Lety Out Loud

by Angela Cervantes

“Buenas noches, Papá.”

  He turned off the light, filling the room with darkness except for a ray of light that streamed under the door into the room. It created a blue haze on the floor between the two beds. Lety studied the blue glow. It reminded her of the deep end of a swimming pool.

  As if it was another color on a paint swatch, Lety named it.

  “Sueños azules oscuros,” she whispered. Deep Blue Dreams. As she dozed off to sleep, she, Brisa, Eddie, and her entire family dove into the blue sea. They splashed around, free of doubt, free to speak whichever language they wanted, and even when her feet couldn’t touch the bottom, she wasn’t afraid.

  Walking through the front door of the shelter without Brisa was lonelier and stranger than Lety expected. All night she kept hoping Brisa would change her mind, but a phone call from Brisa’s mom in the morning confirmed it: Brisa was going to ELL class for the rest of the summer. Lety’s stomach flip-flopped at the thought of a full day without Brisa.

  Kennedy and Mario raced up to Lety, eager to tell her the latest on the contest.

  “Best day ever!” Kennedy began. Lety wasn’t so sure. So far, the day had felt rough. “Messi and Chicharito were adopted last night by one of the coaches for the city’s soccer team.”

  “Check it out,” Mario said, shoving his cell phone in front of Lety. “He’s already posted pictures online.” He scrolled to a photo of the coach and his family with the two cats. It was captioned: “Goal! Our family is complete.”

  Lety looked back and forth from the picture to Kennedy and Mario. As they carried on excitedly, Lety had a feeling that the contest was more important to them than to her and Hunter.

  “The score is four to two now,” Kennedy said. “You’re definitely catching up.”

  “Catching up? She’s down by three pets. Hunter is one adoption from winning it all,” Mario said. “Looks like you’ll be scooping dog food soon, Lety.”

  Kennedy nudged him hard, sending him away rubbing his ribs.

  “It’s not over until the fat lady sings,” Kennedy hollered at him.

  “Who is the fat lady?” Lety asked. “I don’t think we’re supposed to say ‘fat.’ ”

  “It’s just a silly expression,” Kennedy said, and then looked around. “Wait a minute, where’s Brisa?”

  “She’s not coming,” Lety answered. “She’s decided to go to summer school.”

  “What? Why? We’re making tuna pops for the cats today.”

  Lety wasn’t sure if she should tell Kennedy about what happened at the store. Dredging it up meant having to think about her brother crying, Mrs. Quispe crying, and repeating the man’s awful words.

  “I don’t understand,” Kennedy said. “She was looking forward to making tuna pops. Did she say why? Should I text her?”

  Lety shook her head. “Nothing will change her mind.”

  “What happened, Lety?”

  Kennedy wasn’t going to give up until she knew the reason Brisa wasn’t there, so Lety pulled her by the hand over to the washer and dryer room. She told Kennedy the whole story.

  “He kept telling us that we were in America and should speak English.”

  “What a bully,” Kennedy hissed. “Did you ask him which America he meant? South America or North America? Because Brisa’s family is from South America and Mexico is part of North America. So what did he mean that this was America and everyone should speak English? Did you ask him that?”

  “He didn’t give us a chance to say anything. He just yelled,” Lety said. “Eddie was so upset. He could barely sleep last night.”

  “Oh no!” Kennedy shook her head furiously. “Poor Eddie! I’d like to slug this bully.”

  Lety smiled at the thought of Kennedy going after the man.

  “I mean, I’d really like to smack him right in the snout and say, ‘Hey, big guy, learn your continents! And cállate la boca!’ ”

  Lety burst out laughing as Kennedy practiced her rough Spanish and got worked up.

  “I mean it, Lety.”

  “I believe you.”

  “What a bully!”

  “Tranquila, Kennedy.” Lety hugged Kennedy. “Don’t go and turn crazy poodle on me.”

  Kennedy laughed and fanned herself as if to cool off. “What are we going to do about Brisa? She has to come back.”

  “I know.”

  “This is so horrible that I don’t even want to give you more bad news,” Kennedy said, covering her mouth like she was scared.

  Lety closed her eyes for a second. She definitely wasn’t in the mood for more bad news, but she took a deep breath. “Tell me.”

  Kennedy pulled her iPad from her bag. “Hunter’s profile for Brooks is really popular. He used the word you gave him: ‘cerise.’ And it’s sort of awesome. So …”

  Lety took the iPad. At the top of the screen was a photo of Brooks the tuxedo cat peering out from behind a vase of flowers.

  “It’s amazing,” Lety said. “He really deserves to be shelter scribe.”

  “You do, too,” Kennedy said. “And Lorca’s profile? Is it done?” Kennedy placed her hands on her hips. “You still have a chance to win this thing.”

  Lety pulled out her notebook.

  “I’m on it,” she said, and then raced to the cat room. Lety planned to write the best profile she could in honor of Eddie, Brisa, and English Language Learners everywhere!

  Lety found Lorca lounging on the highest shelf in the cat room overlooking the cages below. His golden eyes were as large as sunflowers and flickered like glitter.

  “Lorca thinks he’s a lion,” Kennedy said, pulling a gray kitten named Kiwi out of its cage. “Dr. Villalobos says he sits up there so he can watch all of us. I think he secretly judges us.”

  “How does he get up there?” Lety asked, glancing around the room to spot Lorca’s path.

  “He leaps and pounces from the tops of the cages. He’s the only one Dr. V. allows to roam. He’s wild and free like a lion in sub-Saharan Africa, but he doesn’t bother anyone. He’s chill,” Kennedy said. “You should definitely add that to your profile.”

  “And his name? Do you know where it’s from?”

  Kennedy shook her head. “No clue.”

  Lety jotted a few notes and began to write what she hoped was her best profile yet.

  As soon as Lety got home, she called Brisa. She wanted to know how her first day back at ELL class went and also share Lorca’s profile with her.

  “It’s just a first draft,” Lety explained to Brisa.

  “Read it to me.”

  “ ‘A lion? A tiger? No, I am Lorca! I am a golden fluffy cat that loves to climb, leap, and pounce! Here at the shelter, I roam, keeping an eye on the kittens in the clinic. Everyone says I am the king of the cats because I am loyal and brave. Will you join my kingdom? Visit me at Furry Friends Animal Shelter today!’ ”

  “It is so good, Lety,” Brisa said. “I like that word ‘fluffy.’ It’s one of those English words that actually sounds like what it is. You know?”

  Lety laughed. “You’re right. But I still have to use ‘supersonic’ in the profile and I don’t know what Lorca’s name means.”

  “I know,” Brisa said. “Lorca is a poet from Spain. He lived a long, long time ago. My mom has a couple of his books at our home because she was a teacher in La Paz. She studied all the poets: José Martí, Pablo Neruda, Octavio Paz, Sor Juana Inés. All of them.”

  Lety stared down at Lorca’s profile.

  “I have to revise it.”

  “¿Por qué? It is good.”

  “If Lorca is named for a poet, then I’m going to write a poem. What do you think?”

  “Are you going to try to rhyme ‘supersonic’? Maybe ‘chronic’ … wait! Is that a real word? I don’t know. I think I made it up.”

  “ ‘Chronic’ is a real word, Brisa.” Lety chuckled. “It may not rhyme totally, but I’ll try.”

  “Did anyone ask about me at the shelter today?” Brisa said in a voice that reminded Lety of
a puppy that wanted to be held.

  “Everyone.”

  “Did you tell them why I wasn’t there?”

  “I told Kennedy.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She went all crazy poodle. She called the man a bully and then said we should have asked him what America he was talking about: South America? North America? She wants to punch him in the snout.”

  Lety laughed remembering Kennedy getting all worked up, but Brisa didn’t react. The silence worried Lety.

  “Brisa?”

  “Last night, my mind was wild,” she said. “I kept thinking about all of the things I wanted to say to that man. I speak two languages! He only speaks one. But both languages failed me …” Brisa’s voice faded, then rose again like a tsunami wave. “As if we don’t know that we have to learn English. What does he think we’re doing? Does he think people can learn English in a day? He is ignorant. Every day, we tighten our tongues to speak English. Hide our accents. Practice sounding like everyone in class. He doesn’t know what we do to learn English.”

  “And he never bothered to ask,” Lety said.

  “Exactly! He just yelled,” Brisa added. “Yelled at me and my pregnant mom.”

  “I know,” Lety said.

  “I was so sleepy today that I dozed off a few times while Mrs. Camacho was reading a story.” Brisa let out a nervous laugh. “She gave us homework. A book report. I haven’t read a book all summer. I need to find something to read.”

  “I can help you, Brisa.”

  “Thanks, but I have to stop depending on you.”

  Lety felt like a harsh wind had just toppled her over onto her butt and lifted Brisa up into the air, away from her, like a cloud drifting farther and farther.

  “I’m sorry, but it is because we won’t always be together,” Brisa said. “We won’t always be desk buddies. I know that now and I have to start doing things on my own. Don’t be mad. ¿Estás enojada, Lety?”

  “I’m not mad,” Lety answered. She took a deep breath and wished that man had never said anything to them. What gave him the right to yell at them? Because of him, she felt a giant wall creeping up between her and Brisa. She was mad, but not at her best friend. “I’m a little sad.”

  “Don’t be sad,” she said. “Can you do me a favor and give the cats a beso for me?”

  “All of them?”

  “Yes, kiss them all!” Brisa laughed a wicked laugh. “And hurry up and beat Hunter. You deserve to be shelter scribe.”

  Before bed, Lety had turned Lorca’s profile into a poem that was still less than a hundred words. Short and sweet. That’s how Dr. Villalobos liked it.

  Her family wanted to hear it.

  “If you don’t understand, I can translate,” Eddie told them, pulling out a tablet of yellow paper. “Mrs. Camacho says I’m a good translator.”

  Lety stood up at the table and began to read.

  Lety’s mom and dad clapped wildly. Eddie stood up, grabbing for the paper.

  “I want to read it! Can I read it, Lety?”

  Lety passed it to him.

  Eddie cleared his throat and read Lety’s poem, pausing and stumbling at words he didn’t know. When he reached the last line, he added a roar that made everyone laugh. As her parents hugged Eddie, an idea flashed in front of Lety like lightning.

  “Eddie, did you understand all the words?”

  Eddie shrugged. “Some of them. I didn’t know ‘supersonic,’ but I think it means ‘fast.’ ”

  “Fast as the speed of sound.”

  “Whoa! That’s the fastest.”

  “Do you like reading aloud?”

  Eddie looked back and forth from Lety to their parents.

  “We do it at school, but this was more fun because it’s not a boring story.”

  Another flash lit up her heart. She gave her little brother a kiss on the top of his head.

  “You just gave me an idea!”

  Later that night, as Eddie was tucked away in bed, Lety kept the small lamp next to her bed turned on. She couldn’t shake the idea that she’d had earlier. What if? she thought, letting the idea stretch out in front of her like a cat.

  What if ELL students like her brother and Brisa could come to the shelter to read to the dogs and cats? The dogs needed the company. The cats would love the attention. Then Brisa could come back to the shelter. She could be with the kittens and improve her English at the same time.

  Lety laid her head back against her pillow. There were only two people she needed to convince. Would Dr. Villalobos like it? Would Mrs. Camacho agree to it? Lety dozed off, certain it was worth a try.

  As soon as Lety arrived to the shelter, she typed up Lorca’s profile and emailed it to Dr. Villalobos for his review. She hoped he’d like it so much that when she approached him later, he’d support her new idea.

  That morning, she had practiced what she thought were her best points: Having ELL students read to the pets would help to socialize the dogs and cats. It might also bring more people to the shelter. If needed, Lety was prepared to do a demo for Dr. Villalobos and read to one of the cat burritos. She was confident she could convince him.

  She was on her way to Dr. Villalobos’s office when she spotted Hunter and Mario exchanging a high five in the hallway. Hunter wore a big smile and seemed happier than she’d ever seen him. It stopped her in her tracks. When Hunter saw her, his smile faded. Mario grinned from ear to ear.

  “Contest is over! Hunter gets the win!” Mario shouted. Lety let her shoulders drop. She frowned and then remembered that if Hunter won, that meant Brooks, the tuxedo cat, had found a home with a family. It was awesome news, except that now she wouldn’t be able to write any more profiles.

  “Brooks was adopted?” she asked, and the two boys confirmed with nods.

  “Yep!” Mario said. “You lost.”

  “But you don’t have to scoop dog food in the pantry,” Hunter said.

  “Yes, she does.” Mario turned to him, shocked. “That was the deal. She agreed.”

  “I know, but things have changed,” Hunter said.

  “What things?” Mario asked.

  “Everything.” Alma’s voice rang out as she walked up behind Mario and Hunter with Dr. Villalobos, and Kennedy at her side. They must have heard the entire conversation.

  “Did you tattle on us?” Mario said to Kennedy. She rolled her eyes. Dr. Villalobos waved off Mario’s charge.

  “She didn’t do anything,” Dr. V. said with a gentle voice. “Hunter and Lety, could you come with me to the clinic to talk?”

  Lety felt hot all over. She wanted to cry, but a knot as thick as rope formed in her throat. She could barely breathe, let alone cry. Hunter looked no better. Both of them dipped their heads low as they walked behind Dr. V. toward the clinic.

  Inside Dr. Villalobos’s office, Spike was cuddled up on Dr. Villalobos’s chair and lifted his head to bark at them as they walked in.

  “Spike is back!” Lety said. She rushed to him and gave him a few kisses on his muzzle. Spike quickly returned the kisses. “Sweet boy!” Lety said. She was so happy to see Spike, she almost forgot why she was in Dr. V.’s office in the first place. Dr. V. pulled out two chairs. Spike followed her as she sat down next to Hunter in one of the chairs. Spike lay down at her feet and gnawed at one of her shoelaces until Dr. V. made him stop with a short whistle.

  Dr. Villalobos leaned against the edge of his desk, stretching his long legs in front of him.

  “Who wants to start and tell me about this shelter scribe contest?”

  Lety started thinking of what she should say. How she should apologize. Her mind raced to process the right words in the right order, but Dr. Villalobos took her silence for not wanting to answer.

  “Okay, let me tell you what I know. You two can correct me if I get anything wrong. Both of you wanted to be shelter scribes, but you didn’t want to work together. Instead of going at this project to help the pets, you decided to make a contest out of it,” Dr. Villalobos sa
id. “So far so good, right?”

  Lety and Hunter nodded.

  “Somehow you decided that the contest would involve strange, complicated words in every profile. Words like ‘rambunctious,’ ‘supersonic,’ ‘colossal,’ and my favorite new word to describe sunsets: ‘cerise’!” Hunter glanced at Lety in disbelief. “How am I doing? Stop me if I’m wrong.”

  Lety nodded.

  “I’m on the right track, then,” he said. “What I still haven’t figured out and what Kennedy would not tell me was, what was the contest for? What does the winner get?”

  Hunter shifted in his seat and looked at Lety again. “I can tell him, okay?”

  Lety was relieved that he was willing to speak because the knot in her throat was not disappearing anytime soon. Then again, for a second she worried he’d blame her for everything. She wasn’t sure she could totally trust him.

  “The winner gets to be the only shelter scribe. The loser has to join the Food Pantry Heroes to scoop dog food into bags.”

  Dr. Villalobos closed his eyes and nodded as if it all made sense to him.

  “Let me get this right,” he started. “Our animals here at Furry Friends were just part of a contest for you both?”

  He let the question float above the room. Lety wanted to pluck it from the air and tell him no. She never wanted the contest. She just wanted the chance to be shelter scribe. She loved the animals and was happy even when one of Hunter’s dogs or cats were adopted.

  “It was really me, sir,” Hunter said. Lety couldn’t believe her ears. Hunter was taking the full blame. “I didn’t want to share. And I didn’t think Lety could write very well. I pushed for the contest because I thought I could beat her.”

  “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you think Lety could write very well?”

  Hunter shrugged. Lety knew that shrug. It wasn’t an I-don’t-care shrug, it was an I-don’t-want-to-say-the-words-that-might-hurt-someone shrug.

  “It’s because at school I’m still learning English. Three years learning,” Lety said.

  “Really? I had no idea,” Dr. V. said, his voice as tender as kitten whiskers. “Your writing is just as good as our first shelter scribe’s. I’ve caught a few misspellings, but that’s it.” He turned his gaze to Hunter. “She proved you wrong. Eh, Hunter?”