by Annie Bryant
The boys formed a line and started to work the beat. The girls stood to the side and shadowed the boys’ steps. Delia and Alisa assumed a couple’s position and improved the spin routine that Irma and I had performed. Things started to heat up.
Everybody practiced, then assembled as a group. It happened so naturally. The boys nailed their moves and helped the girls fall into rhythm with them. Ricardo and I had it down in minutes. Piece of cake! I wanted to try it with the music.
Just then Uncle Hector walked in, surprised by all the activity. I signaled him to shush. Ricardo stood at the ready by the CD player.
“Maestro.” I motioned to Ricardo. The music started.
The column of dancers started the procession with a glide. Every fourth step the boys made an intricate heel-toe move and the girls followed with their own cool shimmy. When it came time for the spin, the boys popped their arms over the girls’ heads while the girls circled delicately beneath them.
I made the “cut” signal to Ricardo. The honor court cheered. Uncle Hector clapped wildly.
“¡Muy buen hecho!” he said. “I like it! It has an old-world feel with a modern touch. How did you come up with this so quickly? Three hours ago you were all falling over your own feet!”
“It was Isabel,” Scott informed him. I suddenly felt shy and looked down at my feet. “She totally whipped us into shape!”
“Muchas gracias, Isabel,” Uncle Hector said to me, giving a slight bow. “Your sister will be thrilled. She is so lucky to have an hermanita like you to help out at her quince.”
Now I was beaming from ear to ear. At last I had gotten something right!
The Romance of a Lifetime
That night, after dinner, Mom let me help her with the paper decorations again. She pulled out stacks of paper and cutting tools. She showed me how to fold the thin, colorful tissue and how to cut it with a pair of tiny, sharp scissors and a special knife. My breath caught when I opened up the folded square. I’d made random cuts, but when I laid it out the effect was dazzling.
Then I watched her lay a pattern on top of a stack of tissue paper and use a small chisel and hammer to cut through the whole stack at once. “After we finish, we can ask Mercedes to iron out the creases. The last step is to string them together and, presto, we have another banner of papel picado.”
We worked in silence for a while, then I asked, “Mom, tell me again how you met Dad.” I’d heard it so many times before, but I wanted to hear it again.
She looked down at me and smiled. “You like that story, don’t you? Well, I met Jorge Maximiliano Martinez, your father, three years to the day before we married. We were both in our second year at university, and we met at a big local dance. My friend Nina kept talking about some boy she was supposed to meet there, but as soon as we arrived, she took off to dance with the first person who asked her.
“So I was left alone. I went to get some punch, and that’s when I first saw him, but only from the back. He was helping a little old lady with her drink, and it was obvious she was very flattered by your father’s attention to her. Your dad, he knew it too. I couldn’t hear them, but I could tell by her face that he had her completely bewitched.
“My first thought was, ‘What an egotistical guy.’ So I leaned in to listen to them, and noticed that he smelled terrific. This got me interested. He was going on and on that the girl he was supposed to meet was dancing with somebody else, and so he asked the viejita if she would dance with him. It was funny to see, Isabel. The little old lady did not want to dance at all. She kept reassuring him that there were plenty of young ladies for him to choose from, and that’s when I knew it was time to act.
“I just put myself right between them and coolly asked, ‘Do I hear a request for a dance partner?’ and that was it. He took one look at me and I saw it in his face: He was hit with the lightning bolt of love. Which made me feel like the queen of the universe, by the way. And he was just so handsome, I wanted to melt.”
I loved looking at my mom’s face when she got to this point of the story. She was looking off into the distance, smiling. “He was just about to ask me to dance, too, when who shows up? Nina! Oof, I wanted to strangle her for her bad timing. When he saw her, of course he asked her to dance instead. It was only proper—after all, she was supposed to be his date. Even after he asked her she acted all offended, accusing him of not looking for her when he got there. But I knew the truth. Nina just wanted to cover up for the fact that she hadn’t looked for him! So I spoke up. ‘Is this the boy you said you were going to meet here?’
“He said, ‘You two know each other?’ I ignored his question and said to Nina, ‘Why, he’s been here at the punch bowl since we walked in. You’re the one who went straight to the dance floor as soon as we got here.’ Another song was starting, and sure enough, who walks up right behind her but another boy—saying she had already promised to dance this one with him!
“That left just me and your father. He took my hand, led me to the dance floor, and by the time Nina was able to get away from that other boy, well…we were already dancing, and dancing, and dancing. And before we knew it, the evening was over. Nina had already left, he walked me home, and I know as sure as the sun rises that he would have asked me to marry him that night, except your father wanted to do the right thing and court me. And so he did. For two years! We got married on the third anniversary of our first dance.”
“But how did you know he was the right one, Mom?”
She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. “Hard to say. It’s just a feeling. And also, we just had so much in common.”
“What did you have in common?” I knew the answers to these questions, but I asked anyway, just to keep her talking. She was right—I loved to hear this story!
“Why, accounting, of course. He loved the world of numbers as much as I did. Isabel, I right away saw his kindness, his reliability. He was a man I could depend on. And after I met his parents, that did it. I loved his family! Margarito and Maria, what a pair.”
I sighed. “Did you hear from Papa? Did he get another flight yet?”
She looked quickly down at the piece of paper in her hands. Was that a little trace of a smile I could see? “I would not worry about him too much, mi amor,” she told me. “Your father will move mountains to get here.”
“Mom, you look like a bird who just swallowed a cat,” I joked. “Do you know something you’re not telling us?”
“Mmmm…it seems that the air here in Texas is full of secrets, wouldn’t you say?” she answered mysteriously before going back to her work.
She was right about that one. More secrets than I ever wanted to know!
CHAPTER 12
“Witte” Way Did He Go?
I opened the shutters to find another magnífico Texas Hill Country scene. The sun was far above the horizon, and the silver clouds looked picture-perfect. The singing birds turned out to be robins, hundreds of them, roosting on branches, pecking at the ground, singing their little hearts out. Bluebonnets were starting to sprout. Springtime in Texas!
How could anyone not be happy on a day like this? I sighed as I pushed away the vision of a glass tip flying through the air. I slipped into my favorite jeans, the ones with the patch of a baby penguin sewn on the back pocket, and at record speed laced up my sneakers and threw on a cool purple T-shirt that Katani loaned me before I left. I was all ready to meet this totally kickin’ day.
The kitchen was a beehive of girl activity when I arrived. Elena & Co., Mom, and Aunt Inez were all ready to go shopping—shoe shopping—at the River Walk again. After my last shopping disaster with the quince posse I was ready to take a pass, when a fat little robin perched on the window. It practically chirped, Go to the Blue Turtle Gallery, and tell Xochitl and her dad about the cave drawings.
“Can I go with you? I want to visit Xochitl and her dad.” I asked no one in particular, but looked at my mom when I spoke. Elena started to protest, but thought better of it when my mom answered
, “Of course you can.”
In the car I promised Mom and Aunt Inez that I would only go to the Blue Turtle and that they wouldn’t have to send out a search party for me. On the way to the gallery I passed a laughing group of five girls walking arm in arm. Oh, major BSG attack. You know, the kind of friendship attack when you really want to hang with your BFFs and you can’t. Suddenly I wanted to sit down at Montoya’s Bakery, our hangout, for some hot chocolate with my buds and explain the tight situation I was in. Together I just knew we would figure out what to do!
When I first walked into the Blue Turtle, I didn’t see anyone. “Xochitl,” I called out.
She hurtled in through the big sliding-glass doors. “Isabel! What happened? Did you get grounded for life or what?”
I quickly filled her in, and she seemed relieved that I didn’t get into major trouble because of my previous disappearing act.
I saw a large printer on the desk and suddenly had a brilliant idea. “Xochitl, can I ask a favor? One artist to another.” She nodded. “I took some photos at the family party the other night, and I’d like to blow them up and print them out. You know, for the party decor. I’ll certainly pay for the paper and the ink.”
“Sure, we just had a bunch of supplies delivered yesterday. Can I see the pics?” she asked.
I put the camera in display mode and scrolled through the photos. She especially liked the one where I surprised Elena Maria at the pool. “Oooh, that one? All blown up? That’ll be majorly funny!”
We went through more of the pictures, giggling at most of them. Suddenly the picture of half the cave art came into view. We both stared, not saying a word. Finally Xochitl spoke up.
“What’s that?” she asked with interest.
“Umm, I’m not sure. A funny thing happened to me and my cousin the other night at the ranch. We, uh, we went armadillo hunting and got, uh, held up in the storm. In a cave. Overnight. The horse ran away.” My voice got squeakier as I spilled out details. “My mom doesn’t know about it yet! I really hope we don’t get into major trouble.”
Xochitl stared at the photo, openmouthed. I switched to the last one, the photo of the tools and the woven pouch. Her eyes got wider. “Isabel, do you realize what that is?”
“Not really. But the drawing seemed really old, so I didn’t want to use my flash on it too much. I made these sketches.” I fumbled in my pack for the notebook.
She flipped through it quickly. Once was enough. She snapped it shut. “I can’t believe my eyes,” she said.
“Isabel!” Uh-oh. My mother and Aunt Inez were at the door already. I ran up to them. I didn’t want them to see the drawings.
“I’m not late, am I?”
“Where’s the police?” Xochitl joked. I shot her a look that said Not now! and she disappeared into the office.
“At least we didn’t have to look for you this time,” Aunt Inez said, a little sharply. “In any case, your sister has found the perfect pair of shoes and we are ready to go.”
I looked at my mother, who was looking at Aunt Inez with a weird expression. I wondered if my mom thought Aunt Inez was being crabby.
I reentered the office to get my things. Xochitl had already transferred the photos from the memory card onto the computer. “Leave everything to me, okay?” she said, handing me back the card and returning to the gallery with me.
Xochitl turned to my mother. “You know, my father is taking me to the Witte Museum today. Is it okay for Isabel to join us? We can take her home afterward.”
What did Xochitl have planned? Whatever it was, I wanted in. I spun around. “Please, Mami, it would be so much fun!”
My mother’s face softened. I knew that she loved to see me get all excited. “Is that too much trouble? You’ll have to drive all the way to the ranch to bring her home.”
“No, really,” Xochitl said. “My papa won’t mind.”
“Out of the question,” bossy Aunt Inez said. “Come. We must get going.”
I couldn’t help it. Tears came to my eyes. Xochitl was seriously disappointed too.
“Just a minute, Inez. I think it’s okay,” Mom said. Xochitl and I broke into cheers.
“Esperanza? This is not a good idea. We have much to do to prepare for the quinceañera tomorrow night.”
“Inez,” my mother said. “I think my Isabel needs to have some fun, away from the teenagers.”
“I won’t hear of it. I need her there this afternoon because the stylist is coming to practice the hair and makeup for the honor court.”
“Inez, I said my daughter can go.”
“But Esperanza—”
“Inez!” Mom gave Aunt Inez a fiery stare. A surprised Aunt Inez turned around and walked out of the gallery. “I’ll get the car,” she called over her shoulder.
“Thank you, Mami,” I said.
“Thank you, Mrs. Martinez,” Xochitl said at the same time.
I gave my mom a kiss on the cheek and walked her to the door of the gallery. As soon as she got into the car, I started grilling Xochitl for the details. “So, what’s this place we’re going to? Is it an art museum?”
Xochitl laughed at my excitement. I could tell she was pumped about our adventure too. “It’s more like a natural history museum. But there is some art there. And actually…my dad doesn’t know we’re going yet. We haven’t been in a while, but he loves the Witte, and I’m sure he’ll be happy to take us.”
As we printed the pictures, she told me more and more about the museum. I couldn’t wait!
This Art Rocks
And Xochitl was right, her father was happy to accompany us. I liked being with the two of them because they were always joking with each other. I really wished my dad could be here too, joking and laughing.
The museum was located on the edge of San Antonio’s famous Brackenridge Park. As we walked in, I immediately noticed some fencing that looked like it was made of wood but wasn’t wood.
“That is a type of concrete art called faux bois, French for ‘false wood,’” said Mr. Guerrero. “One of the most famous faux bois artisans was Dionicio Rodriguez, whose work is here in this park and other places all over San Antonio. Today, artisans in San Antonio are still among the most well-known faux bois creators. The masons form concrete to resemble logs, split tree trunks, branches. It’s a European art form that came to San Antonio by way of Mexico City,” Mr. Guerrero continued. “It’s in great demand these days.”
“My aunt has some of that at her ranch. It’s really neat-looking,” I said. “And unlike wood, I’ll bet it lasts forever.”
“Not as long as petrified wood,” Xochitl said. “We’ll get to see a lot of that at the museum.” We exchanged a glance, keeping our secret about the cave art for the perfect moment.
Inside, Xochitl smoothly urged her father on to the exhibit on rock art. My hands got clammy and I almost broke into a sweat as we got closer.
Xochitl rushed me into a room with a long display case. It contained several samples of fiber objects. As I read the descriptions, a cold wave rumbled through me.
The collection of perfectly preserved pouches, nets, baskets, and part of a sandal came from various limestone caves within a very small territory along the Texas–Mexico border known as the Lower Pecos Region. A sign near the center of the exhibit said that the area ranges along the Rio Grande, from the south where it is crossed by the Devil’s River, to the north at the junction with the Pecos River. The people who made the items were primitive, according to archaeologists, but the cave art is among the best in the world, and spectacularly well-preserved. The findings were some of the oldest art in North America. And some of the images were more than four thousand years old!
My knees felt weak. And it wasn’t because of yesterday’s dancing. Four thousand years old…the words were running through my brain like a message on the Red Sox Jumbotron at home.
“Come on, there’s more to see,” Xochitl said, yanking me from my spot. “Get ready. Your eyes are going to pop out of their s
ockets when you see this!”
We entered another room, filled with actual-size reproductions of rock wall art. They were almost identical to what I’d seen in the cave! I started to feel almost the same way I’d felt in the cave too, like the drawings gave off some kind of magical energy rays or something. It just must be the artist in me. I mean, most kids my age wouldn’t get so excited about ancient drawings on a wall.
“Oh, there you girls are,” Mr. Guerrero said. “I thought you’d pulled a disappearing act on me, too.”
“Daddy, you have to see Isabel’s drawings of the stuff she saw in a cave at Los Mitotes,” Xochitl blurted. She immediately regretted it and gave me a sorry look.
I looked up at the ceiling and hoped I would find the right words.
“What are you talking about, mi’ jita?” he asked. Xochitl did not speak. “What’s this about a cave at Los Mitotes?”
“Mr. Guerrero,” I said, stepping forward and handing him my notebook, “I had, um, well, an adventure in this cave. Night before last.” I took a deep breath and told him the whole story about me and Ricardo spending the night in the cave.
“That young Ruiz boy should know better than to take you there. It could have been a dangerous place.”
“Actually, we were lucky we were inside when the rain started. It was pretty intense.” I shivered.
He nodded thoughtfully. “All right, Isabel,” he said. “You two were very lucky things turned out the way they did for you. And I think you probably should tell your mother…perhaps after your sister’s big celebration. But what does that have to do with this?” he asked, indicating the notebook.
I glanced at Xochitl. “Tell him.” She nodded at me to continue.
“Well, lucky for us we had a flashlight, and we found something.”
Mr. Guerrero’s face showed concern. “What was it?” he asked.
“Rock art, daddy. Real rock art!” Xochitl jumped in. “Just like on the walls here!”
“¡Que demonios!” he said. “Rock art? That is incredible! Did you find anything else?”