Until I Find Julian

I'm in the worst trouble.
How can I tell Mami and Abuelita what I've done?

I sneak along the alley and sit at the back of the house, leaning against the splintery boards, so angry with myself. I sweep up a pile of stones and toss them into the green creek, skipping them like frogs jumping from one slippery rock to another.

Sometimes the stones miss the water. My friend Damian says my aim is terrible. And he's right. With the next stone I hit a tree branch almost over my head, just missing my brother Julian's wooden birdhouses. Four or five finches fly up and scatter as a stray cat watches.

“Sorry,” I whisper to the birds, and to the cat, who watches with great tawny eyes, ready to pounce on anything that moves.

I turn my head. Between the uneven boards of the house, I see Mama and Abuelita at the kitchen table, their heads bent over squares of cloth. They never stop working; they make scarves and quilts to sell at the market. Sometimes they sew red and yellow pieces together, or sunny greens and blues, reminding me of the creek.

They never stop talking either.

How can I go in there without any money?

Not one coin!

I close my eyes. Today, instead of sweeping at the car factory after school, Damian and I played catch with motor bolts while the foreman, Miguel, was eating in his office.

I missed, and the bolt flew over my head, denting a car door.

Damian slapped his head. “I should have known, Mateo.”

Miguel came from his office, his mouth still full, pointing with his fist. “Out!” he yelled.

I couldn't stop laughing at first, thinking he was joking. But Miguel almost never joked or smiled. “Go on,” he said, red-faced and furious. He didn't even pay me for last week's work.

Twelve years old, and I've been fired from my after-school job. A small job, but still…

Now I watch Mami and Abuelita stitching. I'll never be able to tell them!

I listen to what they're saying. It's the end of the month; my brother Julian will have sent money all the way from Arkansas. There'll be meat for dinner. Chicken, maybe, or small pieces of shredded beef mixed with rice and gravy.

Which will I pick? It doesn't do any good to tell myself I don't deserve a good dinner; my mouth waters. Chicken! I almost smell it stewing in the pot, with a pinch of one of Abuelita's spices that grow tall on the windowsill, and a carrot or two, chopped and soft.

“Enough to give you a handout,” I whisper to the cat, and rest my hand on her grimy head.

The rap on the front door is loud. Someone is pounding hard; it must mean trouble. Mami stands up so suddenly the chair clatters and falls behind her.

I peer through the open spaces in the wall, to hear a voice calling. A moment later, Julian's old friend Tomàs fills the kitchen doorway.

Mami pushes a chair toward him. I can see the worry in her face. Why isn't Tomàs with Julian in Arkansas? They crossed the border to work in America together. What's brought him back here?

Abuelita goes to the sink and pours a glass of water for Tomàs. He sits at the table facing them, slowly shaking his head.

I knot my fingers together, afraid to hear what he'll say.

When he speaks, his voice is low, his words slow and spaced apart. “Julian,” he begins. “All of us. We worked on a building that would be the tallest one in town. Ten floors. Hard work. Satisfying.”

“Please—” Mami says.

“Everyone knew we had no green cards.” He looks up. “No permission to work in America. No permission even to be in that country.”

Mami's hand covers her mouth as Tomàs tells of
la migra,
the border patrolmen, surrounding the construction area where they worked. “The illegal workers were loaded into the truck and sent to a detention center.”

Abuelita sits straight, almost as if her back is made of iron. “And Julian?”

I hold my breath.

“We were on a scaffold, two flights up. Any minute they'd see us. I grabbed Julian's shoulder. ‘We have to run. It's the only way.'

“I saw him peering over the edge.

“ ‘No, Julian! We can't jump.' ”

Tomàs puts a small roll of bills on the table. “Just before I backed off the scaffold, Julian reached into his pocket and asked me to bring this to you.”

He spreads his hands wide. “The owner paid us good money. A generous boss. But now it's over. I don't know what my family will do for food.”

Mami can hardly speak. “But Julian? Is he all right?”

“I don't know. I managed to climb down and run without being caught. But if he jumped, he may have been hurt. Maybe he's in prison. Or in hiding. I wish I could tell you more.”

And what will we do? I lost my job with Miguel. Mami and Abuelita will have to sew long into the night.

I picture Julian just before he left: his hair was so dark it was almost black; his teeth were white and straight when he laughed. I looked up at his strong face. “Don't go! Stay! Mami said it's a dangerous trip. Thieves will take your money. And what about the desert, that huge river? What about the police on both sides of the border?”