Where I Belong

by Marcia Argueta Mickelson

  “I won’t mention your name. I’ll speak in more general terms about hateful letters being put in lockers. How it will not be tolerated. I’m going to tell the teachers to keep an eye out during passing periods too. If I find any students being a party to this, it will call for immediate suspension. There will be no warnings.”

  He seems so sincere. I wish his good intentions could make the drumming of my heart stop, soothe the tears that want to come. But he can’t tell me who did this, can’t guarantee it won’t happen again.

  “I’m going to call your mother to let her know what happened.” Dr. Gomez reaches for the phone on his desk.

  “Could you please ask her to come and get me? I don’t want to stay here right now.”

  Charlie sits up straighter in his seat. “I can take her home. I don’t mind.”

  “Thank you, Charlie,” Dr. Gomez says, “but you should go back to class. If Millie goes home, I’ll need her mom to sign her out.” Mr. Gomez picks up the phone and starts to dial.

  Charlie stands up and walks slowly to the door, where he hesitates again. While Dr. Gomez is talking to my mom, I get up and go over to him.

  “Thanks for helping out,” I say, my eyes on my purple flip-flops next to his black Vans.

  “No problem.” He pauses, and I drag my eyes off the floor and look somewhere near his direction. “I hope you know I’m your friend. I’m here anytime you need me.”

  I nod and finally meet his gaze. “Thanks, Charlie.”

  “Well . . . I guess I’d better get to class.”

  “Sorry to make you late,” I say.

  “I’m sure they’ll give me a pass,” he says, pointing to the reception desk.

  I’m sure they will too because he’s Charlie Wheeler, and everyone likes Charlie Wheeler.

  As Charlie leaves, Dr. Gomez lowers the phone from his ear and tells me, “Your mother says she’ll come by and pick you up, but she wants me to ask if you’re sure you don’t want to stay.”

  I know Mami wants me to stay, but this time, I can’t be as brave as she is, as brave as she expects me to be. This time, I want my mami to pick me up and take me home, so I can feel safe again.

  Chapter Nine

  Mami brings me home and stays with me until it’s time for her to go pick up Caroline Wheeler. My siblings are still at school, so I’m home alone, which is a rare occurrence. I try to think about anything besides the note, besides the Instagram comments, but they are all I can think of.

  Part of me is grateful for Charlie’s presence and his helpful attitude, but most of me is mortified that he witnessed my humiliation. I wonder how I’ll face going back to school. Someone in my school wrote that note, and I don’t know who it was. The Instagram comments were written by nameless, faceless trolls who might live several states away, but the note was written by someone I might see every day. The thought sends chills up my back, and that feeling only gets worse when the phone rings.

  I jump at the sound and consider ignoring it, but it might be Mami, so I pull myself off the couch and go into the kitchen. I don’t recognize the number on the caller ID but decide to pick up anyway. “Hello.”

  “Hi. I’m looking to speak to the parent of Milagros Vargas,” says a man’s voice.

  Uneasiness spreads through my entire body. “This is Milagros Vargas. My mom can’t come to the phone. Do you need something?”

  The voice sounds soft but professional. “Hi, Milagros. My name is Thomas Dell. I’m a reporter for Texas Monthly magazine. I’ve worked with Oscar Zambrano before. You know Oscar, right?”

  “Yes,” I say as the fear starts to wash away.

  “Well, we’re very interested in doing a piece on you and your life here in America. I think Texas readers would be interested in reading your story.”

  I take the phone with me toward the kitchen table and sink down into one of the chairs. “Thank you, Mr. Dell, but I don’t think I’m going to do any more stories. I’d really like all of this to just die down.”

  “Well, I hope you’ll reconsider, Milagros. I’d be happy to come down there, do the interview, do a photo shoot. We can come anytime.”

  “Sorry, no.”

  “You know what? I’m going to send you some copies of our back issues. So you can take a look at our magazine and see what you think. I’ll include my contact information in case you change your mind. How’s that sound?”

  “That’s okay, but I won’t change my mind.”

  “All right, Milagros. Thank you for your time. I’ll send these out today.”

  I wait for him to ask for my address, but he doesn’t. He says goodbye and I do too. I suppose he already has my address. He could get it from wherever he found my phone number. A shiver spreads through my body as I realize that anyone, anywhere could find me.

  ≈

  I wake up covered in sweat and unable to catch my breath.

  I was having the dream again. About Papi dying. I’ve had it more times than I care to count in the past three years.

  I hop off my bed and grab my phone to check the time. Two in the morning. At least it’s Saturday—well, Sunday, now—so if I can’t get back to sleep, I won’t have to worry about dragging through school in a few hours.

  As I try to shift to a more comfortable position, I hear a lapping sound, like water, just outside the bedroom window. I move toward the window to peer outside. That’s when I hear the shrill sound of our smoke alarm blaring from the hallway.

  Sele wakes up with a gasp. “What is that?”

  I pull the drapes back from our window and see orange flames dancing on our windowsill. I gasp and pull Sele toward the door.

  Mami is in the small hallway yelling in Spanish for us to wake up. She spots Sele and me and pushes us down the hall toward the living room. She goes into Javi and Ceci’s room and I hear her screaming at them.

  I shove my phone toward Sele. “Go outside and call 911. I’ll help Mami get the kids out.”

  Sele stands frozen in place, fear blazing from her eyes.

  “Go!” I say, and she turns and bolts out the door.

  I run into the bedroom where Mami is picking Ceci up from her bed. Javi is pulling himself upright, but he’s completely disoriented. I run over and grab his arm. “Come on, Javi. We have to go!”

  He rubs his eyes, but stands up as I pull on his arm. Together, we run into the hallway as Mami follows us with Ceci in her arms.

  The living room has started to fill with flames, and we just manage to escape out the front door as the entryway is enveloped.

  Sele is on the sidewalk across the street, in front of Mr. Obregon’s house, talking unsteadily into my cell phone. Mr. Obregon has come outside and is on his cell phone too. The neighbors to our left, the Lunas, are standing on their front walk. Mr. Luna hurries to the side of his house, grabs a garden hose, turns it on, and starts to spray the flames that have engulfed the entire right side of our house.

  Mami grabs my arm and watches as the flames increase in size. I hear sirens in the background, their volume swelling as the fire trucks draw nearer. Javi has pressed his head against my stomach, and Sele—finished with her 911 call—is crying in her hands, unable to even look up. Mami’s holding Ceci, whose face is buried in Mami’s neck. We all huddle together, unable to say anything.

  More neighbors have started to emerge from their homes—in pajamas, bathrobes, tank tops. People begin surrounding us just as the fire trucks pull up. Justin’s family is pretty much the only one on the block that hasn’t ventured out, and in the back of my mind I feel a twinge of relief that we won’t have to deal with that kid’s obnoxiousness right now.

  Mami stares at our home. Her eyes are focused, unblinking, as if she has to keep on looking to make it real. The firefighters order Mr. Luna and his garden hose away as they begin spraying the flames, which have engulfed even more of the house and are even billowing out of a hole that has suddenly appeared in our roof.

  I feel the heat reach across the street, and I move back,
pulling Javi with me. Mr. Obregon motions for me to move onto his doorstep, which I do. Mrs. Rosario, who lives next door to Mr. Obregon, comes out in her housedress and puts her arms around Mami, sobbing and praying at the same time.

  A police officer who arrived at the same time as the fire truck approaches Mami and Mrs. Rosario. Mrs. Rosario releases Mami but stays beside her as the police officer talks to Mami. I can’t hear what they’re saying. Mami is still carrying Ceci, who clings to her stuffed bear, Osito. I wonder if that is the only thing that will be left of our home.

  About half an hour later, the firefighters are still spraying the house. The paramedics have checked us all out and confirmed that none of us sustained any injuries. Most of our neighbors are out on their lawns, watching, and I feel like we’re all cast members in a horribly sad show. I look down at my short cotton pajama shorts and nightshirt. These clothes, along with the cell phone Sele returned, might be all I have left in the world. Every other item I owned is now in flames, destroyed, turning to wet ashes.

  Mr. Rosario takes a now-sleeping Ceci from Mami’s arms. He and his wife walk over to the three of us, who are sitting on Mr. Obregon’s doorstep.

  “Come here, Javi,” Mrs. Rosario says. “Your mami wants you to come with us, lie down for a while.”

  Javi keeps still, as if he hasn’t heard her. He digs his head deeper into my stomach and squeezes me around the waist.

  Sele puts her hands on Javi’s shoulders. “Come on, Javi. I’ll go with you.”

  Javi lets Sele pry his arms from around me, and he quickly grabs her, burying his head against her. He won’t allow his eyes to stray to the still-burning house.

  “I’ll stay with Mami,” I tell Sele, who nods. Mr. and Mrs. Rosario take the three of them to the small yellow house next to Mr. Obregon’s.

  Flames are still flickering from the windows and the rooftop. My eyes move from the water hoses aimed at the house to the police officer who’s pointing out something to Mami. He shines his flashlight on the sidewalk just outside our house. I see Mami nodding. I inch closer to them, hoping to hear what he’s saying, but the sounds of the hoses, the fire, and the bystanders drown out his voice.

  I take a step closer to the street, stretching out my neck to see what he’s shining his flashlight on.

  Black graffiti burns my eyes. They are familiar words. And I can no longer fold them up to get them out of my mind.

  Go back to Mexico.

  I can’t tear my eyes away. Mami turns around, sees me, and excuses herself from the police officer.

  “Mija,” she says and comes over to me, envelops me in her strong arms. I remember when I was a little girl and she would hold me by her side or on her knee.

  I bury my face in her shoulder and forget every time she has told me not to cry. She rubs my hair and keeps whispering in my ear. “Mija. Mi hija. Esta bien, mi hija.”

  Nada esta bien, I want to whisper back. Nothing is okay; nothing will ever be okay. I am the cause of this, and it will follow me around for the rest of my life. There is no escaping it now; the proof will be in the heaps of ashes that will appear beside those words by tomorrow.

  Mami keeps rubbing my back, my hair, never once telling me to stop crying.

  The police officer is only a few feet away, and I can tell he’s giving us a minute, but I know he’s not finished here. I pull slowly away from Mami and wipe my eyes. “Estoy bien,” I tell her. I’m okay. I point to the officer, letting her know it’s okay to go back to talking to him.

  She eyes me doubtfully for a moment before turning back to him. The firefighters are still at work. The fire has died down a bit; it’s not a roaring surge of flames seeping from the roof anymore. In fact, there isn’t much of a roof left, and the whole right side has collapsed inward. It doesn’t look like anything can be salvaged. Whatever didn’t burn is certainly covered with smoke or water.

  I pull my phone out of my pajama shorts and text Chloe that I need her.

  I sit down on Mr. Obregon’s doorstep. He’s on his lawn talking to one of the neighbors. Mrs. Rosario comes down the sidewalk toward me, carrying two water bottles. She gives one to my mother and the other one to me. “Vamos, mija,” she says to me, signaling toward her house, but I just shake my head.

  A few minutes later, Chloe and her dad come racing around the corner. The image of her running in her cutoff sweatpants and tank top immediately provokes fresh tears. Her face is frantic. I get up and run the half block to meet them.

  “Millie!” she yells. “I heard the sirens. I didn’t know they were for you until you texted me. What happened?” She turns toward my house, and her hand shoots up to cover her mouth.

  Chloe’s dad is a few feet behind her, and when he reaches us, he pulls me in for a hug. “Oh, Millie. Is your family okay? Did everyone make it out?”

  “Yes, everyone’s fine. It’s just the house,” I say.

  “How’s your mom? Where is she?”

  I point over to her. “She’s been talking to the police for a while. It doesn’t look like it was an accident.” Finally verbalizing this reality brings on more tears.

  Someone targeted us—targeted me—for the same reason someone put that note in my locker. It could’ve been anyone who watched Michael Winter’s video or Mr. Zambrano’s interview with Sebastian Smith. Anyone who hates immigrants and decided to take it out on one immigrant who’s been getting attention.

  Chloe puts her arms around me; her dad pats my shoulder and walks off to where Mami is standing.

  Chloe pulls me in close. “Mil, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe this.”

  I haven’t even told her the worst part. I don’t have the words, so I grab her arm and walk her down the sidewalk. The darkened street and the lack of blazing flames make it hard to see, but Chloe manages to make out what’s written on the sidewalk.

  “That’s sick.” She shakes her head. “Do they know who it was?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

  “Millie!” I look up and see Mrs. Rosario motioning to me from her doorstep. “Come inside, mija. You shouldn’t be out here. The smoke is not good for you.” She presses a folded white handkerchief to her mouth.

  I nod, and Chloe and I follow Mrs. Rosario inside her house. The lights are dimmed in the living room. Ceci is asleep on the loveseat with an orange crocheted blanket covering her, Osito secured under her arm. Sele is on the couch, shaking with silent sobs, and Javi is lying with his head on her lap. I can’t tell if he’s asleep. I walk over to Sele and sink onto the floor next to her, resting my head against her legs. Chloe sits down beside me.

  A few minutes later, Mami walks in with Chloe’s dad and Mr. Rosario. Sele, Javi, and I jump up and run to Mami, who takes us all in her arms. She holds us tightly for what seems like a long time, and none of us moves away.

  “You stay here tonight, Sandra,” Mrs. Rosario says.

  “Or you can stay with us,” Chloe’s dad offers.

  “Gracias. Ceci is asleep already, so I think we can just stay here.”

  Chloe grabs my hand. “You can come with us if you want, Mil.”

  I consider this and almost say yes. “Thanks, but I think we’d better all stay together. There’s not much left of the night anyway.”

  Chloe gives me a big hug, and she and her father leave. Mrs. Rosario tells Sele and me to share the spare bedroom. Mami says she’ll stay in the living room with Javi and Ceci. Ceci hasn’t woken at all, and Javi snuggles onto Mami’s lap on the couch.

  Sele and I crawl into the queen-size bed in the Rosarios’ tiny guest room. Neither of us can stop crying. Sele grabs my hand and squeezes as we lie under the white crochet blanket.

  I don’t remember dozing off, but when I wake up, sunlight is streaming through the white lace curtains. Sele is asleep, so I quietly reach for my phone on the floor to check the time. It’s seven. I tiptoe out of the room and find Mami sitting at the kitchen table. Mrs. Rosario is at the stove, and something is sizzling in a pan.

&
nbsp; “Mami. You okay?” I ask.

  “Si, mija. I’m just waiting for the insurance company to call me back.” She forces a smile, but all I can see is the worry that frames her eyes.

  Mrs. Rosario comes over with a pot of coffee and refills Mami’s cup. “Do you want some coffee, Millie?”

  “Oh, no gracias, Mrs. Rosario.”

  Mrs. Rosario pours herself a cup and sits down next to Mami. “Well, I hope you kids are hungry. I made bacon, pancakes, frijoles, chorizo con huevos, and tortillas.” This doesn’t surprise me, considering the six pounds of pan de polvo cookies she gives us each Christmas.

  I smile at Mrs. Rosario despite the overwhelming sorrow in my heart. “Gracias. It sounds good.”

  As the morning progresses, Mami spends a lot of time on the phone with the insurance company and the police department. Javi, Ceci, and Sele eat most of what Mrs. Rosario cooked, which makes her extremely happy. I eat a piece of bacon and some frijoles. I hear Mami on the phone with Dr. Wheeler, explaining what happened and then thanking her several times—even more than usual.

  Soon neighbors start dropping by to check on us. Chloe brings over two spare outfits, one for me and one for Sele, which don’t fit either of us very well but are an improvement over our sooty, sweat-soaked pajamas. Meanwhile, Mami meets with the insurance adjuster and the fire marshal. She tells me that they have no leads yet on who set the fire, but it’s pretty clear that it was arson. The message on the sidewalk makes it a good candidate for an official hate crime, too. The police have opened an investigation, but I wonder if there is any way they will figure out who did this to us.

  In the afternoon Mami gathers us all in the Rosarios’ living room. “We’re going to need somewhere to stay until I can find us a new place to live,” she says in a quiet, wavery voice that worries me.

  “Can’t we stay here with the Rosarios?” asks Sele.

  “They’ve offered, but there isn’t much room, and someone else has offered too.”

  “Who?” I ask. I know Chloe’s family has an extra bedroom, the one her older sisters used to share, but that also probably won’t be enough space for all of us.