Escovido, since I know next to nothing about you—at leastyet.”

She hugged her purse to her chest and slumped like someone had let the air out of her body. Then she said, “Well, you’re the last stop on this train line, so if even you don’t have anything to offer me . . .”

“I didn’t say I had nothing to offer you. Just that I don’t even have any way to assess the situationyet.”

She slumped down even further in her chair. “Is that what I’ve become, a situation?” She gave a sardonic laugh. “Well, I suppose you’re right atthat.”

I held out my hands. “I didn’t mean it that way, Ms. . . .”

“Darla.” She paused. “You know, like the LittleRascals.”

I smiled. “You’re pretty young to know about the Little Rascals, aren’tyou?”

“Believe me, when your name’s Darla, you know about the Little Rascals.” Her full lips turned up the teensiest bit. It was a pretty smile, what little there was ofit.

I nodded. “Yeah, I see what youmean.”

She fixed me for a long moment with her dark eyes, then the lids fluttered down and she murmured, “I’m so tired. I’