Look Both Ways in the Barrio Blanco (5 page)

Struggling with Suelita, who continued shrieking, Miss panted. “Not good enough. Have you seen what happens in an accident to a kid not wearing a seat belt? I have. It goes with the job.”

Just as the buckle clicked, Suelita’s hard little shoe caught Miss right in the nose. Miss’s hand came up to her face. She staggered backward. Suelita cheered. Miss slammed the door, then pulled herself into her own seat. She inspected her face in the rearview mirror.

Rosa swallowed. “Your nose, Miss. It is bleeding.”

“Yeah, I noticed that.” Her voice sounded stuffy. I unbuckled my belt and slid forward to see. Miss dug through her purse, coming up with some tissues, but blood dripped onto her shiny blouse.

“It’s getting on your clothes,” I said.

Miss grabbed at her blouse. The air in her lungs escaped in a groan.

When we got to our apartment, Rosa invited Miss to come in and wash off the blood. As Suelita was carried inside, I saw her exchange looks with Miss over Rosa’s shoulder. The word for those looks is
animosity
.

On both sides.

Rosa took Suelita into our parents’ room to change her diaper again, while Miss stood at the kitchen sink, dousing her blouse with cold water.

“You’re getting all wet,” I told her.

“It feels good. It’s nice and cool down here — the advantage of a garden-level apartment.”

I’d never heard of a
garden-level apartment
. I couldn’t wait to tell Angélica, who told everybody that I lived in a basement.

Then Miss handed me food to go in the cupboard.
A rich lady helping put groceries away?

When I thanked her, she said, “My pleasure. I’m not looking forward to going back out in that heat. Good thing I’m taking the boys swimming.”

Swimming?
I stared at Miss with puppy-dog eyes.

Her face went tomato red. “I shouldn’t have said that right in front of you. It was rude.”

I didn’t speak. Except with my eyes.

A fly buzzed around the room and landed on the screen door.

Miss cleared her throat. “Would — your dad let you go with us?”

I grinned. Taking me swimming wasn’t something she wanted to do. Miss seemed tough. But I’d found her weakness.

ROSA DUCKED
to look in Abuelita’s mirror so the crack in the glass wouldn’t cut across her forehead. She pouted, reaching for her lip gloss.

I wanted to smack her.

At the gymnastics meet, Miss
reapplied
her lipstick after we ate cotton candy. But when I asked her to put some on me, she’d refused. I told Rosa. “Miss says makeup is
inappropriate
for little girls.”

Rosa’s eyes flicked over to me sprawled on my bed. “I am not a little girl.”

Smiling into the mirror, she pulled at her T-shirt, admiring the way it hugged her shape.

If I’d been a cartoon, steam would’ve blasted out my ears.

Miss’s sons — rich white boys — would go crazy for Rosa, with her lighter skin and movie-star eyes. I didn’t care about
them
, but I didn’t need Rosa butting in. “Maybe Miss won’t want her sons hanging around a
Mexican
.”

“I am not the one who called her a
gringa
,” Rosa shot back.

I gasped like she’d thrown ice water in my face. I stomped out, slamming the door, and joined Tía Carmen, Suelita, and my cousins in the living room.

When Rosa called Papi at work, he worried about us going swimming with Miss’s sons. He reminded us again what happened to Tía Carmen before she dropped out of school. All because
los muchachos sólo desean una cosa
— boys only want one thing.

Papi didn’t say what it was boys wanted, but I already knew. Parents in the barrio worried about girls getting pregnant. But it wasn’t something they’d talk about.

Especially fathers.

Especially Papi.

And there was another problem. Suelita wasn’t invited. Miss said she wasn’t comfortable trying to supervise four older kids
and
a toddler at the same time.

Rosa promised to watch Suelita, but Miss said no, there would be too many
distractions
at the pool. Miss said she had our little sister’s
safety
to consider.

I think Miss was
considering
that Suelita had kicked her in nose.

With Mamá away, Papi wasn’t sure what to do, so he called his sister, Carmen. Even more than having her watch Suelita, Papi wanted Tía Carmen to meet the dangerous boys who’d be with us in the water wearing nothing but their swimsuits — tall, handsome, rich boys that no girl could resist. Boys who could get Rosa and me “into trouble.”

Maybe Papi thought our aunt’s pregnant belly would be a warning to Miss’s sons.

Tía was happy to come. Our apartment was cooler than hers. But she told me to be back by seven. Victor would get angry if she didn’t have dinner waiting when he’d had to work late. I told her I’d remember.

I really thought I’d remember.

A stampede of legs came down the stairwell. I ran to open the door. When Tía Carmen stood, Suelita and my cousins ran to hide behind her.

“Hi, Jacinta.” Miss gave me a quick one-armed hug.
A thrill all the way to my toes
. I hated that she had so much power over me.

Then Miss gave my aunt a little wave. “
Hola
 . . . Carmen?”

Tía smoothed her dress over where her baby was starting to show. “
Hola
, Miss Kate.”

“These are my sons, Ethan and Cody.”

They shuffled in, watching their feet, their hands in their pockets. There’s a word for how they looked.
Scruffy
.

Not scary.
Scared
. And skinny. And short.

I couldn’t help it. Laughter bubbled out of me. The boys looked at each other. Tía Carmen laughed, too. She could tell Papi that our hearts wouldn’t be stolen.

Rosa swept into the room, ready to meet her prince. Love at first sight. Like in the movies. When she saw Miss’s sons, she stopped. Her eyebrows came together, and her mouth fell open.

I grinned. If I’d been a cartoon, devil horns would’ve been poking up through my hair.

Ethan, the older boy, called “Shotgun!” which meant he got to sit in front with Miss. So Rosa and I claimed the middle seat. The younger boy, Cody, sat behind us.

“Seat belts,” said Miss. Then she steered her van in the
opposite
direction of the pool.

Rosa and I looked at each other. I said, “You’re going the wrong way, Miss.”

She snorted. Not a pig sound. Just that ladylike puff of air. “I’m pretty sure I can get there without help.”

The van rumbled away from our barrio, burping up clouds of blue smoke. In minutes nothing looked familiar. There were stores I knew the names of, but I didn’t recognize the buildings.
Where’s she taking us?
My mouth went dry. I couldn’t have spit if you’d paid me a million dollars.

“Is this okay?” Rosa whispered to me.

“Sure.” But I crossed my fingers.

Long after we should’ve been at the pool, we took another turn. Then we were on a
freeway
.

I gripped Rosa’s hand. Her
sweaty
hand.

We’d been places in Papi’s truck, but never on the freeway. Driving on a freeway is like begging
la policía
to drag you back to Mexico. The only times we’d been on a freeway were to go to Abuelita’s farm. For that we’d taken a big, slow bus.

But Miss had been driving for a long time.
Too long, too far, too fast
. My heart beat like bongos.

Eyes wide, Rosa pointed. A sign said
PHOENIX SCHOOL OF TECHNOLOGY
.

I tried to swallow but couldn’t. One of Papi’s brothers lived in Phoenix. In
Arizona
. We lived in Colorado. If we were in Phoenix, it could mean only one thing: Miss — who might have been watching us in the rearview mirror through her dark glasses — had taken us across state lines, like Mamá always warned about.

Miss would sell us into slavery.

Speaking in Spanish, I said to Rosa, “Is Miss kidnapping us?”

Rosa squeezed my hand, hard enough to hurt. “Would she do that in front of her sons?”

“Maybe the boys will force us into cages!”

Rosa frowned. “We’re bigger than they are.”

Miss said in a tired voice, “Ladies, it’s impolite to speak Spanish if people with you can’t understand it.”

My blood turned icy.

Rosa whispered, still in Spanish, “Should we jump?”

I gulped. Miss’s van whizzed by the other cars. On TV, when people jump from moving vehicles, they
roll
. So they don’t get squished. But I wasn’t sure if it would work in real life. “Wait until she slows down.”

The van pulled away from the lanes of traffic. Quietly I unbuckled my seat belt and looked at Rosa, my hand on the door. Rosa unbuckled her belt, then grabbed the other handle. The van rolled into a parking lot. I nodded to Rosa.

Ready to run, we yanked on our door handles.

They didn’t open.

Just two dull thunks.

My arm went limp. I looked at Rosa. Her face reminded me of the time Angélica fainted in health class when the teacher explained the reproductive system.

“Girls, wait until I stop.” Miss sounded bored.

The van eased into a parking space, and Miss shut off the engine. Her younger son reached around to tug at the door on Rosa’s side.

“Cody, let the girls out first,” said Miss.

“Mom, you’ve got the locks on.”

“Oh. Sorry.” She punched a button, and the locks clicked.

Cody slid the door open. With a sweep of his hand, he motioned for Rosa to go first. Like a guy in a movie.

We staggered, like we were getting off a ride at the amusement park. Rosa’s skin is usually light brown, but just then her face was yellow. “W-where are we?”

“At the rec center.” Miss turned to look at her. “Honey, are you carsick?”

Rosa shook her head but said nothing.

The sign over the door of the building read
SOUTH MAPLEWOOD RECREATION CENTER
.

We drove all this way and we’re still in Maplewood?
“Miss, why’d it take so long to get here?”

She glanced at her watch. “It’s rush hour.”

My legs were still watery when we walked inside.

I stopped, gaping. This place looked nothing like the pool we normally went to. The recreation center was a ginormous, gleaming glass donut. The swimming pool was in the middle — right where the donut hole would be.

Every minute a big green tube — a waterslide — dumped a different kid into the pool with a splash. There were fountains and sprays and waterfalls.

“Miss, how rich do you have to be to come here?” My voice was
hushed
. Like at church.

Miss frowned. “I’m not rich. This is a public building.”

“Can I help the next person?” called the girl behind the counter.

Miss handed her a credit card.

“Miss, don’t you have to be
rich
to have a credit card?”

She made another wheezy snort, and I realized that’s how she laughed. “No, but a credit card can make you poor.”

“Miss, when you smile like that, your mouth goes over to the side of your face.”

“They call that a smirk.”

Smirk
. I liked that word. It had the right sound for Miss’s sideways smile.

Miss’s boys wrestled with each other while the girl swiped Miss’s credit card. Ethan’s red hair hung into his eyes. His clothes were wrinkled, like he’d slept in them. He pretended to choke his little blond brother.

Cody faked like he was dying. The glasses he wore made him look smart instead of nerdy — or they would have if his tongue hadn’t been sticking out and his eyes hadn’t been crossed.

Rosa and I giggled.

Signing the credit card slip, Miss said in her tired voice, “Ethan, stop manhandling your brother.”

Manhandling
. That was a good word, too. I liked that about Miss. Her words. The way she juggled them.

Sun streamed in the many windows. People exercised to bouncy music. Water from the fountains in the pool glittered like diamonds. It was all busy and happy, like nothing could ever be wrong again.

WE’D NEVER BEEN
to an indoor pool. It’s noisy. The sounds bounce all around and jump back at you. The air is wet, hard to breathe, and smells like the janitor’s cleaning stuff. We stood at the water’s edge, sweating. Not just from the heat.