Crusader (11 page)

Suzie guided us into the area in front of the TV sets. Gabriela, Monica, and I took seats in the back. Dona Clara arranged the other girls' seats, separating some of them, like all teachers do. She looked right at me and thought for a moment. Then she smiled slightly and turned her attention to someone else.

Suzie took a remote from the top of the TV wall. She came behind me and pressed the volume button until we could hear.

Somebody patted me on the shoulder. I turned and saw Kristin. She was panting, like she had been running. She said, "We just made it. The storm's about to hit."

Nina was behind her. She was staring at the TV wall. "Hey, it's four o'clock. Are you watching Angela?"

Suzie answered her, "You bet."

Nina gave two thumbs-up. "All right! Angela's my girl. What's the topic today?"

Suzie said, "Brazilian teenagers," and pointed to the tour group.

Nina looked puzzled. She said to Kristin, "What kind of topic is that?" Nina and Kristin took chairs next to me, on the far side of Gabriela and Monica.

Suzie called out to everyone, "Shh!
Andalay! Andalay!
Here we go."

The nine screens filled up with pictures of Angela del Fuego—her bright red nails, her long red hair, her shiny white teeth. It was her usual opening—a montage of scenes from past shows. Then a voice-over from Angela began: "When you think of Brazil, you think of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil's most famous city and main tourist destination. You think of its world-renowned beaches—Copacabana and Ipanema. What you try not to think of is this: A stone's throw from all this wealth and glamor are the
favelas,
the brutal slums in which as many as two million Brazilians eke out a miserable, violent, and brief existence."

The voice-over paused while the screens filled with pictures of people living in lean-to shacks and poking through piles of garbage. The last picture was of a little girl with a bloated stomach. She was naked, standing ankle-deep in the mud, and crying. The voice-over resumed, "What happens when children such as this one survive until their teenage years, and try to leave the
favelas,
will shock you. Today on
Angela Live.
"

A series of commercials began, during which we sat in uncomfortable silence. Suzie attempted to smile at Dona Clara, but Dona Clara was staring out through the glass doors at the raging thunderstorm.

Gabriela leaned over, pointed to Kristin and Nina, and asked, "Roberta, are these your friends?"

I said, "Yes," and introduced them. "This is my cousin Kristin and her friend Nina. This is Gabriela."

Kristin took Gabriela's outstretched hand and shook it. She said, "Hi."

At first Nina didn't move. The she stared at Gabriela for a moment and said, "You got nice hair."

Gabriela muttered, "Thank you," and sat back in her chair.

A few seconds later Angela del Fuego returned. This time she was live, standing in her studio. She had on a two-piece black suit with a white blouse, and lots of gold jewelry. She had three guests sitting behind her on a stage—a South American priest in a priest's collar, a young black lady in a blue dress, and a white-guy lawyer in a gray suit.

The camera zoomed in on Angela as she spoke to the audience. "Are there areas in your city where you won't go to shop because of street kids? I know there are for me. As a woman alone, I don't feel safe there. So I spend my money somewhere else. Shopkeepers in those areas might not like it, but there's not much they can do about it. Shopkeepers in Rio, on the other hand,
can
do something about it. They can have the street kids murdered."

The TV screens filled with a picture of a row of bloody bodies, dead teenagers' bodies, lined up on a sidewalk. Angela continued, "These teenagers were shot as they lay sleeping outside a cathedral. They were shot by a death squad of off-duty police officers hired by the local shopkeepers—hired as we might hire someone to sweep the sidewalk, or to clean the windows."

I looked at the girls from the tour group. By now even the ones who didn't speak English had gotten the message. They were obviously uncomfortable, shifting around in their seats. Some were looking over at Dona Clara, whose mouth was hanging slightly open. I watched as, suddenly, she snapped her mouth shut, stood up, and picked up the green pole. She shoved the
DANGER
horse out of her way and stepped out into the mallway. The girls all got up, with a loud scraping of chairs, and fell into two lines behind her.

I turned toward Suzie. She seemed to be struck dumb, like she had forgotten how to speak entirely.

Dona Clara quickly counted the girls. Then she pointed angrily at the wall of TVs and said to all of us, in unaccented English, "Tell her to talk about Miami." She called to the girls, "
Vamos,
" which, I figure, is Portuguese for "
Vamanos.
"

They started forward. Gabriela looked over her shoulder and raised her free hand, the hand that wasn't holding Monica's, to wave good-bye. I waved back. They marched straight out the glass door and into the thunderstorm. They must have drowned on the way to their bus.

Suzie came up next to Kristin, Nina, and me. She sighed. "That's what I get for going out of my way."

We all looked back at the screens. The woman in blue was saying, "In the last year alone, more than twelve hundred children were murdered in Rio. That's about four children a day, just in that one city."

I said to Suzie, "Do you want us to take these chairs back?"

Nina answered, "Hey, don't take mine. I want to see this."

Suzie said, "No, that's all right, Roberta. Leo will come and get them." She sat down with Nina and Kristin. "I want to see the rest of this, too."

I worked my way out of the chair area and started back toward work. The last thing I heard as I circled behind the TV wall was, "It's happening in South America today. Will it happen in North America tomorrow?"

When I entered Arcane, Uncle Frank seemed surprised to see me. He said, "What? Is the show over?"

"Let's just say the tour is over." I joined him behind the counter.

I spotted Hawg and Ironman coming in from the north side. They had stopped to talk to the Head Louse. They all
looked very serious. As usual, I could only hear Hawg's end of the conversation. He told the Head Louse, very emphatically, "That's right! I don't like him. Somebody don't want me in his store, and kicks me out just for trying to watch a damn football game on TV—I don't have to like him. Do I?"

Uncle Frank gestured toward them and shook his head. "Sounds like I'm the only one who doesn't kick them out."

Uncle Frank knelt down and opened the floor safe. He pulled out a handful of coin rolls and started to sort them. I looked up as the Head Louse approached the counter. He asked, "So where's Karl?"

I told him, "I don't know. He might be down at Love-a-Pet; he might be at the food court."

Uncle Frank stood up. He locked eyes with the Head Louse, who took a quick step backward. Uncle Frank demanded, "Why do you want to know where Karl is?"

The Head Louse gulped. "He's a friend of mine, that's all."

"He's on break. When he's on break, we give him a break."

The Head Louse took another step, spun around, and left the arcade. Uncle Frank watched him go.

Nina and Kristin arrived with Karl just after five. They were talking about the Brazilian kids on the TV show, but not the Brazilian kids in our mall. It was like they had missed the real story—that the Brazilians had marched out of the mall in disgust.

Kristin said, "All right, Roberta will know." She turned to me. "What language were they speaking?"

I said, "Who, the Brazilians?"

Nina sneered. "No, the Munchkins."

I answered Kristin anyway. "They were speaking Portuguese."

Nina sounded triumphant. "See, I told you that wasn't Spanish."

Kristin answered, "I didn't say it was Spanish. I said it sounded more like German."

"Girl, that's not German!"

"Right, like you would know."

"I know it wasn't Spanish." Nina turned to me. "Roberta, you missed a really good show." She turned back to Kristin. "Did you see Angela's nails today? They were so perfect, you know? So long, it's like they're not even human.

"My aunt says that Angela del Fuego goes to her salon, like, every Saturday and spends at least five hundred bucks in one hour. They all start working on her at once—manicure, pedicure, mud pack, facial. Like that scene in
The Wizard of Oz
when everybody's working on the Cowardly Lion. You know, when they get to the Emerald City, and they all go inside, and they're all getting their hair done and stuff?"

Kristin said, "Yeah, I remember that. They're doing Toto, too."

"Yeah, that's it. Toto, too. Angela always looks so fine." The two of them settled into their usual spots behind the counter.

Suddenly Nina got very excited. "Oh! Oh! Did you see the show yesterday?"

Kristin answered, "No. What was it about?"

"Guess."

"No, I'm not going to guess."

"No, really. I'm serious. See if you can guess. This is too weird. You'll never guess it."

"Then I give up."

She poked at Karl, rousing him from a magazine. "How about you, big guy?"

I figured Karl hadn't been listening, but I was wrong. He came up with a guess right away. "Teenage psycho zombies from hell?"

"No. Listen to this: These kinda dumpy-looking women
were all married to serial killers, and they didn't know it." She looked from me to Karl to Kristin triumphantly. "But they all said, like, afterward, 'Oh yeah, I wondered why he had that bloodstain on his socks.' Or 'I wondered why he would never let me open the trunk of his car.' Stuff like that. It's like they all had little pieces of the puzzle, but they couldn't see the whole thing."

I understood immediately. I added, "Or they didn't want to see the whole thing."

"Yeah. There you go." Nina looked hard at me for a moment, like she was waiting for me to say something else. But I didn't.

Dad appeared from around the corner with a slice of pizza and a Coke. He stopped by the side of the counter. "Hey, honey. Suzie said that tomorrow you should wear what you would normally wear. Just come to the mall office at eleven and she'll fix you up."

"Okay. Thanks, Dad."

Nina waited until he left to say, "You know she's gonna send you to the Gap."

I shrugged. "That's fine with me."

Nina looked away. "Whatever."

Kristin said, "Roberta, there's still time to get something with us tonight. Your dad will give you the money."

"No. That's okay."

Uncle Frank came back from dinner early, at about five-thirty. He looked agitated. Right away he called over to us, "Go on. Go on. I'm back now."

Kristin came around and took him by the elbow. "Daddy, I'll need some money for the mall." Uncle Frank took out his wallet and gave her a twenty-dollar bill. Kristin just stared at it. She looked embarrassed. "Uh, Daddy, I'll need a lot more than this tonight. We're going to the Gold Coast Mall." Uncle Frank
looked at her and then at Nina. He seemed trapped. He looked through his wallet again. He pulled out his American Express card and handed it to Kristin, saying, "You girls be careful over there."

"We will. Thanks, Daddy." Kristin and Nina hurried out.

I felt really bad about leaving him. But I said, "Good night, Uncle Frank," and ran to catch up with them.

As we hurried through the rotunda, I saw a couple standing by the south anchor store, arguing. It was Sam and Verna. I heard Sam say, "I was at my car an hour ago, and it was fine. So now you know who did it! If you don't believe me, ask Griffin."

I knew right away what had happened: Sam's car had been vandalized again. And I knew I had to see it for myself. As soon as we got through the door, I practically yelled at Nina, "We have to drive around back. Somebody's car got vandalized!"

I thought Nina would give me a hard time, but she agreed right away. "Yeah, sure. Okay."

We ran all the way out to the perimeter parking spaces. Nina's car is a black Corvette convertible with red leather seats. She has license plates that say NINA 1.

Nina turned the engine on with a loud roar. "Where are we going?"

I squeezed into the back. "Go around the south anchor store, the one that used to be Burdines."

"Okay."

We zoomed around to the back of the mall. I spotted Sam's car right away. It was parked against the building, about twenty yards up from the trash trailer. It was a brand-new white BMW with a brand-new paint job. But it now had a deep, ragged scratch running from the back bumper to the front bumper, like a long appendix scar.

Nina called out, "Oh, man! That's cold. That's real cold. Look, they keyed that beautiful Beemer."

Kristin said, "I don't think a key did that. That scratch is too deep and wide. That looks like a tire iron."

Nina asked me, "So whose car is it?"

Sams.

"Oh yeah?" Nina whipped the Corvette around. "That's a nice car, and he's very foolish. If you have a nice car, you don't park it out back. There's too many scumbags around here. Like my father says, 'If you go looking for trouble, you're sure to find it.'"

I thought about Sam as we pulled out of the parking lot. Sam wasn't a fool, and he wasn't looking for trouble. Just the opposite. Why would somebody hate him?

I've never been in a car traveling as fast as Nina's Corvette did down Everglades Boulevard. It was frightening. The wind blew so hard into my face that my own words could not get out. They blew right back down my throat.

However, I could still hear voices from the front seat. They came hurtling past me clear and loud. So I listened, like I was supposed to do.

Kristin asked, "Is Carlos going to be there tonight?"

Nina sneered. "Carlos? What do I care where he is?"

Kristin laughed in disbelief. "So you're not going to the cotillion dance with him?"

Nina shrugged. "I might. If I don't get a better offer. Like, from a real man."

Kristin laughed again. "If Carlos only knew how you talk about him."