Efren Divided

by Ernesto Cisneros

  As helpful as the stencils were, they still took a long time to use. So when lunch hour came, David and Efrén were back in the workroom. Except this time, just as David got up to leave, Efrén pushed back his stool. “David?”

  David paused briefly by the doorway.

  Efrén rushed over to him. “I know what I did seems messed up. But I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t have a good reason.”

  David stopped to listen. “Fine. Go ahead and explain. What was worth stabbing me in the back over?”

  There was a brief stare down. Efrén knew what he needed to do. After all, David was his best friend and wouldn’t tell a soul.

  He had nothing to fear. He took a deep breath and could feel the words building up inside. Unfortunately, they weren’t alone. Shame came along for the ride.

  Was he embarrassed to admit that both Amá and Apá were undocumented? No. That wasn’t it.

  Efrén’s tears welled up as the back of his throat began to feel raw. It wasn’t the truth that embarrassed him. It was breaking down in front of David.

  “I’m sorry, David.” And with that, Efrén hurried off.

  Once Efrén and the twins were home after school, he spread the supplies and poster paper that Ms. Salas had given him over the kitchen table. Max and Mía immediately took a seat next to him. “Guys, I need to make a bunch of posters.”

  “Can I make one?” asked Max. “I’m good at art! Huh, Mía?”

  “Yeah, me too! I want to help!”

  “I appreciate the—” Efrén looked at the wide-eyed faces staring up at him. He didn’t want a second round of Max’s silent treatment—or Mía’s.

  “All right, here,” he said, handing each a blank sheet of poster paper. “Just make sure everything is neat and easy to read.”

  Neither of the twins wasted a moment. Mía went straight for a ruler and Sharpie while Max went for a brush and purple tempera paint.

  Efrén looked carefully at his poster. There was definitely something missing. He bit down on his lower lip, trying to figure out what he needed to change. He reached for the packet of stencils and got to work. When he was done, he stood back and admired his handiwork. “What do you guys think?”

  Mía gave it a quick scan. “Needs color.”

  EFRÉN NAVA 4 ASB PRESIDENT

  “THE CHANGE YOU WANT TO SEE”

  “Yep. It needs a lot more color,” Max replied, not bothering to even take a look.

  Efrén rubbed his chin. “I don’t know. I kind of like it this way. How are you two doing with the posters?”

  “Me, I’m pretty much done,” said Mía, holding up her poster.

  Efrén’s heart swelled. With large, curvy letters, the bright red poster read: “Vote for Efren, BEST BIG BRUTHER!”

  “I’m done too. See?” chimed in Max while smearing the purple paint on his face. “I did it myself.”

  Efrén’s heart sank as he read it:

  VOT FOAR EFREN

  I LUV HIM

  He leaned down and squeezed the twins tightly. “These are the most amazing posters I have ever seen.”

  Eleven

  “All right, I think we’ve got everything we need. Mía, you got the tape?”

  Mía raised her hand and twirled the blue roll around her arm like it was a tiny Hula-Hoop.

  David had gotten a head start with his campaign and had signs all over the school. It was Friday night, and Efrén didn’t want to wait for the following Monday to put up the posters they’d just made. No way. He decided instead to take the twins back to school with him. The trick would be to get them home before it started getting dark.

  As tempting as it was, he chose to leave his bike behind. Lugging the little ones down the block to their school on his bike was one thing, but there was no way Amá would ever approve of his taking them across Civic Center Drive.

  “Maxie, can you grab my posters?”

  “Sure.” Max wrapped his arms around the posters and was heading toward the door when he froze in place. “Oh, wait,” he said, running back over to the kitchen table. “We almost forgot ours.”

  Efrén tossed the black trash bag filled with posters over his back. “That’s okay, guys. We can leave those two here. You know, tape them to the fridge.”

  The little ones gave him a look.

  “So I can see them every day.”

  Mía held onto her scowl while Max’s eyes began to well up.

  Guilt booted Efrén in the gut. “What am I thinking? There’s no way I can leave my two secret weapons at home. These two posters are going to get me elected.”

  Max’s brown eyes lit up like shiny pennies while Mía’s face softened into a smile.

  Max didn’t waste any time finding a spot for his poster. The second they set foot onto campus, he rushed down the main corridor and claimed a spot over the drinking fountain.

  Mía looked up at Efrén, nodding. “He picked a good spot. A really good spot.” Wearing a huge smile, she took hold of the tape and bolted after him.

  Efrén waited behind, looking around at the empty halls. There was something different about the place, and not just the lack of usual kid-related noise. Nope, there was something else.

  Even though it had only been about two hours since school had let out, the campus was pretty much abandoned by the time they arrived. The only people visible were the handful of teachers heading out, many hauling teacher supply carts behind them—and Joe, the custodian, putting a water hose in the back of his cart.

  So this is what happens after hours. Efrén looked down at the wet concrete below his feet. It’d only been a few hours, but already the school was prepared for the following week. It was nice—the same feeling he had when Amá was still home. He missed coming home from school and finding a warm meal and a clean apartment.

  But after this weekend, things would go back to normal—he was sure of it. Apá had the money and it would bring Amá back.

  “Wait up, guys,” Efrén called out while running to help Max down from the top of the drinking fountain.

  Max’s poster was right above the most heavily used drinking fountain in the entire school. Efrén stared at it. Everyone would see this!

  “Maxie, don’t you think we should put this somewhere else—you know, so it doesn’t get wet. You know how sloppy kids are when they drink water.” Efrén crossed his fingers as Max tilted his head and rubbed the tip of his chin as if combing through an actual beard.

  “Nope. This is good. Right, Mía?”

  Mía looked up at Efrén. Then over at the poster. “Yep. This is perfect.”

  One thing was for sure—these posters would get people talking. And if the internet had taught Efrén anything, it was that any publicity is good publicity.

  “All right, fine. But we’ve got a lot more posters to put up. You guys ready to move at super speed?”

  Max and Mía got into their starting positions.

  “Speedy Gonzales speed!” And with that, Efrén’s ASB presidential campaign was underway. Max raced over to the main quad area and taped a poster to a tree while Mía centered hers onto the science lab door.

  Efrén, however, chose to start at the far end of the hallway. Just as he unrolled a poster and was about to pull the roll of tape from his pocket, he caught sight of an open door. He peeked inside and did a double take. There stood Mr. Garrett, dressed in a George Washington costume.

  “Mr. Garrett?”

  Poor Mr. Garrett jumped out of his skin. “Geez, Efrén. You practically scared me out of my . . . wooden teeth.”

  “Wait, WHY are you dressed like that?”

  Mr. Garrett’s face turned bright red as he slipped the wig back into a bag. “Yeah, we’re going to be studying the Constitution next. I thought this might help. But what are you doing here?”

  “Putting up posters. For my campaign.” Efrén entered the room. “I have some good news—about my mom.”

  “Is she back?”

  “Not yet. But she will be soon.”

 
Mr. Garrett nodded. “Good. Because no child should ever be separated from a parent.”

  “Speaking of children,” Efrén said lightheartedly, “I’d better get my brother and sister. Gonna shut the door now”—Efrén did his best to hide his grin—“so you can finish trying on your costume.”

  Again, a flush crept across Mr. Garrett’s face.

  That evening, Apá picked up a bag of churros for dessert on his way home. However, the real treat was getting to talk with Amá on the phone again. Apá had asked Efrén not to ask her when she was coming back, but that didn’t stop Max and Mía. In fact, they took turns telling her the same things over and over again:

  “Amá, we miss you.”

  “Amá, when are you coming back?”

  “Amá, please come home.”

  Efrén was happy just hearing her voice.

  In a few days, she’d be back home. And there was no way Efrén was going to let things go back to normal. No way was he going to hide out in the bathroom reading while Amá cooked and cleaned for everyone. He would go online. Look up how to make pancakes or scrambled eggs, maybe even learn how to make milagros of his own.

  With the sugar rush from the churros out of their system and the copy of Dr. Seuss’s book Oh, the Places You’ll Go! that Max borrowed from Ms. Solomon, Efrén and Apá readied the twins for bed. Unlike the last couple of nights, Efrén remained full of energy. He couldn’t wait to hear all about the plan to bring Amá back.

  But something about the way Apá slouched at the kitchen table scared Efrén.

  He approached Apá and took a seat beside him. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you excited about getting Amá back?”

  “Just a bit nervous. That’s all.”

  “What do you mean? You raised the money, right?”

  “It’s not just about the money. Things are different than they were a few years ago. It’s so much tougher now. So many people involved. Before we can plan anything, I have to get the money to your mother.”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  Apá stared off into nothingness. “Without her ID, I can’t wire money to her. So I’m going down to San Diego tomorrow. There’s a fence near a state park. I’m going to try and sneak the money to her.”

  Efrén flopped back onto his chair. “Wait. But la migra’s gonna be there. ICE could take you too.”

  “Mijo, sometimes the best place to hide is in plain sight. I’ll blend in. Act like I have nothing to fear.”

  “No, you can’t!”

  “Shhh. Mijo, you’ll wake up the twins.”

  Efrén nodded.

  “Look, I know it’s risky. But I don’t have a choice. Even my friends who have permission to be here are afraid.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “Here.”

  Efrén started unfolding it. “What is it?”

  “My cousin’s information. His name is Miguel, and he lives in Arizona. If anything happens to me, I want you to call him. He and I had a long, long talk today. He’s a good guy and will come get you and the twins.”

  A rush of panic surged through Efrén’s body. “Apá . . .” he said, pleadingly. “There has to be another way.”

  “No, mijo. There isn’t. Only a born citizen is safe right now.”

  Citizen? Efrén’s mind raced. “Apá, I’m a citizen.”

  Apá wasn’t having it. “No. Ni siquiera lo pienses. The border is no place for someone your age.”

  “Maybe. But it’s no place for Amá either. Or you. Please, Apá. I can do this.”

  Apá didn’t answer. He simply pressed his hands together and sighed into them.

  “Please, Apá,” Efrén repeated. “I can do it.”

  Apá wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  “Look, I’ve taken care of Max and Mía. I’ve taken them to school. Bathed them. Fed them, just like you needed me to. Please, Apá. Let me do this. For Amá.”

  Apá rubbed the back of his neck.

  Efrén scooted forward. “You’ve always taken care of this family. You drag yourself to work when you’ve been sick, or even hurt. You and Amá have given me everything I need. Let me help. This is my family too.”

  Apá nodded to himself, then finally reached over and cupped his hand over Efrén’s. “If we do this, we do it together. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Apá. Together. You and me, juntos.”

  “Okay. I will call your Amá. Set everything up. Mijo”—Apá swallowed hard—“I am very proud of you. You are very brave.”

  Brave. It was the exact opposite of how he felt.

  Twelve

  It was so early that the twins should have still been asleep, but the idea of buttermilk pancakes from Denny’s had them both wide awake. They bounced in place while Apá reached into his wallet for one-dollar bills so they could play the claw machine—something they almost never got to do. Max pointed to a tiny panda bear with shifty button eyes while Mía ogled what could have been a koala or a badly sewn sloth.

  “¿Quieres tratar?” Apá asked, extending a bit of playing money to Efrén too.

  Efrén wasn’t interested. It wasn’t that he didn’t like playing the game; it was that Apá was acting like this would be the last time he’d ever see any of them. Like he knew something he wasn’t telling.

  After topping off the twins with plenty of dessert, Apá dropped them off with Adela, the tiny lunch lady whose duplex apartment doubled as the school’s unofficial day care. She wasn’t cheap, but she was kind and easygoing, and always wore a smile. All the kids loved being around her.

  But even her smile vanished—turned all awkward and uneasy—when Apá handed her his cousin Miguel’s contact information. Just in case.

  With the twins taken care of, Apá made one final stop at the ARCO station to fill up the Chevy for the two-hour drive down to San Diego. Efrén sank into the passenger seat and waited inside the truck, feeling his stomach tighten as the numbers on the gas pump gauge rose. Even with its huge gas tank, the truck didn’t seem to take long to fill.

  Apá got behind the wheel and looked over at Efrén, as if giving him one last chance to change his mind. “¿Listo?”

  “Yep. Ready.” Efrén forced a smile. In spite of what Apá had told him over and over again—he really did not have a choice. Going into Tijuana alone was something he had to do. For Amá. For the entire family.

  This was the only plan they had. He needed to be brave.

  For the next hour or so, Efrén rested his head against the passenger window, catching the occasional sight of the blue waters of the Pacific. His eyes followed the white silhouettes of ships out on the ocean as well as the foamy trail that followed them like tiny snails. Efrén marveled at the thought that there were people out there—possibly entire families—enjoying the beautiful day. He tried imagining the size of the boats, wondering what it might feel like to have an ocean breeze hitting his face.

  The slowing of traffic caught Efrén’s attention. “Apá, is that a toll?”

  “No, mijo. That’s the San Clemente checkpoint. Don’t worry. It’s closed right now. The Border Patrol opens it randomly to catch people coming up from the border.”

  “But . . .”—Efrén shifted uncomfortably—“what if it opens as we come back?”

  Apá patted Efrén’s shoulder. “We slow down and let them wave us through. We’ll be fine. Promise.”

  Efrén’s stomach churned, but all he could do was lean on the door and let his face rest against the sun-warmed window that reminded him of hot chocolate, fresh estrellita soup, and the piojito scalp massages from Amá. Efrén could almost feel himself cuddling by her side, feeling her gentle fingers running through his hair, along with her firm but soothing nails sweeping along his scalp.

  “We are getting close, mijo.”

  Efrén shut his eyes but stayed awake. He was nervous about crossing the border alone. Scared about what could happen. But thinking about Amá gave him the courage he needed.

  I’ve got to do this, Amá. For you.


  “This is it,” Apá said, pointing to the large sign. “San Ysidro. Last US exit.”

  Efrén sat up as Apá turned off the highway and made a right over the bridge. Efrén watched the streams of people strolling along the sidewalk, most carrying backpacks—their ages as different as the shades of their skin.

  Up ahead, a red trolley caught his eye. “Look, Apá. It’s like a toy from one of those Thomas the Tank Engine table sets at the stores.”

  Only Apá didn’t answer. He had other things on his mind. “Mijo, you have the money, right?”

  Efrén patted the small satchel stashed secretly underneath his shirt. “Yep.”

  “What about the pesos for the taxi? Remember, you want to fit in.”

  Efrén searched his front pocket. “Check.”

  “And—”

  “AND my identification card. AAANND your notarized letter of permission too.” Efrén held up both items.

  Apá pulled into a small parking lot. “I’m sorry, mijo. It’s not you I don’t trust.”

  “Don’t worry. I know the plan. Go through the revolving doors. Follow the crowd until I get to the other side. Take a taxi down to Avenida Revolución . . . ask for the aro.”

  “Arco,” Apá corrected, simultaneously miming an arch with his hands. “Like the station where we gassed up today. It’s huge. You can’t miss it.”

  Efrén knocked at his temples, as if forcing the information into his head. “Arco. Arco. Got it. Amá will be waiting next to it at the Taco Loco.”

  Apá nodded before stepping out of the truck and leading Efrén to a ramp heading toward the Mexican entrance. “Hasta aquí llego. I can’t get any closer.”

  Efrén nodded, knowing that Apá had gone as far as he could. “I got this, Apá.”

  “Of course you do. Just remember: Act like you belong. And don’t worry, I will be here when you get back.”

  Efrén walked up to a long concrete corridor decorated by curved metal blades overhead. He blessed himself, took a deep breath, and followed closely behind a middle-aged couple with three young boys, pretending to be their fourth. He went through the revolving doors, and before he could really figure out what had happened, he found himself at the other side, just like that.