by Edward Bloor
I squeezed the books tightly and tried to summon up a real, nondream picture of my mother. I tried to picture her right there, in the bedroom. Again, I had to wonder: What would she think of how we lived? What would she think of what was going on out in the kitchen? What would she think of me?
FRIDAY, THE 25TH
The first thing I noticed at the mall today was that Leo had placed two DANGER horses between Suzie's window and the wall of TVs. He had also set up about two dozen food court chairs in front of the TVs.
I slipped around the first DANGER horse and entered the office. Suzie was gone. A copy of Teach Yourself Spanish was left open on her desk. I supposed she was out giving a tour to that group from Brazil.
Suzie's phone rang. I picked it up and answered, "West End Mall."
"Hey, cuz. It's Kristin."
"Hey. How did you know I was here?"
"You're not at Arcane; where else would you be? Listen: I just talked to my dad. He said he'll cover for you tonight so you can come with Nina and me to the Gold Coast Mall."
"What for?"
"For our modeling clothes. For tomorrow. What, did you forget?"
"No."
I heard a loud burst of static, then, "We're the supermodels. You're the undercover reporter. Remember?"
"Aren't we supposed to model the clothes they sell here? Isn't that the idea?"
"The idea, cuz, is for us to look professional. We're not standing up there in some Kmart blue-light-special stretch pants. We're gonna look good." There was a pause and another burst of static. "Nina says, 'Looking good is not good enough.' You might want to write that down."
"Nina? Where are you?"
"We're in Nina's car. We're still at Lourdes, trying to get out of the parking lot. Nina's surrounded by boys."
"Look, uh, Kristin, I don't think we have the money for me to go shopping at the Gold Coast Mall. Not when Suzie said we could get the clothes for free, right here. I mean, that's the whole idea."
I could hear Nina yell in the background, "Don't be such a loser, Roberta!"
But Kristin didn't repeat that. She said, "All right. Look, just come with us and window-shop. Then you can write the whole thing up for the newsletter."
I could hear Nina again. "Don't do us any favors, Roberta."
Kristin ignored her. She said seriously, "Come on, Roberta. I got you a night off. What else are you going to do?"
What could I say? I muttered, "All right."
"All right! We're going to leave at six. You be ready."
"I'll be ready." She hung up, and so did I.
I left the office, detoured around the chair area, and started up the right side of the mallway. There was a guy working in the rotunda, a big burly guy. Definitely not Leo. The words ACE PLUMBING were printed across the back of his shirt. Had Leo been replaced? I guessed so. I hoped he hadn't been fired.
I entered Arcane just as Uncle Frank was finishing up with two freaky-looking guys at Crusader. I said, "Uncle Frank, are you sure you don't need help tonight? I'll be glad to stay."
He shook his head. "No. No problem. I'm closing tonight, anyway. I've got Karl here if it gets busy. I've got the morons, too."
"You're sure?"
Uncle Frank thought about it. "It'll be good for you to get out. You and Kristin. And that Nina's a nice girl. A real religious girl."
I didn't say anything.
He changed the subject. "Say, Roberta, what's the slowest night here?"
"The slowest night? For money, you mean?"
"Money, traffic, everything."
"That would be Tuesday."
"I thought so. Okay." Uncle Frank walked away toward the back. I watched him go. He was really behaving oddly.
Karl and I stood together in silence for a long time. No customers came in. I finally said, "I'll be right back, Karl. Okay?"
Karl didn't answer, but he seemed alert enough to cover the front. I walked across the mallway to Isabel's Hallmark. On the way I looked over at the mannequin. Its forehead was no longer pressed straight against the glass. It had slumped to the right and was now wedged, skull first, into the corner. Why does that thing keep moving?
Margaret was standing behind Mrs. Weiss's cash register. She's currently "the girl." Mrs. Weiss always has a girl working for her. It doesn't seem to matter how old she is—if she's younger than Mrs. Weiss, she's "the girl." Margaret has been the girl for about two weeks. She's one of the ladies from Century Towers—an old lady, but not as old as Mrs. Weiss.
I looked down the first aisle and spotted Mrs. Weiss. She was setting up a display beneath a cardboard banner that said NEW FAMILIES.
Mrs. Weiss reads every card that comes into her store. She turned, saw me, and pointed quickly at a stack near her feet. "Will you look at these cards, Roberta? This whole pile of cards, there must be twenty-five of them, is for parents to tell their children that they can't be with them—for their birthdays, their graduations, even their weddings!" She pointed up at the banner. "That's what we used to call a broken home. Now we're calling it a 'new family'?" She kicked at the pile. "Let me tell you, honey, if your family isn't working any better than this, it's broken."
Mrs. Weiss worked her jaw for a moment. Then she said, "Margaret just gave her notice. Why don't you come over here and work for me?"
"I can't, Mrs. Weiss. You know that. They need me at Arcane."
"Yes, of course they do. You're exactly what they need. Tell me, how much does your father pay you to run that place?"
"I don't run it."
"Bah! How much does he pay you?"
"Well, you know, I'm only fifteen. He doesn't technically pay me. He gives me money, though, whenever I ask for it."
"You don't have to tell me what you work for. I already know. You work for nothing." Mrs. Weiss studied the cards at her feet for a long moment.
Then, through the window, I caught sight of a bright yellow sign. It was bobbing up and down, coming down the mallway. It was a square sign with green letters that spelled out BRASIL TOURS. I walked around a card rack to see who was carrying it.
Mrs. Weiss looked up, too. She said, "What is that?"
A tall woman in a brown wool suit was at the head of a double line of teenage girls. The woman bore the sign before her like the first flag in a parade. She was about fifty years old, with gray-and-black hair pulled back in a bun. Suzie was walking next to her. She was talking and carrying on about something, but the woman didn't seem to be listening. Behind them walked sixteen girls arranged in eight pairs. The girls all had on matching outfits—khaki shorts and white sneakers, and yellow shirts with BRASIL TOURS printed in green. The words looked funny to me, like SpecialTees mistake shirts, but I guessed that was the Portuguese way of spelling Brazil.
Mrs. Weiss and I watched as the parade turned right, into Arcane.
I said, "Karl's going to need some help. I have to go, Mrs. Weiss."
By the time I had cut back across the mall, all those girls in the yellow shirts were gathered around the tall lady, who, I could now see, wore a tag that said DONA CLARA. Dona Clara lectured them sternly in Portuguese. She held up a five-dollar bill. I guessed she was telling them not to spend any more than that.
I stood in front of the counter. One girl leaned forward and stared at my name tag. Her long red hair hung way down her back. She had white skin with a few freckles, and green eyes. She sure didn't look Spanish. I smiled at her, so she said, "Roberta? May I try my English on you?"
I said, "Sure."
"I am Gabriela," she said. She held out a white hand for me to shake, which I did.
I heard myself talking very slowly. "Do you want to try one of the Arcane experiences?"
She said, "What is your favorite one?"
"My favorite what?"
She pointed at Crusader. "Your favorite ... experience."
"I don't know. I've never done any of them."
Gabriela thought about this. "You are not permitted?"
"Oh, I'm permitted. I ju
st don't want to."
"Why?"
There was no way Gabriela could understand this, but I said it anyway. "These experiences aren't real. I only like things that are real."
She stared at me for a moment. Then she held up a five-dollar bill. "What do I do?"
I demonstrated with the Crusader gear. "You put this helmet on, and you pick up the wand. A movie comes on inside the helmet. You see it and hear it. As you turn, the movie turns. As you move this wand, you stab people and cut their heads off."
Gabriela held up the hand without the money as if to stop me. She repeated, "You cut their heads off?"
"In some of the experiences. Like this one. In Galactic Defender over there, the enemies are aliens, so it's like you're cutting off their space helmets."
Gabriela walked over to Galactic Defender. She turned and handed me the money. "Okay. I'll try it."
As I helped her get set up, I noticed that the tour group kids had spread out all over the arcade. Uncle Frank and Karl were helping girls at Custer's Last Stand and King Kong. When the Galactic Defender CD started, I moved over and helped another girl at Crusader; then another one at Dragon Slayer.
When I got back to Galactic Defender, I could see that it was not going well. Gabriela's head was twitching, like she was having a seizure. She stumbled backward a couple of times, but she never raised the wand. It remained frozen at her side. When the experience was finished she stood still until I climbed up and got her out of the helmet. After I helped her step down, she whispered, "I did not like that."
I said, "Oh, I'm sorry." I really was. I added, "I'll tell Uncle Frank. He won't charge you."
Gabriela shook her head several times, as if to shake off the experience. "No. I want to pay. That is what our money is for today. To spend here."
I took her money and stepped quickly over to Crusader, which had just ended. That girl seemed to have liked it. She made a funny face at Gabriela and said something in Portuguese. I took her money, too. Then I helped the girl at Dragon Slayer.
Suzie walked by and pinched my arm. She said, "I brought you a lot of business. Didn't I?"
I took my three five-dollar bills to the register. Gabriela followed and stood before the counter. She pulled out a pen and one of Suzie's business cards. She scribbled something quickly and pointed at Suzie. "Roberta, do you know that lady?"
I said, "Yes, I do."
Gabriela stifled a laugh. "That lady speaks some really bad Spanish."
I laughed, too. "I'll bet."
"Some of the girls know only the Portuguese. They understand some Spanish. And they understand some English. But this lady, it's like she is not speaking any language." Gabriela held the card up for me to see what she had written. It looked like O que. I tried to pronounce it and messed it up, so she pronounced it for me, "Okay." She pointed at it and explained, "O que is the Portuguese for 'What?' You say it when you don't understand. This lady keeps asking them stuff in Spanish, and they keep answering 'O que' like they don't understand. But she thinks they're saying 'Okay.'"
That cracked me up. Uncle Frank and Karl both came behind the counter with bunches of five-dollar bills. They stared at me, like they had never seen me laugh before. Weird.
I slipped back down to the floor. I asked Gabriela, "So why are you all dressed alike?"
She answered, "We are from the same colegio." She thought about that and explained, "The same high school. When a girl at school has her birthday, fifteen years old, she takes a trip. We all took the Florida trip. Twenty-eight girls and Dona Clara. Dona Clara is one of our teachers."
"I counted sixteen girls. Where are the rest?"
"They are at the hotel. They are all sick."
"Oh no."
Suzie called over to Dona Clara. "It's almost four o'clock. Vamanos!" She held up her wristwatch and smiled enormously. Dona Clara got the message, but she had obviously stopped smiling back at Suzie a while ago. She pumped the green sign pole up and down a few times, and the girls all reassembled in their pairs.
Suzie took me by the arm. "Roberta, come watch the show with us. Walk over with your new friend."
I looked at Dona Clara. She didn't seem to mind, so I stood outside the line, next to Gabriela.
Gabriela introduced me to the girl next to her, saying. "This is Monica. Monica, issa e Roberta."
Monica smiled and shook hands.
Dona Clara walked by the girls and tapped on the tops of their heads. She counted aloud in Portuguese, sixteen heads. She pumped the sign one more time, and we took off.
We had already walked straight through the rotunda before I realized that the mess was all gone. No DANGER horses, no loose tiles, no Leo, no Ace Plumbing guy. The fountain job appeared to have been completed.
Suzie guided us into the area in front of the TV sets. Gabriela, Monica, and I took seats in the back. Dona Clara arranged the other girls' seats, separating some of them, like all teachers do. She looked right at me and thought for a moment. Then she smiled slightly and turned her attention to someone else.
Suzie took a remote from the top of the TV wall. She came behind me and pressed the volume button until we could hear.
Somebody patted me on the shoulder. I turned and saw Kristin. She was panting, like she had been running. She said, "We just made it. The storm's about to hit."
Nina was behind her. She was staring at the TV wall. "Hey, it's four o'clock. Are you watching Angela?"
Suzie answered her, "You bet."
Nina gave two thumbs-up. "All right! Angela's my girl. What's the topic today?"
Suzie said, "Brazilian teenagers," and pointed to the tour group.
Nina looked puzzled. She said to Kristin, "What kind of topic is that?" Nina and Kristin took chairs next to me, on the far side of Gabriela and Monica.
Suzie called out to everyone, "Shh! Andalay! Andalay! Here we go."
The nine screens filled up with pictures of Angela del Fuego—her bright red nails, her long red hair, her shiny white teeth. It was her usual opening—a montage of scenes from past shows. Then a voice-over from Angela began: "When you think of Brazil, you think of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil's most famous city and main tourist destination. You think of its world-renowned beaches—Copacabana and Ipanema. What you try not to think of is this: A stone's throw from all this wealth and glamor are the favelas, the brutal slums in which as many as two million Brazilians eke out a miserable, violent, and brief existence."
The voice-over paused while the screens filled with pictures of people living in lean-to shacks and poking through piles of garbage. The last picture was of a little girl with a bloated stomach. She was naked, standing ankle-deep in the mud, and crying. The voice-over resumed, "What happens when children such as this one survive until their teenage years, and try to leave the favelas, will shock you. Today on Angela Live."
A series of commercials began, during which we sat in uncomfortable silence. Suzie attempted to smile at Dona Clara, but Dona Clara was staring out through the glass doors at the raging thunderstorm.
Gabriela leaned over, pointed to Kristin and Nina, and asked, "Roberta, are these your friends?"
I said, "Yes," and introduced them. "This is my cousin Kristin and her friend Nina. This is Gabriela."
Kristin took Gabriela's outstretched hand and shook it. She said, "Hi."
At first Nina didn't move. The she stared at Gabriela for a moment and said, "You got nice hair."
Gabriela muttered, "Thank you," and sat back in her chair.
A few seconds later Angela del Fuego returned. This time she was live, standing in her studio. She had on a two-piece black suit with a white blouse, and lots of gold jewelry. She had three guests sitting behind her on a stage—a South American priest in a priest's collar, a young black lady in a blue dress, and a white-guy lawyer in a gray suit.
The camera zoomed in on Angela as she spoke to the audience. "Are there areas in your city where you won't go to shop because of street kids? I know there are for me. As a woman alon
e, I don't feel safe there. So I spend my money somewhere else. Shopkeepers in those areas might not like it, but there's not much they can do about it. Shopkeepers in Rio, on the other hand, can do something about it. They can have the street kids murdered."
The TV screens filled with a picture of a row of bloody bodies, dead teenagers' bodies, lined up on a sidewalk. Angela continued, "These teenagers were shot as they lay sleeping outside a cathedral. They were shot by a death squad of off-duty police officers hired by the local shopkeepers—hired as we might hire someone to sweep the sidewalk, or to clean the windows."
I looked at the girls from the tour group. By now even the ones who didn't speak English had gotten the message. They were obviously uncomfortable, shifting around in their seats. Some were looking over at Dona Clara, whose mouth was hanging slightly open. I watched as, suddenly, she snapped her mouth shut, stood up, and picked up the green pole. She shoved the DANGER horse out of her way and stepped out into the mallway. The girls all got up, with a loud scraping of chairs, and fell into two lines behind her.
I turned toward Suzie. She seemed to be struck dumb, like she had forgotten how to speak entirely.
Dona Clara quickly counted the girls. Then she pointed angrily at the wall of TVs and said to all of us, in unaccented English, "Tell her to talk about Miami." She called to the girls, "Vamos," which, I figure, is Portuguese for "Vamanos."
They started forward. Gabriela looked over her shoulder and raised her free hand, the hand that wasn't holding Monica's, to wave good-bye. I waved back. They marched straight out the glass door and into the thunderstorm. They must have drowned on the way to their bus.
Suzie came up next to Kristin, Nina, and me. She sighed. "That's what I get for going out of my way."