Marina’s mother crossed her arms and didn’t say another word.
It has nothing to do with you, mi’jita, the woman said in her head.
Driven by the need for comfort food, Marina reached out for the bread basket and her mother recoiled as her hand brushed against her forearm. Marina knew this discussion was far from over.
Twenty-one
The morning of the gathering for Hands Across the Wetlands broke bright and sunny. Fern looked out her bedroom window and gave a yelp of delight. It was a perfect sunny California day. The sky was bright and the August sun radiated a warm glow. Fern dressed in her favorite Levi’s, a cute purple tie-dyed tank top, and a pair of Rainbow sandals. She pulled aside the crinkled voile curtains over the mirrored closet doors. She really liked the change from having those mirrors exposed all the time to having them covered up. Not only was she not tempted to look at her image too often, but she also found her room more peaceful, as if a noisy crowd had been silenced.
As Fern inspected her reflection, her thoughts drifted to Tristán. How would she explain to Tristán why she had bailed on him right after he had kissed her? He had called a couple of times, but so far, she had managed to avoid the subject by talking about the details of today’s event or simply not answering the phone. Now that they would be face to face, Fern didn’t know if her escape would come up.
She had really enjoyed the kiss, but it bothered her that Tristán was the only person she had seen so far with so many different-colored auras around him. Did that make him neurotic or schizophrenic or something worse?
Rogelia had said that a big part of Fern’s training was learning to trust her instincts. And her first impression of Tristán, without his being able to control or cover up his true nature, had made her wary because his aura had been gray, just like Ruben’s. And who wanted to risk getting her heart broken? Fern liked life to be exciting but preferred to avoid painful situations whenever possible. And yet, she thought as she touched her lips, his kiss had made her feel so warm and alive.
A knock on the door interrupted Fern’s ping-ponging thoughts. Fern checked her clock. It was a few minutes before eight—time to get going. Fern raced down the hall and pulled open the door to find Xochitl on the doorstep. “Come on in. We’ll leave in a few minutes,” Fern said.
Xochitl smiled without responding and stepped inside. Fern was used to Xochitl being quiet, but this felt different. She tried to read Xochitl’s aura. It was a deep blue, and so close to her it almost looked like a second skin.
“¿Qué pasó?” Fern asked as she followed Xochitl to the living room and sat on the blue lounge chair nearby. The deep lavender of the walls made the room feel cool, but Xochitl’s attitude was nearly frigid.
“Nothing,” Xochitl said, staring at her hands resting in her lap.
“Are you still upset about Marina?” Fern asked bluntly.
Xochitl flinched and crossed her arms but didn’t answer.
“Why don’t you talk with her?” Fern leaned close to Xochitl.
“Not now, Fern.” Xochitl looked away.
At that moment, Fern’s mother walked into the living room. “Are you ready to stop corporate America from bulldozing?”
“Yes, we are.” Fern studied Xochitl’s face, which remained impassive. Fern sighed. She hated when people fought, particularly her two best friends. But there was nothing she could do to resolve their conflict now. She needed to reserve her energy for the protest at Bolsa Chica. But even more important than her environmental causes was getting to the bottom of her dilemma with Tristán. Her instincts told her today she would find out which way her heart would go.
The Bolsa Chica wetlands looked spectacular with the morning sun shining down on the sand dunes, palm trees, marshland, and water. The Bolsa Chica Stewards and the Surfrider Foundation had set up tents and tables to display their brochures. Kim and her crew of stewards were passing out flyers about the restoration act. A couple of media vans were parked in the lot. About one hundred people had already gathered to participate in the demonstration. Fern looked around for Tristán, but she didn’t see him anywhere. Fern and Xochitl walked over the bridge to join the throngs of people.
“Fern!” Marina called as she strode up to them. “Hey, Xochitl. I’m so glad you’re here. I really wanted to talk to you. I’ve been calling you all week—”
“I’m not ready to talk with you.” Xochitl turned on her heel and quickly disappeared in the crowd.
Marina looked longingly after Xochitl. “I wish she wasn’t so mad at me. I don’t even understand what I’ve done wrong.”
Fern scratched the back of her neck. “Maybe she just needs time.”
Marina glanced around at the parking lot, which was filling up fast. People were walking over across the beach and from the Jack in the Box and fire station parking lot across the street. Squawking mallards swam in the water under the walk bridge. “This is really exciting. How many people do you expect?”
“I don’t know,” Fern said. “Tristán and I put up about five hundred posters, so hopefully a few hundred people.” She scanned the hordes of people, hoping to catch a glimpse of Tristán.
“How’s it going with Tristán?” Marina asked.
“Not good,” Fern said, shaking her head. “I’ve kinda been avoiding him.”
“I thought you liked him,” Marina said, stepping aside so a man with binoculars could get a better look at a cormorant.
“Well, I do, but you know, ever since I saw that gray aura around him, it just seems like a bad idea to go for it.” Fern pursed her lips and took a big sigh. “He kissed me the other day.”
“That’s a good sign,” Marina said.
Fern smiled weakly. “Yeah, well, I ran away, and I’ve been blowing him off ever since.”
“Why?” Marina asked.
“I saw the gray aura right when he kissed me, and it really freaked me out.”
“Why don’t you ask Rogelia about the different colors in auras?” Marina asked.
“I know how colors make me feel,” Fern said defensively. “Besides, Rogelia told me to trust my intuition.”
Marina pointed into the crowd. “There’s Tristán. Let’s call him over.”
“No,” Fern objected. “Marina, don’t.”
“Tristán!” Marina called despite Fern’s protests. She waved to catch his attention. “Tristán!”
Tristán turned and looked at Marina and Fern. He waved back at Marina but gave Fern a deadpan look before turning his back and falling into a conversation with a pretty girl with dark brown hair in a pixie cut.
“See, he doesn’t want to talk to me,” Fern grumbled.
“That’s too bad.” Marina frowned. “I thought you two would make a cute couple.”
Remorsefully, Fern gazed at Tristán’s back. Who was that girl? Then a happy thought occurred to Fern. Maybe she was his sister! No, wait, he said he only had brothers. Perhaps Marina was right and Fern should have asked Rogelia about the aura. Now Fern wasn’t so sure she should trust her instincts anymore.
Kim called for everyone’s attention through a bullhorn. “Okay, everyone, thank you for coming.” The wind whipped her hair, and she pinned it back behind her ear. “Thanks to the Surfrider Foundation and all the media. I also want to extend a special thank you to Fern Fuego and Tristán Castillo for putting up posters all over Orange County. Fern, Tristán, please come up here.”
Fern stepped up to where Kim was standing on a sandy berm looking over the crowd. She glanced over at Tristán, then around at the men and women in red shirts who were acting as security guards. Tristán had made sure everyone would be safe. Wasn’t that a sign that he was a nice guy?
Tristán walked up to stand next to Kim but refused to acknowledge Fern as the crowd clapped for them.
Amid the noise, Fern whispered urgently, “Tristán.”
But he didn’t respond, because he didn’t want to or because he couldn’t hear her, Fern wasn’t sure.
“Okay,
now let’s join hands and see how far across this beautiful wetlands we can reach,” Kim called through the megaphone.
Everyone shuffled and Fern lost track of Tristán. Marina ran up and took Fern’s hand. Xochitl reappeared and took Fern’s other hand. More than two hundred people had come to stand in demonstration to keep the wetlands wild. There were surfers with their surfboards; nerdy scientist-type guys; deadheads; hippies; soccer moms; kids; a group of older people with surprisingly dewy, young-looking skin; and lots of creative folks Fern recognized from the artists village. It took a while to straighten out the line, but in the end, they managed to reach from the marshlands at the farthest northern point, close to Sunset Beach, to the walk bridge, near the Huntington Beach side.
As a news helicopter flew overhead, Marina shouted in Fern’s ear, “You did it! You really made a successful day.”
Almost, thought Fern as she glanced over at Tristán.
An hour or so later, the crowd began to disperse. Fern ran frantically up and down the trails looking for Tristán. She found him just as he was reaching his Grand Prix. Fern raced along the dirt path and through the parking lot.
“Hey, Tristán,” Fern called.
Tristán turned around. His hand rested on the handle of his car door.
Fern trotted the rest of the way to his car. “I think we really got a lot of people’s attention,” she said nervously. “I bet we’ll turn the tide on that vote next week.”
“Uh-huh,” he said noncommittally as he stared at a seagull flying over the wetlands.
“So, um, Tristán,” Fern began. “I was just wondering who that girl was you were talking with earlier. I think I know her from somewhere.” She hoped she sounded casual and not jealous.
“My cousin Jade,” he answered.
Her face broke into a wide grin. “Oh, that’s great.”
Tristán looked at her questioningly. “Why would that be great?” he asked with a hint of irritation.
“N-n-no reason,” Fern stuttered, taken aback by the wintry gaze in Tristán’s eyes.
“I gotta go,” Tristán said, and opened his car door.
“Wait. I was thinking maybe, well, if that offer still stands, maybe we could go out and, I don’t know, catch a movie or something,” she said.
“Fern, I’ve tried to get close to you, but you’ve done nothing but blow me off since we put up those posters. A guy can only take so much,” he said as he got into his car.
Fern’s stomach twisted in knots as Tristán zoomed off. Her indifference had really hurt him, especially since he had tried so many times to show he liked her. Fern knew she had really messed up. Bad aura or not, she liked him way more than she’d thought she could like any boy. She would have to win him back; that was all there was to it.
Twenty-two
The next morning, there was a knock on Xochitl’s front door. Xochitl approached it cautiously, wondering who could be on the other side. None of her dad’s friends ever bothered to knock. They just came right in and took either food or beer out of the fridge without asking. Nana was in her room doing her Sunday meditations, which no one disturbed for any reason. Xochitl opened the door and stood frozen.
“Xochitl, I don’t want you to be mad at me,” Marina said quickly.
Xochitl stared at Marina with a blank expression. She had fully convinced herself that Marina had only been interested in getting close to her to learn about magic from her nana. How else could she be so callous as to tell her she spoke with Graciela without even thinking about how it might affect Xochitl?
Then again, if Marina only cared about Nana and magic, why had she come here when there was no lesson? Regardless of the reason, Xochitl didn’t offer any words of reconciliation.
“I’m sorry,” Marina said, opening the screen door and forcing a small jewelry box into Xochitl’s hand. “I don’t know why Graciela spoke to me and not to you, but I was only trying to help. I know how much you miss her. I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“How can you think she really spoke to you?” Xochitl snarled. It was easier to believe that Marina had been confused rather than that Graciela had really chosen to speak to a stranger instead of her own sister.
Marina bit her lip and took a deep breath, as if she were reeling from being slapped across the face.
“You’ve been training with Nana for only a few weeks and you think you’re hearing my sister, when I can’t…I can’t…” Xochitl was unable to finish the sentence. It was painful to admit she could not reach Graciela, no matter what she tried.
“I can’t explain how it happened, but it just did,” Marina muttered. “I would never hurt you on purpose. Please try and understand.”
“How can I? We are nothing alike.” Xochitl had meant to sound strong, but her voice cracked and gave away her emotions.
Marina took the window of opportunity with Xochitl’s guard down and reached out to her. “Yes, we are,” Marina said adamantly.
Xochitl pulled her hand out of Marina’s reach and stepped back. “No, we are not!” she retorted, angrily wiping away a tear.
Marina’s eyes were tearing up too. “Xochitl, you are one of my best friends.”
“You have a funny idea of friendship. Your money can’t buy mine.” Xochitl thrust the jewelry box back at Marina.
Marina stared at the box, her lower lip trembling as tears streaked her cheeks. “I never…I only meant, you know…This is just a peace offering.”
“I don’t need your peace offering or your old clothes. I don’t need anything from you!” Xochitl yelled. “You got what you wanted. My nana taught you magic, so now you can leave!”
When Xochitl slammed the door shut, her body shook from head to toe. She waited on her side of the door, listening for Marina’s retreating steps. Instead, she heard Marina sniffling and crying. Xochitl reached for the doorknob but could not bring herself to turn it. Finally, the screen door slammed shut and Xochitl could hear Marina walking away.
Xochitl turned slowly from the door and flopped down on the couch in the living room. She stuffed her face into a small throw pillow and screamed. From a rip in the pillow, a small feather flew into her mouth. Xochitl spat out the feather in disgust and threw the pillow. She covered her face with her hands.
“Why won’t you speak to me, Graciela?” Xochitl asked. “Marina is just a novice. She’s not even part of our family. We always said we would be by each other forever. And then you left.”
Nana’s bedroom door creaked open. Xochitl hurriedly wiped the tears off her face. Had Nana heard her fight with Marina? If she had, Xochitl was most likely in for another lecture on the value of friendship, and that was the last thing she needed. She hardened herself for the speech, feeling a concrete ball of bitterness form in her stomach. But instead of her nana’s preaching, Xochitl heard Nana scuttle down the carpeted hallway and across the kitchen’s linoleum floor. When Nana heaved open the sliding glass door and stepped outside, Xochitl sighed with relief.
But soon enough, the back door opened again. Xochitl heard the chink of something metal being placed on the tiled kitchen counter. This time Nana did enter the living room, where Xochitl still lay on the couch. Xochitl rolled onto her side and looked up to see her nana carrying a bunch of red roses she had clipped from the garden. Xochitl sat up lazily, a little curious. Nana handed her a single rose in full bloom.
“Come,” Nana said reassuringly. She took Xochitl’s other hand and pulled her off the couch. “Maybe I should have done this before, but I didn’t think you were ready. I’m not sure if you’re ready now.”
Nana led Xochitl to the shrine dedicated to La Virgen de Guadalupe. Xochitl looked at the star-spangled blue cloak of the Madonna and glumly thought of heaven and her sister. Nana took the dying roses out of the small bud vase on the altar and dropped them in a wastebasket a few feet away. She arranged the fresher roses in the vase.
“You have been abusing the invisibility spell,” Nana said flatly. She turned to look at Xochitl.
“I taught you that charm because your connection to the magical world was so great you could not function properly. Your aura was shredded to pieces after visits to Guadalajara. You would be so feeble and need to sleep for hours. Now you are stronger than you think, and it is time for you to bloom.”
“Five months is hardly enough time to grieve,” Xochitl protested.
“I am not saying you need to stop missing Graciela,” Nana replied serenely. “You will miss Graciela until the day you die.”
Xochitl choked on her tears. “Sometimes I wish I had died too; then I’d be with her.” Tears spilled down her face.
“No, mi’jita.” Nana wiped Xochitl’s tears with a delicate white handkerchief she’d pulled from her skirt pocket. “Life is a gift. You must never wish it away. There are souls waiting to be born here on earth. We live in a very magical place at a very magical time.” Nana nodded toward La Virgen de Guadalupe. “Her people are waking to their power. You want to be here for that.” Nana lifted Xochitl’s chin and kissed her eyelids. “It will be like a million rainbows at once.” Nana lit the tip of an incense stick. The fragrant smoke wafted around Xochitl.
Xochitl smiled and brushed away her tears.
“When I say you must bloom, I am speaking of developing your magical skills further.” Rogelia lit a votive and placed it at the base of the La Virgen de Guadalupe statue.
Xochitl looked wary. Long ago—actually, it seemed like another lifetime—Nana had said that after Xochitl mastered the skill of invisibility, she would learn more about manipulating her energy. It had once been an exciting prospect. Now Xochitl wanted—no, needed—that something more.
“When you become invisible, you pull your energy into a tight space,” Nana said.
“I also concentrate mostly on the space instead of feeling my body,” Xochitl added eagerly.
“Yes. Now that you understand how to draw your energy in, I want you to practice sending your energy out. I have met with some healers, including the owner at Four Crows. They call it astral projection here.” Nana lowered her voice, although no one was around. “It may be that if you concentrate hard enough, you can send your energy, your awareness, to Graciela and find her wherever she is.”
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