Return of the Jed (16 page)

“You mean, those goats, the ones we just saved?” I said.

“Absolutely. They were on their way to the processing plant I own not too far from here. Your efforts are much appreciated by our butchers.”

That took a bit of wind out of my hero sails. Good thing Tread had no idea he’d risked his undead life for animals facing a future that likely included an appearance between two slices of bread.

“But come, let’s go inside and share a meal,” Daniel said. “You’ve earned it.”

Daniel opened the door, and Luke was gone as if sucked in by a giant meat vacuum. I stepped toward the entrance, tapping my right thigh and calling to Tread.

“
Señor
, I’m sorry,” Daniel said. “We don’t normally allow dogs that may be chupacabras into restaurants. Maybe you think Mexico is some sort of backwater—”

“No, I don’t, trust me, lesson learned. But I thought what with Tread being a hero, and not a chupacabra, that maybe he could come in. Like a reward.”

Daniel put his hand to his chin as if thinking. “Hmm,” he said. “I will agree it’s no chupacabra. A chupacabra would have eaten those goats and then sucked a few souls while he was in the area. Still, I can’t allow an animal inside. I hope you understand.”

“I do, and I hope you understand why I can’t accept your invitation,” I said, unwilling to let Tread out of my sight. I still had visions of plainclothes officers roaming with chupacabra detectors, even knowing such things could not possibly exist.

“Come on, Luke,” I said, my stare not leaving Daniel. “Let’s let these folks have a safe meal free from mythical beasts.”

“Jed, let’s not be hasty,” Luke said. “Let’s at least check out what they have for side dishes.”

I turned and tugged on Tread’s leash, figuring Luke could make up his own mind. A hand on my shoulder turned me around.

“Yes, let’s not be hasty,” Daniel said, taking his hand back. “We don’t allow animals into our restaurants, but your dog is no animal. He’s a hero and will be welcomed as such. Come in, please.”

Daniel ushered the three of us to a table near the window. Before our meal arrived, I excused myself to go to the bathroom so I could reattach my hand Luke slipped to me under the table. We then consumed so many meats on so many sticks that I nearly burst (yes, I was literally afraid I would burst).

After lunch, Daniel walked us next door to the bike store and arranged a cheap rental of a couple of cruisers, giving us just the wheels we needed.

It was our best day yet. If only it could have gone on forever. Then maybe I never would have discovered “Thrown under the bus” was more than a saying.

Now that I had a bike, it was time to enjoy my freedom with or without Luke. I was pretty sure which one of those it would be, based on my best friend’s
agua-fresca
-based joy.

I drained my own flavored water—a pleasant mix of guava and an unidentified berry I believed to be of the boysen family—tossed the bottle and straddled my cruiser.

“I’m going to take advantage of our time here,” I said.

“Why didn’t you say that before?” Luke said, getting to his feet. “I’ll go to the meatateria with you.”

“It’s the Kabob Cabana, and that’s not what I meant. I’m going wherever the wind takes me.”

“If you have to fart, a few feet away will do.”

“Again, not what I meant. See you in about an hour.”

Without waiting for another Luke-ism, I peddled off, determined to explore.

I remembered Dad’s words of wisdom from the night before, when I told him I had a bike and was ready to see more of Guadalajara.

“Huh? You bet. Stay out of trouble.” He disappeared into his bedroom, as he did every night after dinner.

You’d find that kind of valuable advice in “101 Phrases Indicating Parental Involvement—For the Mom and Dad Short On Time.” It ranked up there with “Look both ways,” “Don’t poke your eye out,” and “Make sure your Facebook page is set on private.” That last one is actually halfway decent, making it the most likely to be ignored by kids.

Ever since arriving in Guadalajara, Dad had seemed preoccupied, keeping silent during dinner until the inevitable question, “What are you boys up to tomorrow?” was asked with a big side of “Not that I care” tone. Luke went through his planned meals, and I followed with, “Nothing special.” Dad nodded, we cleaned the dishes, and I wouldn’t see him until next day’s dinner.

I pushed those thoughts out of my head as I placed my right foot on the pedal, ready to push off. I turned, hoping to see Luke climbing on his bike to follow me. But, no. He remained rooted to the sidewalk, gulping down his
agua fresca
as if it were the last bottle of Pig Berry on Earth (though I was sure the Earth had more Pig Berry than it would ever need, especially if Luke decided he didn’t like it).

I hesitated. Flying solo didn’t thrill me, but appeared to be my only choice. Luke loved to soak up
aguas frescas
and exotic meats, but not culture.

I pedaled off and stopped a few blocks later. Feeling alone, I phoned Anna, hoping she’d answer since it wasn’t time for our scheduled communication.

“Jed, hi!” a familiar voice said after just one ring. Hearing it filled me with the kind of warmth you can’t get even on a 100-degree day. “What’s wrong, are you OK? You didn’t eat something just because Luke dared you to, I hope.”

“I’m fine,” I said, wondering if she could see my smile over the airwaves. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“That’s as unusual as it is sweet. You sure there’s nothing wrong?”

“Everything is fine.”

I hesitated, her voice immediately filling the gap. “So what is it?”

“Well …”

“Jed, we’ve spoken almost every day, and so far all I ever hear about is you guys playing basketball and hanging out at some store that sells weird-flavored drinks. But this is the first time you’ve called me in the middle of the day, and you sound kind of odd. It doesn’t take a genius girlfriend to know something isn’t quite right.”

My heart flipped in my chest, did a double twist, and stuck the landing, a perfect ten. That’s how it felt when I heard Anna say something she could not possibly have said.

“Did you say, uh, girlfriend?” I asked.

“No, of course not.”

I had pushed my luck by saying “girlfriend” out loud. I should’ve silently accepted her “girlfriend” mention and put it my pocket as truth, where I could cherish it. Even bring it up in casual conversation—“Why yes, it
is
very hot, as I told my girlfriend the other day.”

Instead, it vanished, leaving me to go on without it and stuttering in its wake. “Sorry, never mind, I—”

“I said, ‘genius girlfriend,’” Anna said, cutting me off. “So spill it.”

My heart leaped again, executing the most amazing backflip, but I wasn’t going to risk pressing it further. I did the only thing I could. I spilled it.

“I’m so tired of days that are all the same, when the highlight is wondering if this is the meat that will finally make Luke puke his guts out,” I said. “We’re in this amazing country with new stuff to see down this block or that block. And all we do is sit around or play basketball.”

“Did you tell Luke how you’re feeling?”

“No, we’re guys, so that isn’t going to work. I did tell him what I want to do. He just sat there. Probably thinking about lunch. And my dad is working all the time and hardly ever around. It’s just that I feel pretty alone.”

“Why don’t you just go on your own then? Who needs Luke? You can be one of those daring explorers that go to a remote place for the first time, like the North Pole. And you won’t even get frostbite.”

I struggled with how to tell Anna she wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know.

She added, “But I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know.” Problem solved.

“I know you’re right, and it’s what I want to do. I was hoping to have someone”—you, Anna, you—“to share it with.”

“If I was down there, we’d have an awesome time that did not involve daring ourselves to eat unidentifiable food. But I’m not there and you are. Do you mind if I tell you a story about me?”

“Only if it has a happy ending.”

“Sure, why not. My mom raised me to be all girly girl with dangling earrings and pink dresses. My dolls came with a ton of accessories and even more unrealistic expectations. Everything I owned came from my mom’s favorite store, Frills Seeker.

“The more gender-specific it was, the more I disliked it. I decided to explore, and I knew I had to do it alone to get to my own truth. My point is that while I had to learn to trust my instincts, I became the girl you fell for. If I hadn’t struck out on my own, I’d be coming home from ballet class every day throwing my tutu at my mom.”

“So when did you take this solo trip into ripped tights and work boots?” I said.

“It started the second I put on black lipstick,” Anna answered. “I looked at myself and knew. When my mom saw me, she made a total scene at the mall because it didn’t go with the Hello Kitty sweater my mom made me wear for the family photo.”

“She didn’t take you to First Imp-Ressions, did she?”

“The studio with all the babies dressed as angels posing on clouds? She sure did. I was never so embarrassed.”

“I thought that place is for little kids.”

“It is,” Anna said. “I was at least twice the average age.”

“You were eight? Wearing black lipstick at eight?”

“That’s right. Dad thought it was pretty cool, but even he wouldn’t let me get the tattoo or piercing I wanted. The best thing about that lipstick was it got me out of the photo shoot, which is why you will never see any photos of me wearing various Hello Kitty fashions.

“And I never want to see you wearing your version of Hello Kitty fashions.”

Anna continued. “Go out, explore, enjoy. Sometimes our best trips are the ones we take alone. You might even discover something about yourself you never knew.”

Anna had no idea how right she was. Neither did I.

I stowed my phone in my pocket and took off like a zombie possessed. I felt like a reanimated corpse out of
28 Days
, a movie that finally put zip into zombies. The undead charged their victims as if they’d been feeding on loyal Starbucks customers. If you eat five highly caffeinated people before noon, you’re going to have lots of energy to burn.

While I appreciated the agile zombies, the fact they used fleeing humans as fast food only fed the undead stereotype. That’s why I made sure that as I pedaled or ran, it was not with a “Sure could use a bite” look on my face. I remained focused, not frenzied.

I wove through traffic, fueled by the knowledge that even the worst injury could be treated with duct tape and staples. I had plenty of both in my backpack.

Several people honked as I passed, as if they’d never seen a zombie on a bicycle. Or maybe it was because they nearly had a zombie as a hood ornament, as I swerved at the last second to avoid oncoming traffic.

It wasn’t all my fault. With no particular destination in mind, I headed toward the cluster of tall buildings I assumed to be Guadalajara’s busy city center. The closer I got, the more buses and cars choked the streets. Many motorists used the lanes as the suggested path rather than the lawful and safe course. Vehicles swerved in and out to avoid parked cars, potholes, and pedestrians. And no one wanted to be told what to do by traffic lights.

I adapted quickly to the traffic flow, shooting through gaps as soon as they appeared. The hours I’d spent racing cars along video game streets didn’t look like a waste of time anymore.

The landscape evolved, going from homes and stores to glass and concrete buildings, ten, fifteen, even twenty stories high. Traffic challenged me further, the gaps narrower and disappearing quickly.

Good thing I’d left Tread at home. You’d think a dog killed by a car would have the sense to stay out of traffic. Tread, still bearing the namesake tire mark on his ribs, instead taunted his motorized nemeses. He strained on the leash as cars passed. Most dogs were happy with tennis balls or sticks. Tread wanted to play with cars even though he’d lost his first and only game of bumper-tag.