by Gary Soto
“This is fun.” Rudy smiled. He cupped his hands and scooped up water. It looked clear and clean, but he hesitated to drink it.
“Yeah, this is bad,” Alex agreed.
They floated down the creek, their feet dangling in the water. They waved at three small kids on the banks, but their happiness turned sour when the kids started throwing rocks at them. The rocks, though, fell short of their target, and Rudy and Alex just laughed and taunted them.
They floated through a thicket of Johnson weeds, where they picked up a slimy stick. They needed something more to maneuver with, because the water had suddenly become swift. The water cut over some rocks and boards, and lapped the edges of discarded tires.
“Push,” Rudy said as he strained to avoid a car fender poking from the water.
“I’m trying,” Alex groaned.
They pushed and paddled until the water once again became quiet. They looked down through the doughnut hole of the inner tube. They could see some fish, no bigger than leaves and just as thin. They could see grass waving on the bottom and now and then rocks furred with moss.
“When we grow up, we should join the navy,” Alex suggested. He had taken off his T-shirt and draped it over his head, shading him from the hot sun.
“You think so?” Rudy asked. The bike chain dangled like a heavy necklace around his neck. Rudy imagined that it was an anchor, and if they pulled to shore he would tie down the inner tube, just like a boat.
“Yeah. Don’t you like water?”
“Simón. But you know, I think I like the snow better.”
“Really?” Alex thought for a second and then said, “Yeah, it’s pretty good until your feet get wet.”
“Yeah, one time my toes got so cold, they started bleeding.”
“No way.”
“En serio! I was wearing white socks, and I could tell. Ask my mom.”
They floated for an hour, talking about what they would do in the navy, until they got right before a waterfall. Rudy told Alex, “We’d better get out.”
They paddled toward the shore just in the nick of time, because the waterfall dropped five feet. At the end of the drop, sharp rocks jutted from the water. With all their strength, they hoisted the inner tube out of the water. They rested on the bank like beached seals. They dozed in the shade, and woke only when the mosquitoes became too furious.
“Let’s go,” Rudy complained. He poked at his ear, where a mosquito had landed. Blood smeared his fingers, and Alex made a disgusted face when he wiped it on his pants.
They rolled the inner tube along the bank. They became dusty and thirsty, and the mosquitoes wouldn’t leave them alone. They then set the inner tube back into the water and paddled off, two captains of the U.S.S. Fresno. They paddled and talked and became so engrossed in their dreams of the navy that they had sailed ten miles out of town.
When they realized how far they had gone, they pulled to the bank and dragged the inner tube from the water. Mosquitoes buzzed at their ears. Their sneakers squished when they walked.
“Alex, I think we’re in another town,” Rudy said. He smacked a large mosquito from his face.
Alex shaded his eyes with a salute. Everything seemed foreign. He had never seen this town. Alex looked worriedly at Rudy and moaned, “I think we’re really in trouble this time.”
They sat themselves on the inner tube, two captains on land, and went through their pockets for money. They found two quarters, a stick of wet gum, and a single Life Saver. They needed those quarters to call Rudy’s father, and that Life Saver and stick of gum to sweeten their story of how they had gotten so far from home.
Chapter 8
The morning sun blazed above the roofs of the neighborhood. And although it was still morning, the little kids from across the street were already running through the sprinklers. Rudy was on the porch bouncing a fluorescent tennis ball against the wall. Father came out, coffee cup in hand. He blew on his coffee and took a sip.
“It’s going to be a hot one,” he said. His glasses glinted with the sun. His brow was furrowed from squinting at the glare on the street.
“I don’t care how hot it gets,” Rudy said. He stuffed the ball into his pocket. “I’m going swimming.”
Rudy had talked up a storm about the party. He had talked about his inner tube and about Tiffany Perez, the girl in his class. He talked about what he was going to wear and what kinds of dives he would do in the swimming pool. He had told Alex that he was going to try to hold his breath underwater for two minutes.
“Sit down, Little Rudy,” Father said. He took a sip of coffee and looked thoughtfully at the sky. “So Tiffany is pretty rich, huh?”
“I think so.”
“Well, Rudy, let me give you some advice. You can’t eat with your fingers.”
“Yeah, I know,” Rudy said. “Estela told me already.”
“And when you get there, you gotta be polite. You have to make small talk.”
“Small talk?”
“Yeah, you got to talk so small that ants can understand what you’re saying.” He rubbed his chin and thought deeply. “Let me help you. I’ll be Mrs. Perez and you be yourself.”
“You’re going to be Mrs. Perez?”
“Simón.”
They stood up, face-to-face. Rudy pretended to knock on the door.
“How’s it going, ma’am?” Rudy said as he greeted Mrs. Perez. He had a difficult time seeing Mrs. Perez in the form of his father, especially in a work shirt and thick black glasses.
“No, Rudy. You have to be polite,” Father corrected him. “Say, ‘Hello, Mrs. Perez. It’s a swell day for a swell pool party.’ Can you do that? And immediately start making conversation. You could tell her about yourself. Tell her about baseball.”
Rudy tried a second time. He knocked and said, “Hello, Mrs. Perez, it’s sure a hot day for a hot pool party. I adore fried chicken.”
“That’s it, hombre,” Father screamed with delight. He slapped his thighs and said, “Tell her more. Otra vez.”
“I adore fried chicken con frijoles, and mi perro, Chorizo, he likes tortillas with peanut butter.” Rudy giggled and slapped his own thighs.
“That’s it, Rudy,” Father encouraged. “Tell her more. Spit it out!”
“I like huevos con weenies y papas fritas. Me gustan café con leche y helado de coco.” Rudy was smiling from ear to ear as he realized how funny he sounded. He reminded himself of Kid Frost, the rapper from East Los Angeles.
Father slapped his thighs a second time. He took a sip from his coffee cup and smiled broadly at his son. “Rudy, you’re gonna be a hit. Bethany-Tiffany-Riffany, or whatever her name is, she’s gonna crack up. You know why?”
“No. Why, Dad?”
“You mean you don’t know why?”
“No, Dad. Why?”
Father became more serious. “Sit down, Little Rudy.” He popped his knuckles and looked around the neighborhood. More children were playing in the sprinklers. The neighbor across the street was washing her car, a Chevy Nova.
“Rudy, we’re just ordinary gente,” Father started. “I work, and El Shorty—your gramps—works. We get by. We’re honest. That’s it. We get by month to month. That’s why she’s gonna like you. She’s gonna see that you’re real. ¿Entiendes?” He stopped and waved to a neighbor driving past. “Hey, Louie, I got that jack for you. Come by later.” The man in the car waved and nodded his head. Father looked at his son with understanding. “Listen, they may be rich folks, but don’t worry. Just go and have fun, do some fancy dives in the pool and be nice and … bring me home a piece of cake. Okay?”
“Okay, Dad,” Rudy said. He understood his father. He understood that while they were everyday workers, they were proud and worked as one—la familia. He understood that his father was a good father, serious but not too serious.
Father left with Grandfather to cut lawns. Rudy played with Chorizo and then, struck with a little guilt, he stopped to admire his grandfather’s landscaping efforts. His
grandfather was working on making a pool in their own backyard. “Pobre abuelito,” thought Rudy, “I should help him.” Rudy shoveled until he was hot and sweaty and it was time to go to the pool party.
He showered and then, at the foggy bathroom mirror, practiced making polite conversation. “Hello, Mrs. Perez, I adore fried chicken.” He raised two splayed fingers and said, “I’ll take two pieces.” He splashed his father’s cologne on his face. “It’s a hot day for a swell pool party.” He splashed on more cologne. He admired himself in the mirror. “Mrs. Perez,” he continued, “I understand that you love turtle soup. I, too, adore turtle soup.” He was happy with his small talk, and happy with the way he smelled.
When he came into the kitchen, where Mother was ironing his shirt, he said in a British accent, “Hello, dear mother. I must be off for the pool party.”
“Oh, you look so handsome,” she said. She pulled at his cheek and said, “¡Qué bonito!”
“Mom, I’m ten years old. I’m not a baby.”
“You’re my baby.” She beamed. She had never seen her son so clean, and so dressed up. She sniffed the air. She studied her son with a little smile on her face.
“You smell nice, like your papi,” she said as she handed him the ironed shirt.
“Well”—he blushed—“I put on a little bit of his cologne.”
Mother smiled and asked, “You have a ride?”
“Simón,” Rudy said, snapping his fingers. “I got my own wheels, Mom. My inner tube!”
Rudy’s ride was his inner tube—taller than his father and wide as Alex. He left the house and rolled it up the street, past the neighbor kids who were once again in the sprinklers. Past his sister who was sitting on a car fender dreaming about boys. Past Louie the neighbor and his dog Charlie. Past other dogs and mothers and the lawns browning under the Fresno sun. A mile north, where the houses turned nice, he passed it all, including his father and El Shorty, whom he didn’t see. Their Oldsmobile was stalled. They had run over a board with a nail and now had a flat tire. He didn’t hear them scream, “Hey, Little Rudy, we need that inner tube!”
He had on his sunglasses, and his headset on his ears, listening to Kid Frost. Father and El Shorty called and shouted, “Little Rudy, come back!” But Rudy rolled his inner tube toward the pool party, rehearsing inside his head, “Hello, Mrs. Perez, I adore fried chicken.”
Chapter 9
Rudy had rolled his inner tube two miles and now stood in front of a stately house. He took the invitation from his pocket and whispered to himself, “1334 The Bluffs. This must be it.” He stuffed the invitation back into his pocket like a Kleenex. “What a big house!” he said. While lugging his inner tube up the steps, it slipped from his fingers. “Ay,” he screamed at the inner tube rolling into the street, where it hit and bounced off a Mercedes-Benz. The woman in the car made a face at Rudy. She rolled down her electric window and scolded, “Be careful. This is an expensive car, young man!”
“Sorry,” he said. He looked at the car. It seemed unhurt to him. But he added a second time, “Sorry,” as the car drove away.
Grunting, he lifted the inner tube and carefully climbed the steps of Tiffany’s house. He knocked on the door, then smoothed the front of his shirt. He wondered if his father’s cologne was still working.
Tiffany’s mother opened the door. She was wearing a fancy dress, and her earrings glittered like the surface of the sea. She greeted him. “Hello, you must be Rudy?”
“That’s me, and this is my inner tube,” he said happily. He thumped the inner tube with his fist. “My father got it for me when my first one got ripped.”
Tiffany’s mother gave a shocked look at the huge inner tube. “Why don’t you come in,” she started to say, then changed her mind. “Oh, Rudy, why don’t you take it around the back. The inner tube is rather large.”
“Good idea,” Rudy agreed. He didn’t want to knock over anything in her house. He started to roll the inner tube away, but then stopped and turned. He remembered his father’s advice about small talk. “Mrs. Perez, I understand that you adore turtle soup. What a coincidence. I adore turtle soup too.”
The mother looked at Rudy strangely. She closed the front door and Rudy rolled his inner tube to the backyard, which overlooked the bluffs, where a shallow river ran. Now that it was summer, its banks were dry and the water was no bigger than the flow from a garden hose running along a curb.
When Rudy and his inner tube came into view, the kids, who were huddled around the pool or splashing in it, looked up to the shadow of the inner tube. They were curious.
“What’s that?” asked one freckle-faced boy with a blown-up duck around his waist.
“Who’s that?” a girl snickered. She was hugging a whale and getting ready to dive into the pool.
“Tiffany invited him to the party?” another asked.
Mindy was scraping a cracker over a wheel of Brie. She was standing under the arbor and chatting with Eric Contrary Mendoza III. She looked up and moaned, “Oh, it’s Rudy Herrera. Look at that thing he’s brought!”
While all the kids had fancy pool toys, Rudy proudly rolled in his inner tube. He didn’t feel self-conscious. He was, as his father said, real. He sized up the pool while he rolled the inner tube toward Tiffany, who was wearing a green T-shirt over a pink swimsuit. She looked beautiful. She looked like her mother, only smaller.
Tiffany smiled at Rudy. “Thanks for coming, Rudy,” she greeted him. She looked at the inner tube. She stroked it and stuttered, “Why—why … this is the biggest pool toy I’ve ever seen!”
“Do you like it?” Rudy asked.
“It’s smashing,” she said.
“Yeah, it’s smashing all right,” he agreed. “It just smashed into a Mercedes-Benz.”
The kids who first thought that the inner tube was weird began to mill around Rudy. They touched and poked at it, curious where Rudy had gotten it and if it was possible for them to get an inner tube too. The red-haired boy slipped the duck pool toy from his waist and asked, “Can we take it into the pool?”
“Simón,” Rudy said. “That’s why I brought it.”
Rudy rolled the inner tube to the edge of the pool. He counted as he rocked the inner tube back and forth, “One, two, three …” On the count of ten, the inner tube rolled like a huge black shadow into the water and everyone, arms and legs flailing, jumped on it.
Tiffany and Rudy walked to the arbor, where a buffet of colorful food lay. Mindy tagged along reluctantly. “So, how’s your summer vacation?” Tiffany asked. She nibbled on a cracker.
“Pretty good. I’ve been helping my father cut lawns. We even did Mindy’s,” Rudy said. He bit into a carrot stick and nibbled it like a rabbit. “Right, Mindy?”
Mindy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you did ours.”
“My dad even let me use the edger,” Rudy continued.
“Can’t you change the subject?” Mindy suggested. She crossed her arms and looked impatient.
Rudy remembered his father’s advice—small talk. Rudy grabbed a handful of crackers and offered, “I like turtle soup, but I like menudo better. Don’t you, Mindy?”
“What?”
“Don’t you like menudo?” Rudy asked. He tossed a cracker into his mouth. The edge of the cracker poked against the inside of his cheek.
Mindy walked away in a huff. Rudy turned to Tiffany and shrugged his shoulders. “I was just trying to make small talk.”
“That’s okay,” Tiffany said. “She’s stuck-up. Come on, let’s go swimming.” She took Rudy’s hand and led him to the pool. They swam and then hopped onto the edge of the inner tube. They were like the bride and groom on a wedding cake.
“It would be bad if you and me were in the ocean on an inner tube,” Rudy remarked dreamily. “One time I almost drowned, but this inner tube saved me.”
“Really?” Tiffany asked.
“Yeah, I was at Avocado Lake with Alex,” Rudy dreamed on. “You know Alex, don’t you?”
“I thi
nk so.” Tiffany splashed water on her hot face.
“I got a cramp in my leg, and Alex saved me. Well, actually, it was his dog—Poki. Poki pulled me to shore.”
“How exciting!”
Rudy felt good. He was making small talk. “And just a couple of days ago, me and Alex got lost on the inner tube.”
“Really?” Tiffany asked. Her eyebrows lifted in interest.
“You ever been to Francher’s Creek?”
“No,” Tiffany sighed. “My parents usually take us to Hawaii.” She splashed water on her thighs.
“Me and Alex were floating on the inner tube there, and we drifted so far we went all the way to Mendota.”
“That far?”
“Yeah, and we got in trouble because my dad had to come and get us.”
“How exciting! Interesting things seem to happen to you, Rudy.”
Rudy felt he was running out of things to say. What could he tell her next? he wondered. Without much thought, he plunged into the water. The inner tube lost its center of balance, and Tiffany toppled over. Underwater, they looked at each other. They stared and laughed, bubbles large as Ping-Pong balls rising from their open mouths. They rose to the surface laughing. Rudy sneezed because water had gotten up his nose.
“I’m getting out,” Tiffany said.
“I’m going to swim for a while,” Rudy said. He paddled toward the deep end of the pool. He climbed out of the pool, took a deep breath, and jumped in with a splash. He wanted to see how long he could stay underwater. He counted on his fingers, from left hand to right, back and forth, until he couldn’t stand it any longer. He came up, gasping for air. He had stayed under for only fifty-four seconds.
Rudy swam over to a boy who was sitting in a lounge chair, rubbing lotion from a squeeze bottle. Curiously, Rudy watched the boy, then asked, “What are you putting on?”
“A sunscreen, so I don’t get dark,” he answered. His skin was glistening.