Look Both Ways in the Barrio Blanco (10 page)

Miss look relieved. “That’s what I figured.”

She took her cell phone from her purse and punched in the number at the bottom of the letter. “Good afternoon, Mr. Benton. This is Kathryn Dawson Dahl.”

Miss used her whole name
. I smirked.
Leverage
.

“Well, thank you, but I’m hoping to get back to anchoring. Until then, I’m mentoring one of the daughters of the Juárez family. They submitted an application for scholarships?”

Pause
.

“They got the letter, but there’s no way they can pay for all of this. What about just the gymnastics class?”

I heard a man’s voice rumbling.

“Sure, but based on their income, I hoped you’d drop the charge.”

Her face froze and she turned away from me.

“You can’t assume that. The girls were born in Colorado.” I tried to imagine what Mr. Benton was saying. I walked around Miss so I could read her face, but she turned away again.

“The parents’ status has nothing to do with it. The family pays sales tax, so they contribute to your budget, but they’re not receiving services.”

“Miss —?” I chased her in circles, trying to tell her to forget it.

“I’d like to speak with your supervisor.”

Sharp words came through the phone line. Laser beams shot out of Miss’s eyes. If Mr. Benton had seen them, his words would’ve jumped back down his throat. “No, that’s not the end of it. Believe me, Mr. Benton, this is
not
the end of it.”

Irritated, she punched a button on the phone, then stared at the wall. Her laser-beam eyes looked like they’d burn a hole right through it. So I was surprised when she spoke. Her voice wasn’t angry. It was
thoughtful
.

“Jacinta, it’s none of my business, but I don’t want to start something I can’t finish. Do your parents have documentation?”

An earthquake rocked my world.

Never, ever, had anyone asked me that. Even other Mexicans didn’t ask.

Miss didn’t know that she’d stepped
way
over
la línea
. Much too
personal
.

I didn’t want to answer her. I needed time to
think
. My hand found my hair and began twisting. “Of course my parents have papers.”

Miss nodded. “That makes things simpler.” She started punching buttons on her phone. “Maplewood, Colorado. City manager’s office.”

At her last three words, my knees turned all watery. I waited until we were in the van before asking. “That lady you called — was that Mr. Benton’s boss?”

“His boss’s boss.”

A trickle of sweat tickled my side. “Is Mr. Benton in trouble?” What I meant was,
Am
I
in trouble?

She made her most
dignified
snort. “That would be a yes.”

I waited in the chilly gymnastics room for the instructor. Hunched on a mat, with my Michener Mountaineers T-shirt pulled over my knees, I tried to keep warm.

The temperature wasn’t the only reason I was trembling. Blond girls with ponytails bounced around me like popcorn on a stove. Miss
beamed
from the bleachers, but I didn’t smile back.
Why did I want this?

With a splat, then another splat, two girls landed on the mat. One on each side of me.

“Are you in the beginner class, too?” asked the girl with freckles and skinny brown braids.

I looked from her to the other girl. Her hair was frizzy and yellow. Her eyes bulged in a cute-but-ugly way. They both grinned. I wasn’t sure what to do. But Cody and Ethan were white, and they were nice. I forced myself to smile and nod.

“It’s my third time,” said the freckled girl.

“Your third time? In the
beginner
class?”

As soon as they hit the air, I knew they were the wrong words. She looked at the ceiling so the water pooling in her eyes wouldn’t roll down her face. “I’m never gonna be good at gymnastics.”

Careful to keep my voice gentle, I asked, “Why do you keep taking it if it makes you sad?”

“My mom thinks I’m fat.”

I felt the ache in her throat. Like it was my own.

The other girl rolled her bug eyes. “Your mom’s anorexic. My mom says I’m clumsy. This is supposed to make me graceful.”

I felt sorry for them.
Mamá would never call me fat or clumsy
. Then I remembered my
mamá
wasn’t around to call me anything at all.

“Why’d your mom bring you?” asked the girl with the bug eyes.

My stomach lurched. I glanced into the stands at Miss. She smiled and waved. The other girls’ eyes followed my look.

The girl with braids said, “Is
that
your mom? Isn’t she on the news?”

My hand went right to my hair, my finger twisting and pulling. Like I was trying to yank it all out. Then I nodded.

The bug-eyed girl said, “She’s pretty. Come on. Let’s jump in the tumbling pit.”

That night — like so many others — I lay awake, counting my lies. Each lie was a little thing. Like a toothpick. A
tower
of toothpicks I kept building taller. One more toothpick, and the whole thing might collapse.

I’d lied saying that Miss was my mom. I’d lied to keep Miss from taking Rosa swimming with us, and I kept lying so Miss wouldn’t know Papi had to work all the time. Then there was the big lie, the one that felt the most dangerous — the one about my parents having papers.

And because I’d told so many lies, I had to lie to
myself
.

I told myself everything would be all right.

MISS WAS ANNOYED
that I wasn’t ready when she got to our apartment. But we were the last ones to arrive at the youth center’s Back-to-School Night for kids in the Amigo-Amiga program, so I was happy about the way it turned out. Miss had to park a few blocks away. No one saw her wheezy brown van.

I’d told Angélica she drove a red convertible.

The parking lot was crammed with food booths and a bouncing castle. It was my first time at Back-to-School Night. Angélica had bragged about how much fun she’d had with her Amiga for the past three years.

Now that
I
had an Amiga, it was my chance to get even.

People stared at Miss. Even if you didn’t know who she was, with her sunglasses and her hair glowing in the afternoon light, you’d guess she was a TV star.

I slipped my arm through hers.
My
Amiga. She looked at me and smiled. I saw myself grinning back in the twin reflections of her dark lenses.

Mrs. E. stood at the registration table. “Kate!” Her eyes flicked over to me, then back to Miss. “Have you —?”

From the corner of my eye, I caught the tiniest movement of Miss’s head. I turned to look at her, but couldn’t see past her sunglasses.

I was
uneasy
.

Miss put her hand on my back. “We need to get Jacinta set up for seventh grade.”

Mrs. E. reached into a stack behind her and grabbed two backpacks. “Green or purple?”

“Can I get a pink one?”

“Those are for elementary school.”

Green or purple — not much of a choice. Purple is pretty, but it’s too sad. I don’t want to carry sorrow around all year. But there’s already too much jealousy in my life. And green is an ugly color
.

“Purple.”

“Can we get one for Rosa?” Miss asked.

I stiffened.

Mrs. E. shook her head as she handed me the backpack. “Not until she’s in the program.”

Until?
I whipped my head around to look at Miss.

“Let’s get a hot dog.” She steered me to the food line. They had cotton candy, but I knew better than to ask Miss for “sugar” before having something
substantial
. We got hot dogs and sodas and sat down.

I had trouble with the ketchup. “Miss, can you open this?”

She took the packet from me and tried tearing at the corner, like it said.

Nothing
.

She tried again.

It exploded.

She wiped her face with her hand, leaving a tomatoey smear across her cheek, then stared at the red stain on her silk blouse.

I got busy eating so she wouldn’t see my eyes laughing. I looked to see if Angélica was watching. She wasn’t.

She huddled next to her Amiga at a table by themselves. Angélica’s eyes were red. Her Amiga rocked her, not saying anything.

Miss hadn’t held me like that since the day we met. The green beast whimpered in my belly. But watching Angélica, I knew I didn’t have to try to be better than her anymore. With her
papá
dead, she’d always be jealous of me.

The bite of hot dog stayed in my mouth. My jaw refused to chew. I swallowed the piece whole. It ripped my throat all the way down.

I’d seen Angélica at school, but I didn’t hang out with her, afraid she’d see the guilt in me.

When Tía was in high school, she used to babysit Angélica and her brothers, but Angélica’s family had never met Victor. I worried someone would say something — that my guilty secret would come out. In the barrio, you didn’t know everyone, but you always knew people who knew other people.

But I was Angélica’s best friend. And because of Victor, I owed her. If I hadn’t won that last Lotería game, maybe her
papá
would still be alive.

I looked around for something to push Angélica out of my mind. My eyes wandered to the words on the tired brown building —
MAPLEWOOD YOUTH RESCUE CENTER
. “Miss, what are you rescuing me from?”

She’d poured some of her diet lemon-lime soda on a napkin and was dabbing at the ketchup stain. She looked up. Her eyes followed mine to the sign. “What do
you
think?”

I squinted at the sign and thought of the last few months. Aching for Mamá’s arms, Papi working all the time. Feeling
vulnerable
. Worrying about Abuelita. Fighting with a bossy big sister and listening to a whiny little sister who cried aloud for Mamá while I cried in my heart.

The night before Mamá left, alone under the covers with her, I’d accused Mamá of loving Abuelita more than me.

Mamá had stroked my hair. “It’s not like that,
mija
. I made Papi come back to America because I wanted our children to get an education. But when we left, Abuelita made me promise that if she ever needed me, I would come back.”

I wrapped an arm around her neck. “Then promise you’ll come home if
I
ever need you.”

She promised. But she’d lied.

And that’s when I ran into Miss.

Suddenly my life was full. Going to the movies. Swimming. Gymnastics. Dinners at her big house, swinging in the hammock with Ethan and Cody.

The best was when Miss read to me. She wasn’t cuddly. Miss was all knees and elbows. But when she’d read, I’d lean against her, that smell of flowery hair spray. Her words swept me away, to a magic castle where kids flew on broomsticks and fought evil wizards. When Miss stopped reading, I was surprised to be sitting in her family room.

She kept scrubbing at the ketchup stain. The red blob had spread across her chest. Her napkin was shredded, her blouse drenched in lemon-lime soda. And because she was Kathryn Dawson Dahl, everyone watched. It reminded me of the day we met.

I grinned. “Boredom.”

She looked up.

“You rescue me from boredom,” I repeated.

The snort.

What I said to Miss was true, but it wasn’t the whole truth. In my world, where
family comes first
, Miss saved me from always being last.

We finished our hot dogs. I wanted cotton candy, but as I gathered up my trash, Miss touched my hand. Instantly I missed Mamá. Like she was leaving me all over again. Water came to my eyes.

Miss whispered, “I need to ask you something.”

The lump in my throat kept me from answering.

“I’d like to be Rosa’s mentor, too.”

The green beast stood on its hind legs and roared, breathing fire through my throat, into my head. My eyes burned. “Wha —?”

“I’m worried about Rosa. Her being with that boy.”

My face got hot. “I wish I’d never told you that.”

“No, it’s good you told me, because —”

“Rosa can get her own Amiga!”

Miss squeezed my hand, but I pulled it away. She sighed. “I can see you’re not ready for this.”

She sat back and stared at nothing.

The beast settled in my chest.

But he kept one eye open.