I sigh and cross my arms. “I guess.”
“Ay, niño, bad day?” Abuela asks, pulling Mom’s scrubs top from her sewing machine and snipping a long thread with her scissors.
“Yeah. But whatever, it doesn’t matter. I’ll probably have to just start over somewhere else soon anyway after Dad gets posted in Alaska or something.”
“Qué dramático. So pessimistic. It’s not that bad, I’m sure.” Abuela tries to reach for my hand, but I pull it away. She stands and grabs a small package from the stack of mail behind her. Handing it to me, she says, “Maybe this will make you feel better.”
I take the package and turn it over in my hands. The all-caps writing makes my heart thud in my chest.
Dad.
His address is still the same: Bagram Air Base, Afghanistan. He hasn’t moved.
I rip open the package and hold a book in my hands. It’s dusty, and the cover is wrinkled. A smile starts to creep across my lips.
Dad and I started a tradition the last time he was deployed. We picked out a book, The House on Mango Street, mostly because Mom always went on and on about how it was her favorite book when she was growing up. Dad took it with him overseas and read it, making notes in the margins about things he liked. He wrote questions to me about what was happening. Then he mailed the book back so I could read it. I wrote answers to his questions and made my own observations. I even drew illustrations on some of the pages. Then I sent it back to him so he could read it again, see my answers and drawings, and answer my questions. We must’ve traded that book five times before he finally came home, each time writing in it more and more.
I flip through the pages of this book, Sunrise over Fallujah by Walter Dean Myers, and stop the first time I see Dad’s handwriting. I press my fingers over his words, closing my eyes and imagining him sitting in his rack, reading. I flip through each page, looking for his handwriting, scanning for evidence of the life he lives when he’s away from us. Dad says he has lots of time to read since the unofficial motto of the Army is “Hurry up and wait.” There are long stretches of downtime, with short bursts of … activity.
I flip to another page and notice a smear on it. Is it coffee? Dirt?
Blood?
I snap the book shut and sigh. Even things that are supposed to bring Dad and me closer together make me worry more. Miss him more.
I drop the book in my lap.
Abuela clicks her tongue. “I thought that would make you feel better. Maybe not?”
I shake my head. All the book did was remind me of how far away Dad is, how I’m by myself. “You wouldn’t understand. You don’t know what it’s like to have to start over. To have to be alone.”
Abuela raises her eyebrows at me and pushes Mom’s scrubs to the side. Her lips press into a hard line. She takes a deep breath.
“En serio, niño? I know nothing? I don’t understand?” Her voice quivers, and her volume rises. I sit up straighter in my chair.
“My parents put me on a plane by myself when I was fourteen years old. Just two years older than you. I knew no one. I didn’t speak English. I was leaving the only home, the only family, I had ever known. Don’t you sit there and tell me I don’t understand what it’s like to start over.”
My palms sweat, and I rub them on my jeans. “I’m sorry, Buela.”
I should’ve known better than to make a comment like that to her. My bisabuelos sent Abuela to Florida all alone to escape Castro, the dictator of Cuba. She lived by herself for three years in Miami with two foster families she’d never even met before her parents were finally able to leave Cuba and join her.
Abuela gives me a sympathetic smile. She reaches for my hand again, and this time, I let her take it. She runs her thumb over my knuckles. “Niño, I know this is difficult. But we’ll make it through. We all will. You, me, your mami.” She pauses and swallows. “Your papi.”
I nod, looking at Abuela’s hand. I notice three long scratches running the length of her forearm. The red angry lines match the jagged marks Talib and I saw on the tree in the woods.
Abuela’s eyes dart to her arm, and she pulls the sleeve of her blouse down to her wrist. She pats my hand and says, “Todo va bien, niño. It’ll all be okay.”
She heads off to the kitchen, but I stay in my chair, pulling on the hem of my shirt until a long thread completely unravels from the fabric in a tangled web. I wrap the thread tightly around my finger over and over until it cuts off my circulation and turns the tip of my finger red. The sharp pain begs me to unwind the thread, but I don’t, grateful for relief from the ache in my heart.
CHAPTER 9
I CLUTCH THE BOOK FROM DAD as I climb the stairs up to my room. Pushing the door open, I scan my room for the coyote.
He’s sitting on my bed, staring out the window, a pile of half-chewed socks scattered around him.
“Hey,” I say, picking up the socks. They’re soaked with spit. “I helped you out. What’s the deal?”
The coyote turns his head and blinks at me with his black eyes. “I got bored. Spent all day watching delicious rabbits and mice run through your backyard, and I had nothing to do.”
“Well, thanks a lot.” I grab my trash can and stuff the wet, holey socks into it. “You got a name?”
He scratches the blanket on my bed with his paw. “Rabbits call me brave. Squirrels call me mighty. Mice call me powerful.”
“I call you liar,” I mumble. The coyote doesn’t hear me and rolls onto his back.
“You could call me any of those. Hey, what’s the Spanish word for brave?”
“Valiente,” I tell him. “But that’s a lot. Maybe Val?”
“Works for me,” Val says, licking his paw. “You know, I saw your grandma, too.”
He hops down from my bed and trots gingerly over to me, not putting weight on his back leg.
“You’re lucky she didn’t see you. We would’ve had coyote roast for dinner.” I set Dad’s book on top of my dresser and place his compass next to it.
Val sits down on the carpet and licks his front paw. “Nah. She was in the woods all day.”
“What?”
“In the woods. Not a smart choice, if you ask me.” Val pauses his grooming and looks at me. “That’s where the witch is.”
The mystery in the woods is just the distraction I need from my horrible day.
“Okay, I need to know about this witch. I saved you from Brandon’s trap. Now you get to return the favor.”
Val huffs and rolls over to his back. “That’s not very charitable of you. People should do good things without expecting anything in return.”
“Sure. Thanks for the lesson. Now tell me about this witch.”
He yawns, curling his tongue. “She’s terrible. Just terrible. She chased me past the quarry. I didn’t know wolverines could run so fast.”
“So the witch is a wolverine?” I ask. That’s an animal that would make anyone nervous in the woods. And it has no business being in Texas. Maybe Talib has good reason to be scared.
Scratching behind his ear with his uninjured back leg, Val says, “Yep. What I wouldn’t give for opposable thumbs so I could throw rocks. One good smack on the nose and that witch wouldn’t bother me anymore. Oh, and with thumbs, I could wring little bunnies’ necks. That would be wonderful.”
I shake my head and sit down on my bed. “Enough with the thumbs. Tell me more about the witch. Why was she chasing you?”
Val pauses and thinks. “Well, other than I’m absolutely delicious, she probably wanted my power.”
“Your power? What kind of power do you have?” I pull out my sketchbook and turn to a clean page.
Val narrows his eyes at me. “My fabulousness isn’t immediately apparent to you?”
I roll my eyes. I write witch at the top of my sketchbook page and start drawing a wolverine underneath. I picture a long dark brown animal, bigger than a dog but smaller than a bear. Long, sharp claws erupt from its paws as knifepoint teeth jut from its lips. I shudder.
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“If she bites me, she gets a coyote’s power.”
I shrug. “So she can kill small dogs and break into chicken coops.”
Val snaps at my foot dangling from the bed. “No, so she can have super-sharp hearing, smell, and sight.” He stares at me with beady black eyes. “I can see through your clothes right now.”
I throw a pillow at him. “No, you can’t.”
I scrawl wants other animals’ powers in my sketchbook before slamming it shut.
That night, I dream of a ferocious wolverine prowling through the woods, snarling at Talib’s lost dog as saliva drips from its fangs. The wolverine raises its arm, covered in matted brown fur, claws glistening in the moonlight as George cowers below, ready to be sliced to ribbons.
I wake up covered in sweat, my heart pounding in my ears.
It’s still better than the dreams I usually have.
* * *
“Nestor! Niño!” I hear Abuela call from downstairs. “You have visitors!”
“Ya vengo!” I shout downstairs to let Abuela know I’m coming.
Val slept on my bed last night. We took turns kicking each other and tugging at the blankets. I know I need to get him out of my house. It’s only a matter of time before Abuela goes into my room to get my laundry and her screams knock the entire house down.
I pull a duffel bag from the top shelf in my closet, and an old notebook drops to the floor. Flipping through the pages, I see sloppy drawings of animals with notes in the margins. The first page says, Raúl Lopez’s Animal Encyclopedia. A smile creeps across my lips, but I shake my head. First things first.
Unzipping the duffel bag, I tell Val, “Look, you need to get out of here. Your leg is well enough, and my abuela will skin you alive if she finds you.”
I dump the dart guns out of the bag and onto the floor of my closet and motion for him to jump in.
“That doesn’t look very comfortable,” he huffs, sniffing the edge of the bag.
“Neither is walking around without your fur. Jump in!” I hiss. “Hurry!”
Val settles into the bag, and I zip it shut. Gingerly lifting the straps onto my shoulder, I head downstairs.
Maria Carmen and Talib stand at the doorway. “Don’t move,” I whisper to Val as I head toward them.
“Hey, guys. What’s up?”
Talib wrings his hands and doesn’t answer. Finally, Maria Carmen says, “We need to practice our trivia questions more. I thought we could all go to Talib’s house and go through our cards.” She nudges Talib with her elbow, and he nods.
Maria Carmen and Talib have just given me the perfect excuse to get this coyote out of the house. “Sounds great!” I say a little too enthusiastically. I look at Abuela. “I’ll be home before dinner. Te prometo.”
“Okay, niño.” She looks at the duffel bag hanging off my shoulder and raises an eyebrow. My stomach flip-flops. “What’s in the bag?” she asks.
My grip tightens around the strap of the bag. I pray the coyote won’t move a muscle. “Just some dart guns I wanted to show Talib.”
Abuela nods. “Bueno, have fun. Chao, pescao.”
“Y a la vuelta, picadillo!” I respond, heading out the door and following Maria Carmen and Talib.
Talib looks at the duffel bag and says, “Dart guns? Awesome.”
The coyote inside barks. Talib’s eyes grow wide, and he jumps back.
“Yeah, not really. Just needed to get our injured friend out of the house.” I look at Maria Carmen. “So how much studying are we going to do?”
A smile grows at the corner of Maria Carmen’s mouth. “That wasn’t exactly true, either. I had a different mission in mind.” She points toward the woods behind our houses.
Talib groans. “The woods again? You said we really were going to study!”
Maria Carmen puts her hands on her hips. “Why would I drag you out of your house just to take you right back there?”
Talib bites his lip. “Oh yeah.”
Val squirms in the bag. “So what’s the real plan?” I ask. “I need to take this guy back anyway.”
Maria Carmen pulls her backpack off her shoulders and unzips it. She reaches in and pulls out a pair of pliers. “I was thinking we could make sure that Brandon doesn’t hurt any more animals in the woods. I know how we can dismantle all his traps. And we can look for Talib’s dog. Maybe even my goats.”
From inside the duffel bag, I hear a muffled, “Sounds good to me.”
I chuckle. “I like the way you think. Let’s go.”
We head off into the woods. I find myself scanning behind every tree, bush, and cactus. Val’s story about the witch has me a little spooked.
A lot like Talib was the first time we went through the woods.
Once we’re deep enough in the trees, I lower my duffel bag to the ground and unzip it. Val crawls out and stretches, sticking his butt in the air. “You really couldn’t have walked any slower, could you?”
“You’re welcome,” I tell him.
Maria Carmen laughs behind me. “Nestor, are you talking to that coyote?”
Talib shrugs. “He does that sometimes.”
As much as I like Maria Carmen and Talib, I don’t think I’m ready to tell them my big secret. I keep my mouth shut.
Val trots away from us, singing, “Here, bunny.”
I stand and face Maria Carmen. “So let’s find these traps.”
Talib scuffs his feet on the ground. “You sure you don’t actually have any dart guns in there, Nestor? You know, just in case we run into Brandon again.” Talib pauses and looks around. “Or anything else.”
Maybe keeping a couple of dart guns in the bag wouldn’t have been a bad idea after all. Although, as effective as they would be against a snaggletoothed sixth grader, I’m not sure how much they’d do to keep a wolverine-witch away. Especially when we see a large century cactus smashed and torn to pieces on the ground, like a bulldozer had demolished it.
A foam dart definitely wouldn’t stop whatever did that.
We spread out and start our search for Brandon’s traps. Finally, after a few minutes, I hear Talib call, “Found one!”
Maria Carmen and I jog over to him. He’s standing over a rusty trap, just like the one we found clamped around Val’s leg.
“Now what?” I ask.
Maria Carmen points the pliers at the small coils on each end of the trap. “If we take those out, the trap can’t snap shut anymore. It’ll just be a hunk of metal in the grass.”
She crouches down, grabs a rock, and tosses it into the middle of the trap. The rock hits a small metal plate in the center, and the trap slams shut. Talib and I jump. Taking her pliers, Maria Carmen clamps them down on one coil and twists. She pulls the coil from the trap and tosses it to me. I drop it into my duffel bag. She does the same thing to the screw on the other side, and I deposit it with the other coil.
We make our way deeper into the woods, the winding branches of the live oak trees and thick mesquite bushes swallowing us in the hills. Our search turns up three more traps. One of them is covered in shed snakeskin. Talib tosses a rock onto each, and Maria Carmen makes quick work of the coils. I shake my duffel bag, the collection of metal coils growing.
“Are we sure all these traps are Brandon’s?” Talib asks.
“Yeah. They’re supposed to be tagged with the owner’s name, phone number, and the date and time they were set. The fact that they don’t have any of this pretty much guarantees they’re Brandon’s. He doesn’t seem like he’s much for rules,” I tell him.
“You know a lot about this, Nestor,” Maria Carmen says.
I shrug. “I was in Cub Scouts for a little bit in Kentucky.”
“Just for a little bit?” she asks.
I hike the duffel bag higher up onto my shoulder, the coils rattling inside. “Well, there were always these father-son activities, and Dad was gone for most of them. Didn’t really feel like doing it anymore.”
Maria Carmen gives me a sympathetic smile and grab
s my arm. “I … I need to tell you something.”
I give her a questioning look. “What is it?”
“I heard my mom talking on the phone last night. She was telling someone she saw your abuela running through the woods a couple of nights ago. She was pretty upset about it.”
My stomach starts to turn, and I grip the duffel bag tighter.
Maria Carmen sighs. “She thinks your abuela has something to do with all the animals that are going missing.”
My ears burn, and my pulse thuds in my fingers. “Do you?” I ask.
I don’t want to tell her about the ear tags I found in Abuela’s kitchen or her knife stuck in the mesquite bush in the woods.
Maria Carmen shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so. But you need to know people are starting to talk.”
Talib clears his throat next to us, his eyes scanning the hills. “Guys, I think that’s probably enough for today, don’t you?”
I look over a hill toward the quarry. The sun has started to set, stretching long shadows like snakes across the ground. Fallen air plants look like spiders creeping across the grass, their thin leaves sticking out in all directions. Thick tree trunks hide wolverines, their teeth ready to gnash at our throats.
“Yeah, I don’t really want to be out here in the dark,” Maria Carmen says, her voice shaking.
I slap Talib on the shoulder. “I completely agree.”
CHAPTER 10
Hey, Dad!
We’ve got our first trivia competition in a few minutes, so this is going to be a quick letter.
So far things are okay in New Haven. I taught Maria Carmen and Talib to play dominoes. Abuelo would be proud. I didn’t teach them all the words Abuelo used to say when we would play, though.
I found an old notebook of yours in my closet. It’s an animal encyclopedia you made, complete with drawings and animal facts. Your drawings are … well, I’m glad you found a good job in the Army. Just kidding! Your notes are great. I can see who I get my animal-trivia knowledge from. But I think the animal facts you got from Abuela are hilarious. How does she know that armadillos love strawberries and that rabbits are terrified of migrating geese?
The Total Eclipse of Nestor Lopez Page 6