Nana leaned against the table. “Do you want to sleep somewhere else? There are several rooms to choose from. I just thought you’d like to sleep in your mom’s old room.”
My mouth was stuffed with eggs and tortilla, so I just shook my head back and forth. The thought of packing and unpacking again sounded awful. I hated to admit it, but I’d never slept in such a pretty room and kind of liked it. “That room belonged to my mom?”
“Sí. You seem surprised.”
“Just doesn’t seem like her.” I shook my head, thinking about the swirling blue walls. “Why do you think she never brought me here to visit?” I tossed my head back and stuffed the last bit of tortilla into my mouth before the eggs spilled out the end.
Nana turned toward the sink and began to wash the dishes. “You know how busy she is. Sometimes plans stretch so long and thin that they break and you’re left with no plans at all.”
She turned to me and wiped her wet hands across her apron. “But I am just pink and joy that you are here for the entire summer. I have waited a long time to get to know you and show you your culture.”
“You mean tickled pink?”
“No.” Nana batted her hand in the air. “Those clichés are just for unoriginal people. I use words that feel right, not sound right.”
By late afternoon, I had hung star-shaped metal lanterns from the trees, set white plastic chairs against the tables, and hung a lime-colored donkey piñata from the twisted tree in the center of the yard. I draped multicolored cloths across the tables and lit all thirty-five votive candles at the center of each. The smell of tamales, enchiladas, and beans floated through the air. My stomach grumbled.
“Need some help?”
I spun around. A boy about my age stood in the shadows with a multicolored cloth in his hands.
“Uh, no. I think I’ve got it.”
“You’re Izzy, right?”
I folded my arms across my chest. “Yeah. Who are you?”
He grinned as he set the cloth on a nearby table. “I’m Mateo. Your nana told me and pretty much everyone else all about you.”
The guy behind the wall!
Mateo stepped into the light, his toffee brown eyes dancing. “So you’re from California, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s it like there?”
I shrugged. “Sunny.”
He laughed. “That’s it? Just sunny?”
I didn’t know what he wanted me to say. “Yeah. I guess the beach is cool. Have you ever been?”
He shook his head and a wave of dark hair fell over his left eye. “Nope. Not yet. But I plan on it someday. Is there a lot of treasure there?”
“Treasure?”
He reached up with both arms and leaned on one of the overhead branches. “Yeah, you know like legends of buried treasure and stuff.”
“I’ve never heard of any.”
“I was just wondering because I was reading this book on the West and how lots has never been found. We have treasure buried near the village. And since I’m a treasure hunter, I thought I’d check it out.”
I chuckled and peered more closely at him to make sure he wasn’t teasing me. “A treasure hunter?”
“Yeah. I’m gonna be an archaeologist.”
“Have you ever found anything?”
“Not yet, but I will. Got the map and everything.” He dropped his arms from the hanging branch, stuffed a hand into his pocket and pulled out a map.
I reached out to touch it, but he jerked his hand back. “You can’t touch it.”
“Why not?” I asked, twisting a loose thread on the hem of my T-shirt around my pinky.
He raised his hands and shook his head. “It’s just … this legend. It says the map can only be touched by someone who’s brave or the treasure won’t be found. That’s why I always carry it with me.”
What made him so brave? I flipped my hair back and lifted my chin proudly. “I’m brave.”
He smiled and his eyes widened. “You look brave. But I need to be sure.”
Over Mateo’s shoulder, I saw a tall, elegant woman approach the house carrying a plate covered by foil. She wore a white, billowy sundress that hung to her feet. She looked like a distant cloud floating across heaven. Her dark hair hung to her waist, peeking out from under a layer of white streaks, like moonbeams illuminating the midnight sky.
As she opened the back door, she turned slowly and gazed directly at me. My chest grew heavy under the weight of her intense gaze. I couldn’t turn away.
“What are you staring at?” Mateo asked, turning to see.
A gentle wind moved across the yard, sweeping my hair across my eyes and blocking her from my view. I brushed it away quickly. But it was too late.
She was gone.
Mateo’s voice brought me back to the moment. “That’s Socorro.”
“You know her?”
He laughed. “Everyone knows her. She’s the village storyteller.”
“Storyteller?”
“Yeah, you know. Someone who tells stories?” He tilted his head in surprise. “Don’t you have those where you come from?”
I shook my head. “Are her stories good?”
“The best.”
I’d never met a real storyteller.
For a moment, Mateo seemed to be measuring me up. “Tell you what. No one knows how Socorro got those white streaks in her hair. If you ask her, and she tells you, that would prove your bravery and I could show you the map.”
“Why hasn’t anyone ever asked her?”
Mateo leaned close, whispering, “She’s a seer. She sees things no one else can, like the future. And you never ask a seer about herself.”
I stepped back. “Then why would I ask her?”
He shrugged. “You’re not a native villager. She’ll figure you don’t know the rules. And if she does tell you? You’ll have discovered a huge secret.” He reached out his hand. “Is it a deal?”
I broke the thread on my T-shirt hem, loosening the pressure in my pinky, and shook his hand. “It’s a deal.”
6
Good Heart, Solid Soul
A couple of hours later, I could hear the murmurs of a crowd gathering. I didn’t want to be late and make an entrance, like I had to do on all the first days at so many new schools. I pulled on a white cotton skirt and grabbed the yellow halter top next to it. In the mirror, I noticed my bony knees popped out like swollen doorknobs.
Outside, I stood close to the house listening to laughter and music floating in the air. The whole yard smelled of Mexican spices and roses.
Searching the crowd of unfamiliar faces, I caught sight of Mateo. He sat on a stool in the corner of the yard, singing and tapping his guitar between chords. It sounded like slow, Spanish music. Mateo’s raspy voice matched the sadness of the melody and for a moment I thought I had heard the song before. Or maybe it was the sadness that was familiar.
A black wave of hair hung over his left eye and every once in a while he flashed a quick smile at the crowd. When he finished the song, he looked off to one side, nodded, and stood up.
“Hey, everyone. The Castillo mariachi band is almost here. You know my dad, always making an entrance.”
Everyone laughed. He glanced in my direction and I quickly turned away. Was I staring?
“Mija, why are you just standing here alone?” Nana’s small hands wrapped around my right elbow.
She led me to a shabby little woman seated alone under a swaying cottonwood near the edge of the yard. Her shoulders slumped into her chest and the lines in her face looked like the deep, worn crevices in Nana’s front gate.
Nana smiled at me and her friend. “And here are my two guests of honor, Izzy and Gip.”
“Happy birthday,” I said.
Gip grinned up at me and then her mouth parted ever so slightly. “Ah, you have his green eyes, those unusual eyes.” She pulled me closer and studied my face. “Yes, they are as light as his, as is your skin.” Gip smiled. “You remind me so muc
h of your father, dear.”
I felt as though melted chocolate had oozed its way from my heart to my toes, coating me with comfort on its way down.
“I do?”
A silent look passed between Gip and Nana before Nana said, “But her spirit is all her own.”
I eased into the chair next to Gip. “So you knew my dad?”
“Oh yes. Everyone knew your father. He spent many Saturdays working to help me fix up my little adobe home. Set the tile floors himself. And if he wasn’t helping me he was helping someone else.” She smiled at Nana. “He repaired half the walls in your nana’s house. He could make or fix anything.”
My smile reached across the universe and back.
Gip leaned forward as if she was about to say something of great importance. “He was a man of good heart and solid soul. Too good for this world of ours.”
“If only I could have known him.”
Nana stood up and clapped her hands. “It’s piñata time! We should find Maggie.”
“Good idea,” Gip said. “Would you hand me my cane, dear?” She rolled her eyes. “That granddaughter of mine is always up to something.”
I didn’t want her to leave. I wanted her to tell me more about my dad. More of where I came from. I stood up and said, “I can look for her, if you want.”
Gip relaxed back into her chair.
“You can’t miss her. She has mounds of blonde hair, comes to about here,” she tapped my ribcage, “and is six years old.”
“Don’t leave. I’ll be right back.”
As I turned to leave, she wrapped her hand around my wrist. “She won’t be here at the fiesta. She’ll be out there exploring.” She nodded toward the trees beyond the grass. The same place that had swallowed my baseball the day before.
I sprinted through the rose garden and down the hill, all the while calling for a little girl I didn’t even know. I ran fast, to nowhere in particular. It felt good. Just enough light remained to illuminate the path, and the evening breeze swept across my face.
Cupping my hands around my mouth, I called, “Maggie?”
I wasn’t sure which direction to go next, so I stood still for a moment to catch my breath.
The wind whistled through my long hair.
Leaves rustled under light footsteps; I turned to see what was behind me.
7
The Cat-Dog
“Have you seen a little gray doggie?”
A girl with lake-blue eyes stood in front of me. The waning sunlight sliced through the trees, resting on her pale face.
“You must be Maggie.”
“Hey, how do you know my name?”
“I just met Gip. She asked me to find you. I’m Izzy. I’m here with Nana for the summer.”
Hesitation flashed across her squinted eyes before she smiled. “Gip told me about you.”
“Really? Like what?”
She bounced up and down with the rhythm of a hiccup. “I really have to find Frida. Can you help me?”
Mariachi music drifted across the hills, reminding me I wanted to get back to Gip to talk more about my dad.
“Sure. But we need to hurry before the sun sets.”
We finally found Frida stretched on her back under a tree, her gray whiskers reaching toward the sky. I had spent ten minutes looking for Frida the Dog, only to find out that Frida was a cat—a hazy gray cat with a dark patch of fur across the top of her eyes like she had one long eyebrow. Gip later told me they had named her after the famous Mexican artist, Frida Kahlo, who had the same unibrow. She even showed me a picture: “Do you see the likeness?” she’d asked.
Now, Maggie snapped a leash on Frida’s collar, “Bad doggie. No puppy treats for you tonight.”
“Maybe she doesn’t really like puppy treats—I mean, she is a cat.”
Maggie raised her finger to her lips and scowled. “Shhh. She likes being a dog. And she likes puppy treats—’specially if I pat some peanut butter all over ’em. But she won’t get any peanut butter tonight.”
I gave up the argument and walked with Maggie through the calm night air toward the house, surprised to see that Frida the cat-dog strolled along, happy on her leash.
“So you live with Gip?” I asked.
“Yeah.” She pointed to the south. “Just a few trees and rocks that way, right above the river. Gip says it only takes an angel’s wink to get there. Who do you live with?”
“My mom. In California.”
“I used to live with Mommy and Daddy. But then they went to heaven.”
Maggie pointed to the magenta cotton sack hanging on her back. “My mommy made this special back sack for me.”
“Special?”
Maggie plopped onto the ground cross-legged and stroked Frida between the ears. “It’s all knitted pretty with her yarn. She even made the coyote howling at the moon. See?” She twisted around and pointed to the yellow coyote in the middle of her back sack. “Gip told me Mommy’s yarn is special and she could make just anything in this world with it. She had a basket high with bits and pieces. So, I keeped ’em and putted them in here. Sometimes I wonder if she misses her yarn. I’m going to give it back to her.”
I thought about Dad’s baseball and wondered if he missed it too. Then I wondered if he missed me. “How are you going to do that?”
“I’m gonna make a ladder with her yarn. All the way to heaven.” Maggie looked up at me. “Do you believe in ghosts?”
“I’ve never seen one.”
“Well I do. I seened one just last week float right out the window.” She giggled. “It looked like a see-through marshmallow.”
I laughed along with Maggie all the way to the edge of the lawn where the candles cast a dancing yellow light across the party.
“So how do you know it was a marshmallow if it was see through?” I asked, still chuckling.
“’Cause it smelled like one.”
Maggie turned and started skipping back to the fiesta, with Frida trotting alongside. I followed behind, anxious to get back to Gip, and more stories about my dad.
“Ay, Izzy there you are. We have been waiting. Apúrate.” Nana tugged my arm. “Come, you must break open the piñata. The guest of honor always takes the first swing.”
Children jammed together under the cottonwood where the piñata swayed in the breeze as Mr. Castillo gripped the end of the rope with both hands. Nana put the bat in my hand and asked me to bend down so she could tie on the blindfold. I adjusted the red scarf around my head and was glad I couldn’t see all the people watching.
Nana whirled me around slowly three times. I could feel her steady the piñata in front of me and place my hand on it. “It is right in front of you.”
I reached my left hand out to touch the donkey, but Mr. Castillo tugged on the other end of the rope, pulling the piñata out of my reach.
The crowd’s voices hummed softly and the cicadas buzzed in the trees. Leaning forward, I swung the bat through the air in all directions, but the piñata escaped me each time. Finally, I stood motionless and tried to sense where it was. Just as I was about to swing again, I felt a swoosh of air as it jerked upward. Quickly, I pulled the bat back behind my right shoulder and crashed it into the piñata, whacking it so hard it burst open. The crowd’s murmurs became thunderous cheers. Candy clattered about my feet and everyone rushed around me.
When I removed my blindfold, children were shuffling across the grass under my feet to pick up the suckers and bubblegum. A woman in the crowd shouted, “She hits like her papá!”
Who said that? It felt like the crowd was spinning on a carousel and all the faces blurred together.
“Izzy, look at all my candy! You want the gum?” Maggie tugged at my arm. She had a load of candy gathered in her skirt.
“You don’t like gum?” I asked.
She wrinkled her nose. “These are Chiclets from Mexico and I think they taste funny. You have to chew a whole lot to even get a wad big enough for bubbles. Then they don’t blow too good of bubble
s anyway.”
“I’ll have some. Do you know where Gip is?” I asked as I took the Chiclets from her.
“She prob’ly went home. She gets tired real easy.”
“Who takes you home then?”
“I told you I only live an angel’s wink away. I can walk or sometimes Mateo takes me and Frida.”
A familiar voice called out, “Hey, you gonna share that gum?”
I turned around to find Mateo standing in front of me with his hands held out.
I shrugged. “Sure.” I handed him a few.
“Ooh, Izzy thinks you’re cute.” Maggie covered her mouth and laughed.
My words got caught in my throat. I wanted to protest, but before I could even defend myself Mateo piped in.
“And where would you learn something like that?” Mateo asked with a smirk. He seemed to be enjoying himself.
“At school. If a girl thinks a boy is cute, she gives him more than one of her candy or gum or some other thing from her lunch.”
“I really wasn’t thinking that at all. I just gave him what was in my hand.” But what I really wanted to say was I don’t think he’s cute and you’re only six and have no idea what you’re even saying. So quit bugging me!
Maggie shrugged, then ran off to something new that had caught her interest. Frida followed behind, wagging her tail like a real puppy.
Mateo stood in front of me. Close enough to see that he was a hair taller than I was. I pushed my hair behind my ears.
“So did you ask Socorro about her hair?”
“No, I never saw her again.”
He nodded. “She must’ve left early.” Mateo leaned against the tree and smiled. “I could take you to her house if you want. She lives down by the river.”
“Sure.” I tried to sound confident.
A loud voice called from behind me. “There you are, Mateo!” Mrs. Castillo stepped carefully across the grass, trying to avoid getting her heels stuck in the ground. She had on a strapless gold evening dress that looked more like what someone would wear to prom than a backyard party.
Mateo pushed off the tree and stood straight. “Hey, Mom.”
“You need to come help clean up.” She winked at me and smiled. “Hola, Izzy.”
Tortilla Sun Page 3