Look Both Ways in the Barrio Blanco (12 page)

I don’t know what was so funny. But every time we tried to stop, one of us would snort, and we’d crack up again. Tears streamed into our open mouths. People hurrying up the steps stared at us, smiling, wishing they were part of the joke. I clung to Miss. My sides hurt, but I didn’t care. I wanted to sit in the dark with her and laugh forever.

Miss opened the classroom door and glanced at the clock. We were two minutes late, but she didn’t
spontaneously combust
, as Ethan always predicted.

I didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

Miss put her hand on my back and guided me to a desk right in front, even though the rest of the class members lined the walls.

The teacher’s thick glasses made his eyes tiny and far away. His soul seemed to be in a different galaxy. That first night, Monsieur Visser
talked
about
speaking French more than he actually spoke French. Mostly he talked about living in Amsterdam during the Nazi occupation.

In the car on the way home, I asked, “Isn’t Amsterdam where Anne Frank lived?”

Miss glanced at me, impressed that I knew about the Jewish girl who lived in hiding during World War II.

“We’re reading about her in school,” I explained.

“You like your classes?”

“I like Language Arts.” It’s easy to like stuff you’re good at. And suddenly, I was good at Language Arts.

The teacher was the same one I’d had last year. Mr. Flores had asked me to read aloud the first day. I picked up the book, thinking about the summer days when Miss read to me. Afternoons when her words flowed like music.

In the classroom, the words flowed out of
me
. Mr. Flores stopped me. “You’ve been reading over the summer?”

I nodded. “With my mentor.”

I would’ve felt silly calling Miss my Amiga to Mr. Flores. I didn’t think he’d understand. He gave a slight shake of his head. “Thank your mentor.”

And for the first time
I
understood.
Mentor
. Not just an
amiga
. Not even a tutor. Miss was more. She was showing me that I could decide who I wanted to be.

When Miss’s van pulled up to our apartment, Rosa and Tía Carmen were sitting on the steps, watching Suelita and my cousins play on the grass in the cool darkness. Before I got out of the van, Rosa ran up to Miss’s window.

“What did Cody make for dinner?” Like me, she was amazed that a boy could cook.

Miss frowned. “Dinner? Jacinta and I are taking French at the community college.”

I almost choked on my own spit. Rosa looked across the van at me. Using just my eyes, I pleaded with her not to say anything. After a million years, Rosa nodded. “That’s nice, Miss.”

Then Rosa said, “Jacinta, it’s your turn to wash dishes. But first give Suelita a bath and put her to bed.”

I was Rosa’s slave.

Anything she wanted me to do, I had to do, or she’d tell Papi I was taking a college class. Dishes, laundry, babysitting Suelita. Rosa would lie on the sofa and order me to bring her a drink. I’d carry the glass thinking,
I should dump this on your stupid head!

But
I
was stupid for letting Rosa get away with it. I should’ve told Miss I didn’t want to take French, especially since part of me didn’t.

But part of me did.

It’s easy to like what you’re good at — and I was good at French. Better than the grown-ups in class. Better than Miss.

“Jacinta!”

I stopped and looked around. Angélica’s Amiga followed me out of the school. Her glasses bounced on their chain as she jogged up to me. Taking me by my arms, she peered into my face. “Have you seen Angélica?”

I inhaled her baby-powder smell. “No, Miss Linda.”

“The school says she hasn’t been here for two weeks.”

My best friend? I didn’t notice she was missing?
Black and purple waves of guilt and sorrow washed over me.

Her voice broke. “I bought her that phone so this wouldn’t happen. Do you know where they might’ve gone?”

Her words clanked in my hollow insides. “I’m sorry, Miss.”

“Can I give you my phone number? In case she calls you?”

I thought about telling her that this is how it works in the barrio. Once when Papi got sick for a few weeks, he lost his job. He got a new job when he got better, but by then we were too far behind in our rent to ever catch up. We had to move. In the night. Without telling anyone.

But Miss Linda rummaged through the wadded tissues in her purse for a pen. She looked at me, her red eyes swimming.

I held out my palm. “Sure, Miss. Write your phone number on my hand, so I won’t lose it.”

I didn’t wash that hand for three days.

Then I saw the garbage bin outside Angélica’s building. While workmen dragged the family’s stuff out of their apartment, neighbors picked through the open container, like crows on a dead squirrel.

I ran home and took a shower.
I’m glad Papi has two jobs now. That could never happen to us again
.

I scrubbed the ink off my hand.

During French classes, three young women with British accents sat in the back of the room giggling. Mr. V. never seemed to hear them.

Miss was
beyond
irritated.

“Just tell them to leave!” she told Monsieur Visser one day after class.

He seemed to shrink in front of her. “Programs that don’t meet the minimum enrollment get canceled. I depend on foreign students to register, whether they care about the class or not.”

It made no sense. I asked, “Why do they sign up, if they don’t want to learn French?”

Mr. V. peered at me with his tiny eyes. “They have to take one class each semester to stay in the United States on educational visas.”

They can stay in America by being rude in French class?
My gut twisted as I thought of the scars on Mamá’s arms, of what she’d face to get back home.

I wanted to throw up.

I snatched up the phone on the first ring.

Mamá always called just before Papi left for his night job, but that day Papi had needed gas for his truck, so he’d left early. I put Mamá on speakerphone so Rosa and I could both hear. We leaned in, hungry for her sound of her voice. Suelita slept next to us on the sofa, so we talked softly.

“When are you coming home?” The same question I always asked.

Mamá voice was raspy, “Abuelita is worse,
mija
. I need to stay until — as long as she needs me.”

Until? Until what? Abuelita is going to die?

I didn’t ask the question out loud. Neither did Rosa.

Mamá asked, “How are your studies?”

I was distracted, worried about Abuelita, so words just fell out. “Miss and I are taking French at — at the community college.”

Rosa and I stared at each other. I held my breath.
Why don’t I think before I open my mouth?

Mamá’s voice was full of surprise. “That is wonderful,
mija
. Papi is not worried?”

What’s wrong with me? One minute I can’t shut up. The next, I can’t speak!

“He says it is okay,” Rosa lied. Then she reached across the sofa to gently shake our little sister. “Mamá, Suelita is waking up. She wants to talk to you.”

After we hung up the phone, Rosa and I washed the dishes.

Together.

“YOU ARE BRAVE,”
said Rosa.

I looked up, surprised. We were alone in the rec center locker room. I’d asked Tía to watch Suelita so Rosa could come with Miss and me. I owed my sister for covering for me with Mamá about the French class. But I didn’t expect any compliments. “Brave? Me?”

“Taking gymnastics.”

“The practice beam is only one foot off the ground!”

“Not that. The white girls. Miss says you made friends on the very first day.”

I remembered that class, how scared I was. I raised my eyebrow, giving Rosa the look Miss sometimes gave me. “You talked about me?”

Rosa sighed. “We talked about
me
. Miss says my world is too small. But I am not brave like you.”

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I tried again, and this time the words came out all by themselves. “Miss wants to be your mentor.”

Rosa looked confused. “What about you?”

“She can mentor both of us.” I expected Rosa to be excited. Or at least smile. She frowned.
“What?”
I asked.

“Jacinta, I am not brave like you. Miss makes you do things, and you do them.”

I didn’t know if Rosa was crazy or if I was. She’d spent months being jealous.
Now Rosa doesn’t want Miss?
I’d been hogging Miss, keeping her for myself.
Suddenly I want to share?

Maybe you’d think I was being kind. But you would be wrong. I just didn’t want to be in Miss’s world alone anymore, especially since Angélica was gone. If Rosa and I were together, there’d be at least one person in the world who understood the
whole
me, not just bits and pieces.

Instead of arguing with Rosa, I talked to Miss later, telling her I was worried about the
boys
hanging around Rosa. Then I told Papi that Rosa needed an Amiga — to keep her out of
trouble
.

Against Papi
and
Miss? Rosa never stood a chance.

I was excited when the youth center got tickets to a
professional
basketball game for kids in the Amigo-Amiga program. When I told Miss that Rosa and I wanted to go, she said basketball wasn’t her “thing.”

I said, “If
I
can watch all
five
acts of
Othello
, then
you
can watch
one
basketball game.”

She got the tickets.

But on the day of the game, nothing went right. Even though I tried to explain to Rosa that a watch is a
tool
, she wasn’t ready when Miss arrived. And because Miss is cheap, we had to stop to buy snacks. No way was she going to pay the sports arena food prices.

By the time we got there, a sign said
LOT FULL.
The youth center had given us a parking pass, but Miss had to
pay
at another lot far away.

We walked back to the arena with Miss’s heels making angry clicks on the pavement. We stood in line — something Miss hated. Then we got sent to
another
line for a “security check” because of our purses. Waves of annoyance radiated from Miss. “How long is this going to take?”

“Sorry, ma’am. Just checking for weapons.”

But after poking about in her purse, the usher said she couldn’t bring her snack into the arena. Miss’s face made me take a step back.

She was a tornado. In a whirlwind of elbows, she flipped her purse upside down, dumping out the package of trail mix. It hit the floor and broke open. The crowd mobbing to see the basketball game danced around pieces of dried fruit and nuts skidding across the tiles. The usher groaned.

In a huff, Miss pushed past him. My heart slid up to my throat. Whispers hissed around me.

“Did you just see —?” “Isn’t she —? The one on the news?”

Rosa and I hurried after Miss. My sister trembled. “That guard could arrest her! Why did she do that?”

The answer struck me.
Because she can!
Miss had the
luxury
of being able to make a scene — something our parents could never afford.

I knew that Rosa was afraid of the man’s uniform. “He’s not a guard — just an usher.”

Rosa mumbled, “We’ll need the
Mentors’
Rescue Center to get her out of jail.”

I grinned — until I realized that I was smiling because Rosa didn’t know stuff.

Red with embarrassment, Miss waited for us to catch up. “I shouldn’t have done that. Do you think anyone recognized me?”

I lied. “No, you’re good. And I still have the candy. We can share.”

Understanding came into Rosa’s face. “I still have the chips! After you threw your stuff, nobody checked me! Did you do that on purpose?”

“No!” After a pause Miss added, “We probably should turn over the rest of the snacks, too.”

puppy-dog eyes. “Please, Miss! We didn’t lie. Nobody
asked
if we had any food.”

She shook her head. “What kind of example am I setting? You need a different mentor.”

I smirked. “No way, Miss!”

Some things make sense. Like French. Maybe it was because I already spoke two languages, but French was easy. What
doesn’t
make sense is deporting people who want to work, but welcoming rude girls who sit and yak in the back of a French class.

The three of them gabbed right through Monsieur Visser’s explanation of the
passé composé
. I was mad, and didn’t consider what Miss or Mr. V. would think. I slapped my pen on my notebook and marched to the back of the room. I stood over those girls with my hands on my hips,
glowering
. I didn’t care that they were older than me. I didn’t care that they were white. The giggling stopped like I’d yanked out the cord on a television.

After the clock ticked off the longest minute in history, I walked back to my seat. Without saying a word.

The class continued.

I glanced at Miss, afraid of what I’d see. Her eyes were leaking, and she bounced in her chair. Her hand covered her mouth. It seemed like she was trying to swallow her lips.