Illegal

by Bettina Restrepo

“I’m sorry. Lo siento.” I stuttered the apology over and over again. I felt the blood rushing to my face. I grabbed the packages and tried to place them back onto the display. While I was picking up limes, I saw Flora slip a magazine into her backpack.

  What if the market owner thought I was with Flora? Now I would be blamed for everything. The police would be called, I would lose my job, and I would be put in jail. We would be sent back without Papa.

  I pulled the five-dollar bill out of my pocket and pushed it toward the manager. “I’m not stealing! I have money and I don’t even know her.” I was pointing at an empty magazine stand.

  Flora was gone.

  CHAPTER 25

  Translation

  When I walked by Mr. Mann, he mumbled at me. “Glad you’re home, Tessa.”

  “I’m Nora,” I said, alarmed by his voice.

  His eyes rose in a flicker toward my face, but then quickly moved away. “It’s spelled with two Ns. M-A-N-N.”

  “Huh?” I said.

  “M-A-N-N. They always spell it wrong.” He lowered his head.

  The pool opened at nine. The only person waiting to go in was Flora. She sat in her regular seat by the trees, but wouldn’t look at me. “Do you want your Coke now or later?” I asked, trying to read the cover of her magazine.

  “I’ll take it now,” she said, handing me the dollar.

  “Don’t smear your new red lipstick on the can,” I said. I heard the fizzing of the can overflowing when she opened it.

  At lunch, I noticed a man leaning against the stand’s tires—legs splayed, hat tipped back like a cocky cowboy.

  “¿Niña, tienes servilletas?” He had soft brown eyes, and a dark tattoo peeked out from under his shirt. I handed him a napkin. His sunglasses were also smudgy.

  “Thanks.” Watermelon juice ran out from the corner of his mouth.

  I felt my throat getting tight as I answered in English. “Welcome.”

  I worried about asking strangers for information, but I didn’t want to wait for Papa to appear out of the sky. “Do you work on buildings? Tall buildings?” I gulped at my own courage.

  “No. I work pouring concrete for new homes. They call me Concrete Guy because I’m hard to break.” He chuckled at his joke. Concrete Guy wiped his mouth. “See you tomorrow, little one.”

  I figured it was silly to be scared of asking questions. If I had survived the ride, I could survive anything.

  I walked around with my basket and Flora called out to me. “How much is a sandwich?” she said. “Or did you shake that up too?”

  “Shut up,” I said, embarrassed she figured out my little trick from the morning. “Don’t you ever go home? If you stay out here all day, you’re going to get skin cancer. The half sandwich is a dollar,” I said to her.

  Flora smirked at me with her freshly painted lips. “Is this advice coming from the girl who looks like a lobster?”

  “Hey, I’m just saying you stay out here a long time. Why can’t you act nice?”

  “This is my version of nice,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “And better to risk dying of skin cancer than to risk dying at home. I only have fifty cents, so I’ll skip the sandwich.”

  Once again, she pulled her magazine in front of her eyes. It was the first time she revealed something of herself, and I knew what it was like to be hungry. I don’t know why I did it, but I dropped a half sandwich in her lap. She tried to eat it without me looking.

  Keisha arrived in the afternoon. “Girl, you look like barbecue.” I saw Flora snicker—as if her version of honesty was better than mine.

  I handed her a container of rice pudding. I saved it from my lunch. “For you.”

  Keisha’s skin intrigued me, because I didn’t know much about black people. Most people I knew were different shades of brown. Some like tea, others like coffee with milk. Never black. I hoped to touch her hair one day.

  “Mama says I gotta pay something because I ain’t supposed to be taking charity.”

  Jorge peered over the counter and joked, “Who said this was charity? Nora works for her meals fair and square. You’re welcome to buy whatever you want.”

  Keisha had a dollar in her hand and she was waving it at Jorge. “She shouldn’t be buying friendship with food. Some things just ain’t right.”

  “Come on, girl.” She looked at me. “You keep your pudding. You and me is friends without the food.” Her words comforted me, even though they were foreign.

  When I walked around the pool again, Flora turned her chair away from our view.

  “You want to swim with me at break?” I asked Flora as I walked by on my last round. “You don’t have to sit by yourself all day.”

  “I don’t swim with Negros. Go play with your little friend.” Flora mouthed the word “nigger” at Keisha.

  “I know what she’s saying.” Keisha looked hurt but raised her chin. “You ain’t like that, right?”

  My face burned a deeper shade of red. Why would Flora act that way? What had we done to her? No wonder people hate one another.

  “You ain’t gonna be friends with her, right? Don’t be friends with a gang-banger wannabe,” Keisha said loudly, trying to make a point.

  We jumped into the shallow end. Her braids glistened with droplets of water. A sheen of color floated in the water next to her braids. But soon Jorge pointed to his watch and I was back to work.

  What I didn’t say was that for some crazy reason, I wanted Flora as a friend. She knew something about the world I didn’t. But I couldn’t just go along with the things she said or did. It was just plain wrong, and that didn’t need translation. We all needed a little compassion.

  “Hey, kid, watch the stand for a few minutes.” Jorge drove out of the park.

  The sun melted into the oak trees. Keisha wandered toward the stand. “School will be starting soon,” she said.

  Something inside me broke open. “School?” I asked out loud. I grabbed both of her hands. “School? ¿Escuela?”

  “Eggs-squal-la?” Keisha raised her eyebrows. “You want to go to school? In the summer? On the weekend? Girl, I think you’re nuts.”

  “No. School. I want school.” I needed her to find the words in my mouth and say them aloud. Keisha was my translator.

  “Look, school starts in a few weeks. We can get your mama to enroll you at my school. But you can’t tell them about speaking Spanish and all. They’ll put you in ESL, and I’ll never get to hang out with you.”

  What was ESL? “I need to English.” If I was smarter and spoke better, it would help me.

  “Why? I don’t get it.” Keisha shook her head. My words didn’t seem good enough.

  “I school. No money. Papers.”

  Keisha nodded like she finally understood. “Don’t worry. I don’t have much paper either. Here they give vouchers for school supplies, ’cause my mom’s a single parent and stuff. Maybe we can get you a voucher too.”

  “No. I no money,” I tried to explain.

  Keisha looked toward the curb as her mother’s car approached. “Hey, this is America. You don’t have to pay for school like in Mexico. We go for free. It ain’t like charity.”

  Her mother honked the horn. “Don’t worry, my mama don’t like charity either. But she says if the government is giving it out like candy, you might as well use some of it. She knows how all of this works. See ya!” Keisha bounced away before I could ask the really important questions: What is charity, and how do I get some?

  Flora sauntered up to the stand. “Don’t sit out on the stoop at night.”

  “Who are you, my mother?” I gave back some of her medicine. “And don’t call Keisha names, because she’s a nice girl. A little girl who shouldn’t be called names.” I felt proud standing up for my friend. “And I’m just weaving. I’m not bugging anyone.”

  “Just sitting out attracts attention.” Flora shook her head. “You don’t know anything about this area or how this all works. The blacks live in a different neighborhood. They
act different. They live different. We don’t mix. You shouldn’t either.”

  “You’re wrong. I may not know this neighborhood, but I know a good person.” Flora shook her head, but I continued. “Why are you so hard on me?”

  Her eyes were a misty gray, like the sky before an angry storm. “I’m just trying to give you some advice,” she said sadly. “Don’t act like Tessa.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Jorge’s truck sputtered into the parking space and Flora slunk away. “What am I? Encyclopedia Britannica? Ask your jefe.”

  Tessa was the ghost of the trailer. Hanging over our head and clinging to me like grease. “I’m asking you, since you know everything about everyone,” I whispered loudly after Flora.

  “She got involved with a gang-banger, got jumped in, and decided to get out. Then she disappeared.”

  “A banger? A jump? Like a terrorist with a bomb?” I asked.

  “No, a gang-banger is a gang member out dealing and stealing. A jump-in is when you prove to the gang that you will be loyal. For a girl gang, you have to do ten or fifteen guys, then go through a fight with the girls.”

  “Who would want to do that?” I asked.

  “Plenty of kids just aching to be part of any family,” said Flora as she shook her head and walked away.

  Mr. Mann clunked his way across the park. At the corner, someone threw a bag of trash at him. It exploded against his back and a river of soda dripped off his neck. Mr. Mann shook his hand in the air. I felt a wave of pity for him and set out lemonade.

  He kicked it over and screamed, “Tell them to leave me alone. M-A-N-N!”

  Shock rattled my body. Is this what I get for being nice? “They’re not my friends,” I shouted back, suddenly sorry.

  He shuffled away violently shaking his head. “Tessa, when are you going to learn? Spell it right.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Tough as Rock

  The next morning, I noticed Flora sipping coffee at the bodega inside the market. She nodded her head at me in recognition.

  “The pool isn’t open for two hours,” I said.

  “Yeah, but my mom leaves for work at seven. I don’t hang around because of my brother. He’s kinda mad I won’t do his…uh…deliveries.”

  “So, you just come here?” I asked.

  “What’s wrong with here?” she said.

  “I’m buying the produce for the stand,” I said, trying to prolong the conversation.

  “Please don’t stare when I…you know,” said Flora.

  The mention of the shoplifting made me uneasy.

  She looked up and said quietly, “Thanks for the sandwich yesterday.”

  I shifted back and forth. “You’re welcome.”

  Flora fidgeted in our awkward silence. “Cash is a bit short, so I’m just stretching things out. If you need something, I could get it for you.” Her eyes pointed to the cosmetics aisle. “Like sunscreen.”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  She looked hurt. “You don’t want to be around a person like me,” she said acidly.

  I walked away. I wanted a friend and I needed sunscreen. But stealing made the deal impossible. I would just have to figure out a solution.

  On my way back to the stand, I dropped off Mr. Mann’s breakfast.

  “Thanks, Tessa,” he grumbled.

  “Nora,” I said wistfully.

  “M-A-N-N,” he said back, as if it meant something meaningful. I noticed his coins were still in the plastic container, but my bowl sat next to it, empty.

  My days began blurring together. Wake up, buy produce, sell tacos, swim, sell tacos, and go to bed. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. I stopped counting the days, as they all seemed the same. Full of work and empty of Papa. I needed to make something happen.

  But today seemed different; Jorge wore dark jeans and a pressed shirt. He looked completely different from his shorts, T-shirt, and baseball cap uniform of the stand. Even his truck glowed from a fresh wash. “Nora, you handle things this morning. I’m signing the lease for our restaurant.”

  Halfway through the morning, Keisha showed up wearing a pink sundress instead of her worn swimsuit. “I wanted to see if you could come to Vacation Bible School with me. We get extra credit if we bring a friend, and I know how you like to craft.”

  There wasn’t anyone but me. “Not today. Sorry,” I said wistfully.

  Keisha’s shoulders slumped. “I’ve been telling everyone about you. Like hows we been good friends to each other, even though you a Mexican and all. It didn’t matter about the extra credit and all.” The car on the corner honked. “I gotta go, but I’ll make you something in crafts. The teacher said I had a real creative side that I should explore.”

  I handed her a small tree I had made. “Gracias, Keisha.” My heart followed her quick steps back to her mother’s car. How I wanted to escape this hot trailer, full of burritos and chips, and follow her back to a simple childhood.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man covered with tattoos swaggering up the sidewalk. “Concrete Guy!” I said.

  “Little one.” He tipped his hat, which was stained with sweat and grime. “Are you the jefe today? Where’s Jorge?”

  “He’s getting ready for his restaurant.”

  “I’m glad. Jorge has helped everyone in the neighborhood. You and your mama must be his lucky charms, because every time they tried to open the restaurant before, it fell through.”

  Concrete Guy’s hands were deeply lined. A jagged scar ran up his arm. “Where do men go to get construction jobs?” I asked.

  “By the railroad tracks downtown where guys wait and trucks pick up,” he said.

  “I wonder if anyone down there knows my papa.”

  Concrete Guy raised his eyebrows in warning. “Mija, it’s not a place for girls.”

  Concrete Guy rubbed his stomach, which made his tattoo dance along his arm. “I would like two tacos this morning. I’ll miss Jorge’s cooking while I’m gone, but mi tía’s cooking is from heaven. I’m going home for a few days on the bus.”

  I saw another chance to get information, so I lumped extra watermelon onto his plate. “Would you mail a letter for me in Mexico?” I needed to stop waiting and make something happen to find Papa. I found a pad of paper under the register and tried to write quickly, but I couldn’t spell every word I wanted to write. I wanted to explain how things had gone wrong and how I was lonely. I finished by saying, “I love you.” Those words were the ones that mattered.

  Concrete Guy folded the paper and put it in his pocket. “I’ll mail it when I get across.” He patted my arm to reassure me. “You’re a good kid.”

  “I don’t want you to steal,” I said to Flora later at the pool.

  “I just borrow. It doesn’t cost the store nothing,” she snapped back.

  I shook my head. “No, really. It’s a mortal sin and I wish you didn’t have to.”

  “What, are you the Pope now?”

  I chewed my lower lip. “You’re better than that. You can work for money.”

  For once, her tough, cool exterior melted. Hurt pooled in her eyes. “I can’t work because I’m only fifteen. Not legal yet.”

  The words stung. This was her fifteenth year, and she seemed to be living day to day. I doubted anyone had given her a quinceañera, either. Seems weird how she was illegal, in a different way, but just like me.

  “I need to know about Tessa,” I said.

  “She hung with my brother. He’s somebody you don’t want to know.”

  “Is that why you’re here?” I asked.

  “It’s why I’m not anywhere. I’m just flying below the radar. You should too.”

  “Why does it matter what I do?”

  Flora looked me straight in the eye. “’Cause I don’t want you to disappear like her.”

  A shiver ran down my spine. I didn’t want to be anything like this Tessa girl.

  “I could have done something, but I didn’t,” Flora said with disgust at herself. “When she
got jumped into the gang, my brother made me watch.”

  “What?” I said.

  “It’s a fight where you aren’t allowed to defend yourself. Ten girls pummeled her. She never cried, she just turned her head and watched me like a dead cat on the road,” said Flora as if she were watching it replay in her mind.

  “Why didn’t you do anything?” I asked.

  “She wasn’t my friend. And what could I do? Save her from something she wanted? She got a new family. Getting into a gang is a way of being reborn. And being born ain’t a pretty thing.”

  “Then what happened?” I asked, not really wanting to know.

  “Those girls made it real hard on her because they wanted the power.” Flora looked over my shoulder toward Jorge. “Just the sister gang. Some of them hook up, but the girls do their own thing ’cause they like the power and the drugs.”

  I thought about what that money meant. Death money. Dirty money. Money that strangles you.

  “You don’t want anything to do with it. Stay low and keep quiet.” Flora pulled the magazine up over her eyes. “And it ain’t stealing if I put the magazines back.”

  It was her way of acting tough. But I had learned that Flora was alone in the world. Kind of like me. “I guess this makes us friends now,” I said.

  Flora looked at me sadly. “I’m not really friend material, but if that’s what you wanna call it…”

  And I realized it was exactly what I wanted.

  CHAPTER 27

  July

  Flora had disappeared from the pool for several days after our last conversation.

  “Where have you been?” I asked with a sour tone. It had been three days.

  “Things have been a little tough at home,” she said. “I’m not taking stuff anymore, but don’t think it was anything you said.”

  I smiled to myself because I knew it was exactly because of what I had said.

  She twisted her mouth. “I’m not in a gang. My brother pays the bills my mom’s job doesn’t.” She took a deep breath. “I kinda wish my brother would get capped; then I could be done—just go home and be normal. But without him, the bills wouldn’t get paid.”