Lucy Doesn't Wear Pink (32 page)

“I wasn’t talking to God yet. I was trying to figure it out myself.”

“Still you think backwards. Ask God first. He gives you the answer. Then you know.”

Lucy poked her elbows onto her knees and rested her chin in her hands. “How do you actually know that, Inez?”

“I learned from Ruth.”

“In the Bible?”

“Mmm.”

“I don’t get it.”

Inez folded her hands in her lap in that tidy way she had. “Did Senora Ruth plan each thing? Did she know Senor Boaz will provide more leftovers for her and protect her from the young hombres?”

“No.”

“Did she make herself beautiful for Senor Boaz so he will fall in love with her?”

“No. She didn’t even think he would notice her.”

“Senora Ruth only obeyed.”

“But I don’t know what to obey, Inez,” Lucy said.

“The heart of God.”

“Huh?”

Inez nodded toward the Clucks’ house. The shadows of the junk were long and crazy, like the jumbled pieces of a puzzle no one could possibly put together.

“Poor little one.”

“I don’t mean to be hateful,” Lucy said, “but I’m not thinking Januarie’s such a poor little one right now.”

“The heart of God does. That is what you obey. Senora Ruth stayed with Naomi. She gave Naomi the baby.”

“What baby?”

“The baby she had when she married Senor Boaz.”

“She gave it to Naomi?” Lucy turned to face Inez. “Why?”

Inez tapped her forehead. “Remember? Senora Naomi had no one left to take care of her. No sons, no grandsons. Now, yes — that baby of Ruth.”

“Wow.” Lucy pulled at the fleece that stuck out of the rip in her jacket sleeve. “I could never be that unselfish.”

“You are already. You give your childhood for your father. You try to protect the boy J.J.” She looked deep into Lucy with her wise eyes. “You are an old child. You do not know, but you have the heart of God.”

Lucy wasn’t so sure about that, but she dug back to something Inez said before.

“So, God thinks Januarie’s a poor little one, so I should too?”

“That can be, yes.”

“But I just don’t get how she could even think up that stuff to do to me.”

Once again, Inez nodded toward the house across the street. The shadows were longer now, and a light had come on behind one of the sheets in the downstairs window. It was such a confused, sad-looking house compared to Lucy’s.

“We act as we are taught,” Inez said.

Who taught Januarie to be mean?

Well, du-uh, Mora would have said. Why did J.J. and Januarie have to run to her house and call Mr. Auggy when their dad yelled, unless there was something worse than yelling going on? That was the thing Dad and Mr. Auggy didn’t tell her the night she hit her head.

“Is she going to grow up to be mean like her father, then?” Lucy said.

“If she will have others to love her, no.” Inez unfolded her hands and stood up. “What we love — that must come from the heart of God.”

Lucy sat on the steps for a while after Inez went inside. She heard Mora inside squeal, “I have this fabulous idea, Abuela — listen to this.” The rest was told in whispers, which was fine. Lucy could only think about Januarie — and Mudge — and what she loved — until J.J. appeared around the corner, hurrying with his head down. She stood up and called to him.

He kept walking, backward, so she ran to him, and with her eyes darting cautiously to his house as she talked, she told him all about Januarie.

“You think Mudge is still in my garage?” J.J. said. He was still edging toward his house, and Lucy knew why.

“You better go,” she said. “Januarie said your dad’s home.”

His eyes opened wider, as if suddenly he knew that she might know what went on in that house surrounded by a fortress of trash.

“Don’t yell at Januarie,” Lucy said. “She gets yelled at enough.”

J.J. gave an almost invisible nod. “I’ll find Mudge, I promise.”

She didn’t watch him go into his house. She just hurried back to her own where she would smell melted cheese and hear Mora chattering and know that her dad was coming home. She planned to hug him the minute he came in the door.

19

Mudge wasn’t back under his plant the next morning. J. J. promised that he was looking every chance he got. Lucy promised God she would try to have a heart like his and be nice to Januarie.

At least there was the soccer game to think about — and it was only one day away.

The banners that hung over the highway and Granada Street were even more beautiful than Veronica and Dusty’s notebooks, proclaiming Los Suenos Pride Day and announcing the match — El Paso Pachucos vs. Los Suenos Dreams.

“What does ‘vs.’ stand for?” Carla Rosa wanted to know.

Nobody laughed at her. J.J. explained it like she wasn’t a moron who should know that by now. He got a ding-ding-ding for that.

Every shop on Granada Street and even those along the highway had f lowers in the windows and game tickets for sale inside. Mr. Benitez and Pasco were having a competition for who could sell the most. In Lucy’s mind, Mr. Benitez was a total winner because the uniforms were, as Mora had predicted, fabulous. When the team was all lined up in them on Friday afternoon after their final practice, modeling them for Mr. Auggy, right down to the cleats and shin guards they had been practicing with all week, he grinned way past the small smile, all the way to his earlobes.

“This is my sueno,” he said.

“Come on, Mr. Auggy,” Oscar said. “You been all over the world. This ain’t your dream.”

“You have no idea,” Mr. Auggy said.

But Lucy thought she did. They had uniforms and a name and they felt like a team and maybe they could even beat Aunt Karen’s team tomorrow. It really was part of a dream, and she hoped she didn’t wake up before it all happened.

Just when she didn’t think it could get any better, it did. Mora greeted her at the back door when she got home, fingers going all over the place.

“I have the most fabulous surprise for you!” she said.

For a second, Lucy was afraid she was going to volunteer to do all the girl players’ hair the same way for the game. Mr. Auggy already said ponytails were fine —

“You’re gonna have cheerleaders for your team!”

Lucy stared as Mora pulled out her cell phone, pushed a button, and displayed a picture on the tiny screen. Lucy recognized Mora’s dance team, only they were all in short navy blue skirts and white T-shirts that said, LOS SUENOS DREAMS in sparkly red letters. Each girl had her hair in French braids so the soccer ball earrings hanging from their ears could be seen.

“We’re totally going to be your cheerleaders,” Mora said — well, shrieked. “I bet those lame Pachucos don’t have cheerleaders.”

“Mora,” Inez said. But her voice hid a laugh beneath it, Lucy could tell.

“This is so cool,” Lucy said. “I mean it, Mora — it’s just — ”

“I know!” Mora cried, and f lung herself at Lucy in a fingers-f lying hug.

As Dusty would have said,
Wow. Just wow.

Lucy was awake with the sun the next morning, even though the game wasn’t until 10:00. She checked to see if Mudge was back first, and when the place under the century plant was still vacant, she closed her eyes and said out loud, “God — please take care of him. Untie his knots.” Because if he was still in J.J.’s garage, there would be no end to the knots he had to deal with.

Dad made pancakes, though Lucy could only eat half her usual stack. Dad teased her about liking Inez’s cooking more than his, but she was just too excited — nervous — everything. He even said the chores could wait — this was game day.

Lucy loved the sound of that. Game Day. Maybe — if the town council didn’t sell the field and people thought the Los Suenos Dreams were fabulous — maybe there would be lots of Game Days ahead.

At 8:30, Lucy told Dad the biggest van she’d ever seen had just pulled up in front of their house. Aunt Karen parked behind it in her car and hopped out, wearing a bright turquoise jacket with gold embroidered letters that spelled out Pachucos. It didn’t look quite right on her — like she had borrowed it from some guy because she was cold.

Lucy and Dad met her on the front porch, and Aunt Karen stopped short at the bottom of the steps and lowered her sunglasses.

“Where did you get a uniform?” she said.

“You thought I’d be in an old ratty T-shirt, huh?” Lucy said.

Dad squeezed her arm. “Incredible community support. So — you have your team with you?”

“And our coach,” Aunt Karen said. “A few of the parents are driving up too.”

“Why didn’t everybody’s parents come?” Lucy said. “ALL our team’s parents will be there.”

Aunt Karen put her sunglasses back on. “They’re busy people. It’s not like this is the game of the century.”

Lucy felt like Aunt Karen had just stuck her with a pin and all the air was going out.

“So where’s this field?” Aunt Karen said.

She said “this field” the same way she said “this house.” Lucy sucked her air back in. Aunt Karen was going to see today — she was just going to see — and then “this thing” about Lucy needing to live with her was going to be over for good.

Lucy couldn’t wait any longer to ride to the field with J.J. Mr. Auggy said he’d pick her up, but she wanted to go on bikes like always. She didn’t want to mess up her game by doing anything different.

She waited by the back gate for what seemed like forever, glancing at her watch every few seconds. When Mr. Auggy arrived to get Dad, she was still standing there and J.J. still hadn’t appeared.

“You’ve got your game face on, captain!” Mr. Auggy said before he went into the house.

Lucy didn’t tell him it wasn’t a game face. It was a scared face. What if J.J. didn’t show up?

And then he was there, without his bike, face stiff as a shin guard.

“Let’s go,” he said.

“Where’s your bike?” Lucy’s heart was pounding. “J.J., what’s wrong?”

“Run,” he said.

And Lucy would have, if someone hadn’t screamed from the corner in a voice that rooted her right to the sidewalk. There were words in the scream, bad ones, but all Lucy heard was the anger. And all she saw was Mr. Cluck coming at them, his teeth gritted like the front grill of a truck. J.J. flattened himself to the fence.

When he got to them, J.J.’s father stabbed his hand toward J.J., and then he stopped and stared at Lucy as if he’d just discovered she was there. He was so close to her she could smell him, and it made her want to throw up.

The hand drew back. “Where do you think you’re goin’?” Mr. Cluck growled at J.J.

J.J. didn’t answer. Lucy was sure he was so scared he couldn’t. And so it was somebody else who said, “We have a soccer game today.”

Only when J.J.’s father turned his glistening eyes on her was Lucy really sure she was the one who had said it.

“He ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“But he’s on the team. We’ve been practicing for weeks — ”

“Lucy.”

It was Dad, talking before the gate was even open. Mr. Auggy stepped out with him, his hand outstretched as if he were going to shake the hand of this awful man with the stinky breath.

“Mr. Cluck,” he said.

J.J.’s father sneered at his outstretched hand.

Mr. Auggy dropped it to his side. “Is there a problem?”

“No kiddin’ there’s a problem. You were gonna ‘help’ him stay outta trouble. It’s not workin’. He’s got a worse attitude than ever.” With a jerk, Mr. Cluck curled his fingers around the back of J.J.’s neck so hard Lucy could feel it herself. “Guess you’re gonna have to play your little football game without him.”

“Soccer,” Lucy whispered.

No one seemed to hear her as Mr. Cluck half-dragged J.J. down the street and Mr. Auggy called after him and Dad found his way to Lucy’s side.

“You okay, champ?” he said.

“No! He can’t do that, can he?”

Dad gave a huge sigh. “Yes, I’m afraid he can.”