In a country where relatively few children arriving illegally and alone are granted legal status, two young Central Americans stand out as exceptions in Phoenix.

Honduran Dubys Martinez and Guatemalan Pedro Bonifacio Herrera both beat the clock recently to receive asylum and a special immigrant-juvenile visa, respectively.

"Sometimes, I can't believe this opportunity came my way," Martinez said. He is 19 and living on his own, busing and waiting tables at two Phoenix restaurants.

Herrera, now 18, was granted a visa two days before his birthday in May. Had legal relief been delayed, he probably would have landed in an adult detention center more like jail than the Phoenix shelter for minors where he and Martinez learned some English and made many friends. From the Southwest Key Program Inc. shelter he went to foster care, where some children with complex immigration cases and no family here can stay until they reach legal age.

"If I had not won my case that day, I would have lost everything," Herrera said recently.

Both young men said they came to this country to escape street life and family abuse, which ultimately helped them win legal status.

It is often difficult for street children to meet the high threshold for asylum, said Aryah Somers, a children's attorney with the Florence Immigrant and Refugee Rights Project. The same is true for the juvenile visa, which she said was created for children who have been abused, abandoned or neglected in their homeland.

The special visa involves a lengthy process that terminates parental rights so minors can become wards of the state. "We have to ask the federal government to go into state court," Somers said. "Generally, the process takes about a year, so a number of kids age out while waiting and are no longer eligible."

Minors seeking asylum also can run out of time, particularly if their cases are appealed as Martinez's was, Somers said. An immigration judge granted him asylum last year, but Immigration and Customs Enforcement appealed the decision. This year, the Board of Immigration Appeals upheld his asylum.

"It was incredible. I couldn't believe it," said Martinez, a lanky teen with an easy demeanor.

Herrera said he came to this country at 17 to get ahead. He attends the Phoenix Job Corps Center, a vocational school where he learns mostly math and English as a second language. After eight hours of classes, he rides a bus to unload trucks at a Wal-Mart for about $7 an hour.

Much of his pay goes toward paying off the more than $5,000 his grandmother borrowed against the modest family home and a patch of fertile land to pay someone to smuggle Herrera past Mexico and into the United States. Herrera said he would never forgive himself if his grandmother, who raised him, lost what little she has.

Herrera said his mother died when he was 2, and he often ran away from home because his alcoholic father hit him almost daily. When he grew older, he said, gangs would beat him and threaten to kill him because he refused to join them.

He went north to escape, Herrera said, and got through Mexico mostly by bus. But his smuggler abandoned him just minutes after guiding him into Texas. Feeling lost, the teen hopped on a bus to Houston and was captured at a Border Patrol checkpoint. After several days in a Border Patrol detention room, Herrera said, he was taken to Southwest Key.

"Now I'm working for a good future here," Herrera said, flashing a smile.

Martinez, who lost his father as an infant, said he roamed the streets aimlessly to avoid his stepfather's painful blows. One day in April 2004, after listening to friends talk about how much people earned in El Norte, Martinez said, he embarked at 16 on his journey north.

He didn't have money for a smuggler and no one to pay for him, so Martinez traveled alone over several months, riding buses into Guatemala, and climbing on top of freight trains moving through Mexico.

Seared in his mind is the image of a teenage girl who was sucked under the train after losing her grip. "It was horrible to see," Martinez said recently, after his late shift at a Mexican restaurant.

Working odd jobs for food, and sometimes begging for it, Martinez said he finally made it to the border at Mexicali, Baja California. He crossed into the United States under the cover of night about seven months after leaving Honduras. But he couldn't elude the Border Patrol and, like Herrera, landed at Southwest Key.

"I used to live in the street. I had nothing. When I arrived at the shelter I was happy to be there," Martinez said.