Little kids in mariachi outfits scurried past them.
“Whoa, check out the munchkins,” Santiago laughed.
Alexis looked around and noticed that the only people dressed in mariachi uniforms were less than four feet tall. A realization came over her. She turned to AP Castillo. “Please tell me we aren’t competing against children?”
Castillo was helping Pablo and Pedro unload the instruments from the back of the bus. He smiled at Alexis. “What difference does it make? A competition is a competition. I want you guys to get comfortable onstage.”
Karina groaned as she climbed out of the bus. “Really, Castillo? That’s so embarrassing. I’m so glad no one I know is here. Hey, watch my harp, will ya,” she scolded the twins as they set her instrument down heavily.
The group assembled under a tree to watch the performances while they waited for their turn. The group playing on the stage was really good. Their lead singer, a third grader with light brown hair, was wailing away to a Vicente Fernandez classic.
“Where are you guys from?” a small girl dressed in a gold charro traje and pigtails asked. Two girls in matching outfits stood behind her with their arms crossed in a defensive manner.
Alexis smiled at a cute girl with freckles. “We’re from Dos Rios in the Rio Grande Valley.”
“Dos Rios.” The girl huffed and glanced at her friends. “That’s where all the drug dealers are from, huh?” Her friends snickered.
Alexis stared in shock. This cute little girl was talking trash about her town. She glanced around for support. The twins saw the surprise on her face and came over to see what was going on.
“My daddy says that people from Dos Rios are all criminals and on welfare,” the pigtailed girl continued. “You can’t even afford real mariachi outfits.” She glanced at her friends and giggled.
“Little girl,” Pablo said in a low voice, “don’t you know it’s rude to talk to your elders like that?”
“Elders?” The girl laughed loudly, making an absurd face to her friends. “Our music teacher said that you guys must be real bad if you had to come all the way out here to compete against kids.”
“Go away,” Marisol cried, jumping out from behind Alexis. “Go away before I eat you.”
Pigtail Girl jumped back and ran away with her two friends. As she ran she yelled, “I bet they can’t even stay in tune” to her friends and laughed.
“I hate kids,” Marisol said as she sat back down on the grass.
Alexis looked from her to the twins and at the rest of the group. “Did you hear what she said about us? That was so rude.”
Karina shrugged. “It’s not like I’m surprised. Dos Rios has a bad reputation, you know. People are always judging us. They look at Pablo’s and Pedro’s shaved heads and baggy clothes and they see thugs. They look at me and probably think I’m trashy.”
“They think I’m a freak.” Marisol grinned.
“Thief,” said Santiago.
“Illegal,” added Nikki.
“Fat,” said Justin.
Alexis’s eyes grew wide at their words. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. What were her friends talking about?
“A has-been jock,” AP Castillo said, joining the conversation. “But so what?” He stood up and looked every one of them in the eye. “People are always going to try to tell you who you are. It’s the way the world is.” He clapped his thick hands together, making Alexis jump. “So what? Are we going to cry about it?”
“Hell no,” Santiago swore.
AP Castillo couldn’t help a small smile. “That’s right. Maybe we come from a poor community and maybe we have our share of crime — but we’re more than that.”
Alexis felt something flutter in her chest. She didn’t know what it was, but it was a warming sensation spreading all over her body.
AP Castillo gestured for the group to come closer. “We are Dos Rios,” he said. “Most people here probably haven’t heard of Dos Rios. Or they believe what they see on TV about border towns. But we can prove them wrong. We can show them all that we’re much more than their stereotypes. When you get on that stage, you stand with your heads held high. Don’t worry if you miss a note or come in at the wrong time — just keep playing. Whatever happens today, whether we win or lose, you’re all winners in my book.” He paused to study their reaction. “Look how far you’ve all come. Karina —” She looked up in surprise. “You haven’t had one fight since you started mariachi. Pablo, Pedro, I’ve never seen the walls so empty of graffiti. Marisol —” She jumped. “Your counselor said you haven’t cut class once this month. And Santiago …”
“Yes, MR. ASSISTANT …” Santiago smiled, waiting for his compliment.
“I don’t have to chase you anymore.”
“That’s right and …”
“And … what?”
“And I’m your new favorite accordion player,” Santiago suggested, sliding the accordion over his shoulder and playing a quick melody. He winked. Castillo began to chuckle.
Alexis laughed with him. “He’s right,” she said, finding her voice.
“We’ve been through a lot these past few weeks,” Castillo continued. “Look at us. We’re all still here. The Dos Rios mariachi group is not made up of quitters. Maybe we don’t have fancy outfits and we’re still learning how to play, but we have the most important thing —”
“We have passion,” Alexis and Justin said at the same time. Their eyes locked and they smiled.
Castillo nodded with a gleam in his eyes. “When you’re up there playing our music, own it. Mariachi music is the music of the working classes. The people. No one can take the music away from us.”
When it was their time to perform, Alexis took the mic and smiled at the audience. The crowd looked tired. She focused on the trees lining the park to calm her nerves. Then she turned to glance at the members of the mariachi ensemble. Their smiles gave her all the strength she needed to sing. Alexis smiled as the guitars started to strum their chords, followed by the horns, and finally her cousin began to jam on his accordion behind her. Alexis took a deep breath and opened her mouth to sing.
The Dos Rios mariachi group played their hearts out to a standing ovation. Because of their competitors’ ages, and the friendly nature of the competition, there weren’t any prizes awarded, but that didn’t seem to bother the members much. They had tried their best, and everyone in the audience had felt their enthusiasm. The ride back was festive, with lots of impromptu singing of mariachi songs like “Por un Amor,” “La Malagueña,” and “La Media Vuelta.” They sang along to “Bidi Bidi Bom Bom,” “No Tengo Dinero,” and other Selena and Kumbia Kings classics the bus driver had on his CD player. It was late when they finally got back home to Dos Rios.
Alexis’s heart swelled when she saw the “Dos Rios” welcome sign, proclaiming it to be “the home of the big enchilada, population 6,956.” She couldn’t help but be proud to represent Dos Rios. Looking at the faces of her friends on the bus, she hoped they would stay committed to showing people how great a group of high school students from a small town could be.
Suddenly, her new phone rang, playing a short mariachi melody. She didn’t recognize the number, but she went ahead and picked up.
“Alexis, it’s me, Christian. How are you?”
Alexis screamed, “Oh, Christian! I’m so happy to finally hear from you. I’ve been so worried, and they wouldn’t let me in to visit you. How are you? Listen, we’re actually driving back from our first mariachi performance. Can you believe it? Us. Performing onstage. It was amazing. We completely won the audience’s hearts.” Alexis could feel herself babbling, but she couldn’t stop. It was so good to finally hear his voice. “Are you out?”
“Um, sort of.” Christian paused. “I knew you guys could do it, that’s great,” he continued.
“Where are you? Come to the restaurant. We’re going to have a little party — nothing big, just the families and friends. I can’t wait to see you. I’ve been so worr
ied. But today has been the best day, and now with you free everything is perfect.”
“I would love to, but …”
Alexis covered her left ear with her hand. She could barely hear him over the noise on the bus. They were approaching the school and she could see that there was a crowd of family members waiting in the parking lot. Alexis pressed the phone to her ear to better hear Christian.
“What is it?” Alexis asked.
“Well, they cleared me of any drug-related charges.”
“That’s great. I knew they would.”
“But …”
“But what?” Alexis asked. Why was he acting like this? It was making her stomach squirm.
“They’re … they’re deporting me back to Mexico.”
“What?” Alexis, confused, felt her heart drop. “I don’t …”
“I leave this afternoon.”
“I don’t understand.” Alexis fell back into her seat. She felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. His words became jumbled. It didn’t make sense. Deported? Her perfect day burst into a hundred billion pieces. The bus had stopped. Her bandmates streamed off into the parking lot, but Alexis was unable to move.
“Christian, I’m so sorry.” Her voice cracked. “This is all my fault. I will never forgive myself for taking you to the races. I never should have left you — I should have made Santiago stay and look for you —”
“It’s not your fault.” Christian sounded tired. “The police never would have bothered with me if I hadn’t been hanging around with the Salinas brothers.” Alexis could hear the bitterness in his voice. She wished she could give him a hug. “Listen, I have to go, but I wanted to call and let you know that I’m okay.”
Alexis wiped away the tears that were rolling down her cheeks. “This is horrible. What about your scholarship? All your dreams? What about us?”
Christian was quiet. It put Alexis on edge. She heard voices cheering loudly from outside the bus. But Alexis felt like she was miles away.
“Is this it?” she asked in a quiet voice.
“I don’t know what to tell you. This is as much a shock to me as it is to you. I have no idea where I’ll live, how I’ll eat, and no idea of my future.”
“I can help you,” Alexis said, feeling pressure on her heart as if someone were pressing a weight to her chest. “Please let me. I can get you a better lawyer. We’ll find a way to get you back.”
He was silent again. “What you need to do is concentrate on whipping that mariachi group into shape. I’m not going to go easy on you guys at next year’s regional competition just because I have a crush on your group’s lead singer,” he joked.
Alexis couldn’t help but laugh. “We’ll practice. I promise.” Alexis felt tears welling up in her eyes again. “I miss you.”
“I miss you, too. But we’ll see each other again.” He paused and for a second Alexis wondered if the call had been dropped. “Do you remember those lyrics you sang so beautifully to me on my driveway?”
Alexis felt herself blush. Of course she remembered. She had practiced the song over a hundred times in the mirror. Alexis started to softly sing “Me Gustas Mucho” to Christian.
As she sang, the words held new meaning to her. When she had first sung the song she was a hopeful girl trying to attract the eye of a cute boy. Now when she sang about not letting anyone or anything keep him from her she thought about the US border patrol and the Rio Grande River that physically kept them apart.
When she finished, Christian gave a heartfelt laugh. “Well, then I guess you’ll keep chasing after me, huh?”
“I guess.”
“And you promise not to let anyone or any border keep you from chasing me?”
“Yes.” She shrugged. “Why not? Saving charros just so happens to be a hobby of mine.”
He laughed again. “Well then, I’ll have to keep you close, very close.”
They said good-bye. Alexis took a deep breath and stared at the “call ended” screen. Alexis looked up at the sound of someone calling her name. Santiago stood at the front of the bus motioning for her to come outside. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and got up. At the door, she noticed her grandma Trini and Abuelita Alpha holding signs with her name up over their heads. Alexis glanced around the group, at all the families that had gathered to celebrate the return of the Dos Rios mariachi team. There was a newfound gleam in her bandmates’ eyes. She noticed a quiet confidence in the way the twins shared the highlights of the trip with their mother, real excitement in Karina’s voice as she made her family pose for pictures with her harp, and genuine friendship in the way Nikki introduced Marisol to her family. Everywhere she turned, the Dos Rios mariachi ensemble glowed with pride, power, and team spirit. They had finally felt the music.
Many thanks to all the fabulous people who continue to support the Border Town series. Specifically, I’d like to thank Amanda Maciel, Anna Bloom, the entire Scholastic team, and my super agent Stefanie Von Borstel. I also want to thank Dolores Josefina Ibarra Reyes and her family at San Jalisco restaurant for sharing their stories and food with me. Thank you to Jose Lopez for rescuing my computer not once, but several times. Muchísimas gracias to Rosario, Michael Arreola-Pro, and Nishat Kurwa for providing me with a great space to write. To Nikki Garza, Lizby Munoz, Roxy Gonzalez, Tabby Sue Brocha, Maria Elena Ingram, Juan y Maria Elena Ovalle, Cynthia Perales y sus comadres, and Juan Salazar and his AVID class at Brown Middle School, thanks for providing me with great stories, reading drafts, and answering all my crazy questions. To the Weslaco High mariachi group and to mariachi teachers and students everywhere, thanks for keeping the cultura alive. And lastly to my family, gracias por aguantarme during these last few crazy months — love you all!
MALÍN ALEGRÍA is the author of Sofi Mendoza’s Guide to Getting Lost in Mexico and Estrella’s Quinceañera. Malín grew up in San Francisco, California, and lives there now, where she teaches, writes, and is hard at work playing in dirt. To learn more about her and her books, visit her online at www.malinalegria.com.
Photo by Dulce Paz
Copyright © 2012 by Malín Alegría
All rights reserved. Published by Point, an imprint of Scholastic Inc.
SCHOLASTIC, POINT, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
First printing, September 2012
e-ISBN 978-0-545-46957-9
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012
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