“If only Mom were here.”
Maria slammed the knife against the cutting board, sending chopped tomato flying.
“Our mother is dead!” She turned toward them, her angry voice reverberating through the room.
David woke up. Eyes blurred by a fog of sleep, he tried to understand what was happening.
“I miss her,” Manuela whispered. “And Dad too.”
“Dad’s coming back,” Maria said fiercely. “I just know it. And stop your whining! It makes everyone sad!”
She stamped her foot at Hector, who was groaning quietly beside Manuela. Now it was the little girl who stroked his head with her chubby hand, consoling him.
“When?” asked David.
“Soon,” Maria replied, and began to pick up pieces of tomato from the floor.
SUNDAYS WERE THE ONLY DAYS when Doña Yeni did not wake them early, so when she knocked on the door of the room, the children were still asleep. The first to jump up was Maria, who ran to open the door. In burst the intense light of morning that had snuck through the courtyard toward their room. Eucalyptus air filled her lungs.
“What’s the matter?” Maria asked as she opened and found their boarder standing in front of her.
“They’re asking for Hector at the front door,” replied Doña Yeni.
Maria was turning to call him when the woman stopped her.
“I mean, it might be better if you told him not to talk to that boy anymore. He could end up going down a bad path,” she said.
Maria just shrugged and went back in to wake her brother.
“WHERE?” ASKED HECTOR, trying to shake sleep from his head as he stood by the curb.
“I’ll take you. Come on, get on the bike. He’s down there with the huffers,” Julio replied.
“Thank you,” said Hector.
“No problem. That’s what friends are for.” Julio smiled.
Hector nodded.
He walked back to the room to put on his shoes.
“They found Robert! I’m going to get him,” he announced to his siblings.
“I’m coming with,” said Maria, bouncing up like a spring.
“No. I’m going with Julio, on his motorcycle. Wait here. If I bring him back, we can go to the park and eat ice cream,” he said, and the little ones cheered.
COULDN’T LOOK HIM IN the eyes again. Every time we crossed paths, I remembered his frown, his hand rising toward his mouth, and I imagined what he must have felt when he swallowed the tadpole he’d just plucked the water. My stomach turned at all the details I could think of, the slippery but solid little body slipping through his teeth, its tail waggling in his throat, its frantic twisting and turning as it reached his stomach, the taste of puddles and rotting reeds, and then the burps that later on would remind him a tadpole was in his belly.
I couldn’t even think about him. Every time my memory brought his face to my mind, which happened several times a day—in class, at recess, in the bathroom, in the cafeteria—I had to get him out of my head as soon as possible, terrified at what disgust might make me do. I tried not to run into him. When there was no way to avoid crossing paths, I did my best not to look at him. It wasn’t that I didn’t like him anymore; it was the idea of throwing up everything I had eaten again that I didn’t like. So, since I knew it was a problem with my gut and that I still wanted to be his friend, instead of looking at him, letting him kill me, and then having to run to the nearest bathroom to vomit, I figured out ways to leave some of my food next to him without his noticing. It was dumb. Maybe he never realized that the extra portions came from me. I don’t even know if he ate what I left, but since he was always hungry I figured he did. My fantasy was that the little closeness we had achieved was kept alive.
However, after a few days, I began to need someone to shoot me from a distance. So I decided to try out a trick. I began preparing even before opening my eyes in the morning. I remembered the feeling of a cool, sweet liquid running down my throat and combined it mentally with David’s face. In bed, it worked. At least I could think of him without the sensation of a tadpole wriggling in my throat. I tried this a couple more times until in my mind I could imagine his face, his hair, his small and strong figure, his husky voice without my stomach doing somersaults to expel everything inside. Now I had to try the trick out in person.
That day it wasn’t hard to find him. He was going up the stairs of the building, carrying a giant black bag. I was on the top landing so that I could look at him for a few seconds and force my mind to put his image together with the feeling of swallowing a bit of strawberry ice cream. My mouth was watering by the time he finally saw me, put the black bag aside, pointed at me, and killed me. I fell dead slowly while still looking at him and wondering if one day we could actually eat ice cream together.
HE LET HER HAIR DOWN, which she had been wearing in a bun lately, and shook her head. She looked down at her reflection in the display case. She could barely make out her features in the dark image she saw. She took a breath and rapped the glass with her knuckles.
“Doña Carmen!” she shouted. “Doña Carmen, it’s me, Maria!”
She waited a second, and soon her attention was drawn toward the sound of someone moving toward her.
“Oh, dear girl . . .” the woman coming from the back of the store complained. “You really are exactly like your father.”
Maria smiled and lowered her eyes.
“Do you want something?” Carmen asked. “An aguapanela? A soda?”
“A soda would be great, Doña Carmen, thanks,” Maria replied, watching as the woman’s ample body moved slowly, retrieving a bottle and popping its cap.
“Here you go,” she said, handing it to the girl.
Maria took a sip.
“Have you heard anything?”
“It’s still not a sure thing,” said the woman, “but I think tomorrow they’re going to get me the phone number of a man in the town where your dad is. I can leave a message for him.”
Maria set the bottle on the counter.
“Seriously?”
The woman nodded with a restrained smile.
“Yes, my dear, it seems so.”
“Thank you,” Maria whispered.
“Like I say, it’s not a sure thing, but it seems likely. Still, don’t get too excited. I don’t want tears in those pretty eyes, if something goes wrong.” She brushed a heavy, calloused hand across Maria’s cheek.
Maria nodded and contained the tears Carmen had seen pooling.
“Incredible, girl. How old are you?”
“Twelve,” Maria replied, looking down.
The woman shook her head.
“And the others? How are they? All right?”
“AND YOU’VE BEEN left in charge?” asked the teacher.
“Yes,” Hector answered without letting go of his sister’s hand.
“What did you say your name is, child?”
“Manuela,” the little girl replied, smiling.
“How old are you?” asked the teacher, beginning to fill out a form.
“Five,” Manuela said.
“And why hasn’t she come to school before?” asked the woman snidely.
“We couldn’t . . .” Hector said quietly.
“But you’re a minor! You cannot take care of another minor!”
“Please!” Hector pleaded. “It’s just until my dad comes back.”
The woman lifted her eyes, as if instead of a ceiling, she might find the Most High who inspired her. She sighed, dropped her pen on the table loudly, and got up.
“I have to go check. I don’t know if you can register her yourself.”
Manuela looked at her brother.
“Are you hot?” she asked.
“No,” he grunted, wiping his forehead with his shirt sleeve.
“Hector,” Manuela whispered, “if they let me come to school, I won’t suck my blankie no more, okay?”
Hector nodded and wiped more sweat from his forehead. They were silent
for a moment, holding hands, until the teacher returned. She was smiling.
“We’re in luck. There’s a spot available,” she said, plopping back into her seat at the table. “The girl can stay, and everything’s copacetic because her brothers are enrolled already. But you have to pay the full tuition.”
Hector’s eyes widened.
“How much?”
“Thirty-five thousand pesos,” said the woman, who was jotting something into the form.
Hector reached into his pocket and took out two twenty- thousand-peso bills. Enough for a week’s worth of food.
“Can’t we do it for less? This is all we have,” he said, referring to the bills.
“No, boy. You have to pay in full or wait until next year to see if there’s another slot. I mean, we’re lucky, because before . . .”
Manuela stared up at the woman, who was waiting impatiently, and then reached for her brother’s hand.
“Do I get lunch?” she asked.
“Yes. Lunch and a snack,” the woman answered, smiling at her.
Hector sighed and handed over the crumpled bills. After pocketing the change, he ran his hand over Manuela’s head. She looked up at him with a radiant grin.
“Thank you,” said Hector.
“Come with me,” the woman said, gesturing at the little girl.
Manuela released her brother’s hand, handed him her pink blanket, and followed the woman into the school.
DID IT AS IT POPPED INTO MY HEAD, almost without thinking I mean. As soon as I saw the music teacher, I ran to his side and asked him if I could take a friend to class. The music teacher, who’s a really great guy, smiled and asked me:
“Does he know how to sing?”
I was silent for a moment wondering if I should lie or not. I decided not to. I wanted David to be with me in my favorite class.
“I don’t know.”
“Can he play an instrument?”
“I don’t know that either, sir, but he loves music!” I lied then, but kept myself under control after and didn’t say another word. When you start telling a lie, sometimes there’s no way to stop. Of course, I had never said a word to David about music class. Just . . . I liked the class a lot and figured he might like it too. Plus it was a chance to spend more time with him.
“All right,” said the teacher, clearly not believing me much, “tell him to come the next time we meet.”
“Thank you, sir!” I said, bouncing with excitement. He shook his head, grinning.
Now my problem was getting close to David again. Then I had to convince him that going to music class was super cool, the absolute best.
Only then did I realize I was in over my head. The boy didn’t even talk to me; he just shot me. As soon as I tried to have another conversation, he’d still run away. All my joy at the music teacher saying yes disappeared in a flash when I thought of how hard this was going to be.
It was lunchtime and, though I wasn’t hungry, I stood in line waiting my turn. It moved so slow and I got very bored. I was just about to leave when a ruckus broke out behind me.
There he was, inside the cafeteria. A teacher held him, pinning his arms and lifting him. He squirmed and kicked, fighting to get free. In front of them, one of the bigger kids was wiping his bloody nose. A younger girl was giving eager explanations to the teacher, who struggled not to lose his grip on David. The bigger kid looked at the floor, all embarrassed.
It was pretty easy to guess what had happened. I elbowed my way past a bunch of onlookers and got inside.
“He was defending me,” I heard the girl say as the teacher dragged David to the back of the cafeteria.
“And you wait for me here until I come back, do you understand?” the teacher snapped at the bigger kid, still bleeding. “And the rest of you? Back in line, unless you want us to cancel lunch. Come over here, you.”
He jerked his head at the girl, who followed him. I was right on her heels.
“So he defended you?” the teacher asked, after he’d managed to get them both to sit at a table. David was breathing heavy and wouldn’t take his eyes off the bigger kid behind them.
“Yes, sir. That other boy pulled my hair. He yanked so hard he tore a chunk out!” the girl whined, pointing to the bigger kid and touching her messy hair. The teacher got closer and checked her head.
“Why?” he asked.
“I think it’s because of him,” she confessed, embarrassed, pointing at David.
“What do you mean?” the teacher asked.
“The other kid wanted to prove to everyone that he’s not immortal.”
“And that’s why he hurt you?”
“Yes, so this one would see him hurting me and defend me. At first he did nothing, but when that kid said ‘Look, Immortal Boy, what’re you going to do about this?’ he went crazy and busted his nose.”
“Well, what’s your name?” asked the teacher.
“David,” the girl answered at last, breaking the silence. The boy looked at her for the first time.
“And why did you fight him?”
David shrugged without saying a word.
“You have to control yourself. I don’t mean that it’s not right to defend the little ones, but you have to be careful because it can end badly.” David looked at the ceiling and then at the table.
“Do you go to the psychologist?” continued the teacher, while behind us, kids were pushing their way back into the lunch line.
David nodded without opening his mouth.
“Look, you were lucky this time, but if you go up against a group of boys, you could get hurt. You have to find a way to be calm.”
“Maybe he could try music class?” I cut in, and the three suddenly realized I had been by their side since they arrived at the table.
“And who are you?” asked the teacher.
“A friend of David’s,” I said with a smile.
“Get moving. This has nothing to do with you.” The teacher shooed me away with his hand.
“I’m going to go to music class,” David announced. We all fell silent at the low rasp of his voice. A new scuffle started in the lunch line, and the bigger kid had disappeared from our sight. The teacher got up, looked at David, the girl, and me, and decided that it was better to go stop another fight from breaking out. Apparently, we weren’t a problem anymore.
“Thank you,” the girl said when we were alone. David nodded.
“Are you really going to music class?” I asked him, thinking that he might not have heard right with all the noise in the cafeteria.
“Yeah, when is it?” he replied, grinning at me, and again it was like he lit up the whole world. “I want to go outside. Did you already have lunch?”
David completely ignored the other girl, who stared at us, intrigued.
“Yes,” I lied. “Come on, I’ll go with you.”
We walked away, leaving the girl he’d defended without a word, as she waved goodbye.
ARIA RAN TO THE DARK display case and without waiting for Doña Carmen to emerge, slipped into the back of the house. She found the large, slow woman in front of the laundry room.
“Afternoon, Doña Carmen,” said Maria. “Did you get it?”
The woman turned calmly with no change in expression. She began taking steps toward the storefront without responding.
“Did you get it? Did you get it?” Maria insisted at her side.
“I’m going, I’m going; just give me a moment. It’s in here somewhere,” the woman said lazily as she rifled through papers in a huge drawer. “Here it is.”
She withdrew a slip of paper with a number jotted on one side.
“Should we call?” asked Maria excitedly. “Do you think maybe I can talk to him?”
“One moment, one moment,” the woman insisted, overwhelmed. “Hold on, I’ll put on my glasses.”
She dropped heavily onto a wooden bench, clumsily setting the glasses on her nose. Because of how she squinted and grimaced, Maria guessed she actually saw better
without glasses than with them, but she waited patiently for Carmen to confirm that the number she wanted was actually written on the card. When the woman was satisfied, she picked up the phone and dialed.
“I can only allow you one call, and a short one at that,” she said, handing Maria the telephone receiver. “Give your daddy your message quick and hang up, okay?”
Maria nodded and, holding the phone with both hands against her ear, listened to the tinny ring, her eyes bright with excitement.
“WHAT ARE WE going to eat?” asked David, rubbing at his runny nose. Beside him, Manuela, a finger between her teeth, awaited the answer.
“Soup,” Maria replied with an annoyed grunt. “And instead of asking, why don’t you go and ask Doña Yeni for more potatoes?”
“She said she wouldn’t give no more,” Manuela replied.
“Supposedly we eat more than the whole neighborhood,” David added.
“That old bitch,” Robert spat. “Let me go ask her.”
“Yeah, you go. It was your idea not to charge her rent.”
Robert left the notebook on which he was scribbling some homework, went out to the courtyard, and ran up the stairs. David and Manuela looked out the window, waiting. When nothing happened, they ducked back under the table to continue playing.
“And neither of you has any homework?” demanded Maria, watching the water start to boil in the pot.
“Nope!” they both replied, covering their mouths so they wouldn’t laugh, making signs for the other to keep the secret.
“Oh, you’ll see what happens. Won’t be me they refuse to give a snack to.”
Manuela and David looked at each other and climbed out to get their backpacks.
“Maria,” Manuela said, once she had her notebook on her lap, “if I don’t wear a uniform, they won’t let me in.”
“The first thing you need to do is take a bath, little piggy,” Maria muttered, looking her over. “Then later we can take in one of mine so it fits you.”
“Doña Yeni can help. She knows how to sew,” David said.
At that moment the door of the room opened, and Hector stumbled in, smelling like gasoline. He threw himself onto the bed and groaned.
The Immortal Boy Page 4