The Total Eclipse of Nestor Lopez

by Adrianna Cuevas

Talib looks behind us. “Are we sure there’s … nothing else out here with us?”

  I point to the squirrel still sitting in front of me. “I don’t know. Let’s ask,” I joke. “Hey, squirrel, you wouldn’t happen to have seen a witch running around here, terrorizing your fellow woodland creatures?”

  Maria Carmen and Talib look at me funny, and I laugh weakly.

  The squirrel stares at me. “She’s everywhere. Behind every tree, under every rock.”

  I give a small nod and swallow hard. Throwing up my hands, I tell Maria Carmen and Talib, “Well, he’s no help.”

  Maria Carmen shakes her head at me. “Keep looking for traps, Nestor.”

  We look under every live oak and cedar tree, every mesquite bush, every cactus. All we find is one more trap of Brandon’s that we missed before.

  “Do you think the witch is done? Maybe she’s leaving,” Talib says, putting the coils from Brandon’s trap into his pocket.

  “I don’t think so,” I tell him. “When she was talking to Miss Humala, it sounded like she was still up to something. And have you seen all the missing-pet signs in town?”

  Talib nods. “You can’t even see any of the windows downtown anymore. They’re all plastered.”

  “Well, now what? How are we going to keep all these animals safe? How are we going to stop everyone in town from thinking your abuela is involved?” Maria Carmen sighs as she sits down on a fallen tree trunk.

  “I don’t think you guys are going to like this idea, but…” I pause, wondering how Maria Carmen and Talib are going to take what I’m about to say.

  “Oh, Nestor, don’t say it,” Talib mumbles, head in his hands as he sits next to Maria Carmen.

  “We need to talk to Brandon,” I tell them.

  Maria Carmen purses her lips and nods.

  Talib won’t look at me. “Or we could jump into a volcano. Or swim with genetically mutated zombie sharks.”

  Maria Carmen nudges Talib with her elbow. I put my hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Talib. It’ll be fine. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

  Talib looks up at me and smiles. He sticks out his chin and bats his long black eyelashes. “Just promise this cute face won’t get messed up.”

  I lightly slap his cheek. “Let’s go.”

  We head down the trail, over a hill, and around a patch of mesquite bushes. The sun lowers in the sky, dipping behind the quarry to the west.

  “Quick question. Do either of you know where Brandon lives?” I ask.

  Maria Carmen and Talib look at each other and shrug.

  “Seriously?” I say. “This town could fit on a mosquito’s back.”

  They shrug again.

  We continue down the trail heading toward our houses, still as lost as when we first entered the woods. I kick a rock in frustration, sending it rolling down the dirt.

  We’re almost at a full century cactus, the point where we usually split up, when I hear a shout coming from the bottom of the next hill.

  “Nestor! Nestor! Where are you?”

  I recognize the voice.

  Chela the deer comes running at us, hooves pounding into the dirt, nostrils flaring.

  “Nestor, watch out!” Maria Carmen shouts.

  We jump off the trail, but Chela skids to a stop directly in front of us.

  “Nestor, it’s your grandmother,” she says. “You have to come with me. She’s hurt.”

  CHAPTER 17

  “ABUELA’S HURT?” I ASK CHELA. “Where is she?”

  “The woods just past your house. Not far,” she replies, turning around and taking off down the trail. “Hurry!”

  I run after Chela, my heart pounding and my feet sliding on the rocky hills.

  I don’t notice Maria Carmen and Talib running behind me until I hear Maria Carmen shout, “Nestor! Where are you going? What happened?”

  I can’t answer her now. I have to find Abuela. I have to help her.

  Spotting Abuela’s house in the distance, I search the woods. There’s a mesquite bush that looks like a wrecking ball hit it. The branch of a cedar tree lies smashed on the ground. A cactus has been slashed to ribbons, long claw marks scarring its flesh.

  Chela skids behind a tree and says, “Here, Nestor. She’s here.”

  Running to where Chela is standing, I spot Abuela on the ground, her back against a twisting live oak tree. Scratched in the bark above her are three long, jagged lines. Her chest heaves slowly as she struggles to breathe. A small trickle of blood snakes down from her forehead and into her eye.

  “Buela!” I can hardly hear my own voice over my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

  Abuela lifts her hand slowly out to me. “Ay, mi niño. You found me. You found me. That’s good…”

  Her voice trails off, and her eyelids slowly droop.

  My throat tightens as I crouch down next to her and put my hands on her shoulders.

  “Oh my gosh, Señora Lopez,” Maria Carmen says behind me. She crouches on the other side and brushes Abuela’s hair from her forehead.

  Abuela winces. “Ese maldito ratón.” She lets loose a string of curses that makes Maria Carmen and I blush. Talib stands behind us, oblivious to Abuela’s verbal assault.

  “Is she okay?” he asks.

  “I don’t know,” I tell him. Abuela’s cheeks are flushed red, and a nasty gash crosses her forehead. She’s holding her left arm and flinches when I touch it.

  Abuela draws in a deep breath. “Gracias. Gracias, mi amiguita. I knew you would find him.”

  I realize Abuela is talking to Chela, who’s still standing behind us. “Buela, can you understand her, too?”

  Abuela sighs and lifts her hand to my cheek. “Mi niño, mi niño, I knew you had it. I always knew you had it.”

  My chin quivers as I cover Abuela’s hand with my own.

  “Señora Lopez? Do you think you can stand up?” Maria Carmen asks.

  Abuela nods, and Talib, Maria Carmen, and I gather around to help her up. We make slow progress to the house, Abuela leaning on Talib’s and my shoulders as Maria Carmen kicks rocks and branches out of our way.

  The back door of the house hangs open, and in the kitchen, a chair is overturned, one of the legs snapped from the seat. Abuela’s sewing machine lies smashed next to it, and a pair of Mom’s light-green scrubs, torn to pieces, is scattered on the kitchen floor. We pass through to the living room and slowly lower Abuela onto the couch.

  “There’s a first aid kit upstairs in the bathroom,” I tell Maria Carmen. “Can you go get it?”

  She runs up the stairs as I get a wet cloth from the kitchen. I press it to Abuela’s forehead, and she inhales quickly. “Y Celia? Dónde está Celia?”

  Talib looks around the living room. “Who’s Celia?”

  I hold Abuela’s hand. “What are you talking about, Buela?”

  An orange tabby cat meanders from underneath the coffee table and I jump. I didn’t think Abuela had a cat. “Is she okay?” the cat asks.

  “I think so,” I respond. “Did you see what happened?”

  Maria Carmen comes down from the bathroom and hands me the first aid kit. Talib leans over to her and whispers, “First, Nestor was talking to the deer, and now he’s talking to this cat. Can somebody explain what’s going on?”

  I wipe the blood from Abuela’s forehead and examine the cut. It’s not very deep, but it runs the length of her hairline. Something took a swipe at her. Something with claws.

  “Is she going to be okay?” Maria Carmen asks. “Do you think we need to take her to the hospital?”

  “Ay, no. No hospital. Your mami is there,” Abuela says. “If she worries, your papi worries.”

  I have to agree with Abuela. Telling Dad his mother got attacked in the woods would definitely violate Mom’s Always Be Positive, Always Be Happy rule.

  “I’ll just put some Vivaporú on it.” A small smile creeps from the corner of Abuela’s mouth.

  “Abuela, you are not putting Vicks VapoRub on a cut.”
I can’t help but roll my eyes at Abuela’s complete faith in dubious Cuban remedies.

  The orange tabby cat rubs against my leg, her purring numbing my tense muscles. “Your grandma always treats me nice with leftover croquetas and the best guava slices. All the other neighbors around here just ignore the stray cat. So I tried to help her. I tried to stop the wolverine. But it was too quick.”

  “A wolverine? In the house?”

  “It came through the back door while your abuela and I were watching novelas.” The cat nudges Abuela’s hand, and Abuela scratches her furry head.

  “Ay, mi Celia. Always looking out for me,” Abuela says.

  Maria Carmen crouches next to Abuela. She cleans Abuela’s cut with the wet cloth and puts antibacterial cream on it. My hands are still shaking too much to be useful.

  Talib hands a bandage to Maria Carmen. “Nestor, I’m assuming when all this is over, you’re going to explain how you’re talking to animals. Right?”

  I lower my head. Abuela chuckles from the couch. “Es bendecido. Igual como yo.”

  “I’m blessed?” I ask Abuela. Being able to talk to and hear animals never really felt like a blessing.

  Suddenly, everything begins to make sense. I think back to the times I heard Abuela arguing with someone who wasn’t there. The whole time, it’s been this stray cat rubbing against my leg. I remember Dad’s animal encyclopedia with the weird notes next to his drawings. Mami says squirrels tell the best knock-knock jokes. According to Mami, hedgehogs think prairie dogs are obnoxious. There’s only one way Abuela could’ve known those things.

  Maria Carmen secures a bandage to Abuela’s forehead, and Abuela smiles. “Si, mi niño. When your papi couldn’t hear them, I thought maybe it was just me. But you, I knew you were just like me.”

  Tears well up in my eyes as Abuela squeezes my hand.

  Maria Carmen clears her throat. “Señora Lopez, what did the wolverine want?”

  Abuela sighs. “Ese estúpido ratón.”

  Talib chuckles behind me. “I gotta write these down.”

  “She was angry that you three destroyed her traps. That I’ve been helping animals get away from her. She was so angry,” Abuela says, touching the bandage on her forehead and closing her eyes.

  “Do you know what she wants? What she is?” I ask.

  Abuela sits up on the couch, and Maria Carmen sets two pillows next to her to lean on. “She’s like a tule vieja, I think.”

  “A tule what?” Talib asks.

  “Tule vieja. A witch. When I was little, my papi would tell me ghost stories, monster stories, any kind of scary story. Mami hated it because sometimes they gave me nightmares. But I loved it. I remember Papi telling me the story of the tule vieja from Panama. She was a woman who had the legs of a hawk, the wings of a bat, and the face of an old witch. I was convinced the rooster that lived in our backyard was a tule vieja after it tried to bite my thumb off.”

  Abuela shifts her weight on the couch and draws in a slow breath. “But this one is different. A tule vieja just looks like different animals. She can’t completely turn into an animal. This one is trying to take the animal’s power.”

  “How does she do that?” Maria Carmen asks.

  “She bites them.”

  Talib swallows hard.

  I think about all the animals that have gone missing without a single trace. A single piece of evidence. I can’t help but wonder if the tule vieja is doing more than just biting them.

  “When she came here, she didn’t realize what Nestor and I could do. That we could use our ability to help the animals escape her. Her plan is harder with us here.”

  “What’s her plan?” I ask.

  “The eclipse,” Abuela says, her breathing slowing and her shoulders sagging. “If she wants to turn into an animal, she has to bite them during the eclipse. Right now, she can only turn into a snake, a wolverine, and a spider. Those are probably the animals she bit during another eclipse.”

  Talib’s head snaps up. “Excuse me? A spider?”

  “So the eclipse will help her or something?” I ask.

  “Yes. If she bites an animal during the eclipse, she’ll be able to turn into that animal. She’ll be even more powerful.”

  “How do you know all this, Buela?” I ask.

  Abuela taps her temple with a shaking finger. “Bueno, all that stomping around in the woods, you see things. More things than you wanted to see.”

  She takes a deep breath and stretches her back, groaning. “And la estúpida talks to herself. All this going on and on about the eclipse. Enough tontería to make animals want to disappear all on their own.”

  Maria Carmen covers her mouth to hide her smile.

  Abuela sighs, and I help her lie down on the couch again. Her eyelids close, and soon her breaths come in rhythmic waves.

  Maria Carmen, Talib, and I head into the kitchen. I straighten the fallen chair, finding the snapped leg under the table, and attempt to fix it. Maria Carmen sets Abuela’s sewing machine back on the table and throws away the shredded pieces of Mom’s scrubs.

  Gripping the chair, I look at Maria Carmen and Talib. “So I guess you guys think I’m super weird now.”

  Talib comes over to me and slaps me on the shoulder. “Oh, no. We thought that way before now. Who else knows more about the military than our history teacher and carries a compass to walk three blocks?”

  Maria Carmen chuckles. “But seriously, Nestor. You can really talk to animals? And they talk back to you?”

  I shrug, not wanting to look them in the eye. “Yeah. I guess.”

  Maria Carmen crosses her arms. “Prove it. How do we know you aren’t just making up what that cat and deer said?”

  I scuff my foot on the tile floor and look at Maria Carmen. The glint in her eye makes me smirk. “Well, let’s just say a certain raven told me that sometimes you stop at the skate park on your way home, and when you think no one’s watching, you belt out Selena songs. Complete with dance moves.”

  Maria Carmen’s cheeks flush red, and Talib cackles next to her.

  “And you,” I say, pointing to him. The smile disappears from his face. “That same raven has peeked in your window and seen that you still sleep with a stuffed llama.”

  “Hey! Don’t make fun of Mr. Fuzzbuns,” Talib says, hands on hips.

  “Okay, that’s awesome,” Maria Carmen says.

  “Sometimes it is. But sometimes it’s really annoying.”

  “Really?” Talib asks.

  “Yeah. I had lice in the first grade. Hundreds of voices yelling at me all at once. Worst weekend ever,” I say, shaking my head.

  Talib slaps me on the back and laughs.

  We walk back to the living room, and I peek over the back of the couch at Abuela. My abuela, who was strong enough to start over in a new country all by herself, whose laughter fills up every corner of the kitchen as she makes the best Cuban food I’ve ever tasted. My abuela, who dances to Celia Cruz while she tells me about the latest episode of her favorite telenovela. My abuela, who can talk to animals, sinks her head farther into the pillow and sleeps.

  CHAPTER 18

  Dear Dad,

  Things are still good here in New Haven. Mom seems to like her job at the hospital in Springdale.

  But sometimes I hear her cry at night when she thinks I’ve already fallen asleep. She misses you a lot.

  School is fine. Our trivia team is still doing well. We might even make it to the championship.

  If we’re still living here and haven’t moved to Alaska or Antarctica.

  It’s been nice living with Abuela. She lets me have pastelitos for breakfast and dinner. And as an after-school snack. Don’t tell Mom. Although she’ll probably find out eventually when she has to buy me larger pants.

  Abuela got hurt last week. We didn’t tell Mom, so Abuela just pretended to have a cold and slept in her room all day. She pinned some of her hair in front of the cut along her forehead so Mom wouldn’t see it. I don’t like seein
g how slowly Abuela moves around the kitchen. She didn’t used to do that.

  Love you. Stay safe.

  I miss you, Dad. I don’t want you far away anymore. I want you here. It’s not fair that I have to figure everything out on my own.

  I need my dad. I need you.

  Nestor

  I slam my sketchbook closed, frustrated that I can’t tell Dad what I really need to say to him. I’m tired of Mom’s Always Be Positive, Always Be Happy rule.

  Miss Humala’s sharp voice snaps me from my thoughts. “Solar eclipses aren’t as uncommon as you might think. The moon will cross a point between Earth and the sun one or two times every thirty-five days.”

  She stands behind three students she’s pulled to the front of the classroom. They’re each holding a model of Earth, the moon, or the sun. Miss Humala has Jet, the boy holding the model of Earth, walk slowly around Hannah, the girl holding the model of the sun. She has Leif, the boy holding the model of the moon, walk quickly around Jet. He starts to look dizzy.

  “So as you can see,” Miss Humala says as Jet, Hannah, and Leif continue to orbit around one another, “it looks like we would experience a solar eclipse any time the moon is between Earth and the sun.”

  She stops Leif, who seems grateful to not be pacing in a circle anymore, and he stands between Jet and Hannah. “But Earth and the moon don’t orbit at a constant level.”

  Miss Humala digs her red talons into Leif’s shoulders and pushes down on him. He groans and bends his knees. Then she grabs his biceps and pulls him up. Miss Humala walks Leif around Jet, pushing and pulling on him. He bends and straightens his knees, moving the moon in a wobbly orbit around Earth.

  I think he might throw up.

  Miss Humala switches over to Jet, who looks increasingly nervous, and pushes and pulls on him as well. She drags him around Hannah all while Leif is still circling Jet.

  It’s like a bad carnival ride.

  “Remind me to never volunteer in this class,” I whisper to Talib.

  “So, Earth and the moon are always moving up and down in their orbit,” Miss Humala says as Jet and Leif continue walking in a circle, bending and straightening their knees. Their faces turn pink, and I can see sweat forming on their foreheads.