The Crossroads

by Alexandra Diaz

  Meez checked her phone again before glancing around the office. “Teachers aren’t legally allowed to drive students without permission. . . .”

  “Tomás won’t mind, I promise.” Jaime grabbed his things and stood by her side. “He lets Ángela ride home with boys he doesn’t know.”

  “Good enough.” Then she turned to the receptionist and spoke in English. “Jaime just got a text from his brother that asked if I could take him home. I don’t mind.”

  The receptionist didn’t even challenge the statement. “Thank goodness. I didn’t want to stay late.”

  Meez waved to the receptionist and led the way to her car as she whispered, “Please text your brother to tell him I’m bringing you home. I don’t want to be a complete liar.”

  Right. Jaime had forgotten he had a phone and that texts went through better than calls at the ranch. He had also forgotten he didn’t really know how to use a phone. It took several tries to get the correct screen up for messages, then a few more to insert Tomás’s name from the address book. When he finally got to the body of the text, they were at Meez’s car, a green hatchback with bumper stickers covering the rear—KEEP CALM AND ROCK ON, LISTEN AND THE WORLD SINGS and one he didn’t understand that said TREBLE MAKER. He got in and fastened his seat belt before composing the text. Thankfully, Tomás had also set the phone with Spanish text prediction.

  The music teacher (he didn’t know how to spell Meez’s name) is bringing me home. See you soon. It took a few more seconds to figure out how to send it. The phone buzzed and beeped a few seconds later, causing him to jump in place. He opened the message.

  great see you soon

  The school’s voice messages obviously hadn’t gone through yet. Just as well. If he told Tomás in person what had happened, while Meez remained next to him, he hoped his brother wouldn’t be too mad.

  “Can you give me directions?” Meez asked as she flipped through her phone’s playlists to find a Latin jazzy one.

  “I think so.”

  They might have missed the turn if a white car covered in dirt and dust hadn’t been pulling out of a ranch road. Ángela’s friends. For once they had made themselves useful.

  “Turn here.” Jaime pointed.

  As they drove down the track, Jaime squeezed his sweaty palms. By now, Tomás must have gotten the school’s message.

  Sure enough, Tomás exited the trailer with Ángela and Vida as the car rolled up. Jaime half expected Meester George and Doña Cici to come out and scold him too.

  “So, how’s my little delinquent brother?” Tomás teased. Or pretended to tease. Jaime couldn’t tell.

  Tomás gave Meez a big smile as she got out of the car. “We’ve met. Is it Ms. McAllister?”

  He said this in Spanish, which Jaime saw as a good sign. If Tomás had wanted to talk about him, he would have addressed Meez in English.

  Meez shook Tomás’s hand with a smile back. “Outside of school you can call me Gen.”

  “Like Jennifer Lopez?” Ángela’s eyes widened as she sent a sly look over at Tomás.

  “No, like Genevieve McAllister.” The music teacher reached down to pet Vida, who immediately covered her hand in kisses. The dog always knew who to trust. “My family is Scottish, not Hispanic.”

  “There were a few Scottish settlers in Guatemala,” Jaime said, making his teacher back home proud for having paid attention. “And your Spanish is perfect so you could be Latina.”

  Meez laughed. “Thank you. I’m glad you think so. And you’re Ángela? Jaime talks about you all the time. And Tomás was it?”

  “Por supuesto,” Tomás grinned wider. Jaime grinned at his teacher too. She knew his brother’s real name, even though when they had met on the first day of school Tomás had introduced himself as “Tom.”

  “So,” Tomás continued after a few seconds of awkward silence. “Tell me exactly what my brother did. Were you there?”

  “No, I just found him in the office and felt bad for him.”

  “He does look pretty pitiful. Especially with that purple nose.” Tomás turned to him and waited. At least Tomás seemed to be in a good mood. Since Don Vicente was detained, Tomás had spent most of the time overworked and stressed.

  Jaime sighed and told the story in one breath. “A boy in my class stole my sketchbook and destroyed it. When I found it in the bathroom, I tried to hit him. I got the side of his head and he got my nose.” He left out the other, more devastating details. Like the condition in which he had found his sketchbook.

  “I never thought you’d hit anyone, but I know how much your sketchbook meant to you. I’m sorry that happened.” Tomás put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. If he’d been mad, even if he were hiding it, he never would have done that.

  “I have a form for you to sign and they’re making me stay home from school tomorrow,” Jaime admitted. Best let the rest out. “I got one day, the other boy got the whole week.”

  “Which boy was this?” Meez asked.

  Jaime shook his head. As much as he hated Diego, he wasn’t going to rat him out.

  Meez crossed her arms and gave him her “I’m a teacher and I expect an answer” look. “We have regular teacher meetings where we discuss problems we’re having with our students. I’m going to find out anyway. Was it Diego?”

  Jaime nodded. He might not rat him out, but he wasn’t going to lie to protect the jerk either.

  “I’ve heard the things he says about you when he thinks I’m not listening. As a music teacher, I’m good at picking up voices people don’t think I can hear. I don’t blame you for hitting him. If someone deliberately destroyed my music, I’d probably be in prison.”

  The dreaded P word brought on another awkward silence, and this time it was Ángela who changed the subject. In English. Of course.

  “What musical instruments do you play?”

  Jaime gave her a look but Meez replied in Spanish.

  “De todo, piano, guitarra, flauta. Drums too. Pretty much anything. Except maybe the didgeridoo.”

  They all laughed except Jaime.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “It’s a joke,” Ángela explained.

  “But what is it?” he demanded. Why was Ángela being so annoying and superior?

  Meez placed a hand on his shoulder. “A didgeridoo is an instrument Australian aborigines play, made from an empty tree. Historically, women weren’t allowed to play it.”

  “I didn’t know that part,” Tomás said. “I just thought the name was funny.”

  “Yes, it is funny,” Ángela agreed, but at least she was sticking to Spanish now. “I’m in The Sound of Music at the high school and we’re looking for a person to play that Austrian horn. Could that be you?”

  Meez raised her eyebrows. “The alpenhorn? I’ve never tried, but I can play the trumpet so it can’t be too different. Is Louis Padilla directing that?”

  “Mr. Padilla? Yes, he’s my friend Tristan’s dad.” Ángela jumped up and down as if she just realized that Meez could be the bridesmaid for her and Tristan’s wedding. Gag.

  “If you’re in the play as well, maybe we should get your autograph now. Before you’re famous and all.” Tomás winked and pulled out his phone to give Meez.

  Meez played along and used her finger to autograph the screen. “Who says I’m not famous right now?”

  “She once played with Elvis Presley.” Jaime repeated a rumor he remembered hearing.

  Meez groaned and shook her head. “Is that chisme still going around?”

  Tomás raised an eyebrow as he looked her up and down. “I admit you look really good for your age.”

  Meez set her pink leopard-spotted shoes in a wide stance and held her arms out in presentation. “I know, right?”

  “Elvis Presley died, like, over forty years ago,” Ángela explained.

  “But the kids at school said . . .” Once again Jaime didn’t get the joke.

  Meez set a hand on Jaime’s shoulder. “I made up that rumor whe
n I started teaching. I looked very young—some kids even thought I was an overgrown eighth grader. So I said I used to play with Elvis so kids would think I was older.”

  “Well, in that case, Ms. Presley, I think we’ll have to ask you to stay for dinner.” Tomás bowed and pointed over to the trailer.

  “Are you a good cook?” she asked with her own raised eyebrow.

  Tomás rolled his eyes. “¡No qué va! But the microwave is.”

  Meez Macálista laughed again. “Sure, why not?”

  “We have food?” Jaime muttered to his brother, and received a sharp poke in the ribs in return.

  Ángela’s eyes suddenly widened as she grabbed his hand and lunged them toward the trailer door. “Jaime, quick.”

  “What’s up?” he asked as Ángela pulled him up the steps and inside.

  “I just realized we’ve got about fifteen seconds to clean this place before she comes in.”

  Jaime looked at the unmade bed, the dishes in the sink, and the dog hair covering the floor. “Why? It’s just Meez Macálista.”

  “You’re so clueless. Take the bedroom. Ten seconds now.”

  When Ángela got into these moods, it was always best to do what she said. Jaime gathered up the dirty shirts, socks, and underwear on the floor and lifted the spring to shove them under the bed. He gave the blanket a good shake and draped it over the pillows. He pushed Tomás’s belt out of sight with a nudge of his foot just as the door opened.

  Ángela leaped into the tiny bathroom and latched the door, leaving a whiff of cleaning products in the kitchen. In ten seconds she had put the dishes away, cleared the table of schoolbooks, and propped two decorative pillows on the bench where they would eat. The dog hair, though, remained at their feet.

  Meez Macálista ducked through the doorway after Tomás, even though she wasn’t that tall. From where she stood, she could see the whole trailer—the kitchen area in front, the bedroom to the right, and the main area to the left. Ángela came out of the bathroom next to the door, trying to hide the cleaning products behind her back.

  “I’m impressed.” Meez smiled.

  “So,” Tomás clapped his hands, “what do you like? Meat, beans, rice, potatoes, salad?”

  Meez shrugged. “I eat everything.”

  “Good, because we don’t allow picky eaters in this house.” Tomás repeated what Abuela always said.

  “Can I help?” Meez asked.

  “There’s not really enough room.” Tomás waved her to sit on the bench and even then the trailer felt cramped. He lifted the counter that covered the stove, which left only the counter over the sink for prep.

  Tomás put a couple of packets of instant rice in a bowl and was about to put it in the microwave when Ángela grabbed it from his hands and added two cubes of chicken bullion to the water.

  There wasn’t any salad—Tomás said that was rabbit food—but in some secret corner he discovered a can of mixed peas, green beans, carrots, and corn that, judging by the dust on the lid, had probably been in the trailer before he moved in. On the stove, which Tomás only used when they wanted burned food, Tomás placed ground beef patties in a frying pan and shook Goya Adobo seasoning over the tops. The smell actually made Jaime’s mouth water. Why had Tomás never made them burgers before?

  “He asked Doña Cici for cooking tips when you said the music teacher was bringing you home,” Ángela whispered in his ear, as if she’d read his mind. “Bet he wishes we weren’t here, ruining his date.”

  “What date?” Jaime asked. Ángela used her chin to point at his brother.

  “Tecate okay?” Tomás offered Meez a beer, which she gladly accepted.

  Jaime still didn’t get it.

  They ate overdone but still tasty burgers without buns, chicken-flavored rice, and canned vegetables. For dessert, Tomás found mystery-flavored lollipops in his truck that he’d gotten free from the bank.

  After dinner, upon Tomás’s request, Meez pulled a clarinet from her car and played. (Ángela insisted, rather forcefully, that Jaime not join her on the recorder. Not that he could have in a million years.) Jaime had never heard her play other than to demo bars of a song during class, but it turned out she should be in an orchestra in a big fancy city. Without sheet music, she could play the melody of Star Wars, “Edelweiss” (a weird slow song Ángela picked), and as a tribute to her “former bandmate” and Vida, “Hound Dog” by Elvis Presley.

  “I better get going,” Meez said after playing six or seven songs. “Unlike some people here, I have to go to school tomorrow.”

  “Thanks for bringing me home, Meez,” Jaime said.

  “Yes, thank you,” Tomás said. “Jaime would have gotten scared if he’d had to sleep in the school.”

  Jaime gave his brother a shove. He’d once slept underneath an abandoned car; the school couldn’t have been nearly as bad.

  Meez tucked the clarinet back in its case and pulled out her phone. “Why don’t you give me your number so the next time Jaime gets into trouble, I know who to blame.”

  “¡Oye!” Jaime complained, and then complained some more when Ángela gave his ribs a hard nudge. Still, the adults exchanged numbers as if they really did expect Jaime to get into trouble again.

  Though he supposed if he did get into trouble, it would be good to have Meez around. Just in case.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “Wake up, bello durmiente,” Tomás called from the trailer door just a meter and a half away. “Come meet our new ranch hands.”

  “I don’t want to meet them,” Jaime grumbled.

  “Just because you’re suspended from school doesn’t mean you have the day off.”

  Suspended. He’d forgotten about that part. He hid his head under the pillow but that didn’t stop his ears from working just fine.

  “I think you’ll like these new people. Una familia mexicana. They’ve been here for generations and they speak Spanish.”

  “A family?” It was worse than he thought. It would harder to move out a family when Don Vicente came back than two random guys going from one job to the next.

  “Mother and son.”

  Jaime bolted up on the bed, dropping the pillow to the ground, and glared at Tomás still at the door. “You didn’t say anything about replacing Doña Cici! After everything, to let her go—”

  Tomás shook his head. “We’re not letting her go. What’re you talking about? Doña Cici isn’t going anywhere.”

  “But you said one of the ranch hands is a Mexican lady. . . .”

  Tomás laughed. A good, strong laugh. One that seemed strange among all the worry. “Women make great cowgirls. Come see for yourself.”

  Jaime supposed he should meet these new people. Just so he’d know they weren’t migra officers if he saw them driving down the track. But it wasn’t like he had to be friends with them or anything.

  Tomás sprinted back to the cow and calf corral, where dust rose in a cloud. As he got closer, Jaime noticed the cloud seemed more like a continuous trail of rising dirt. Two riders on unfamiliar horses worked together to break one calf away from its mom’s side. Once culled from the herd, the person on the rose-colored horse (they moved too fast for Jaime to tell them apart) swung a rope over their head and the calf seemed to run into its own noose. The jerk caused the calf to land on its flank and less than a second later, the rider was next to the calf on the ground with a knee on its neck so it wouldn’t move and the horse kept the rope taut. Within another second, a yellow tag hung from the calf’s ear, the rope and knee were removed from its neck, and the calf went running back to its mami to drink away its sorrows. All in about ten seconds or less. Caught between awestruck and pity for the calf, Jaime had never seen anything like that in his life.

  Leaning on one of the corral’s wooden posts, Meester George nodded his head in greeting. Quinto stood by the horse paddock with a pitchfork and empty wheelbarrow, while Pimiento lifted his tail to add to the multiple horse apple piles.

  “If you ever want to lear
n to be a cowboy, son, these are the people to teach you,” Meester George said as Jaime joined him against the fence.

  Jaime turned back to the couple. Now closer up, he noticed the two riders taking turns roping and tagging the calves, but other than calling out numbers and genders to Tomás, they didn’t appear to communicate. Like a perfect team, they anticipated each other’s moves and worked together seamlessly.

  Once all the calves were tagged, they rode their horses lazily toward the spectators. Jaime had to stop himself from clapping.

  “Mel, Lucas, mi hermano, Jaime,” Tomás introduced him to the riders as he finished entering the information on his clipboard.

  “Hola, soy Mel.” The lady on the rose-colored horse lifted her hat in greeting. She seemed too young to have a son around Tomás’s age. Except for the fact that she wore her onyx-black hair in a ponytail, they looked exactly alike—slightly slanted eyes on oval shaped, tan-brown faces, and narrow straight noses. They even had the same smiles, wide and happy.

  “Lucas.” The man tipped his own hat just like cowboys did in movies.

  As much as Jaime hated to admit it, he did like these new ranch hands. He glanced at the boss man, but they hadn’t been scolded for speaking Spanish, so hopefully neither would he.

  “You guys are incredible. I could never learn to do that.”

  “Sure you could. Why don’t you saddle up a horse and join us while we drive the cows and their calves back to the rest of the herd?” Lucas nodded to the horses in their paddock.

  Jaime wished he could say yes. “I’ve never ridden a horse by myself,” he admitted.

  “When we come back and finish with our chores, we’ll teach you how,” the woman said. “In no time at all, you’ll be cutting calves and herding cows like nobody’s business.”

  They tipped their hats again and with a turn on their horses’ hindquarters, they headed back to the herd. Tomás ran over to open the gate at the far side of the corral. The ranch dogs dashed in blurs of black and white to either side of the gate and crouched in place, ready to prevent any stray cow or calf from veering toward the homestead. Vida watched the others work with interest but preferred to stay with her humans. As far as she was concerned, her job was not letting her family out of her sight, and Jaime loved her for that.