by Laura Resau
Hours later, he made it to the kitchen door. His mother scooped him up and brought him inside. She cleaned his wound as he screamed in pain.
“It pierced you to the bone,” she said. “How did this happen, son?”
“I woke up early to gather firewood,” he lied. “And I tripped and fell.”
She raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Two days later, the boy’s wound was worse, pink and swollen, with red streaks running up and down his leg. He lay on his mat and shivered and sweated with fever. All night and all day, his mother had been tending to him with her worried face.
That afternoon, his brother said, “Where’s my gun? It’s been missing for two days.”
Their mother gave her wounded son a look full of questions.
When the boy told her the truth, his words sounded faraway, as though they came from another boy’s mouth. That was how lost he was in fever and pain.
“You shot a deer in the magical forest?” his mother cried. She leapt up and threw food and blankets and pots and cups and herbs and matches into a bag. She hoisted her son onto her back and strapped him on with rope like a bundle of firewood. Then she headed to the deepest, most magical forest. Every step, every bounce sent more fire through the boy’s leg, but he only whimpered. He was beyond words now, beyond crying. He drifted in and out of this world, so close to death.
Inside the forest, the light was different. It was golden and spilled in ribbons through the leaves. Golden ribbons pooled on the forest floor. The boy wanted to let one of the golden ribbons pull him up and up and into heaven.
But then his mother was pouring cold water on his face and saying, “Where? Where did you shoot this deer?”
And the boy pointed to the clearing. It did not take long for his mother to find the buck curled up in a nest of grasses. It watched them come close. Its antlers no longer looked majestic. The creature was too weak to hold its head high. Its eyes looked as faraway as the boy’s. It moved its front legs a little, then gave up, resting its head on its back, licking its swollen wound.
“Just as I thought,” the boy’s mother said, eyeing its white spots. “Your deer.” And she laid the boy beside the animal.
His mother collected wood and built a small fire and boiled water and threw in some herbs. She gave a cup to the deer, then a cup to the boy. She laid an herb-soaked cloth over the deer’s wound and laid another one over the boy’s. She fed her son and the buck the same food: fruits and berries and roasted mushrooms and boiled greens and nuts. She stroked her son’s hair with one hand and the deer’s fur with the other. She sang them songs in the language of humans and in the language of spirits.
The boy did not know how long he was there with his mother and the deer. Days? Weeks? Little by little, his world became clearer. Every time the boy opened his eyes, he saw the buck’s eyes, looking into his. Its eyes grew bigger as the life came back into them. The boy felt as though he was looking into a mirror.
The boy smiled.
The deer smiled.
Then one morning, the boy woke up, and the deer’s eyes were gone. Its spot in the grass was empty. The boy sat up and looked around, just in time to see the flash of a white tail disappearing into the trees.
The next day, the boy and his mother went home. For weeks he walked with a limp and a stick. Within months, he was running. And after a year passed, he was the fastest runner in his pueblo once again.
But it was different now. Now, every day, the boy ran along the edges of the deepest, most magical forest. He ran and felt his deer eyes watching the trees whiz by and felt his deer legs pounding the earth. He ran and ran, leaping over logs and fences. He became known as the protector of the forest. If anyone tried to enter, he would chase them, and always, he would catch them. People said that when he ran, a handsome buck with giant antlers bounded alongside him, just inside the forest’s shadows. Together, they ran with their legs outstretched, the deer an echo of the boy, or maybe the boy an echo of the deer.
Years passed, and the boy became an old man, and still he ran along the forest, although more slowly now. Sometimes he stopped to rest and told his tale to the children who gathered around him. And always, Zitlally, he ended with this: “If you ever find yourself in the deepest, most magical forest, be kind to whatever creature you meet there. Look into its eyes. And smile.”
A note about Immigration, from Mexico to the U.S.A.
I was inspired to write Star in the Forest after hearing from a twelve-year-old reader who felt a connection with the main character, Clara, in my book What the Moon Saw. But this girl pointed out one big difference: Clara was born in the United States and could freely cross the Mexican border. This girl, however, had been born in Mexico and immigrated here illegally with her parents. They came to the United States to work because they couldn’t find jobs in Mexico that would pay for decent housing, food, clothes, and education. This girl wanted to visit her relatives in Mexico, especially her father, who had recently been deported. But if she went, it would be too dangerous to return.
This girl’s story is a common one in our country now, and part of a bigger immigration story. For hundreds of years, people—including my own ancestors—have moved here to find jobs and opportunities. But with every new wave of immigrants, Americans have faced challenges in adapting to the newcomers. Some Americans have worried that immigrants would change their lives for the worse. They have feared that newcomers would take their jobs, crowd their communities, bring crime, harm their values, unfairly use their resources, threaten their language, or damage their culture.
On the other hand, many Americans have focused on the good things that newcomers offer their communities. Thanks to immigration, the United States has a variety of music, languages, and foods that make people’s lives richer. Newcomers often bring good family and work values, while paying taxes, spending money, and doing much-needed labor. Many Americans understand that immigrants are often escaping tough circumstances and doing their best to improve their families’ lives.
During the late 1990s, I was living in a beautiful, but poor, region of Oaxaca, Mexico. Nearly everyone I knew had relatives in the United States, doing construction work, agricultural labor, hotel cleaning, and other physically demanding jobs. These people were undocumented immigrants because they were working in the United States without legal permission. My friends explained that while it was sad to have loved ones so far away, the money sent by their relatives paid for their families’ basic needs.
After I moved from Mexico to the Southwest United States, I became friends with many Latin Americans who were undocumented immigrants. I’ve seen how their lives have changed as the government has more strictly enforced immigration laws in recent years. Previously, our country tolerated a certain level of illegal immigration because there were many physically demanding jobs that needed to be filled. In the early 2000s, however, the American government began to strengthen border security, punish companies that hired undocumented immigrants, and make it difficult for such immigrants to get a driver’s license.
As a result, life has become very hard for my immigrant friends and their kids. Because they fear being deported to Mexico, bosses and coworkers can take advantage of them. Because they can’t get a Colorado driver’s license, they worry about the police pulling them over. And because of the tough security at the border, immigrants have to cross in more remote places, where they might be assaulted or kidnapped—both of which happened to a friend of mine. Now some immigrants feel too scared to return to Mexico for visits the way they used to. Other immigrants have decided to go back to Mexico permanently to live with their relatives, despite the poverty there. Other immigrants have been deported, often leaving kids and spouses behind in the United States.
This situation is especially hard for undocumented children. Many have spent their lives here, have gone to American schools, and speak English perfectly. They feel at home in the United States, but without legal papers, their opportunities for c
ollege and jobs are limited.
Right now, hardly anyone is happy with the state of undocumented immigration to the United States. Almost everyone agrees that the situation needs to change somehow; for example, through the creation of more migrant worker programs. Some people have proposed laws that would give undocumented immigrant teens legal status so that they can go to college and find professional jobs here. What do you think the solution is?
Please visit www.lauraresau.com for ideas on using this book to start a discussion of immigration issues.
Nahuatl* Glossary and Pronunciation Guide
Ni-mitz nequi (nee-MEETS nay-KEE): I love you
Xono (SHO-noh): Zitlally’s father’s village
Zitlally (seet-LAH-lee): Star (spelling variation of Citlali)
* Nahuatl was the language of the ancient Aztecs. Forms of Nahuatl are still spoken by about one and a half million people. Most Nahuatl speakers come from rural communities in central Mexico, and their dialects often differ from village to village. Some English words derived from Nahuatl are avocado, chili, chocolate, coyote, and tomato. A number of Nahuatl names are now popular in Mexico, such as Xochitl (SOH-cheel; flower) and Cuauhtemoc (coo-ow-TAY-mohc; falling eagle).
Spanish Glossary and Pronunciation Guide
bienvenido (bee-AYN vay-NEE-doh): welcome
deportado (day-porr-TAH-doh): deported
deportadas (day-porr-TAH-dahs): deported (feminine plural form)
el Norte (ayl NOHRR-tay): the North (refers to the United States)
estrella (ays-TRAY-yah): star
feliz cumpleaños (fay-LEES coom-plee-AHN-yohs): happy birthday
guapo (GWAH-poh): handsome
hasta mañana (AHS-tah man-YAH-nah): see you tomorrow
hermanas (ayrr-MAH-nahs): sisters
Jesús María José (hay-ZOOS mah-REE-ah hoh-SAY): Jesus Mary Joseph
la migra (la MEE-grah): border patrol
“Las Mañanitas“ (lahs mahn-yah-NEE-tahs): a traditional birthday song
mi amor (mee ah-MOHRR): my love
migrantes (mee-GRAHN-tays): migrants
mi vida (mee VEE-dah): my life
m’hija (MEE-hah): my daughter
mucho gusto (MOO-choh GOOS-toh): nice to meet you
nervios (NAYRR-vee-ohs): nerves
noticias (noh-TEE-see-ahs): news
por favor (porr fah-FOHRR): please
pueblo (PWAY-bloh): town or village
que perro (kay PAY-rroh): what a dog
rancheras (rrahn-CHAY-rahs): kind of traditional Mexican music
se habla español (say HAH-blah ays-pahn-YOHL): Spanish spoken
secuestrado (say-kways-TRAH-doh): kidnapped
señora (sayn-YOH-rah): ma’am/Mrs.
señorita (sayn-yoh-REE-tah): miss/Ms.
si Dios quiere (see dee-OHS kee-AY-ray): God willing
suelo (SWAY-loh): [hit the] ground
telenovelas (tay-lay-noh-VAY-lahs): soap operas
tres leches (TRAYS LAY-chays): three milks (a kind of cake)
vámonos (VAH-moh-nohs): let’s go
About the Author
Laura Resau lived in the Mixtec region of Oaxaca, Mexico, for two years as an English teacher and anthropologist. After teaching English to immigrants in the southwest United States for nearly a decade, she now writes full-time in Colorado, where she lives with her husband, her dog, and her son. She is also the author of What the Moon Saw and Red Glass.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2010 by Laura Resau
Illustrations copyright © 2010 by Gary Blythe
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
Delacorte Press is a registered trademark and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
Visit us on the Web! www.randomhouse.com/kids
Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at www.randomhouse.com/teachers
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Resau, Laura.
Star in the forest / Laura Resau.—1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: After eleven-year-old Zitlally’s father is deported to Mexico, she takes refuge in her trailer park’s forest of rusted car parts, where she befriends a spunky neighbor and finds a stray dog that she nurses back to health and believes she must keep safe so that her father will return.
eISBN: 978-0-375-89594-4
[1. Illegal aliens—Fiction. 2. Fathers—Fiction. 3. Trailer camps—Fiction. 4. Dogs—Fiction. 5. Friendship—Fiction. 6. Mexican Americans—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.R2978St 2010 [Fic]—dc22 2009003898
Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.
v3.0