The Midnight War of Mateo Martinez

by Robin Yardi

  “The cost of victory,” Buggies added sadly.

  Ashwin picked up the last two pinecones and got ready to chuck them out. “What’s our next move?” he asked.

  For a second, I didn’t know. I didn’t want to go down there with that marble-eyed monster on the loose, but I definitely didn’t want to lose Steed.

  Then I heard Mila shriek, “Ahhhhh! Ahhhh! Ahhh!”

  One of the littler raccoons had hopped in her bucket and started yanking at her back. It was trying to clamber up higher. I could hear the strange sound of claws on Mila’s plastic fireman costume. The raccoon skrarg-skarg-skrarged at her, lunging for her neck.

  “Ahhhh! Mateooooo!”

  I snatched the last two pinecones from Ashwin and thumped down the slide. Boom-boom-squeeee … the metal hissed under my sneakers. When I was close enough for a good shot, I took aim and let the pinecone fly.

  Thunk!

  I got the little raccoon in the back of the head. It tumbled off Mila, stood up, shook its face, and ran off into the night. Mila didn’t stop for a second. She kept racing around in a tight circle, scattering raccoons away from my bike—“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

  Only the biggest raccoon was still close enough to attack Mila.

  It hopped down from Steed and reared up, ready to lunge at her.

  I squeezed the last pinecone in my hand, watching the gross, growling raccoon.

  I pulled my arm back, whispered a swear, and let it fly.

  Ka-chuuunk!

  I got it. Right between the eyes.

  The big raccoon fell down on the asphalt path.

  His claws grabbed at the air a little.

  Ashwin and the skunks whooped behind me on the playground tower. The rest of the raccoons skittered across the blacktop basketball courts, down the open school hallway, and then disappeared across the street.

  “Whoa! Did you kill it?” asked Mila, pedaling up next to me. She was breathing hard and pretending not to be totally freaked out.

  We bent down over the raccoon. It did kind of look dead, but it also looked like it could eat our faces off if it woke up.

  “I don’t know.” I started gathering extra ammo off the ground and tossing it into Mila’s bucket. You know—in case it wasn’t dead.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  The raccoon twitched, and Mila and I jerked back, and maybe I shrieked a little.

  I grabbed Steed, and me and Mila raced toward the playground tower, stopping to toss more pinecones in Mila’s bucket along the way. She parked at the bottom of the slide, and I slid the pinecones up one at a time.

  Ashwin, Nuts, and Buggies caught them and stacked them all into another pile at the top of the slide.

  “Quick, Mateo! It’s getting up,” said Mila.

  I stashed Steed as far under the playground structure as I could, then shoved Mila’s trike under too.

  “Come on—come on!” shouted Mila, bouncing up and down on the bottom of the slide.

  We thumped up together, grabbing the cold metal bar at the top.

  When I turned, I saw the big raccoon lurching forward again. The red eyes glared at us. Ashwin’s persimmon-colored banana-seat bike was just lying there, waiting to be snatched.

  “Sorry, man. We couldn’t get yours too.” I shook my head.

  “That’s okay. Do you think they’ll take it?” asked Ashwin, kinda hopeful.

  “Negative, looks like the raccoons are in full retreat, Sergeant Canela,” Nuts said.

  “Oh, well,” said Ashwin, picking up a pinecone but not chucking it.

  The big raccoon skrarg-skrarg-skrarged, and Ashwin raised the pinecone, ready to fire. All of its buddies were gone, and we had enough pinecones to drive it away all night. But the big raccoon still paced back and forth, refusing to give up. I kinda wanted to snatch the pinecone from Ashwin and chuck it, but Nuts squeaked, “Let it fly, Canela,” and Buggies crossed his arms and gave a little nod. Since Buggies was the OIC, it was his call.

  Ashwin chucked the pinecone.

  I didn’t think he would get a hit. Not this far away.

  But he did.

  The big raccoon yelped, retreated across the empty basketball courts after the other raccoons, and vanished into the dark. It was awesome watching that raccoon run away.

  We all sat side by side with our feet hanging down the wide metal slide under the tall wooden tower.

  “We won!” squeaked Nuts.

  “Say it, don’t spray it,” I told him.

  Mila cackled, and Ashwin pushed her down the slide.

  We all climbed on top of the monkey bars in the dark. Up there, we could see the golf course, the whole school, snatches of downtown, the fenced-in freeway overpass, and the dark mesa. We could do whatever we wanted and nobody would bug us.

  No parents.

  No teachers.

  No raccoons.

  And no Danny Vega.

  20.

  The Spoils of War

  Me and Ashwin kept a lookout for a while in our goofy armor, but we knew those raccoons weren’t coming back. It was cool being up on the monkey bars with nobody else around, and we didn’t want to leave. We played on the whole playground, climbed the towers, took turns on the swings, and rode the slides. Nuts and Buggies went down the big slide like a hundred times. Forwards. Backwards. On their feet. On their hands. Spinning down on their fuzzy backs. Somewhere in the middle of that night, we all heard a train, and Nuts and Buggies came to attention, saluting each other.

  “You are relieved of your command,” squeaked Nuts.

  “Yes sir, Sergeant Nuts,” Buggies said.

  And just like that, Nuts was the OIC. Guess they really did take turns.

  Ashwin gave me this look—I think you probably know what it said—and Mila, she gave me one too. “I guess we could try it,” I said, scrunching my mouth. “Ashwin’s the highest rank, and he’s older so …”

  Ashwin grinned. “Nah-ah, man. It’s got to be Polka Dots. She won the war for us.”

  Mila hopped up off the trike, coming to attention.

  “Caballero, Canela, you are relieved of your command,” she said.

  “Yes sir, Polka Dots.” Me and Ashwin both saluted, and then we taught her our oath.

  It felt kinda silly, but it also felt right. I decided I liked having Mila as a fellow knight, and even though I didn’t think I would, I liked giving her the trike for keeps. But most of all, I liked knowing that I kept my promise to Mom about keeping Mila safe.

  After the skunks switched ranks, they went right back to riding the slides. When they got tired of that, the skunks and Mila took turns riding the trike around the playground. They were pretending to guard it but mostly showing off their tricks. Mila even tried riding in the bucket while the skunks pedaled, but she was too heavy for them.

  “Hop off,” she said. “My turn! Want to ride in the bucket?”

  “Negative, kiddo. Time for us to get back to base,” Buggies said.

  “Time for eats and sleeps!” Nuts squeaked.

  “We’ll ride back with you,” I said. “You know, just to make sure you get there okay.”

  Ashwin snatched up his bike. I dragged Steed out from under the playground. It was a little dusty and scratched in a couple spots, but that only made me love it more. It had been through battle with me, and we’d won.

  We all rode off in a tight triangle formation again—Mila leading the way, me and Ashwin coming behind, watching each flank for red-eyed raccoons. Our armor crackled a little, but our formation stayed pretty quiet. Mila stopped on the path next to her pink butterfly net, and Nuts snatched it up. The skunks unscrewed the extendable handle, folded it in half, and stuffed it into the bucket between them.

  I made everybody use the crosswalk at Las Positas again. This time, Mila did get off to walk, while the skunks rode the trike solo. Mila even held my hand. Then, coasting down the hill, everybody went silent. When we got to Mr. Mendoza’s back path, Ashwin leaned over to scoop up our perfume-filled water guns. He
tossed them into the basket in front of his handlebars, and they made a big clang. Both skunks turned to glare at him. Then Nuts squeaked, “Forward roll, Polka Dots. The battlefield is clear.”

  When Mila pedaled down the sidewalk, the taken-apart net tink-tink-tinked in the trike bucket. I thought about the noise that had been coming from Mila’s backpack on the walk to school.

  “Hey, Polka Dots,” I whispered. “Did you have that thing in your backpack all day?”

  “Of course! I told you I had a plan.”

  “Quiet, Polka Dots! We’re going in silent,” squeaked Nuts.

  Mila was so serious. I couldn’t help laughing just a little. Our armor had been great, but our weapons turned out to be duds. She had totally saved our butts with the net. Having Mila for a little sister was like having a secret weapon. A weapon so totally secret even I didn’t know I had it.

  When we passed by Danny Vega’s house, I couldn’t help thinking about Johnny again. More than all the trash-talking, and launching missiles, that’s what bugged me the most. That Johnny was friends with a dude like Danny, but not with us. I guess I still kind of hoped that Johnny would change his mind—that all that stuff my dad said didn’t matter. But I knew it did, even if I didn’t really get why. Maybe the skunks were right. Maybe some things don’t have any explanation, no matter how much you want them to.

  Maybe I could have gotten the skunks to sneak into Danny’s garage and spray his bike seat for us. See how many friends he’d have after that. I laughed under my breath, thinking about Danny’s butt smelling like skunk spray for the rest of his life.

  But I didn’t ask.

  I decided that wasn’t an honorable thing to do.

  The war with the raccoons, I could understand that easy. They were just messed up, and no way were the skunks ever going to be able to work it out with them and take turns on the playground. I mean, the raccoons couldn’t even talk. But I knew stinking up Danny’s bike seat wasn’t gonna fix anything. I was pretty sure nothing I did was gonna make Johnny my friend again, but I knew way too much about Johnny to think of him as some bad guy, like from a book or a movie. And Ashwin didn’t even seem to notice Danny’s house when we rode past. If he could let it go, I decided I should too.

  At Stink Base, the skunks tumbled out of the bucket on the back of Mila’s trike, and Nuts heaved the door open. The pulleys creaked softly.

  “This reminds me, Caballero,” said Nuts. “Know where we might find a two-inch PVC pipe, a battery powered drill, and an old vacuum?”

  “What are you guys gonna do with all that?” Ashwin asked.

  “That’s top-secret intelligence,” Buggies said.

  “Not even chocolate-covered slugs could make us talk,” Nuts added.

  Well, Mila rode her trike around them in a slow circle, giving them her I’m-never-giving-up-so-just-tell-me-already stare. “Ahhhh, come on!” she said. “We helped you win the war!”

  Ashwin leaned down over the stupid flower basket of his sister’s old bike.

  “Yeah, we’re allies now. You can tell us,” I said.

  Nuts and Buggies gave each other a long look, and Nuts shrugged.

  “We’re still early in the development process,” said Buggies. “But we’ve got an idea for some new artillery.”

  “I call it the Cannon of Stink,” squeaked Nuts, bugging out his little black eyes.

  Me and Ashwin grinned at each other. “We have a book you guys have got to see,” I told them.

  21.

  The Pancakes

  When the sky started to get pink and peek through the branches above Stink Base, Nuts and Buggies unplugged their twinkle lights and dove into their bunks. The Midnight War was over. For now, anyway.

  “Good night, Sir Buggies. Good night, Sir Nuts,” I said saluting.

  “Make sure you’re not sighted by the enemy on the way out,” said Buggies.

  “And leave the three-wheeled creaker where we can get it tomorrow night, Polka Dots,” called Nuts.

  “I will,” Mila said, pulling their little dishrag curtains closed. “They’re so cute,” she said on the way up the ramp.

  “I don’t know if cute is the right word, kid,” Ashwin said.

  The skunks were snoring before we even closed the hedge door, but we were all still too excited to sleep. We decided to go home for Mom’s Saturday morning chocolate-chip pancakes. Me and Ashwin swished back and forth on our bikes, but kinda slow, so Mila could lead the way. The sky was getting brighter every second, and the fog was creeping up over our city, coming up from the beach until it hung at the edge of the freeway. Right then, I heard the train coming. Going south, I think. I can tell the difference. Swear. We stopped at the edge of Mr. Mendoza’s driveway. Mila bumped into my back wheel, and I heard a little tink-clunk.

  “Hey, what’s going on? I thought we were getting pancakes!” she grumbled.

  “Shhhh.” I pointed to Mr. Mendoza’s house. His porch light was on and the curtains were open.

  “Do you think he’s waiting for us?” Ashwin asked.

  I listened hard for a minute. “Nah—I bet he just fell asleep in front of the TV again. But let’s get past his driveway quick, okay?”

  Ashwin saluted me. “Yes sir, Caballero.”

  “Cut it out. Let’s go.” I nodded to Mila.

  She nodded back and went first, pedaling as fast as she could. Me and Ashwin zoomed after. When we got to our driveway, we threw the stinky black garbage bags away, and Mila scrambled around the house, putting the goggles and boots and stuff back.

  “Do you think we should tell Dad the skunks are going to borrow his drill?” Mila asked.

  “No!” me and Ashwin said at the same time.

  We ended up in a heap on the fuzzy brown couch watching a cartoon. Something with a talking penguin. That cartoon seemed really funny after the night we’d had. Me and Ashwin kept cracking up.

  “You guys are up early,” Mom said, padding down the hall in her sweats and sock-monkey slippers. She walked straight into the kitchen without even glancing our way.

  “We got my trike back from the skunks,” shouted Mila.

  Me and Ashwin both shushed her.

  “Oh, yeah?” Mom said, taking her mixing bowls out of the cupboard. She looked at us sitting there on the couch in our stinky sweats. Right at me.

  “Yeah, Mateo helped,” Mila said, elbowing me in the side.

  “Your Dad thought he might,” Mom said and smiled that smile. The special Saturday-morning smile. Morning Mom was better than after-work Mom, but Saturday-morning Mom was the best. She never asked too many questions. She wore her sweats until noon. She made pancakes with chocolate chips, and she smiled that smile.

  The doorbell rang. “Who could that be?” Mom said, wiping flour off her hands. “Mateo, can you go answer the door?”

  When I opened the door, my mouth fell open.

  Mr. Mendoza.

  He was holding Mila’s extendable butterfly net. It had one of her pink sticky nametags on it. When he saw me standing there in my stinky red sweats, he knew I’d been the kid in his garden in the middle of the night. I could tell. His eyes bulged behind his thick square glasses, and he leaned in so close I could smell his breath. And man, it was gross.

  “I knew it was you—you little thug! I knew you were up to something, and now I have proof!” he said, waving Mila’s net in my face. “First those skunks, always trotting through my orchard, then tricycle tracks, then boys on bikes.”

  “Wait a second. You knew about the skunks?” I asked.

  Mr. Mendoza sputtered, and I wrinkled my nose at his breath. He shoved the butterfly net into my hands and pushed his glasses up onto his nose. “Keep those creatures off my path and out of my hydrangea bushes,” he said, poking me in the chest with his wrinkled finger.

  “Uh … okay, Mr. Mendoza,” I said.

  He stomped down the front steps. I watched with my mouth still open as his stooped back disappeared down the sidewalk.

  “Who
was it?” Mom asked from the kitchen.

  “Ah, it was Mr. Mendoza,” I said. “He brought back Mila’s butterfly net.”

  “That was nice of him,” said Mom.

  “Yeah … it was,” I said, staring at the net. It must have bumped out of the trike bucket on the way home.

  “Why didn’t he tell?” Ashwin whispered when I got back to the couch.

  “I guess maybe he thinks he’s going crazy or something. Like, what would happen if he told everyone two talking skunks were riding a trike through his backyard every night?”

  “Awesome! Mr. Mendoza can never get us in trouble again!” Ashwin said.

  Dad woke up and made coffee. I saw Mom whisper in his ear. I pretended to just be watching cartoons, but really I was watching them, ’cause keeping an eye on things is still one of my jobs, even when Mila’s the OIC.

  “Lemme hear it, Mama. Come on,” Dad said, laughing.

  “You were right,” said Mom.

  Then Dad squeezed her, which he almost never does when she’s wearing the red Stanford sweatshirt. I guess maybe he doesn’t really hate it. He whispered something in her ear, something in Spanish. Mom’s coffee spilled a little, right on the sweatshirt, and she pushed Dad away, but not before she let him kiss her. That’s when I stopped watching them. I leaned back against the fuzzy couch and finished that cartoon.

  There are still things I can’t figure out about my neighborhood. All that stuff with Johnny and Danny and Martin and Spanish. I don’t really get that yet. But until I figure it out, I’m just gonna go with my gut and keep trying to be a good knight.

  Plus, there are some things I do understand. I understand chocolate-chip pancakes on Saturday morning. I understand Mila is like a secret weapon. And I understand my best friend, Ashwin, has pretty good aim, even if he is a little weird.

  That’s enough. For now.

  When we were done, Dad pushed his plate back and poured another cup of coffee. Mom dipped her finger in the bowl of whipped cream.

  “Let’s go race my new trike.” Mila took a last sip of milk and made the same noise Dad does after his first sip of coffee.

  “New trike? What new trike?” Mom said, all worried again.