Alamo Wars

by Ray Villareal

  Mr. Watts, who had been placed in charge of choreographing the fight scenes, called the Texan and the Mexican soldiers to the front. “Remember, each of you has been assigned a soldier to shoot. When you’re shot, just go down naturally. Don’t exaggerate your fall. After all, we’re not handing out Academy Awards for best performances.”

  The kids laughed.

  “Pretend you’re holding rifles and make exploding noises with your mouths as you attack. Next week, Ms. Posey will help you make the rifles you’ll use in the play.” He turned to the music teacher and formed an “okay” signal with his thumb and forefinger. Mr. Gewertz nodded, then turned on the CD player. Trumpet music sounded.

  John Ahne as soldier Number One: “What is it? What’s going on?”

  Eric Walker as soldier Number Two: “They’re playing ‘El Degüello,’ the death song. I guess this is it, old buddy. They’re coming after us for sure. Well, if we don’t make it here, I’ll meet ya at the pearly gates.”

  Billy Ray as William B. Travis thrust his plastic sword in the air. “If this is to be our final battle, let’s show ‘em what Texans are made of. In the name of liberty … attack!”

  Mexican soldiers ran down the aisles of the auditorium holding their arms out in firing positions.

  This was the part Marco had been waiting for, the grand finale, the biggest battle scene in the play. But his heart was no longer in it. He plodded across the stage like a tired circus elephant.

  “Ploosh!”

  “Blam!”

  “Pow! Pow!”

  “¡Viva México !” Felipe shouted.

  “¡Viva Santa Anna!” Orlando ad-libbed. He’d heard a Mexican soldier shout it in a documentary Mrs. Pruitt had shown them about the Alamo, and he thought it sounded cool.

  One by one, Texans and Mexicans dropped to the floor.

  Herb Williams, Allen Gray, John Ahne, Eric Walker, as well as Henry Torres, Alberto Castro, and José Montes fell. Marco halfheartedly got down on one knee and lay down beside them.

  Orlando Chávez aimed his imaginary rifle at Billy Ray Cansler.

  “Pow!”

  But Billy Ray refused to go down.

  “Pow! Pow!”

  Still Billy Ray refused to “die.” He didn’t want to be “killed” by a weenie like Orlando Chávez.

  “Drop to the floor, Billy Ray!” Mr. Watts ordered.

  Billy Ray ignored him. He continued waving his plastic sword in the air, leading his army onward, even though all the Texans were “dead.”

  Finally, Marco reached up and yanked Billy Ray by the waist of his loose trousers. His pants slipped down below his knees.

  “Hey!” Billy Ray instantly dropped to the floor and scrambled around as he tried to pull his pants back up.

  The kids, even the “dead” ones, howled with laughter.

  Marco Díaz sat up. “Well, what do you know? You do wear Pampers after all.”

  Red-faced and wild-eyed, Billy Ray ran behind the curtain and pulled up his pants.

  “Marco!” Mrs. Pruitt screeched. “Go to the office right now! That was completely unacceptable. I’m filling out a referral.”

  “Go ahead,” Marco muttered. “I’ve had it with this. I quit!” He walked out of the auditorium.

  Myra Coonrod’s hand went up. “Mrs. Frymire! Mrs. Frymire! Can I take Marco’s place?”

  The teacher’s face crumpled. She knew exactly how Marco felt. At that moment, she felt like quitting, too.

  Backstage, Billy Ray could hear the kids in the audience still laughing their heads off. I’m gonna get ‘im. He’s gonna pay for this.

  But how? Where?

  His father had warned him about what Mr. Rathburn had said after Izzy got hurt. “That principal’s looking for a reason to kick you out of school, son. Don’t give ‘im one.”

  Billy Ray also recalled his father telling him the reason Mr. Rathburn couldn’t do anything about what happened to Izzy was because it happened away from school. He’s gonna be so sorry he ever decided to mess with me. And I know just how I’ll do it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “We need to make a decision now,” Mrs. Frymire told her colleagues. They had gathered in her science lab to discuss their crisis. Ms. Martínez was not invited to join them. “Mr. Cansler is scheduled to be here on Saturday morning to build the Alamo for us. The question is, are we still putting on the play?”

  Mr. Watts fidgeted with a plastic model of the human body that was sitting on the table. “I don’t see how we can. Izzy’s out, Marco’s out, and Orlando and Felipe told me this morning they don’t want to be in the play either.”

  “Allen’s out, too,” Mrs. Pruitt said. “Now, Billy Ray’s threatening to quit. He says he doesn’t want to get back onstage after the way Marco embarrassed him.”

  Mrs. Frymire sighed. “We don’t have costumes. Izzy’s mother has refused to make them for us. Sandy has quit. And, since we cut out the dance numbers, the dancers are mad. A lot of our girls have dropped out of the choir.”

  “Maybe we should postpone it until later,” Mrs. Pruitt suggested.

  Mr. Watts pulled the liver out of the model, causing the rest of the body parts to fall out. He grinned sheepishly. “Sorry.” He tried to place the pieces back in the body, but he couldn’t get them to fit. “I hate to say I told you so, Doris, but … ” He shrugged. “I told you so. Putting on a play’s not as easy as it looks. I don’t know how Miss Mac managed to do it year after year.”

  Mrs. Frymire gazed out the window. Her eyes welled with tears. This play was supposed to be a tribute to her beloved friend. Instead, it had turned out to be a disaster. Her throat became constricted. I’m sorry, Miss Mac, she thought.

  She turned to her colleagues and said, “I guess we’ll just have to tell Mr. Cansler we’re not doing it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Light snow had fallen throughout the day. Now, the precipitation had picked up, filling the air with large-sized snowflakes.

  Marco Díaz stood on the second story of the building frame and waited. A frosty breeze blew on his face. He hoped his plan would work. If it didn’t, he was dead meat. He saw someone bundled up in a hooded, navy blue coat walking toward the construction site.

  It’s not him, he thought. He wouldn’t dare come by himself.

  A few seconds later, Raquel Flores approached the building. She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Marco, can I talk to you?”

  He scanned the area to make sure no one else was coming. Then he jumped off, landing on the snow-covered sand pile.

  “Where’s Izzy?” she asked.

  Marco dusted off his pants. “He doesn’t want to hang out here anymore. Not since his accident.”

  Raquel gazed up at the towering steel structure. “I don’t blame him.”

  They took a stroll around the construction site. Marco kept glancing behind his shoulder as they walked.

  “How did your boxing match go? Did you win?”

  Marco stuck out his chin. “Look at my face. Does it look like I won?”

  “Sorry.”

  “That’s okay. I’m not sure I really want to be a boxer, after all. Too much work.”

  The chilly February air swirled around them. Raquel bunched the collar of her coat around her neck. “I heard you quit the Alamo program.”

  He shrugged. “I was probably going to get kicked out of it anyway. Doesn’t matter, though. The program’s been cancelled.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “I guess that ought to make you happy.”

  She furrowed her brows. Then a grin spread across her face. “I’ll tell you what made me happy. It was hearing how you pulled Billy Ray’s pants down in front of everybody.” She giggled. “I wish I had been there when it happened.”

  He looked over his shoulder again. “Yeah, it was pretty funny. I guess it was worth the in-house suspension Mr. Rathburn gave me.”

  Her face became solemn. “That’s not fair, Marco. I mean, Billy Ray almost kills Izzy, but Mr. Rathburn does
n’t do anything to him. All you do is embarrass Billy Ray, and you get a suspension.”

  Marco thought he glimpsed movement behind a tree. He kept his eyes focused on that spot for a moment, but he didn’t see anyone.

  Raquel looped her arm around his and leaned against him. “Marco, I’m sorry for the awful things I said to you the other day. Please forgive me.”

  “No, that’s okay. You were right. I am a sellout.”

  “No, you’re not. I was wrong to call you that.” She searched for the right words. She didn’t want to say anything that might cause another blow up. “You were standing up for your country, Marco. You’re an American, and you should be proud of that.” She paused. “But I hope you understand that as proud as you are of being an American, I’m just as proud to be a mexicana.” She swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat. “It’s just that in Mexico, we’re taught that the Texans were the enemy. They were rebels who had no respect for our laws. I know they’re considered great heroes here, but that’s not the way they’re seen in Mexico.” She drew in a deep breath. “But like you said, that’s my truth, not yours.”

  Marco mused over what she said. “I guess sometimes there’s more than one truth.”

  She pressed her cheek on his arm. It felt warm, comforting.

  “I’m going to Izzy’s,” Marco said. “Wanna come?”

  “Sure. It’s freezing out here.”

  “Here, let me warm you up.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close.

  She turned and faced him. Then she reached up, clasped his face in her hands, and kissed him on the lips. She’d never kissed a boy before, so she didn’t know if she was doing it right.

  Marco squeezed her tightly. He closed his eyes as he enjoyed the softness of her lips against his. He had waited a long time for this moment.

  “Enjoying yourself, lover boy?”

  Marco spun around.

  Billy Ray was standing behind him. And as Marco had predicted, Billy Ray had not come alone.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Luther Bowers and Jacob and Joshua Bukowski stood at Billy Ray’s side. So did two eighth-grade boys whose names Marco didn’t know. He’d seen Billy Ray hang out with them from time to time. Though he didn’t want to fight him, Marco realized that standing up to Billy Ray was the only way to end his and Izzy’s problems with him. That was why he had accepted his challenge.

  Billy Ray sneered at him with the confidence of someone who has the advantage of six guys against one. “You been begging for a fight for a long time, Marco.” He spread out his arms. “Well, here I am. Come get some.”

  Raquel scoffed at him. “You sound real tough for a guy who wears girls’ underwear. Everybody saw your panties when Marco pulled your pants down.”

  Billy Ray’s gang snickered.

  He whipped around and glowered at them. Then he aimed a finger at her. “You’d better shut up, Raquel. I don’t like to hit girls, but …”

  “Leave her alone!” Marco growled.

  Billy Ray stared defiantly at him. “What are you gonna do about it, punk?”

  Marco didn’t respond. Instead, he took a step back.

  With a satisfied smirk on his face, Billy Ray said, “That’s what I thought.” He inched closer, but Marco continued to back away. “Come on, punk,” Billy Ray taunted. He motioned for Marco to come to him. “Show your girlfriend what a tough guy you are.”

  Marco continued walking backwards. Then as Billy Ray closed in, he took off running.

  Billy Ray chortled. “Look at him. He’s a coward. He says he’s a Golden Gloves boxer, but he probably got beaten up by a five-year-old girl.”

  Billy Ray’s gang gave chase. Marco headed for the steel structure. Before they could catch him, he shinnied up to the second floor.

  “Leave him alone!” Raquel cried. “It’s not fair. It’s six against one!”

  Billy Ray laughed. “Yeah, six against one. Hey, just like it was at the Alamo. Well, now it’s our turn. Remember the Alamo!”

  He scooped a handful of snow and shaped it into a ball. I’ll knock the coward down just like I did to Izzy.

  Whzzz!

  The snowball sailed about three feet away from Marco.

  Luther, the Bukowski brothers, and the two eighth graders followed Billy Ray’s lead.

  Whzzz!Whzzz!Whzzz!Whzzz!Whzzz!

  “Remember the Alamo!” they shouted.

  They missed each time. Marco ducked behind a girder to avoid getting hit. He gathered some snow from the beam he was standing on and made a large ball.

  Whzzz, whap!

  Bingo! He tagged Billy Ray on the face.

  Whzzz!Whzzz!Whzzz!

  Marco dodged each snowball thrown at him.

  Whzzz, whap!Whzzz, whap!Whzzz, whap!

  Marco connected with almost every shot. Out in the open, with nothing to hide behind, Billy Ray and his gang were easy targets.

  Whzzz, whap!Whzzz, whap!Whzzz, whap!

  The snowballs didn’t hurt, but Billy Ray was furious that he was getting pelted each time.

  “Knock ‘im down from there!” he hollered, pointing an angry finger up at Marco. “Remember the Alamo!”

  The Bukowskis and Luther Bowers started to climb up the building structure. “Remember the Alamo!”

  The two eighth graders, not accustomed to being given orders by a seventh grader, stood back and watched.

  Marco disappeared behind a girder. He came back out, dragging a five-gallon plastic container. It was filled with slushy, cold water.

  “Remember the Alamo!” Billy Ray’s gang shouted.

  “Remember who won!” Marco yelled back. He poured the freezing water on Luther and the Bukowskis.

  Splash!

  Billy Ray’s gang spluttered. They shivered. They shook. But they clung to the girder like cats stuck on a tree. Marco dragged out a second plastic container.

  Splash!

  Drenched with the unforgiving frigid coldness of the water, Luther and the Bukowskis finally let go of the girder. They fell, hitting the snowy ground with a thud.

  Raquel hooted with laughter. So did Billy Ray’s eighth-grade friends.

  “I … I … I’m freezing!” Luther wailed, rubbing his arms.

  “I … It’s c … cold!” Joshua and Jacob Bukowski cried. Their teeth chattered like castanets.

  Marco brought out a third plastic container. When Billy Ray’s gang saw it, their eyes widened with fear. They scrammed out of the construction site, abandoning their leader. They were desperate to get out of their soaking wet clothes.

  The eighth graders, deciding the fight was over, left, too.

  “Hey! Come back here!” Billy Ray hollered. But no one listened to him.

  Marco climbed down from the building.

  The blood drained from Billy Ray’s face. He held his hands up in surrender and backed away. “I … I don’t want to fight you, Marco.”

  “Funny, you sure did a minute ago,” Marco said.

  “You’re not so tough now, are you?” Raquel said scornfully.

  Marco growled at Billy Ray. “I told you to leave Izzy alone. But you wouldn’t listen, would you?”

  Billy Ray’s face became ashen. His legs trembled uncontrollably. His heart pounded wildly in his chest. “Wh … what are you g … gonna do?”

  Marco balled his hand into a fist and shoved it against Billy Ray’s chin. “Now, listen, and listen good. I’m going to warn you one more time. Stay away from my friends, and stay away from me. Or else.”

  Billy Ray bobbed his head up and down.

  “Good. Now get out of here.”

  Billy Ray didn’t wait to be told twice. He scurried out of the construction site as fast as the snow- and ice-covered ground would let him.

  After he was gone, Raquel threw her arms around Marco’s neck and declared, “That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. You’re my hero!”

  Marco smiled. He pulled her close. “Now, let’s see. Where were we?”

 
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  “Don’t open the door!” Marco and Raquel heard Blanca scream from inside the house. They looked at each other, puzzled. Marco tried the doorbell again.

  This time Izzy opened the door and let them in.

  “Shut the door! Shut the door! Don’t let the cabbit get out!”

  Blanca was frenzied. She chased the white, terrified creature around the living room. It flew onto the sofa. Then it leaped on an end table. Blanca tried to reach for it, but the animal hopped off, sending the end table lamp crashing to the floor. The animal scampered out of the living room and disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Doggone it, Blanca!” Izzy hollered. “I told you to leave that nasty cat alone. You’d better get rid of it before it tears the whole house apart!”

  Ignoring her brother, Blanca raced to the kitchen.

  They could hear chairs falling as Blanca desperately tried to grab her prize.

  “Blancaaa!”

  “Hey,” Marco said in a mild voice, “don’t be so mean to your little sister.”

  “Are you kidding? She’s going to destroy the house trying to catch that cat!”

  “No, she won’t. And try not to call it a cat. Blanca thinks it’s a cabbit, so let her think that.”

  Izzy wrinkled his brows. Once again, Marco the hero was coming to the rescue. Izzy had seen him fight in the ring. Marco battered his opponents with vicious punches. Yet, he could be such a gentleman outside the ring.

  A gentleman. That’s what Izzy was lacking. How to be a gentleman. He admired Marco and often wished he could be more like him. He used to think he wanted to possess Marco’s fighting skills. He still did. But he realized what he needed more than that was how to be a gentleman. A gentle man.

  Izzy calmed himself down. Then he said, “Blanca? Come here. I want to talk to you about the … cabbit.”

  Blanca poked her head from the kitchen. “Yeah?”

  “If you want to catch the cabbit, why don’t you pour some milk in a bowl and set it on the floor. See if it’ll go to it?”

  Blanca’s face brightened. “Yeah. Good idea. And I’ll lay out a carrot, too, in case he’d rather have that.” She served the milk and the carrot and waited. After a little while, the long-eared animal came out from its hiding place under the breakfast table. It cautiously made its way toward the bowl. While it sipped the milk, Blanca stroked its back.