Dedication

Para mi padre y para mi padrastro (q.e.p.d.)

To my father and to my stepfather (R.I.P.)

PIATA BOOKS ARTE PBLICO PRESS HOUSTON, TEXAS

A So-Called Vacation is funded in part by grants from the City of Houston through the Houston Arts Alliance and by the Exemplar Program, a program for Americans for the Arts in collaboration with the LarsonAllen Public Services Group, funded by the Ford Foundation. Piata Books are full of surprises! Piata Books An imprint of Arte Pblico Press University of Houston 452 Cullen Performance Hall Houston, Texas 77204-2004 Cover design by Mora Des!gn Gonzlez, Genaro, 1949A So-Called Vacation / by Genaro Gonzlez. p. cm. Summary: When their father insists that they lack life experiences, teenaged brothers Gabriel and Gustavo reluctantly agree to a family vacation in a California migrant camp, where the boys pick crops and learn about immigrant labor and prejudice within the Hispanic community. ISBN 978-1-55885-545-8 (pbk. : alk. paper) [1. Migrant laborFiction. 2. Agricultural laborersFiction. 3. Family lifeCaliforniaFiction. 4. FathersFiction. 5. VacationsFiction. 6. Mexican AmericansFiction. 7. CaliforniaFiction.] I. Title. PZ7.G5888So 2009 [Fic]dc22 2009003479 CIP

The paper used in this publication meets the requirements of the American National Standard for Information SciencesPermanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1984.

2009 by Genaro Gonzlez Printed in the United States of America

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igh school was not yet over for the year, but Gabriel was already chalking it up as the summer of their fathers folly. For weeks his dad had been hinting that they should follow the local migrant families for farmwork in California. The fact that his three teenaged children had never set foot in a produce field did not deter him. If anything, he viewed it as an unfortunate gap in his childrens life experiences. The notion turned more tangible just days before classes ended. Gabriel was with his father at an auto parts store when they bumped into a customer from the garage where his father worked. Gabriel assumed they were not close since they eyed one another for a moment, then their greeting had the exaggerated enthusiasm of acquaintances running into each other in a place they never expected. The man knew almost no English and had been wandering around in search of an emergency road kit. Gabriel disappeared but returned almost at once and handed him one. The man removed his hat to show he was grateful, then he extended his hand. When the man introduced himself, Gabriels father listened carefully, then he turned the first name to a plausible nickname and called him that until they left the store. As the man accompanied them to the parking lot he mentioned that his family was leaving for the West Coast

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that very evening and that he preferred driving in the cool of night. Not that my trucks air conditioner cant handle the heat. He pointed to a gleaming behemoth that barely fit in its parking space. Its chrome grill reminded Gabriel of the mans upper gold bridge, and the trucks customized, cast-iron bumper, that Mexicans called a mata burros, made Gabriel wonder how the man might look wearing braces. His father could not help but examine the truck up close. I dont remember you ever bringing this in for us to work on. In fact, we havent seen you in quite a while. Nothing on you guys at the shop, but its still under warranty. I take it straight to the dealer. Gabriels father looked at the truck with a mixture of admiration and envy. Ill bet its got more horsepower than a downtown parade. When the man draped his ropy arm over the massive hood as though posing for a snapshot, Gabriel concluded that he appeared out of his element. With a widebrimmed hat that could not completely erase a permanent sun-squint, he would be more at home in a Mexican village, driving a team of oxen. The man cradled the road kit carton. Its a long ways to the fields of Fresno, and Ive seen brand-new trucks stranded on the highway. He stuck out his hand. Anyway, Ive already spent too much time in this Texas heat, and time is money. Gabriels father, still admiring the truck, was in no hurry to end the conversation. Youve been going there how long now? Going on six years. Remember my first old pickup? I thought the camper shell would peel off the second I hit sixty.

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Gabriels father nodded. The guys at the shop had to patch up your transmission just to get you there. The mans laugh had the timbre of someone raised in wide-open spaces. On the way back I just prayed it would all be downhill! I tell you, I could have used your skills back there. I dont remember us ever recharging your Freon, though. I didnt have air! But now I just crank up the unit to Hurricane. The man shook his head, either wondering how he could have managed without air conditioning or else incredulous that he was already living the American Dream. Im already thinking of trading it in for a new one this fall. God willing, of course. He silently made the sign of the cross. Well be getting back just as the new models are coming out. So we wont see you at the shop from now on. Youll be covered bumper to bumper. Dont worry. My older kids plan to get used cars. Theyre cheaper in California and better than the junk they sell here. Gabriel thought he saw him glance in the direction of their van as he offered a final handshake. His father shook his head as he watched him leave, amazed at the mans good fortune. It seems like yesterday that the guy swam across the river, he muttered. Look at him now. And look at us. At least were not wearing orange polyester slacks, Dad. We arent driving an expensive, tricked-out truck either. He made sure the man had left the parking lot before he got into their van. We were born here, and were barely treading water. Maybe he has a large family.

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So? All the more mouths to feed. And all the more hands for fieldwork. Thats why hes doing okay. More than okay. As he touched the hot dashboard and steering wheel he repeated the mans words: Going on six years. Thats how long weve had this piece of junk. And we bought it already used. Our vans not that bad. Gabriel tapped the plastic cover on the odometer. Only two thousand miles. Rather than ease the creases on his fathers forehead, the humor only tightened the lines. At least an odometer starts over. So can people, Dad. And we dont have to wait for the numbers to turn. No sooner had Gabriel said this than he realized the remark would only harden his fathers resolve to see the California trip through. Fortunately the matter did not resurface until the last day of school. As Gabriel took his place at the table that morning, his father was already making a pitch to Gus, his older son and the most obstinate. Gabriel tried his best to stay neutral, but for that very reason each sought his support. In truth, he agreed with his father that they were not doing that well. Looking around the kitchen that doubled as a dining room, it was obvious that the house had seen better times. For instance, although the roof leak had been repaired last year, the water stains on the ceiling were reminders that any cosmetic fix-ups had been put on hold. It was the same story throughout the house. His father had bought it from an elderly Anglo couple the year Paula was born, when the boys were barely three and five. The neighborhood had once been an Anglo enclave, but by the time they moved in it was already

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home to Latino families determined to better their lot but ill-equipped to make good on the dream. In order to close the deal on the house, his father had assured the woman that he would maintain the large and lush garden, but through the years the commitment had eroded into weeds and bare spots, so that now the only flowers that bloomed were the ones that Paula planted and tended. His father had no shortage of excuses for his failure. He blamed the weather, for one, both the increasingly hot summers and the decreasingly benign winters. He also pointed out how the previous owners, retired and without children in the house, had the luxury to keep up a garden. He gave similar rationalizations for the cracked patio door, the dry rot in the fascia boards, and all the other pending repairs. So when he argued, as he was doing now, that they could use extra income for home improvements, Gabriel saw his point yet questioned whether they were as bad off as his dad said. The school bus route through hard-core colonias and dilapidated barrios always put their own shortcomings in sobering perspective. And, contrary to his fathers portrayal, the migrant workers living in those homes were not exactly rolling in clover. Those migrants have it made, he was telling his older son. Just the other day Gabi and I bumped into one of them as he boarded his three-bedroom truck. Besides, if we did go up north Id hardly work in the fields. Fixing their cars and trucks, thats where the real money is. Gus had the taciturn look of someone who had been burned before. Finally he said, with an edge of disbelief, So youd fix cars in a migrant camp. In a camp, yes. Theyre almost like villages. So youd be like a . . . village blacksmith. Gus twisted the phrasing to heighten its absurdity.

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His sister Paula whispered in his ear, And if you believe Dad, you can be the village idiot. Youve never been in those camps, their father added, so you dont know. I could set up a makeshift auto shop. Just find me a shade tree and an assistant or two. He fixed his gaze on his sons, who looked away. Paula, who was packing snacks for an end-of-school party at her middle school, smoothed his hair, and plucked out an unruly gray one. Dad, you work in a garage, with fans all over the place. And even then youre short of breath. Youd die if you had to work outside, in the heat. California summers arent like here. Their mother was not convinced either. I doubt that any camp has enough cars to keep you busy. Ill visit nearby camps. Ill work out of the van, like making house calls. Wont the crew leaders mind? she asked. Ill be doing them a favor. Their workers wont have to take time off to go into town for repairs. Ill be raking in the cash, so I might even give them a cut. And whatll we do? Paula asked. Count it? A little fieldwork wouldnt hurt. I knew there was a catch, Gabriel shook his head. With Dad theres always a catch, said Gus. On slow days I could join the rest of you in the fields. You like to work in our garden, Paulita. Think of an agricultural field as a huge garden. Dad, I dont like it that much. Besides, I can barely manage that small patch out front. Of course, Id have to camouflage my plan with stoop labor every now and then. A grower wont let us live in his camp without doing a little exercise.

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Paula stared straight at him. Especially after you mess up your back and have to stay behind and work on cars. He stared back, dumbfounded that she had read his thoughts, but he recovered with a nonchalant, Naturally. But, amor, whats the closest our kids ever came to a produce field? Your childhood stories? Gus smiled, Oh, right, the stories. He exaggerated his fathers accent: Once upon a time, when men were men . . . Gabriel joined in. What about the boys? Werent there boys back then? Gus imitated their fathers dismissive hand gesture. The work either killed them or made them men. Without realizing it, their father repeated the gesture. Look at me. I didnt die. All that work made me stronger. Gabriel almost added that if he had spent more time in school instead of the fields, they might be better off and not having this conversation. But that was the sort of low blow his own father might pull, so he held back. Besides, kids, who owns those fancy pickups I work on all day? Migrants! Pimply-faced teenagers, at that! Well, mi amor, they work hard for their money. In the hot sun, Gus added. Thats why they have pimples. I work hard, too. Yet my oldest kid rides a bus to school while some dropout kid drives a customized truck. The remark did not win over Gus, but it did silence him. Even their mother admitted, Hell be eighteen next month. He does need a car. Paula grabbed her school snacks and ran to the door. Hell need one this morning if we miss the bus! Its the last day!

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Their father tried making one last point over the teenage commotion, but by then he only had an audience of one. Mi vida, theyve already heard that speech a hundred times. Maybe itll sink in on the hundred and first.

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y the time both brothers stepped off the bus, Gus realized that his anxiety had peaked during the past few days. All that week he had worried whether his grades in science and literature would keep him from becoming a senior. If I am held back, he told his kid brother to soothe his own nerves, Ill simply stay for summer school. Then Dad cant take me to California. He managed an unconvincing indifference that only amplified his anxiety. Youll pass. And well all stay home this summer. That day, as Gabriel went from one classroom to the next, he felt the joyful exhaustion of a marathon runner approaching the finish line. It wasnt until his fourth period class that his fathers absurd scheme crossed his mind. He wondered whether the migrant students felt the same relief about the end of classes. Perhaps there was little to cheer about if the only thing to look forward to was fieldwork. Maybe for them school was the lesser evil. But when he thought of actually asking them to find out how they felt, he realized that all the migrant kids had left weeks before. He simply hadnt noticed because they rarely spoke and almost were never called on by teachers. They were invisible. In-between classes he crossed paths with Gus, who timidly pumped a fist in victory. It was a bit premature to celebrate, since he had not yet gone to science, his weakest subject.

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After school Gabriel went to the bus-boarding zone and searched for his brothers lucky yellow shirt, but after several buses left, he began to worry that Gus had been overly confident. Just then he felt a powerful, familiar grip on his nape. Hey, sophomore squirt! Oh, so thats why youre late! All that sucking up to be a senior. Gus shoved him into a group of girls, and by the time he reemerged to congratulate him, Gus was already hugging his girlfriend Diane. Gabriel was reluctant to interrupt the lovebirds, but another senior thought nothing of ruffling their feathers. Kissing her good-bye, dude? Gus stiffened when he recognized Ben, the popular, fair-skinned Hispanic who had dated Guss girl the previous year. No, no good-byes, said Gus, still embracing her. Ill be here in the fall, he added proudly, like any other senior. I didnt mean fall. I meant saying good-bye for the summer. Ill be here, too. Oh, really? I heard you were heading to California, like those kids who already left. Diane looked at Gus, waiting for an explanation, but he simply said, You heard wrong. Im staying here. I heard your family had other plans. Gus shook his head firmly, then glanced at Gabriel who repeated the headshake. I heard your dad asked my uncle about California. Something about farmwork. Diane stared harder, but Gus continued to concentrate his gaze on Ben.

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Why would anyone ask your uncle about farmwork? What, hes a migrant? Ben became flustered for a moment, but then recovered. Hes a crew boss. He contracts with farmers out of state, then sends them families to work. Oh, so hes sort of a migrant. Gus let him squirm under the stigma for a moment. Well, your uncle heard wrong. Dad wants to take us on a two-week vacation to the West Coast. Ben leaked a sarcastic smile to show he knew he was being conned, then started toward the student parking lot. Whatever. Anyway, Ive got sunscreen in the convertible if you need some. Just go easy on the surfing or else youll come back dark as a field hand. Gus drew his girlfriend closer. Then well make a better match. Ben looked at her and mimed a phone call. If you get lonely this summer we can go cruising with the top down, like in the old days. Arent your freckles still allergic to the sun? she asked. On the way home the brothers slouched in the rear of the bus to appear inconspicuous, but several students turned and gave them knowing looks. Great, whispered Gus. Now everyone knows. But it doesnt matter. What they dont know is that we have our own plans. We do? When his older brother didnt elaborate, Gabriel added, I think Dad means it this time. Hes already told half the town. I dont care if he tells the other half. Well just tell him well die of shame if we have to do fieldwork.

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I dont think shame works with Dad. If we say were ashamed to work in the fields, hell say its our soft, lazy butts we should be ashamed of. Gus, though, felt the time had come to fight back, with the same ammunition their father used ridicule, rather than reason. Then we turn right around and throw the shame back at him. Well ask him, and everyone else who might be listening, just one question. In this day and age, what kind of father makes his kids work like peons? Isnt that going too far? No. Making your kids slave in the hot sun all summer, thats going too far. But werent you thinking of being a lifeguard this summer? Thats different, Gabi! Being a lifeguard is cool. But a migrant . . . The mere thought made his eyes harden. No. I wont let him humiliate us like that. Gabriel had his doubts but still trusted his brothers tactics. Gus was not that clever, but he was tenacious, especially when he felt that his insecurities about his familys fortunes might melt his shell of athletic selfassurance. Gabriel, being two years younger, didnt mind as much his image at school. What he did mind was spending the summer at stoop labor. As soon as their father got home from work they decided to keep his mind off the topic, on the assumption that ignoring it long enough would make it disappear. So at the dinner table Gabriel mentioned how his grades had turned out even better than last years. Gus, for his part, simply vowed to do better his senior year. Take your studies seriously, said their father. Its your best weapon in life.

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Gabriel never quite knew how to take those homilies on education. After all, when the migrant at the auto parts store had mentioned pulling his kids out of school early, his own father not only said nothing, he seemed to envy the mans initiative. Today, though, his father was all for education. After all . . . he inserted with a melodramatic pause. One never knows what the future brings. But in this case everyone at the table already knew what was coming: My father left while I was still in grade school. He just leaned over and . . . whispered goodbye. When they used to hear the tale as children he would lean over them himself, as if reliving the episode by placing them in his shoes. But nowadays Gus already towered over him, so he was forced to gaze up. Those were his last words. Then he was gone. He touched his chest ever so carefully, as though fearing he might suffer the same fate. His heart, you know. They knew. They all knew from one moment to the next his father had left him forever. They knew too how the heart attack that killed him was so massive that by the time he hit the bedroom floor he was probably dead. At least thats what they knew from their father. What Gabriel had not known until last yearwhat his father did not know that he knewwas that between those two incidents, the whispered farewell and the fatal fall, almost a year had passed. Gabriel had been interviewing his grandmother Olga for a family oral history project when she mentioned how her husband had left her for a younger woman. He kissed our children goodbye and was barely out the door when I warned him shed run him into the ground. I just never imagined shed kill him so quick.

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But Dad said his father collapsed on the bedroom floor after kissing his kids good-bye. Abuelita Olga, buffeted by life too many times, had learned to mitigate its absurdity with a deadpan irony. Oh, he did fall dead on the floor, but in another womans bedroom. Listen, with a heart attack like that, so sudden and so strong, he didnt even have time to kiss his own butt good-bye. For years Gabriel had vaguely sensed gaps and inconsistencies in his fathers official version of the familys history, but had never given it much thought. Does Dad know thats how it happened? She shrugged and put out a cigarette. Then she exhaled a cloud so dense that Gabriel marveled how anyone could hold in so much smoke. I dont know. He never asked me, and I saw no reason to ruin his fantasy. Youre the first to poke around with this homework assignment. Anyway, people believe what they want to believe. Do you suppose it was justice from God? His death, I mean? By then she had lit a second cigarette and sighed out another billow. Why would I want him dead? No, justice would have meant sending him back home to us, with a change of heart and a clean change of clothes.

n his first day of summer vacation, Gabriel woke up and saw his brother at the bedroom door. Then he noticed the paper airplane Gus had lobbed at his head. So you think its safe to go back in the water? asked Gus. You mean about Dad and his California con? Id stay out of his way for a couple of days. But that Saturday morning their father was so oddly silent at breakfast that Gus felt guilty coming again. Look, Dad, Ill really try to get better grades next fall. Their father seemed unaffected. Just remind them to write Gustavo on the diploma. One step at a time, Dad. Let me get through the fall first. They expected a variation of his one-never-knows speech, but he simply repeated his request about the name on the diploma. Gustavo had been named after their fathers father, and while not ashamed of it, he felt more comfortable with his school nickname. Whenever he had to answer to Gustavo, he seemed to stiffen slightly as though forced to slip into a tight, unfamiliar skin. Since their father always called him Gustavo, the rest of the family did too, at least at home. On the rare occasions when Gabriel let a Gus slip out, his father would level a special gaze and let it linger for an unnerving

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moment, as if his son had sworn. Then, in that disappointed way of his, hed look away without a word. Their sister, though, could not care less about those sorts of social nuances. After all, Paula was Paula in either language. Yet that frank gaze and her indifferent attitude to subtleties could be misleading because she also had her fathers cunning and his cagey talent for slipping out of entanglements. Although she was still in middle school, her brothers knew better than to count on her allegiance or to discount her intelligence. That evening, as she clicked through the channels, she paused at the start of an old Beverly Hillbillies episode. Look, thats us, heading for California! And theres Mom on a rocking chair. Gabriel howled and hooted like a hillbilly through the theme song, but Gus couldnt decide whether the comparison was hilarious or just pathetic. Thats us, all right. Only instead of rags to riches wed be going the opposite way. Their father surveyed the living room. This is no mansion, if thats what you mean. Now, if we had a little extra income . . . Fine, Dad. Forget I said anything. If he heard Guss reply he did not acknowledge it but merely added with an audible sigh, Anyway, times running out. True, mi vida, but thats life. Soon the kids will move away and well wonder where the time went. I meant times running out for California. Gabriels reply was as off-the-wall as his mothers yet intentional. Yep, times running out for California, she said. Only a matter of time before it falls off the map. I meant we should have been on the road by now. Oh, that, said their mother. I suppose it is too late.

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A moment later Dad added, loud enough for everyone to hear, The boss wants to cut back on our hours for the summer. Most of our customers follow the crops out of state. She made a stifled sound that was at once a sigh and a yawn. It happens every summer. What? he asked with a defensive air. My saying we should follow them? No. Half the town leaving. But they return come fall, and we survive in the meantime. Why be satisfied with survival? Why, when some migrant family brings back more money in a season than I make in a year as a mechanic? Thats just it, she said. Youre no farmworker. I was once. Theres nothing to it. So was I, and its a life Id rather not remember or wish on my children. Besides, our kids couldnt tell a weed from a watermelon. Theyll learn, the same way we did. The boys kept a careful ear on the conversation while Paula kept switching channels. Hey! she suddenly said. Speaking of California! The Disneyland Castle! Is this a cosmic hint or what? The instant Gus turned, she pointed at him. Caught you looking! I swear, Mom, theres a Mickey Mouse button that got stuck somewhere in his brain. Hes loved those characters since he was a baby. Even when his friends watched the crazier cartoons, he was morewhat do you kids call it?old school. Okay, Mom, we get the picture. And in case you havent heard, Im not a baby anymore. You could have fooled me, said Paula, even though youre as long in the tooth as Goofy.

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And as of yesterday Im officially a senior. So show some respect. How can you respect a senior obsessed with Disneyland? My friend Hector goes every summer. He says theres something for everyone. All of Californias cool, added Gabriel. The park is classic, while the rest of the state is cutting edge. Like California girls? Paulas hint of a smile seemed to ask, And how would you know? A moment later the castle, bathed in a backdrop of fireworks, appeared again, long enough for their father to add, This is a coincidence! Just this week I got a call from my cousin Martha. The one in California, mi rey ? Same one. She said if we ever head out that way we have to visit them. Whats that got to do with anything? asked Gus. Her husband works there. Where? In a migrant camp? No, in Disneyland. Gus, while intrigued, did his best to dissimulate. As what? Goofy? No, your fathers telling the truth. They live in . . . Ana . . . Ana . . . Both brothers blinked and said simultaneously, Anaheim! Thats where Disneyland is! Thats what I said. Their father seemed peeved at having been doubted in the first place. Guss euphoria soon evaporated, though. Anyway, Disneyland and a migrant camp are worlds apart. Im just saying that if we do go to California, its nice to know we have family to visit. Their father sounded almost indifferent, like a salesman with total confidence

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in his pitch and his product. Next door to Disneyland, even. We could save a bundle on expenses, maybe even get free tickets. Their mother nodded. Theme parks are so expensive. People have lost all respect for money. Thats okay for kids, said Paula, but were too old. So is Disneyland for that matter. Its not old, said Gus, even as he tried hard to hide his excitement from his father. Its classic. Id rather go to Disney World, said Paula. Then find us family in Florida, said their father. Besides, youre never too old. He glanced at his sons. Gustavos wanted to go there since he was old enough to argue. And he gave someone else the same bug. You mean my brother Dopey? Dad, they just want to check out those West Coast babes. He did not press the matter but instead stood and stretched. Well, Im off to Neverland. Ignoring Paula altogether, he winked at the boys. Just sleep on it. Pleasant dreams. Oh, they will, said Paula, about surfer chicks. She studied them in silence, then shook her head with a smile. The rodents took the bait. That night neither brother slept, as they tossed and turned like asphyxiating mice. The following morning, despite their exhaustion and despite it barely being the start of summer vacation, they were up as early as their father, who sensed something but said nothing. Finally Gus asked point-blank, So what part of our earnings could we keep? Their father had seen it coming yet acted surprised for their sake. You mean from fieldwork? Just enough to

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cover your school clothes and supplies. The rest is yours. You could get that car youve wanted. Gus paced the living room to dissipate his nervousness. Well, lets do it then. Their father continued his coy charade. Are you sure? Why not? Everyone at school figures were going anyway. Its just a matter of when. Their father did not miss a beat. How about in two or three days then? When their mother wondered aloud whether that was enough time, he said, Theres never enough time! Time is money. I already have the names and numbers of several growers. Theres some in Watsonville, others close to Fresno, a few more by Monterey. But who else is going, mi rey ? Who isnt? I mean, name one family. Someone well know up there. I could name half the town. Which half is that? asked Paula. The one on the wrong side of the tracks? He sidestepped the issue by pointing out their neighborhood was already straddling the towns dividing line, and it was slowly drifting downward. Finally he admitted, Okay, nobody you know, just people Ive met at work. And even those families already left us at the starting gate. But I can bring the van up to speed and shut the utilities off in no time. What about your boss? What about him? Believe me, Mr. Woods will thank us. Im one less mechanic he has to pay this summer to sit around scratching his behind. Speaking of pay, Paula asked, how much?

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It depends. What kind of answer is that? You can work piece rate. The faster you pick, the more you make. Dad, you mentioned Monterey, said Gabriel. Didnt they have some awesome rock concert there when you were a kid? I wouldnt know. I was too busy picking crops down here. Mi amor, you were too busy picketing? If the growers find out you were helping farmworkers unionize I said picking. He swept his gaze to get everyones attention. Just dont crack any jokes like that when were up there. Gus wondered aloud, So how far are these camps from Anaheim? Now everyone wants details! Take it easy, Dad. I just wanted to know which town would be closest. Then look them up on a map. Anyway, nothings that far in California, what with all those freeways. And speaking of freeways, the sooner were on one, the better. Gabriel, still in disbelief, nudged his brother. At least well fill up on fast food from here to California.

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y the end of their first day on the road, Gabriel was about to eat his words, since his fathers idea of eating on the run was literal. Dad, how about pulling over for a sandwich or something? For a moment his father said nothing, until Gabriel assumed the matter had been forgotten. Suddenly his father indicated a distant supermarket. There! They have sandwiches there? Gabriel asked. Better than that, said his father, as he eased toward the exit lane. They have stuff to make sandwiches. Here ? In the van? Of course. This way we know some gross teenager didnt put something in them. Paula smiled. Then make sure Gus and Gabriel dont prepare ours. Fine. You can help your brothers. Theyll buy the stuff. He pulled into the parking lot, gave Gus some bills, then invited the girls to get out and stretch their legs. Remember, he told his sons, time is money. Just grab a loaf of bread, bologna, and cheese. No junk food or snacks. Bolognas not exactly health food, said Gus. Thats why they call it bologna. By then their father was too busy to answer, pacing the parking lot with exaggerated strides and twisting his spine so forcefully that an elderly Anglo couple in a nearby car stared at him and mumbled to each other.

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Before the rest of the family had begun fixing sandwiches, their father was already on the road. Damn! said Gus. We forgot to get mayonnaise. Too late to turn back, son. But its better this way. We wont get food poisoning from spoiled mayonnaise. No, well just die from choking on all this dry food. Besides, you said not to get snacks so I didnt bring soft drinks. Soft drinks just add to the pit stops. But if youre thirsty, theres a thermos of tap water in the back. Gus turned to his brother and asked in a low voice, Is it true what he said? About the mayonnaise? Before Gabriel could answer Gus shook his head. I think hes just being cheap. Despite their best efforts, they had left the house with only a few hours of daylight, because at the last minute their father decided to hitch a small covered trailer he borrowed from a relative. Not only did the addition make the vans already squirrelly steering worse, but their father had to lower his speed to avoid straining the engine. As a result, nightfall still found them along the lower end of the Rio Grande, not that far from home. Their father was not used to driving that longmuch less that lateon lonely roads that felt like eternal tunnels in the blackness. Wed better stop soon, he finally said. That trailer has a mind of its own on these bumpy roads. But the drowsiness in his voice told them the real reason. At the next border town he pulled over at a bleak gas station and went inside to place a mysterious phone call. Afterwards he made a U-turn back toward the town limits they had just passed. Who did you call? asked their mother.

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A friend . . . Knowing she expected more, he added, . . . of a friend. That clarified nothing, so he added again, He can put us up for the night. Theres a nice motel just ahead, said Gabriel. Nice has a price, answered his father. Why pay when you can get it for free? As they approached the place their mother began glancing left and right. Its a little spooky . . . so dark and lonely. The vast night seemed to amplify the anxiety in her voice. How can they sleep without even a fence for protection? Paula wondered aloud. But no sooner did they stop than the van was surrounded by several barking dogs. Thats how, replied Gabriel. These mutts arent just a mobile fence, theyre guards too. They waited until a couple in dark clothing tapped on the windshield before daring to set foot in the swarm of dogs. The family was guided swiftly across the unlit yard, and the only words the woman uttered were directed at the dogs. Once inside the house, Paula and their mother were ushered efficiently and almost wordlessly into a Spartan room with four beds. The men ended up in a similar room, only larger and with nine beds. Before daybreak the couple was already serving them breakfast. While Gabriel ate with the slow motion of a somnambulist, he kept expecting the couples brood to join them or at least to reclaim their beds. But by the time they were ready to leave it was obvious that there was no one else in the house. In fact, the smidgen of sunrise revealed that the woman was much older than the man and had left her child-bearing years far behind. Moreover, her efficient, deliberate demeanor made her

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seem less like a housewife than a maid carrying out a routine she could do in her sleep. The entire silent episode seemed so disconnected in the dead of twilight that the moment they left, Gabriel relegated it to the under-universe of dreams and went back to sleep. But the moment he woke, something inside was already searching for answers. No sooner did he bring it up than Gus also asked outright, Yeah, Dad, what the heck was that all about? What, you didnt enjoy that breakfast with those fresh farm eggs? I saw them bring in that big basket of eggs, but the ones we ate were cold leftovers. So why bother getting fresh ones? Im sure those chickens didnt enjoy getting their butts groped with cold hands in the middle of the night. Or having their entire production cleaned out, Gabriel added. When I saw those stacks of plates in the kitchen, I thought they were going to serve a crew. We are a crew, insisted his father. Or we will be, soon enough. And another thing, said Gus, how come check-out time was six in the morning? The important thing is we needed a place to stay, said their father, and I found us one. Not just a place, Dad, answered Gus. Oh, no, not you. You had to find something creepy, one of those horror movie motels. Gabi and I kept thinking they were vampires or something. Gabriel nodded. And that the reason they barely spoke was so their fangs wouldnt show. Paula woke up long enough to add, Stop being such drama queens, you two.

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What was so creepy about it? asked their father. Besides, we didnt have to pay one penny. Even breakfast was on the house. But by now even their mother seemed a bit perturbed. True, but what kind of home was that? Beds everywhere, but not another soul around. And what about the way they snuck us in, then out, Gus asked, all in the dead of night? It was like an underground railroad. You mean like a subway, son? No, Dad, the places where runaway slaves from the South were hidden, on their way to freedom. Their father shrugged his agreement. Same thing, then. A moment later he added, Like they say, Dont look a Trojan horse in the mouth. Dad, youre getting your metaphors mixed up again, said Gabriel. Paula corrected him in turn. Thats not a metaphor. Whatever. You mean a gift horse. Oh. Their father fell silent momentarily. So then whats a Trojan horse? What was I thinking of? A Trojan horse, Gabriel corrected him sarcastically, is what I thought we were inside of, when we had to sneak into that house. And for once we agree . . . What were you thinking when you brought us there? I was trying to cut down on our travel costs. Sure, by cutting corners as usual. Paula, who had been observing everyone with a bemused, almost bored expression, finally defended her father indirectly. That couple probably greets all their guests that way. Gus, reclining in the backmost row, looked at Paula long and hard, convinced there was something more beneath the surface of her comment. No sooner did he look

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away than she leaned across toward Gabriel, sitting in the other middle chair. When she tried to add suspense to her breathless whisper, the words thundered in her brothers ear: Ill bet it was one of those border stash houses, like they have back in the Valley. Gabriels head seemed to spring back several inches. You mean for smuggling drugs? No, Dopey, for smuggling people. Seeing he still appeared confused, she added, For the undocumented. Wow, does anyone else here ever watch the local news? After another barren moment, Gabriel finally gasped. Oh, now I see! When Gus called the place an underground railroad he wasnt that far off the track. But there werent any illegals there, said Gabriel. The couple must have been between deliveries. Imagine if there had been some. Now that would been something to write home about. Their father responded with a tight-lipped smirk. By that afternoon Gus could not stand another bologna sandwich. He chose to skip lunch and reclined his head for a nap. When his mouth fell open, Gus almost choked on a sudden gulp of air from an open window. I think hes saving money by filling us up on air, he told Gabriel, not caring if their father heard. Or else hes starting us on a migrant diet. Gabriel pretended to pluck a bug from his teeth and wondered where they would stop to sleep. He had spent their last night at the house gazing around the bedroom as though seeing it for the first time, noticing old smudges where he and Gus had whacked mosquitoes on the walls, next to nail holes from long-forgotten picture frames. While his brother took a late shower Gabriel had auscultated the ancient plumbing. He had listened to those subliminal,

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nocturnal sounds for years without noticing, but at that moment they had the comforting presence of old friends. All in all, he had concluded that their house was not that decrepit. Although his affluent cousins teased them about its tackiness, his parents always reminded them that other relatives dreamed of a home like theirs. Perhaps he was eager to etch the place in his memory so he could appreciate it more once they reached the migrant camp. Yet now, try as he might, he still found it hard to justify working in the fields simply to return and patch it up, since no amount of repair could conceal its age. He had never been more than four hours from home, and his fantasy of a road trip consisted of a collage of television commercials with the entire family snuggled and smiling in booths of assorted chain restaurants. But on the real road, surviving on a harsh dose of cold cuts, he would not taste hot food until his father pulled up to a truck stop on the second night and announced, Wake up! Hot meals on wheels! Its been so long, said Paula. Whats a hot meal? Its about time. Gus rubbed the sleep from his eyes and read a neon sign: New Mexicos #1 . . . He could not make out the unlit letters. Number one what? Road kill caf? Their father was almost at the door of the restaurant when Gabriel hollered from the van, This place isnt even a franchise. Of course they have french fries, his father replied. They eased into a curved booth while several gringo truckers regarded them vacantly. Their father said in a hushed voice, These guys know the best places to eat. Gabriel snorted. Then we really lucked out, getting in without a reservation.

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Dad, all thats just a myth, said Gus. Look, theyre not even eating. Theyre all strung out on coffee and pep pills. Paula fanned her palm in front of her face. And cigarettes. We came in late, said their father. Theyve already had dinner. But just look at them, Dad. Theyre all scrawny. Not all of them, Gustavo. Their father scanned the tables. There are a few heavyweights here. Thats only because they sit on their asses all day, said Gabriel. After they placed their order, they sat and made small talk, trying to ignore the rest of the clientele. Halfway through the meal Gus observed, Were the only family in this greasy diner. Their father stopped chewing. Greasy, huh? Pass your plate, then. I wouldnt want you to get sick so far from home. I already ate my burger and most of the fries. Their father let Guss sheepish expression speak for itself, but then he added, Greasy but good, right? He eyed the other customers and added in Spanish, Besides, this is better than McDonalds. Check out all the clowns. Gus merely glanced toward the ceiling. Fine, Dad. Dont tell us tell them that to their faces. Their father slowly turned toward the tables, and Gabriel, taking no chances, said, Gus is just kidding. Dont make a scene. His father turned back around. Whos making a scene, except for these clowns? He pointed toward the harsh glare of the sodium lights outside. See all those trucks out there? Thats just for show. Ill bet they all got here in a Volkswagen bug and piled out on the parking lot.

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Gabriel tried to hold his dads gaze with a deadpan stare. He succeeded for a moment, until he looked away and glanced at a trio of truckers with tattoos and red eyes. Suddenly the grungy, unfriendly truckers became the oddballs. Gabriel had to smile as he remembered his fathers knack for turning the tables on reality. Hours after dinner, the family pulled into a nondescript motel and the following morning, with an early start, they crossed the California state line. For a while the rural landscape continued the desolate sameness they had left in Texas, but gradually the steady, heavy traffic began to blanche their fathers knuckles. While his children gawked at the sights, he fretted over which freeway to take. Their mother noticed that the vein on his forehead was more pronounced than usual. Hold on, mi rey , let me figure out this road map. My God, these cities all sound the same. And I always heard Californians were so creative. Despite his kidding it came out clenched. So pull over and let Gustavo drive. Then Ill really go nuts . . . No, Ill just slow down. At least we wont have this kind of traffic when we get there. They did not appreciate the truth of that understatement until dusk, when they found themselves in a desolate countryside, with hard-to-read road signs and exits few and far between. By the time they turned into a farm-to-market road that bisected endless fields, Paula was already making little coyote yelps. Wow, she said, and I thought we lived on the edge of the world. Finally the road reached a dead-end, as the vans headlights illuminated a weathered, hand-written sign. The final letters had been squeezed in to accommodate

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the growers name. Their father stepped out for a closer look. So is this the camp, mi rey ? It has to be, said Paula. Its the end of the road. Gus peered cautiously into a pitch-black night dotted with a silent riot of stars. You can say that again. He stuck his head out the window, as a nippy breeze made him shudder. He could not decide whether he felt dread or excitement. Despite the hour their father found their crew boss, only slightly less disheveled than the workers who peered silently from their windows. They followed Don Rafas truck down a rutted road and stopped at the largest available structure, a dark and dilapidated shack beaten by the elements. With a kerosene lamp, the crew leader pointed out the partition that separated the interior into two rooms with a hollow-core door joining them. He studied their faces for a reaction, adding that the choice was limited to the shacks everyone else had rejected. Its the best I can do, since youre not only newcomers but latecomers. On the plus side, its a big place. Sometimes I put two small families here. Thats what the dividing wall is for. He tapped on a row of scuffed pegboards that improvised as a drywall and that created points of lamplight into the other side. I dont expect anyone else this late, though, so youve got the place to yourselves. He shrugged, as if admitting that the accommodations were not much but that it was also the best he could do. Their father, trying to reassure everyone including the crew boss with a lopsided smile, covered the living space in a few steps. Well, as long as the crops arent slim pickings too.

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No problem there, he said, glad to finally offer good news. Theres plenty of that. This will do, said their father, and the family seemed too exhausted to argue otherwise. Its just like when I used to pick crops. I mean, I still do. He corrected himself again. We all do. Then youll feel right at home. The comment barely covered Guss low groan. Ill just leave this lamp here. No need to, said Gus, collapsing on a cot. Just tell us where the light switch is. Don Rafa, assuming the remark was a joke, played along and twisted a knob that dimmed the lamp. Its right here, see? Ill bring another lamp tomorrow. He started to leave. Oh, your neighbor on that side is Seor Serenata. Excuse me, asked Paula, did you say Seor Serenata or Sinatra? He chuckled, as if sharing a private joke. I guess you could call him that too. Youll find out what I mean. Your other neighbor is Don Pilo, a widower with three teenaged boys. Hardest working kids around. Early to bed and early to rise, and no nonsense in between. In fact, theyre from your neck of the woods. Speaking of back home, said their father, wheres the Lpez family staying? The crew leader tried to scratch his head, then remembered he was wearing his hat. Their father added, Fidel Lpez . . . Hes the one who told me about this place. There was silence on both sides until Paula started a softer coyote yelp that their mother silenced with a quick nudge. The name rings a bell. I think he was here last year. He took advantage of Gabriels audible yawn and added,

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Anyway, Ill let you rest. Tomorrows a long day, and its almost here. Fortunately for you itll be Friday. Actually, said their father, Im sort of sorry the weeks almost over. Don Rafa managed an unconvincing smile. Im sure the rest of the camp isnt. He was almost out the door when he returned and began sweeping the lamplight along the perimeter of the floorboards, all the while mumbling to himself. Gus instinctively raised himself from the cot. What are you looking for? Whats in here? Nothing. His mumbling trailed off again. But just to be on the safe side . . . sometimes snakes and varmints make themselves at home. Gabriel and Gus glanced at each other, knowing that if there were not enough cots for each member of the family, they would be the ones sleeping on the floor. No sooner did the crew leader leave than Gus, despite being dead tired from the trip, suddenly came to life. This is hardcore, Dad! It bites the big one! Now, now, said their mother. Just because its a migrant camp is no excuse for obscenities. Obscenities? This! Gus swept his arm in an inclusive arc overhead, and his fingertips grazed the ceiling. This is an obscenity! And I dont just mean this shack. I mean the whole camp. How can anyone live like this? Compared to when I was a kid, said their father, this is a suite. The rest of the family stared back in disbelief. Well, a cabin at least. Yeah, Gabriel said, like the original Uncle Toms cabin. Except this ones a lot older. His father downplayed their pessimism. Why, thisll be like camping in Big Bend. We could even sleep out under the stars one night.

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Big Bend, said Gus. Talk about another trip that went nowhere. Besides, we can probably see the stars through the roof. Their mother sought the bright side even though the setting was not helping any. Ill bet this camp has its history. Ill say, said Gabriel. They probably kept JapaneseAmericans here during the war. Oh, no, this is much better, said his father, either oblivious to the sarcasm or pretending to be. Those families had no choice. Even as Gus claimed a corner, he muttered to his brother, And what choice do we have? Walk back two thousand miles? I still think this was an internment camp, said Gabriel. It has a creepy feeling. Fine, said his father. So youll be sleeping in a historical place. Paula added, Like those plaques that say, George Washington slept here. Exactly. Gus imitated the upbeat tone his father used whenever he found it convenient. Just like living in a battlefield camp. That night the brothers found out why their neighbor to the north was known as Seor Serenata. They had pushed their cots next to an open window and were already asleep when a muffled but audible quarrel broke out in the adjoining shack. What the? Its the neighbor and his wife, Gabi. Just get some zs. The next thing Gabriel woke up to was a serenade coming from the same direction. For a moment he seemed to dwell in an inverted reality where he thought he was dreaming, but the dream from an instant ago had actual-

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ly been the real thing. Sitting up and stirring the sleep from his eyes, he could make out Seor Serenata in silhouette, braced against the hood of his car. Jesus, Gus complained in a hoarse whisper. Are they still going at it? No, now theyre making up. Hear the mariachi music? Several times the man stopped his slurred serenade and turned around to whisper encouragement. Thats the spirit, muchachos! Make those violins weep! Help me win her back. By now just enough daylight smudged the horizon so that Gabriel could make out a boom box propped on the car roof. He smothered his face with a lumpy pillow to erase the surreal scene and sleep a bit longer. All at onceit might have been longer but it seemed like a moment agothe commotion was in his face as his father, crowing like a crazed rooster, pulled away the covers. Its time to hit the field, kids! Its still dark outside, said Gus. Listen to this seorita. No wonder they brought a serenade to your window last night. He tapped both their skulls. Come on. Theres a whole new world out there just waiting to be discovered.

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abriel sat on his cot for a long moment and explored his surroundings, wondering whether he was awake. Although he recognized his mother and sister, the wide sunbonnets they were wearing gave their appearance an alien, unfamiliar air. Where am I? he asked in a hoarse voice. His father came up close and pinched his cheek playfully. Youre in Disneyland. Now lets go or youll be late for the rides. Over here you have to hit the ground running. Outside, the camps activity sounded dissonant yet deliberate, as households passed out work clothes and fixed breakfast, the same food that would go into the lunchpails being prepared for the fields. Mom, Paula said as she listened closely to the bustle, what do we do about our meals? We could ask our neighbors, said Gus. When his mother frowned he added, Just this once. Id rather not start out on the wrong foot. But all we have are leftover sandwiches. Then its one more day of cold cuts. Better that than beg the camp for tacos. Paula agreed, This way well finish the left-overs. Gus grumbled, Looks like Ill be losing weight this summer.

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Good, said their father. I didnt know how to say this, but you and your brother were starting to get a little doughy around the ass. Paula laughed, At least Gabi doesnt pretend to be a school athlete. Whos pretending? said Gus. You think all those trophies on my nightstand are make-believe? Paula looked at the spartan surroundings. I dont see any trophies here. I dont even see a nightstand. So I guess Im not the one whos pretending. Anyway, I need to put on bulk for the fall. Otherwise I might not make the team. Paula approached him to make sure their father could not hear. Well, youre not going to put it on here, Atlas. Dads going to run your ass ragged. By then Gabriel had already stepped out onto the tiny porch. Despite the bracing morning breeze, he felt himself slipping back into a dream world. The sensation had as much to do with a lack of sleep as the surreal surroundings of camp life. He had tried to brace himself the night before. But it was one thing to enter another environment and quite another to wake up and find yourself in the middle of it. The sobering realizationall of his mornings for the remainder of summer would begin like thisdid not help. He sat on the topmost step of the house, which itself stood on top of a perimeter of concrete blocks, when Gus whispered through the screen door, So hows it look? As scary as I dreamed it last night? Like Dad said, its another world. That bad, huh? I didnt mean bad. I meant different. Gus came out to the porch with the same mask of determination he put on before a game. Yet the longer he

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surveyed the place, the more his demeanor grew less steely. Its not that different, he finally concluded. See that girl over there? She looks just like one of my classmates. And look at that old guy. Hes the spitting image of our mailman. He carefully observed a few more workers, then asked, So how do I look? What do you mean, Gus? You think Im dressed all right? Gabriel, still confused, struggled to make sense of the question. Its not like you have to wear a uniform for farmwork. Theres no dress code here. In case you hadnt noticed, were not working in some office. I dont want to look like some hayseed. But I didnt want to look out of place either. He flexed his strong arms, showing the half-rolled sleeves of a bright blue shirt that their mother had carefully ironed back in Texas. I dont look like a dandy, do I? Not at all. You look like your everyday . . . pimp. His brother, already insecure, took the kidding seriously, so Gabriel had to undo the remark with an energetic thumbs-up. You look fine, Gus. You just need to rough up your city-boy edges a bit. He inspected his own arms and hands. For that matter so do I. Thatll come soon enough. Gabriel nodded and at the same time tried to stifle a yawn. Then he jumped off the porch to check out the camp in the light of day. He counted close to fifteen shacks, all brimming with youngsters. Several places sported late-model pickups out front that made the shacks appear even shabbier. As he strolled down the dirt road that divided the camp, he could sense the uncertainty of the other workers as they watched with inquiring eyes. Several times he

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nodded at them, and all but once they nodded back or raised a hand in greeting. Gradually he realized that Gus was right. The surroundings might seem foreign, but the people were not that different from those he already knew back home. He was especially surprised at the number of migrants speaking English, not just youngsters but adults as well. He had always assumed that agricultural labor was the sole province of Mexicans, especially undocumented workers, and that illegal workers in other jobs, like construction, had ended up there because the jobs in the fields were already taken by other Mexicans. Now, seeing so many native-born migrants like himself, it bothered him that they ended up with these jobs while undocumented workers often had other, betterpaying jobs. When he returned, Gus was waiting with a sarcastic look, as if expecting a scouting report. When his younger brother said nothing, he finally asked outright, So hows it look? Like Paulas Disney World? More like the Third World. He had meant the remark as a joke, just as Gus had, but his brother took it to heart. I only hope the Border Patrol doesnt show up asking us for papers. That would be the ultimate insult. I dont think the Border Patrol works this far North. Besides, Im pretty sure the governments worked out a deal with the growers Come to think of it, Gus interrupted, a raid might not be that bad. It might break up the camp. Then we could go to Anaheim and back home. Before Gabriel could respond, Gus began scanning for stations on a small portable stereo. We can listen to this in the fields. This way well keep in touch with civilization.

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He fiddled with the tuner far and wide, but the only voices that came through with any clarity belonged to a few country singers and evangelists. I thought you said wed be in touch with civilization, said Gabriel. Gus was attempting another pass at the stations when Seor Serenatas oldest son stepped outside and greeted them with a nonchalant nod. He pried open a pack of fat batteries and began feeding them into a hefty boom box, and suddenly their own stereo sounded annoying and tinny. Say, Gus, isnt that what his dad was playing last night? Gus rolled his eyes and muttered back, Great. Now we have to put up with mariachis day and night. No sooner did he say this than the young man ejected the CD inside, inserted another one, and cranked up some hard rock. I guess I misjudged this guy. Gus ambled over to introduce himself and soon called out, Gabi! This is Victor! Victor gave Gabriel a lethargic acknowledgment that bordered on disdain, as if he were waving him away. Gabriel returned the greeting with a minimal gesture of his own and turned his attention toward his opposite neighbors. He quickly noticed that only grownups greeted the boys, who they called the Borrado brothers. When he got a closer look, he realized their nickname came from their gray eyes. One of his cousins had similar eyes, except that his were framed by a dark face that reminded Gabriel of a panther peering out from a dark cave. In the case of the Borrados, though, there was no contrast in their complexion to accentuate the color of their eyes. In fact, the nearer the boys got, the more striking

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their eyes seemed, as if their pale colorall color, in factwas bleeding away with each added step. Their father appeared so fair-skinned, rested, and immaculate that for an instant, Gabriel even wondered whether he might be the grower. Don Pilo wore a crisp linen vest over a Sunday shirt that set him apart from the rest of the crew, while his smartly pressed cowboy hat lacked any trace of sweat stains. When Gus returned, Gabriel immediately directed his attention to Don Pilo, adding in a low voice, Now theres a dandy. Gus could only agree. How does he manage to look so spiffy? Didnt the crew boss say the guys a widower? I guess not having a wife means no fights. So he probably has lots of time on his hands. Unlike . . . Gabriel glanced once more in the direction of their opposite neighbors, who had already given them a sample of their domestic squabbles. Gus was still observing Don Pilo, as engrossed as his brother had been. The crew boss also said that by sundown his sons are roosting like chickens. Maybe thats also why he has time to spruce up. No sooner had he said this than the three boys rushed into their shack then out again, all the while loading hats, lunchboxes and other field gear in the trunk of their car. Gabriel admitted that the collective nickname suited the trio. Besides the washed-out color of their eyes, the name suggested a gray, generic sameness. At that moment two attractive young women passed by and shouted simultaneously, Good morning! Gabriel turned to them with a self-conscious smile, then realized the greeting was not meant for him or Gus. Indeed, although the women stood only a few yards away, they barely acknowledged them with a quick, suspicious

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glance reserved for strangers. Instead they began gazing at the Borrados. They had even removed their hats and set down their lunch containers, as though paying their respects. As they walked away, Gabriel heard the slight one say, I think the oldest one likes me. Gabriel turned to his brother. What do they see in those weasels? That theyre white and have gray eyes? They still look weird. I know. But thats the point. Look at them. Gabriel glanced at them. Look at them. Look at how scrawny they are. Ill bet anything those guys are gay, added Gus. So if theyre gay why were those girls waving at them? Jesus, Gabi, havent you figured out women yet? Girls are drawn to gay guys. Theyre nonthreatening. They know they wont be all over them. Whats more, guys like that actually enjoy listening to all the bull about makeup and shopping at the mall. Gabriel looked at the boys again. I dont know, Gus. They dont look that frail to me. They look scrappy. Well, youre right about that. Victor said each one picks more strawberries than any adult. Thats why grownups admire them. Theyre the ideal offspring. But thats also why the other kids hate their guts. That was certainly the case with Gabriel who, having barely seen them a moment ago, could already conclude, Theres something about those guys I dont like. It did not help when at that instant the oldest Borrado returned his stare, regarding Gabriel as though he had just stumbled onto fresh meat. Then, just as quickly, he looked away and began chattering with his brothers. The distant contact came and went in a flash, but it left Gabriel with a lingering dislike. Whereas Victor had

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at least greeted him grudgingly, the oldest boy had not even acknowledged him. That slate-gray gaze had gone right through him. Breakfast! Paula called out. As they stepped back inside, Gus entered with a cautious expression that turned taciturn when he saw the same sandwiches, only now cut into fourths and with the stale edges trimmed off. Im not hungry, he said. His father, rather than argue, went to the van and returned with a package of cinnamon rolls that he had stashed away before they left Texas. He pulled a roll from the rest and offered it to Gus. Sure youre not hungry? Gus gathered his willpower into a resolute head shake. You said you didnt want us to pig out on junk food. He was hoping to get his siblings on his side and get them to turn down the bribe. Paula, however, helped herself to his roll. This isnt pigging out. Its a small treat. She closed her eyes and gave a small smack of delight. Besides, who knows how long it will be before we have something this sweet again. Their father finished licking the leftover icing from his fingers. Dont want to get the steering wheel all sticky. Why? asked Gabriel. Are we going somewhere? Of course. Were going to work. Its time to drive out to the field. Gabriel looked at him, incredulous. What? Were in the middle of nowhere, and now we have to drive out to the edge of nowhere? Think of the crew as an army, said his father. The camp is like . . . well, an army camp. When the analogy

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did not seem to satisfy his son, he added, Dont tell me you expected to just stick your hand out the kitchen window and start picking strawberries from the garden? Gus answered for his brother. Of course not, Dad. This dump doesnt even have a real kitchen, much less a garden. At the last minute their mother stayed behind, saying she needed to make the place more like home. Thats impossible, Mom, answered Gabriel. And mind you, our homes nothing to brag about. Well, then, Ill make it more . . . habitable. Gus assessed the place with a critical eye. Yeah, maybe if you work really hard it might be fit for a family of raccoons. The rest of the family followed the caravan to a huge field they would harvest over the next few days. Although barely awake, Gabriel appreciated the weather, since back home an unrelenting cycle of heat and humidity had started weeks before. That single respite made California worth the trip, even if it meant fieldwork. The climate offered another advantagethe countryside had the lushness of paradise. During summers in south Texas, except for irrigated areas, the parched landscape barely sustained scrawny brush and stunted trees. Here the vegetation flourished. Although Gabriel had noticed an irrigation ditch here and there, it still could not explain the greenery all around. They arrived at the field with explicit instructions from their father to mimic the other workers. Paula listened carefully, even though earlier she had been given the choice of helping their mother or of harvesting. I thought you were smart, Gus told her as they stepped out of the van. You could have stayed back there.

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So? So youll see. I was curious. I can always do housework at home. Besides, this way I can tell my kids how I once worked my butt off in the fields. She smiled and turned her gaze toward their father. Their father could not overhear the discussion, but he did notice her enigmatic gaze. Instead of bothering to ask her anything, he immediately looked elsewhere. Gustavo, dont make trouble. How can I? I dont have a clue whats going on, or what were supposed to do. He studied the field at his feet. Were supposed to be picking berries? I dont see any. Get your face closer to the ground. You mean in those weeds? Theyre not weeds. Theyre strawberry plants. He did a double take. I thought strawberries grew on bushes, like when people pick berries in the movies. But these . . . well have to really get down and look hard to get these things. He approached the field cautiously, as if it were seeded with landmines. I still dont see a single strawberry. Don Pilo gave a soft giggle. Thats because this part of the fields been picked. We have to move farther down. See where my boys are? Youll have to excuse my sons, Seor. Theyre a little inexperienced at this. Don Pilo barely acknowledged them and instead smiled at Paula, so their father added, My daughters just as green. No wonder my oldest boy said there was a pretty, new girl in camp. I guess you could say that. She neither blushed nor missed a beat. I am pretty new at this.

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Dad, Gus said under his breath, because of you were going to lose street cred in front of everyone. But their father merely asked, Mind if my boys tag along with yours until they learn the ropes? Mine dont mind if yours dont mind getting beat. My boys thrive on competition. People say theyre the best pickers in camp . . . maybe in the next camp too. Well, my boys might as well learn from the best. Don Pilo turned to Paula with a pleasant smile and removed his hat. Youre welcome to tag along too, seorita. One of Don Pilos boys ran over and whispered something in his ear. Before the boy could return to the field, Don Pilo had him shake hands with the newcomers. By now the Borrados were well into their respective rows, so Gus and Gabriel plodded to the far end of the field. While they waited for the Borrados to start new rows, Gabriel monitored their moves. Observing those swift movements that seemed a smear of activity instead of discrete actions, he twisted their nickname into a more kinetic moniker: borrosoblurred. But even after they all begin a new row, the Borrados lost them in a matter of minutes. Only Paula kept up the pace for a while, and only because the oldest one helped her with her row. Gabriels excuse for falling behind was that he was observing the Borrados technique, until he ended up overwhelmed by their sheer oddness. The oldest, around Guss age, barely came up to Gabriels shoulders. The other twoone probably Gabriels age, the other youngerwere even more puny, but could still beat Gabriel by a country mile. Simply watching them produced a despair that fatigued him.

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As he studied them that day, it was obvious they had inherited neither their energy nor their work ethic from their father. Physically, Don Pilo appeared as unimposing as his sons, even among migrants who frayed and shrank by the time they turned forty. He spent more time shepherding his boys on the field than harvesting. He reminded Gabriel of a general who stayed behind the lines to command his troops. In fact, his flirting with the camps women seemed so innocuous that even the most possessive husbands and fathers did not take offense. His sons, though, rarely stood still, even when they were idle, yet Gabriel never saw them perspire. Instead of sweat beads their skin oozed a sticky sheen, like the fruit nectar that the local canneries distilled. It gave them a slightly odd waft, like the fragrance of fermenting fruit that most girls liked, but that made them few friends among males. Soon the Borrados were left with two less friends after Gabriel and Gus realized they were being befriended simply to whet the Borrados competitive streak. That evening, when the van returned to the shack, both brothers tried to jump out at once, only to find that their bodies and wills had become numb during the ride back. Since Gus reached the door first, Gabriel and Paula knew he would claim the only cushioned chair inside, an old recliner that no longer reclined, so they sprawled on some rusty porch chairs instead. Their father remained behind the wheel for several minutes longer. When he finally managed to reach the porch steps, he tried hard to grin but could only manage a grimace. Ill never tell Mr. Woods he works us too hard in the garage, he called out to their mother. At least come indoors, mi rey . Youve been outside all day.

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I would, but Ill bet its cooler out here. He had barely finished the phrase when Gus walked out with a perplexed expression. I just realized theres no bathroom. Their father bleated a weak laugh, his first since morning. You didnt go all day? I was constipated from all those bologna sandwiches. I only took a leak in one of those gross portable potties. I was waiting for a real toilet. Their father indicated a trio of cramped cinder block structures a hundred yards down. This is as real as it gets. A honey wagon comes over and cleans them out every few days. Gus responded with an incredulous look. Those? Those are for field hands! Welcome to the club, said Paula. Son, in the old days you just found tall grass and crouched. He moved closer to Gus and cupped his hand to one side of his mouth to shield his daughters ears. Then you checked around to make sure there were no snakes that might try to mate with your manhood. I get the picture, Dad. So I should thank modern science. You could also thank God theyre not next door, or downwind. And before you ask about the showers, its the unit with the propane tank. Their mother came out and began massaging Dads temples. So tell us more about the bad old days, mi amor. To begin with, I wasnt this tired. We werent this old either, said his wife. At least this will jumpstart my plan to do car repairs. Otherwise that bad back act wont be an act.

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Paula stretched to either side to show off her limberness. This years track and field training paid off. She turned to Gus. I told you not to take weight training. I already told you guys, I need to bulk up. Oh, right. Bulk. She tapped her temple. Heres where you need to add bulk. More brain and less brawn. My own brain tells me tomorrows payday, said Gabriel. Whatever we get, said Gus, wont be enough for todays torture. That evening, while the rest of the family ate dinner, both brothers lay motionless in their cots, moving just enough to crack joints they never realized they had. Are you two on a hunger strike? Their father was already eyeing the remaining slices of Spam on the skillet. Why bother with food? said Gus. You just burn it off working. Their mother answered, So how are you going to put on pounds for football if you dont eat? Anyway, said Paula, youll have all weekend to recover. Tomorrows Saturday. Its also payday, their mother reminded them. And youre going to need all your energy to spend that hardearned money. Gus tried hard to muster some enthusiasm, but his hoarse cheer sounded more like a groan.

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y the time Gabriel opened his eyes the next morning his surroundings already felt less foreign. The cot and cold showers would still take some getting used to, as would the heavy fumes whenever his mother lit the small kerosene stove. But for now he could overlook all that, because this day had the same lazy luxury it had back home. Today was Saturday. The family put on the clothes they had set aside for the weekend and walked to the far end of the camp to the crew leaders quarters, a faded but spacious clapboard house that dwarfed the shacks. Their father, falling behind, tossed a pebble that tapped Guss pant leg. Pick up the pace. Stop dragging your feet. Im slowing down for your sake, Dad. Besides, it feels like were slaves going up to the big house. Slaves didnt get paid, and they didnt get to go to town on weekends. They were almost there when Gabriel noticed an oversized wrench in their fathers back pocket. What the heck is that, Dad? His father reacted as if he had not been aware of the heavy tool. This? Why, a good mechanic always carries a tool or two. And you want everyone to know youre one, right? said Gus. It wouldnt hurt. Just dont make it too obvious, said Gabriel.

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And dont take it out, added Gus. People might think youre trying to mug them, what with it being payday. When they reached the house, Gus immediately bounded up the front steps, but before he could knock, his neighbor Victor called out: Don Rafas not ready yet. The other heads of households, almost all men, had been loitering for some time around an enormous propane tank that sat on top of heavy metal struts. No one seemed to mind waiting, as they carried on simultaneous conversations. Even their father entered into an animated debate, and in the heat of the discussion he absentmindedly pulled out the large wrench and began using it to punctuate his remarks. The other two workers backed off a bit and watched it with due respect. Suddenly, during one of his flourishes, their father accidentally struck the tank, and the unearthly, metallic gong resonated deep and echoic like a bell in a cavern. It startled everyone slightly, but it completely unnerved a quiet, solitary man leaning against the huge cylinder. He was massive in his own way, and the clang nearly made him jump out of his skin, clearing a height that appeared impossible for someone his size. Its my nerves, the quiet man explained with a flustered smile, as the other workers struggled to keep straight faces. Any sudden noise sets off my nerves. A moment later their father again banged on the tank. He turned to apologize to the man, who reacted with a second hyper-startle and a nervous giggle that allowed the other men, still trying to stifle themselves from the first reaction, to break into open laughter. It wont happen again, said their father. He wore a sheepish smile that seemed deliberate and that made Gabriel wonder whether the clang had been intentional. I swear, he added. Look, Im holstering my weapon.

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After that the enormous man kept a close watch on the tank with an anxious look on his face. Suddenly Don Rafa, freshly shaved, opened the front door as the strong tang of cooked chorizo and buttered biscuits wafted throughout the porch. The men lingering by the propane cylinder now backed away, worried that the ruckus might have brought Don Rafa out. But another man, lurking by the tail end of the tank and oblivious to the crew leaders presence, took advantage of the silence to bang out his own gong with a large rock. When his antics were met with absolute silence he popped his head out with a baffled look and met Don Rafas gaze. The color drained from the mans face by degrees, until he resembled an ashen chameleon trying to blend with the dull-silver cylinder. Don Rafa merely thumped his round, taut torso with a satiated smile. Dont tell me thats the dinner bell already. The women tending to the children under some shade trees were the first to laugh as they joined the men flanking the main walkway. Don Rafa set up a folding table on the ample porch and began reading from his ledger to a burly paymaster with a strong family resemblance. As each name was called the paymaster placed the money in an envelope and handed it to the head of the family. Each head came up to the table several times, depending on the size of the family, and each time someone in the crowd made a disparaging joke about the wages. By now Gabriel assumed their family would be called last since they had barely been added to the payroll. Gus, on the other hand, was growing impatient, and when the crew boss finally called out his name, he immediately raised his hand and yelled, Im right here, sir!

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Several workers found this amusing, especially when Don Rafa himself paused to give the strapping young man a slow, deadpan going-over. Im not your coach, son. Im not calling roll. Gus ignored the comment and cleared the porch steps in one jump while the crowd chuckled again. Don Rafa, thinking he could milk the workers for another laugh, added, You dont trust your father to collect your pay? By now Gus sensed he had broken an unspoken code and could only gulp down his shame. Fortunately their father covered for him. I asked him to get it for me. For him those stairs are a cakewalk. For my aching back theyre torture. The ancient prankster, hunched over from decades of stoop labor, answered, Hombre , youre still in your prime. I should be the one complaining. Anyway, said their father, hes saving up for Disneyland. Gus endured the next round of catcalls as he walked away with his wages. Only Seor Serenatas son, Victor, cheered. Disneyland! All right! Like most of the other young men, he wore going-out clothes and was fastidiously groomed. Their father waited until Gus was close enough, then said softly, Watch your step next time. Gus turned to him for an explanation, but his father did not say anthing. Still in the dark, Gus asked outright, What are you talking about, Dad? Im saying dont let them know were new at this. It could mess up my plans. Gus seemed on the verge of saying something, then thought twice and turned to Gabriel as a sounding board. Look, Im not the one telling the entire camp about my aches and pains.

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Gus waited until the rest of the family received its money before counting his. If he had expected it to take his mind off unpleasant matters, it had the opposite effect. This is it? I irrigated that field with my sweat, and this is it? Their father, who had just finished collecting the rest of their wages, returned the look. What did you expect? You only worked one day. And not that hard, I might add. Gus glanced at the other envelopes his father held. So lets see how much you made, Dad. Well, when I was your age, I made a lot more than that. Paula pretended to take his side. And that was before adjusting for inflation. Right, Dad? She massaged his neck where it merged with his shoulder, the way she always did, but this time he pulled away with a grimace. As he turned away, their father noticed the hefty envelopes Don Pilo held fanned out, as if ready to reveal a full house. Well, neighbor, you collected quite a wad there. Don Pilo shrugged. My boys did most of the work. That may be true, but we fathers do the work of raising them right. Dont forget their mothers. Im not. But in your case youre both mother and father to those kids. The flattery had its effect, even though Don Pilo did not acknowledge it. I know some people dont put much stock in what Im about to say, but Im saying it in all sincerity. Each and every night I ask my wifes soul to help me guide our boys down the right path. Oh, I dont doubt that, not a bit. Don Pilo squirmed in silence, as if wondering whether his homily had lacked the proper humility. Or perhaps he detected a touch of disbelief in the reply. But before he

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could replace it with something more convincing, their father added, loud enough for the benefit of people close by, Still, you earned a small fortune. Me, I didnt make much, but I know how Ill spend it. Im buying parts for our van. The remark took root at once, as someone added, I just wish they made spare parts for people. Don Pilo nodded. That trip up here puts a lot of wear and tear on an engine. Their father masked his smile, knowing he could not have asked for a better straight man. True, especially from where we both came from. Its a good thing I know my way around cars. Mechanics like myself can cost an arm and a leg. Don Pilo gripped his pay envelopes, as though he might lose them to a con man. But not me, Don Pilo. Im the working mans friend. And people here arent exactly rolling in clover. Gabriel sensed Don Pilos suspicion, so before his father could exacerbate things he interrupted. Lets get going, Dad. Where? Where else? To get those parts for the van. When his face failed to register a connection, Gus added, Remember your plan, Dad. For a moment he remained in the dark, then all at once his beaming smile told them his mental lightbulb had clicked. He waited until Don Pilo was out of earshot. When youre right, youre right. Once they see me in action theyll line up with their money. Who needs Don Rafas crumbs when Ive got these babies? He held out his hands proudly as if he were a surgeon. Of course, said Gus, it would be better if it were on someone elses car.

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On the road to town both brothers sprawled in the rearmost seats while their father memorized landmarks for a return mental map. Gus recounted his money several times as if it might have multiplied in the interim. God, I sweated blood for this. Whoever said it was easy . . . That was Dad, said Gabriel. Back home he said it practically grew on trees. Gus did not back his remark, and his father responded with a disapproving glance through the rearview mirror. His mother, hoping to cover his gaffe, changed the topic. This place isnt so bad. But its a shame our neighbors are such a bad influence. You said it, said Gabriel. Those Borrados are a bunch of weasels. She stared at him, not quite believing what she had heard. I meant our other neighbors. Its bad enough that Seor Serenata likes the sauce so much. But to think think that his oldest son His names Victor, said Gus. Hes the only one who took my side after I screwed up with the crew boss. Yes, I heard him. But hes headed down the same path as his father. Be careful. Theres something about him I dont like. You got your neighbors mixed up, Mom. Gabis right. Victors an okay guy. I didnt say he was okay! Fine, but you did say it was the opposite neighbors we should worry about. You mean Don Pilo? asked Paula. No, the old mans harmless. Its his kids. How can you say that? asked their father. Theyre great kids. To you grown-ups they look nice.

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Did I say nice? I said Okay, Dad, to you theyre great. But theyre actually like those bad seed kids in horror movies. Theyre evil. And all were saying, said their mother, is that were glad theyre next door. They balance out the bad vibes from that other young man. Before Gus could remind her that he had a name, she added, Victor. Gabriel tried hard not to grin, but the harder he tried the worse it became, until his mother asked outright: Did I say something funny? I just had this mental picture of us sitting on a sofa. The whole family. On one side theres a little angel, floating next to our heads. And on the other side a little red devil, just like in a cartoon. He grinned again. Anyway, I can imagine Victor with horns and a tail. That doesnt take much imagination. But I just cant come up with a Borradoany Borradowearing a halo and angel wings. Youre just not trying hard enough, said Paula. Just like when youre out in the field. Gabriel was too tired to argue back. Besides, he wanted to enjoy the nice green countryside. They had not left camp until after lunch, and twice they lost their way on the unmarked country roads. By the time they arrived at the handful of stores on Main Street a few had already closed. Their father first dropped the women off in front of the supermarket. Get a head start on the basics. Well come back in a while. And remember, dont get anything that spoils. But that means well have to get canned goods, said Paula. So?

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So theyve got lots of sodium. When their father continued to stare at her with a blank look, she added, Salt, Dad. Canned goods have too much salt. Id rather have too much salt than food poisoning. Oh, right, murmured Gus to his brother. Like that mayonnaise bull on the way up. It was hard to tell whether the auto parts store was open since there were no cars on the curb outside. Its cluttered aisles and modest assortment of merchandise reminded Gabriel of the way his father described their hometown when he was their age. His father went to the door, then signaled them. Gabriel joined him, but Gus simply made a face that suggested a stomachache. Come inside, Gustavo! You might learn something. Whats there to learn, Dad? Were just getting points and plugs, something we should have done back home. Plus a valve cover gasket. And whatever else I may need. By the time Gus finally entered, their father was already asking for a gasket. Gus noticed the confused impatience on the balding Anglos face, so he repeated their fathers request. While the man joined his helper in the stockroom and while their father was distracted by a ratchet wrench set, Gus said under his breath, Whyd you let Dad open his mouth? Theyll think were mojados. Gabriel was about to say that their father sounded nothing like someone raised in Mexico when the man returned with a teenager who looked enough like him to be his son, with the same coarse eyebrows and high forehead. This what you need? the boy asked in a perfunctory tone. Gus nodded, then asked the man not to ring up the sale yet. The stock boy disappeared around an aisle corner, but

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it was not until Gabriel noticed him watching his father on a ceiling security mirror that he understood Guss discomfort. Then he saw Gus looking at their father just as intensely as the stock boy, but with a seething silence. Hurry up, Dad, said Gabriel. I think theyre about to close. He was hoping the Anglos would contradict him and encourage the browsing. Instead they seemed to agree through their silence, and the older man even reached behind his back, as if trying to untie his work apron. The older man was adding up the items when their father asked, You got any good mechanics around here? The man nodded without a word, while the younger one asked, Why, you need one? Oh, no. Im one myself. The older man placed the change on the counter and slid it toward him. We have enough here. Lets go, Dad! said Gus. We need some stuff from the general store across the street. Gabriel glanced toward the small supermarket and suspected that Gus had called it a general store to mock their town. Gus held the door open for two Anglo women who entered the store. He gave the first girl a closer look, but the other one had already given him her own once-over and, not liking what she saw, called the girl to her side. The balding Anglo greeted them by name, and as Gabriel neared the door he heard the older woman ask, Were you about to close? Not at all. The man retied his apron strings. Not for another hour at least.

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abriel spent much of that evening in a sullen mood, and it smoldered into the next day. Finally even Gus, who harbored no illusions about their predicament, offered some uplifting advice. I dont know whats bothering you, Gabi. But tomorrow were going back to the fields, so make the most of the weekend. Im still pissed off about that shopkeeper. Hes from another generation. Theyll die off soon. Yeah? His son wasnt much better. Well, you know what pisses me off even more? That two-bit town theyre from. You think the other hicks who live there are just as bad? Thats not the point. I mean we came all the way to California for that. Whats worse . . . He stared out the screen door. For this. No wonder the workers actually look forward to going back home. We could have stayed back in the Valley and been a lot better off. Theres movies What did you expect? So now youre siding with Dad. No, Gus, Im just saying that this is where migrants work. Its not like we were coming to pick crops in L.A. Fine. And you let go of that episode at the auto parts store. Besides, it was all Dads fault. Whats Dad have to do with those Anglos?

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Well, if hed kept his mouth shut . . . He was just there to buy stuff, Gus! If they didnt want him there, how come they took his money? Dont worry about it. The whole thing went over his head. Gabriel did not reply, but instead recalled the times his father had talked about his own childhood, when whites had run things back home. At that moment, and despite all the times he had locked horns with his father, he felt a sad, inexplicable bond between them. He paused at the door and asked, By the way, where is he? He was headed for that open field where the kids play kickball, by that old barn. Hes got his tools on display. You mean hes setting up shop? Its more like advertising. He wants to let the camp know he works on cars. Lets hope it does the trick, said Gabriel. Sounds like you have your own doubts. Well, its not going to be a cakewalk for Dad, thats for sure. Itll all be uphill. Now youre starting to sound like me, Gus sounded smug. Im just being realistic. Theres a lot of stuff we didnt think through before we made the jump. Ill say. But Gus did not offer any points of his own. Instead he waited for his brother to explain. Dad was blinded by the thought of making money, just like we were blinded by a vacation at the end of the road. He heard about how much money a family could make each month here, but he didnt realize its only for a few weeks. Most of these guys go back home and work on odd jobs the rest of the year or collect unemployment.

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Gus nodded seriously yet said nothing. Before we left, Dad and I saw this migrant workers pickup out in a parking lot. It was pretty impressive, like some of the trucks we see here. Gabriel regarded their surroundings with an unsentimental eye. But you dont see the places they have to live in to earn the money for those fancy trucks. Gus nodded again, then added, Or the hard-core houses they have back home. Jesus, Gabriel, why didnt you tell him all this before we came up? Why didnt you tell me? Maybe we could have stopped the old man in his tracks. Gabriel pushed against the screen door and let in a flood of light. Like I said, I didnt know all this until now. But as he stepped off the porch he knew otherwise. He had considered some of those arguments back in Texas, at least partially, but Gabriel had feared that Gus might have used his ambivalence to derail the trip. And perhaps, Gabriel now believed, Gus had wanted to be proven wrong. Maybe Gus truly wanted their father to succeed despite all the discouraging signs. Gabriel found their van parked under a shade tree across the street from the abandoned barn. His father wore his mechanics overalls and had slid open the van door to showcase two large toolboxes with overlapping triple trays. Wow. What are you going to do, Dad, transplant a transmission? He guided his sons gaze to a handful of tools he had already set aside for a tune-up. And even though no one was around, his father said in a low but excited voice, I wanted to bring out the big guns. For show. Then he

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pointed across the open field that served as camp commons. They say a white preacher will be here in an hour. Hes giving a sermon in that run-down barn. Hows his Spanish? Probably as creaky as that old barn. But you know those Anglos. They pick up a few words in Spanish and think theyre experts. So while the preacher is fishing for souls Im fishing for customers. For once he seemed to savor the fact that his son had seen through his tricks. Gabriel observed him for a while, then said, You should do TV commercials, Dad. You look like a real mechanic. I am a real mechanic. He turned casually to show off the tools bulging from his back pockets. He even had on the garage cap he hated to wear because it plastered his hair in an unflattering pattern. What I mean is, theres lots of mechanics out there, but they usually dont look like the real thing. His father did another slow circle, then froze, like a muscle man proud of his profile. Im more real than the real thing. I dont need to work in a garage to prove it. But despite the comings and goings of curious gawkers who wandered to and from the sermon, his efforts barely attracted a trio of men, including one who kept offering contrary advice. Gabriel became so annoyed that he whispered to his father under the hood, Why even bother answering this idiot? Im always getting guys like him at the shop. Hes testing my expertise. Hes no expert, Dad. Hes just a jerk. Im not doing this for him, he whispered back. This way everyone will know how much I know.

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Gabriel was not convinced but he still said, I guess you know best. Anyway, do you need help? Thanks, but Id better do this myself. Otherwise theyll think I pass off my work to you guys. After Gabriel left, a teenager with the uneasy air of a loner lingered on the fringes, saying absolutely nothing but making the father so uneasy that he did little more than check his toolbox. In the end he was left to supervise two hyperkinetic kids whose parents had sent them outside to ventilate their energy. They so tried his patience with their preschool inquiries that he finally packed up and left. He returned to their shack as the last smudge of sunlight was fading. He never mentioned how things went, yet the manic streak in his conversation got the best of Gus, who quizzed his brother with a curious head cock. Gabriel ignored him in order to cover his fathers charade, but he was also afraid that Gus might ask outright. Fortunately his father asked, So is everyone ready for another workweek? You obviously are, said Paula, as she confiscated a bottle of liniment he was rubbing on his hands. That smells nasty. Fine. Ill do it tomorrow. Im saying dont do it, period. Youre probably polluting every strawberry you pick. This way whoever eats them gets a free laxative. Sort of like strawberries and prunes rolled up into one. If youre worried about pollution, Gabriel told his sister, you dont have to go further than the bug killers they use on the crops. Birth defects, cancer, high blood pressure . . . Gus gave an exaggerated shudder to make sure he caught their fathers attention. Then he added for good

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measure: Theres no need to continue the list. None of that stuff worries Dad. Why should it? If pesticides dont get you, something else will. What about your kids? Im not planning to crank out any more. What about the ones you already cranked out? I want to make sure theyre survivors. And what doesnt kill you makes you stronger. No, said Gabriel, it just makes you sicker. So anyway, said his father, is everyone ready for tomorrow? I guess so, said Gabriel. Yet the following day the aches and pains that he had accumulated and that the weekend had dulled temporarily now returned stronger. Still, Gabriel took some pride in the fact that his body was coping better. And now, aware of his limits, he paced himself more efficiently. Although still exhausted at the end of the day, he came out after dinner to watch Paula practice tumbling with two other girls. Look at her, he told Gus. She still has energy at the end of the day. Im looking, but Im not impressed. But she never complains. Even Moms started to bitch a bit, now that shes out in the fields. Well, Dad doesnt push Paula as much. Thats because shes the youngest, said Gabriel. No, its because shes his favorite. Still, just standing in the field all day can tire you out. You win. Gus stood abruptly and brushed the rust stain that the porch chair had left on his pants seat. Ill

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have to congratulate Dad for hiring such a good attorney. Whats that supposed to mean? That youre starting to turn into his mouthpiece. Come on, Gabi, I thought we were in this together. We are. Thats why Im trying to put you in a more positive place. Sometimes I get the feeling youre trying to put me in my place, period. Just like Dad does. This whole conversation wasnt even about Dad. It was about Paula. Gus noticed Victor returning from the bachelors quarters, and as he stood to meet him, he put a work shirt over his undershirt to guard against the evening chill. In this place, everythings about Dad. The following evening, the Anglo minister returned with several members of his church. The group included some teens scheduled to put on a variety show, and, despite the transparent proselytizing, the skits and songs offered the camp a welcomed break from the rural monotony. Even Gus seemed excited, as he pointed to the makeshift stage. Look, Gabi. Honest-to-goodness college girls! For the younger teens like Gabriel, that meant fantasies, but little else. Still, girls in clean, well-pressed clothes made him yearn for home, even school. But for the older boys, the potential for something more was there, however remote, and for those like Gus, who had already dated an Anglo girl, the odds were not astronomical. A few of the girls were attractive, and one in particular stood out. Although pale, she had a healthy, freckled complexion, unlike the pastiness of the Borrados, who were in fact clustered a short distance from Gabriel. He considered going over and taunting them that it was past

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their bedtime. He even took a few steps in their direction, when suddenly the oldest brother started observing him intently with those strange eyes, as if intuiting his intentions. If anything, the staring made Gabriel even more determined to carry out the teasing. But then it occurred to him that the other teens might mistake the gesture for friendship, so he held back. The Borrado smiled, but with the same glacial gaze, as if he had stared down an enemy. By now someone else had noticed the Borrados. Every so often the pale girl glanced their way and smiled as if they were old acquaintances. Her green summer dress, at once clingy and carefree, moved in magic synchrony with her long auburn hair. The effect was not lost on the Borrados, who grew more nervous. Shes an absolute angel, said Gus. Seor Serenatas son gestured toward the Borrados. And shes friendly to animals. An older boy whose acne had been aggravated by fieldwork agreed with Victor. If she gave those guys a second look, weve all got a shot. After the show several of the older guys tripped over each other trying to impress her. They let Gus break the ice, which led Paula to shake her head as she joined her other brother. Wow, Id never thought Id see the day when my brother, the jock, would end up as a spokesman. I guess its because he doesnt have such an accent. She gave an indifferent shrug. Or else hes rehearsing for when he endorses sportswear. Gabriel, standing some distance from the group of older teens, remained at the sidelines of their fantasy, with his feet anchored in the real world enough to put things in perspective. He soon realized that the girl was not so much angelic as amicable, with a fresh charm that the church chaperones encouraged. She also had an obvi-

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ous and unfair advantage over the girls in campstylish clothes, fastidious grooming and a perkiness that was not eroded by the daily grind of fieldwork. In fact, no sooner did the church girls leave than the fantasy started to fade. An older boy wearing an oversized Virgin of Guadalupe medallion outside his shirt commented with a sour-grapes voice that the group was just looking for converts. Then sign me up! said Gus. Victor agreed. If thats how they want us to imagine their little corner of heaven, Im all for that. Paula, still standing beside Gabriel, described in sobering detail how the young men had undercut each other in front of the Anglo girls. You cant blame a guy for trying, said Gus. Even if you lose your pride? Besides, if Gus is so gaga about white girls, how come he was dating one whos dark? How should I know? Maybe he wants to change his luck. The way things have turned out here, do you blame him? That night, while the older guys boasted late into the night how they could show the Anglo girls some real loving, Paula said to Gabriel as they walked to their quarters, Cant those losers see the girls were making fun of them behind their backs? They were giggling at them, not with them. Dont tell me youre jealous. And here I thought you had it all together. Dont be silly. Its not like the guys here are a prize. Theyre all like our brother . . . Lenny. When Gabriels face furrowed, she added, Oh, didnt you hear that freckled girl call him that?

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He thought for a moment. Sure. So she made a mistake. So what? Remember that American Lit class you took in middle school with Mrs. Gower? Remember that novel by Steinbeck? Oh, yeah, about the two farmworkers. Something about mice and . . . Never mind. Remember the retarded guy Lenny? Our brother Lenny? He started to protest that she read too much into the girls mistake when suddenly he remembered that she had called him George a couple of times. He had written it off as another innocent mistake, but now he wondered. Paula seemed to have read his mind. So I guess that makes you the guy who looks after Lenny. It bothered him in a belated way that the girl had laughed behind their backs, especially with her religious airs, but it bothered him more that her beauty had blinded him to the sarcasm. Look, Sis, do me a favor. Dont tell Gus. Why should I bother? He wouldnt get it anyway. After all, you barely got it now. She turned to go, but not before adding, At least Im not the only one who thinks you guys are rodents. The next day Gabriel kept his distance from the rest of the family. By now his work felt more fluid and he didnt tire as easily, so he decided to pace himself discretely against the Borrado brothers. He was aiming ridiculously high, but somehow it made sense to measure his worth against sterling standards. Observing the Borrados, Gabriel quickly realized that none of the younger workers could even touch the Borradoss shadows. Seasoned adults who might give

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them a run for their money could be counted on one hand, with fingers to spare. That morning, though, the Borrados were not competing with anyone else or even with each other, yet each seemed to strive for a personal best. He tagged behind them without being obtrusive and, being it was Friday, he could afford to push himself and have the weekend to recover. In no time at all he realized his sorry attempt was not even close to a contest. As soon as he started to tire, his body dropped the fluid technique he had practiced and regressed to an uncoordinated, ineffective lurching. By noon he resigned himself to tailing the Borrados father, who now wore the type of pith helmet favored by old explorers. Every so often Don Pilo paused to pull out a cigarette from the pouch that dangled over his left pant pocket. It was the same place where he kept treats for his sons. Around the third time he fished out his cigarette lighter, a few assorted treats slipped out and fell next to Gabriels box of strawberries. Gabriel secretly picked one up, then waited until his boxes were tallied to examine it. It reminded him of the Mexican candies his poorer cousins ate, especially the cellophane wrapper with its corny drawings of grinning children from another era. He brought the treat to his lips, where the clinging stench of cigarettes made him pause. He managed a nibble, but a chalky aftertaste instinctively made him draw away. He nearly threw it away, then rewrapped the candy in its cellophane and tucked it in his left shirt pocket like a talisman.

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us opened the pay envelope and turned to his brother in disbelief. This is it? I busted one buttock and half the other, and this is it? They had just left the crew leaders house with their full week of wages, and Gabriel, although somewhat upset too, was nonetheless grateful that the weekend had finally arrived. When they reached their shack their father used a different tack to defuse their disappointment. You boys earned a lot more this time. Just look at how thick those envelopes are. Of course, said Gus as he collapsed on his cot. Thats because this week we worked five times longer. And I ended up with a ton of ones in my envelope. Anyway, Gus and I are tired. You guys can go into town without us. Smart move, said their father. Youll have more energy for the work week. What smart move? said Gus. Were exhausted, period. Besides, added their mother, this way you can save your money for Disneyland. Somehow Gus found the strength to raise himself from his cot. Oh, yeah. I almost forgot about Disneyland. When their father did not acknowledge the remark, the two began chirping like crickets in the awkward

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silence until finally Paula said, But how can you think about Disneyland when youre so dead-tired? At this rate well end up taking you in a hearse. Before Gus could argue back, she added, Anyway, who needs Disneyland with all of this? It was a one-two punch of sarcasm and callousness worthy of their father, who added a chuckle of approval as they walked out the door. The family had barely driven away from the shack when Victor called from his porch. Hey, buey , I saw your family heading for town. Lets go hang out with some of the other guys. Im here with my brother. Victor said nothing for a moment, then replied, Im meeting up with some friends at a canal not too far from here. Were going swimming, maybe have a beer or two. He paused once more, and Gabriel whispered to his brother, I thought we were both too tired. Gus whispered back, We can rest when we come back. There was an obvious edge of excitement in his voice. Victor was now waiting outside the screen door. But if youre babysitting . . . Gus left his cot and quickly found a towel. Gabi doesnt swim, but he wont mind hanging out with us. Thats okay, added Gabriel, loud enough for Victor to hear. Ill just stay here. Hes right, Gus, it might be too boring for him. Gus had already grabbed a couple of towels. There. One to dry myself with, and another for you to sit on. As Victor led the way, he saved all his small talk for Gus. It was not until they cut across several fields and then took a path that at times disappeared in the tall grass that he finally glanced at Gabriel. Its where the older guys go to soak away the field dirt.

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I wondered where people bathed around here. Or if they bathed at all. When Victor stared back at him, he tried to offer a sheepish smiled to admit his blunder, but Victor answered with dead seriousness, Last year two guys from a nearby camp drowned there. They were about our age. The remark only worsened Gabriels own dread of deep water. But they were from another camp, right? Victor savored the anxiety he saw in Gabriels eyes. Different camp, same canal. Listen, Gabi, if you want to turn back . . . Victor snickered, which only steeled Gabriels resolve to continue. They trespassed through some property that had once been a field of some sort but had since been reclaimed by saplings. These days Gabriel had begun to wear his work cap everywhere, sometimes even inside the shack, and seeing Victors nose peel up close he yanked down the cap bill to shade his own face. Victor, on the other hand, sported the kind of visor worn by card dealers, shielding his eyes but little else. He ran his fingers through his sun-streaked hair so often that Gabriel suspected he was trying to lighten it on purpose. Suddenly Victor stopped and pointed. There, hidden in those vines. You can see them. See what? Gabriel asked. The crosses of the guys who drowned. Gabriel scanned the field until he finally picked out the tops and crosspieces of two white crosses. Something about their being swallowed by their surroundings made the boys deaths even more disturbing. Suddenly his peripheral vision told him that Victor was observing his reaction, so he crossed his arms to keep from shivering and nodded with total and quiet concentration. So, asked Gus, are they really buried there?

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Gabriel knew that if he had asked the question Victor would already be on the ground laughing. Instead the young man answered, No. But still, youd think their families would keep the area around the crosses clean. They cant very well do that, said Gabriel. Theyre only around for the summer. Well, its summertime now. Maybe the families went to work somewhere else. Maybe there are too many bad memories here. Maybe, maybe, maybe . . . Victor seemed to be buying time for a rejoinder. Well, maybe we should ask the guys ghosts. Some say theyve heard them splashing in the canal. He smiled at Gabriel, as if the thought had just crossed his mind. Oh, I forgot. Youre scared of the water. Who said Im scared? I cant swim, thats all. Victor now turned sharply to the right, and, Gus asked, I heard you moved out of your parents place. Victor gave a defiant nod. Im living in the big barracks with the other bachelors. What did your father say? He didnt say jack. He just pretended it was his idea all along. He said it was time I struck out on my own. A moment later, without any prompting, he added, We dont get along. Hes weak. He acts like a lion when hes had a few, but then he has a few more and hes back to being a pathetic pussy. He gave Gus a playful punch, but hard enough to smart. You should move out too, buey . There are still cots available. Gus gave his brother a nervous glance. What, you need your kid brothers blessing? Victor jeered. Gus shook his head. So then what, you think hell tell your father? For an instant Victor stared hard at Gabriel as if daring him to

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deny it, yet he didnt wait for an answer. Listen, out in the barracks you can stay out Saturday nights until dawn. So what? said Gabriel. We can barely get out of bed each Saturday. Victor turned point-blank to Gus to let Gabriel know his opinion didnt matter. Guys only feel tired when theyre bored out of their skulls. Ill think about it, said Gus. Dont think about it. Just do it. He strode ahead with supreme confidence, like someone used to passing through places without even glancing sideways. Even in that rough terrain, he had a way of sauntering without a care, as if he not only belonged there but laid claim to everything he surveyed. For that reason Gus looked up to him. Victor enjoyed his company too, but in the way a celebrity likes his fans and flunkies. His friendship was fed by the vanity that someone admired him. Gabriel did not think much of him, and Victor sensed it. In truth Gabriel did not dislike him, but even that indifference bothered Victor, whose world consisted of two camps: people who admired him outright, and those too envious to admit it. They caught sight of the canal, its crest rising about twenty feet. One of the migrant boys was shouting and making a drinking gesture. You need a drink? yelled Victor. Jump in! You said youd bring a few beers! My old man found them first! As the boy turned toward the water and disappeared, Gus asked, Did your father get pissed off? No, he just drank them. Hell, he should have thanked me.

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When they finally reached the base of the canal bank and hurried to the top, Gabriel knew it had been worth the walk. Although he had no intention of taking a plunge, he was immediately drawn to the current, calm yet daunting in its depth. Victor tried to interpret his mesmerized look. Dont let it fool you. Whenever theyre irrigating downstream, they open the grates at the bottom. The current pulls you against the bars and keeps you there. Thats how those guys drowned. So how do you know when theyre irrigating? asked Gus. He shrugged and plunked a pebble that immediately disappeared with a gulping sound. After the undertow sucks you down, I guess. The boy who had first spied them was floating quietly on his back and already quite a way downstream. Gabriel drew closer until he touched the water that almost lapped the top of the cement bank. Suddenly the thought of falling in made a shiver ripple down his back. He carefully inched away from the bank as if teetering on the brink of a deep precipice. But after a while he returned to dip his feet into the water and pat his soles against the cool cement, leaving wet imprints just above the watermark. See that dark green patch? Victor was pointing halfway to the horizon. Ill bet we start on that next week. From where he lay, Gabriel could glimpse the strawberry field and beyond. Padding his elbows with his shirt, he leaned back with contentment, knowing how back in Texas he would be sweltering and surfing channels to blot out the boredom.

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This is a nice place, said Gabriel. Thanks for bringing us. The compliment threw Victor off guard for a moment. It would be even nicer if we didnt have to work here. But if youre going to pop your cherry in the fields, this is as good a place as any, right? He examined their expressions and then added, Hell, I knew right away you guys had never done a lick of fieldwork. Before they could protest, Victor said, Dont worry. Youll get the hang of it. I had to learn too, like everyone else. The confession made Gabriel feel better until Victor added, Imagine, I was almost seven. We wouldnt have looked so bad, said Gus, if Dad hadnt put us alongside those workaholic maniacs. They almost sent us packing the first day. The Borrados? Man, what a way to lose your virginity! Theyll run your ass ragged. Then theyll tear you another one and run that one ragged too. I hear their mom was the same way. Thats where they got their energy. I call them the greyhounds. He looked closely at one brother, then the other, as though sizing them up. Old Don Pilo loves to feed them fresh meat. Gus agreed, We felt like those mechanical rabbits at a greyhound track. Only they kept running circles around us. Determined that nothing would spoil the moment, Gabriel said, Let them run circles. Let them chase their own tails. Who cares? We should, said Gus. If they make us look lazy, we can kiss that Disney trip goodbye. Dads just looking for an excuse to say were goofing off. What bugs me, said Victor, is how theyre the only guys from camp the locals welcome at their pool. Gus sat upright at once. Theres a public pool?

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Sure, three blocks south of the movies. Thats where theyre at right now. Then why are we here? Gus pointed to the boy downstream. And him? Lighten up, Gus. This isnt bad. Thats because you dont swim, Gabi. There are all sorts of amebas and crap in there. How come you dont see the Borrados swimming in it? Its very simple, said Victor, putting their bare arms alongside each other. Tell me what color you see. Whats that supposed to mean? Ill make it even easier. What color dont you see? White, right? You dont see the Borrados color. Youre saying the pool has signs outside . . . ? No, its not quite that bad. They still want that green part of you. But afterward they make up any excuse to kick you out. So you end up paying a full days admission for a few minutes of fun. He could not resist a quick glance at Gabriel before adding, Unless youre one of the kids who just wants to sit and soak his ass. Ill come up with a plan to stay in, Gus boasted. Just wait and see. Victor hurled a rock in the water that made an enormous plop. If the locals dont want us, screw them. Its not worth the hassle. Besides, the Borrados dont need Wile E. Coyote schemes to stay in. They wouldnt be so white, said Gabriel, if they werent always wearing long sleeves and those funny sombreros. Look, kid, we could wear sombreros all summer long, day and night, and still not pass the test. Its their gray eyes. Thats the ticket.

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Never mind their eyes, said Gus. How do they even have any energy on weekends? Im dead on my feet, and I dont even work half as hard. Not them, said Victor. Theyre out there splashing with the farmers daughters, nuts to butts. Its like they were spending the summer lollygagging like Anglos. Youd think their back-to-school trip would be enough for them. What trip? Like what you guys are getting. Old Don Pilo takes them on a vacation at the end of the summer. A real one, not like leaving one state to go work in the next. Gabriel expected his brother to explode at the injustice, but when he turned, Gus was staring at the strawberry field halfway to the horizon. Gabriel cleared his throat to catch his attention, but his brother only fixed his gaze farther in the distance.

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n the way back to camp, Gus had little to say and showed no emotion until they reached the shack. Then, lying in his cot with his hands clasped behind his neck, he stared at the water-stained ceiling and muttered, Those weasels. The Borrados? Everyone. Everyone whos pushed us around since weve been here. The town yokels, Dad, the crew boss . . . but especially them. Its no biggie, Gus. The Borrados just showed everyone what we areamateurs. Well its time to push back. And I wont rest till I come up with a plan. Gabriel wondered whether he could work up any indignity over fairness and favoritism at the local pool, so he simply replied, But you are resting. Im thinking, damn it. And Im serious. We have to beat them at their own game. Gabriel could tell that his brother, an excellent school athlete, was falling back on familiar clichs, so he went along with it. Fine, but you need a game plan. Like what you said back there, about coming up with a way to hang out at the pool. Even as he said it, the thought of soaking in cool, clean water started to become tempting. Gus agreed with a pensive nod. But the pool is just part of it. Gabriel waited for more, then realized Gus was being evasive because he lacked any clear goals or strategies.

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So then we dont just need a game plan. We need a master plan. Gus agreed, energized. A master plan. He rested his hands over his broad chest and interlocked his fingers tightly, as if by uttering the words, everything somehow fell into place. Gabriel, though, seemed focused on smaller, pedestrian matters. Fine, but we still need an actual plan for staying at the pool. And all that stoop labor takes up all our time and energy. Leave that to me. Besides, now I can pick strawberries in my sleep. Suddenly their fathers soft voice sifted through the screen door. You can say that again. Both brothers jumped out of their cots, and exclaimed, Dad! Their father entered the door with an enormous smile, savoring their startled expressions. In fact, Gustavo, the way you move in the field you probably are asleep. When did you get here? What Gus really wanted to know was how much his father had heard. We bumped into Mr. Cant in town. His arthritis was bothering him and I was getting bored, so I volunteered to bring him back in his car. And the girls? They stayed with Mrs. Cant and her daughters. Theyre all coming back in our van. Mom wont get lost? Your mother has the instincts of a cat. I couldnt get rid of her even if I wanted. Their father made no mention of their earlier conversation, and by the time the work week started, Gabriel understood the larger threat the Borrados posed: by making them both look like slackers, the trip to Disneyland

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might be torpedoed. Up to now his resentment of the trio went back to that afternoon when he sat by the canal. He had tried to imagine wading in the shallow end of the public pool, or perhaps diving into the chest-deep part where the non-swimmers huddled. But the image that kept interfering was of the Borrados, splashing and frolicking with impunity. He had relegated the pool fantasy to the status of a sideshow. Now what bothered him most was that although the family had already been at camp for what felt like a season, they seemed no nearer to Disneyland than back in Texas. As far as his father was concerned, Disneyland had dropped off the edge of the earth. So at dinner he finally gathered the courage to put the issue on their rickety, unpainted table. Someone told us back home wed be going to Disneyland. Thats right, Gus added immediately, but we havent heard a word since. Their father pretended to search for the culprit. Who told you that? Whoever he was, he wasnt being straight. Dont look at me, Gustavo. I never promised you anything but honest work and whatever money you made. Besides, Ill bet youve had some good times here. Perhaps his father was right, thought Gabriel. Once he got past the third-world housing and hard work, meeting new people and seeing new places somehow made the experience worthwhile. If anyone had a right to complain it was his father, whose hopes for setting up a mobile auto shop were withering on the vine. He was thinking precisely that when his father glanced his way. Worried that he might intuit his sympathy and exploit it, Gabriel quickly protested, But you said youd take us to

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To California, his father finished the phrase. You said thats where Disneyland was, and I agreed. And thats all I said. You guys got carried away after that. With such amazing imaginations, who needs Disneyland? He turned to Paula and asked whether she had also misunderstood. She offered the reply he was counting on. I really dont remember, and I really dont care. Ill remind you when we get there, Gus told her. Then you can wait out in the parking lot. If you get there, she corrected him. Now let me remind you what Dad always says. Make sure you get it in writing. Their father nodded and smiled, proud of having taught her well, and they finished the phrase together: And before you sign, read the fine print! Aware that he was rubbing salt in their wounds, he assumed a more paternal tack. Thats the most valuable lesson youll ever learn. Gabriel felt like saying, What? dont trust your own father? Instead he lowered his eyes in resignation. Gus, however, matched their fathers gaze with a cold, steely resolve, as if throwing daggers in his direction. The outrage momentarily left him at a loss for words, until suddenly he exploded, So youre saying you tricked us! You kidnapped us, for slave labor! Kidnapped? their father smiled nervously. How in the world can a parent kidnap his own kids? You tricked us into crossing state lines! Thats a federal offense! You could go to prison for that. Their fathers smile froze, and he touched his sons arm to suggest that the banter had gone too far. Youre no kid, Gustavo. Youre a strong, young man. I couldnt kidnap you even if I tried. You know youre free to leave anytime. The argument was having the desired effect and might have

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done the job had he left it at that. Yet he could not resist one last stab of sarcasm. Why, youd be home in three days. Unless, of course, you stopped to say hi to Goofy. He knew immediately that instead of bringing Gus to his corner, the remark had pushed him farther into the adversarial position. Then, trying to sidestep the minefield he himself had set, he added, Just imagine us going to that place looking like this. He purposely put on a hobos pose. Wed look like hillbillies, said Paula, then guffawed like one. Hispanic hillbillies at that. Their dad nodded gravely, the way one faced up to a sad fact of life. Theyd lead us out of the parking lot with flashing lights and sirens. Wed end up being nothing but laughingstocks. Unless, Paula added, the customers thought we were part of the entertainment. The same way the locals here see us. Her last barb stung her brothers the most since they were still bothered by the way the townspeople treated them. It did not seem to bother Paula, though, and later that evening, when they confronted her outside the shack, Gabriel realized the full extent of her indifference. Say, whose side are you on? Im on my side, same way youre on yours. Besides, Im not the one dying to go to Disneyland. Back home it was you who gave Dad the bait. But it was you rat boys who swallowed it. Her eyes opened wide, incredulous that her older brothers could be so naive. It was one of their fathers favorite facial expressions, and seeing her mimic him so naturally not only explained her ability to see through his tricks but to pull them on others as well. Paula shook her head in disbelief, then turned toward the door with the smug air of someone who had won a

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fight without lifting a finger. When are you guys going to grow up? She bumped into their mother, who was on her way out. What was that all about, Paulita? Gus answered for her. Oh, only about how were having so much fun we could stay here forever. He spread his arms in an expansive gesture to either horizon. With all this, who needs Disneyland? Gabriel offered his mother a rusty chair as decrepit as the porch itself. Back home she would have thanked him but remained standing. Here, however, she took up the offer at once. Youll survive the summer. Besides, your fathers partly right. It hasnt been that bad. Youve had some fun moments. Gus scooped up a dirt clod, then disintegrated it against a tree trunk with an unerring aim that Gabriel had not seen since they were kids. When we agreed to come, this is not what I had in mind. Im sure its not what you had in mind, Gustavo. He only wanted to do what was best for you boys. Oh, so he did this for us. He should have sent us to boot camp. That would have been easier. Someday youll understand. If anyones disappointed its him. In a way this was his fantasy trip too. Back home he said that if we did well here, then maybe we could stay for good. Gus stared at her, astonished. Here? Not the camp. I mean move to California, after you graduated. He figured the camp could help us get our feet wet. If we survived this we could survive anything. Mom, Gabriel asked, has anyone hired him? She smiled weakly but could not look him in the eye. It turns out the families here are on the road a lot. So the men already know a lot about repairs. Her smile broad-

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ened. For that matter, so do some of the women. She herded them toward the door, eager to change the subject. Lets go inside, before he thinks we ran away. Gus slowed his pace enough to tell his brother under his breath, Thatll happen sooner than he thinks. Gabriel waited for more, but by the time they opened their cots, Gus still had not said a word. As soon as their father started snoring, Gus muttered through clenched teeth, like a prisoner on the eve of a do-or-die jailbreak: Come morning, Im gone. Gabriel knew that his family was far from ideal, yet the threat triggered the terror that something priceless, however imperfect, might be lost forever. His words came out even more determined than his brothers. Dont, Gus. Youll be sorry. Not as sorry as him. Dad doesnt always mean what he says. Then hed better learn to start saying what he means. He thinks thisll make us men. And men never need to have a good time, right? Hell take us. Just wait and see. No, he wont. And Im not waiting to see. Dont be stubborn, Gus. Hell forgive and forget before you know it. Well, I wont. And neither will he, not after he finds out what Ive done. Gabriel stiffened in his cot, anxious to know more, yet fearing what he might find out. Gus abruptly looked away, as though his confession had already gone too far. Their father suddenly said something in his sleep, unintelligible but loud enough to startle them. Gabriel monitored his breathing carefully to make sure he was indeed asleep. What did you mean, Gus? What else have you done?

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His brother would not elaborate beyond the obvious. He thought hed make a killing fixing cars. All of that backfired, and now were the whipping boys. He made fun of our wanting to go to Disneyland, but this whole trip of his was even crazier. Well, thats his problem. Now its our problem too. Okay, but before you know it, well be back home. Itll be over then. Itll just be starting. Just wait till the other players check out my farmworker tan. Look. Gabriel heard him turn in his cot, so he turned to look. But Gus blended so well in the darkness that his invisibility proved his point. Fine, Gabriel conceded, anxious not to antagonize him further. Only dont leave. After a long silence, Gus added: Know what bothers me most? I promised my morena a little something from Disneyland. Gabriel waited for a more compelling reason other than Gus losing face with his girlfriend, but that was it. As he wondered how mature the couples commitment was, he could only imagine them hand in hand, silhouetted in the sunset with matching mouse ears. But he kept the irreverent thought to himself, afraid it might push Gus over the edge. He stayed up for the longest time in case Gus tried to sneak away. For a time Seor Serenatas domestic strife kept him tethered to the everyday world. But somewhere during the subsequent string of serenades, he drifted off, and the next thing he knew he was waking up to a new day, with a blur of noise and activity that seemed to originate in their shack and then spilled outside. He immediately glanced to his left to make sure his brother was still there.

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us stayed, if for no other reason than to harass the Borrados and undermine their antlike industry. We cant beat those guys on the field, not physically, he told Gabriel as they dressed. So we need to use psy ops. He did not give his kid brother time to either inquire or agree. Thats military talk. Its all about messing with your enemys head. Gabriel nodded, thought for a moment, then said, But it sounds like before you mess with his mind you have to make sure yours is screwed on straight. Gus looked him straight in the eye. He continued staring without a word until Gabriel squirmed and looked down. Damn straight, Gus finally said. The moment he walked away, Gabriel realized he had already started rehearsing his resolve. Gabriel arrived at the edge of the field long before Gus, who took his time strolling from the van. On the way over, he offered a defiant power salute to his friend Victor, who returned the greeting along with a puzzled gaze. A few feet from Gabriel, the Borrados were going through an animated chatter that sounded like a code only they could decipher. They reminded Gabriel of cartoon chipmunks, with speedy, high-pitched voices that made their movements appear even more manic. Gus approached Gabriel with a supreme serenity that belied the previous nights crisis. Yet underneath that

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calm self-assurance, he radiated an undercurrent of energy that rivaled the Borrados own. Gabriel, sensing that power, was convinced his brother could out-pick any of them hands down. From now, on Im coasting. He pretended to talk to Gabriel but turned slightly, aiming his comments at the Borrados. Anyway, you run yourself into the ground and for what? The oldest Borrado could not help answering. For treats, thats what for. For treats? Guss face displayed a mixture of pity and disgust. You mean all that sugar junk your father feeds you? No. For trip treats. This summer hes taking us to Knotts Berry Farm. To another farm? To pick more berries? Then what? Back to Texas to work in some watermelon patch? The oldest ones smile was just as smug. No, tonto. Its a theme park with rides and everything. Youd know if your father ever took you. We go every summer, added the smallest Borrado, who blinked several times and then rubbed his eyelids. Gus, noticing they were already red, concluded it was a nervous tic. He came closer to the boy and then stretched his own calves to make him appear even more puny. Ask me if I give a rats ass. But the revelation unhinged him enough that he opted to postpone the matchup with the Borrados. Instead, that evening after dinner he told their father: After the Borrados finish here, their fathers taking them to Knotts Berry Farm. Theyre going to another grower? Christ, do those kids ever quit? They should form their own camp.

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Its not work. Its R and R, a theme park. Youd know that if youd ever take us on trips, Dad. Their father did not defend his actions. His mind appeared to be fixed elsewhere. I tell you, if anyone deserves a vacation, its those boys. Mom said, So do ours, mi amor. We should be proud. Theyve done quite well, considering its their first time. He gave Mom a perplexed look, as though they were trying to carry on a conversation in parallel realities. Oh, you mean these two seoritas you gave me instead of sons? The same ones who take beauty naps every evening? His father gave them a side long glance, as if amused that they had the gall to ask for equal treatment. You already get lots of rest. You remind me of the way horses sleep. Every time I check up on you, youre standing in the fields, gawking or complaining. Gabriel almost added that the only way he could know was if he did the same thing. But the retort would almost certainly take the argument in another direction and that was exactly what his father wanted. Instead he exhaled deeply to steady his focus. We mean a real rest. Fine. First show me a real days work. Like the Borrados? Gabriel immediately realized that he had not only provided the noose but placed it around his own neck. Now youre talking, said his father. His fathers amusement at his audacity to measure up to the Borrados only made Gus more determined. Thats not fair, mi amor. I heard from some of the women that Don Pilo gives them vitamins and Mexican tonics. You heard wrong, because you only heard what he tells all those mothers. The truth is, he gives them Mexican candy.

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Thats all? Thats all they need. That stuff is like shooting up sugar. Thats why Mexican soft drinks give you a stronger kick. Here we switched to corn syrup, but over there they still sweeten their colas with the real thing. Who told you he does that? He did? He told a few of the men. Hes not about to tell the women, of course. Theyll start clucking their tongues in disapproval. But thats not even the point. The real medicine works up here. He tapped his temple. Hes convinced them it works. Come on, do you think vitamins work miracles? If it were that simple Id cram a whole jar down the throats of Gus and Gabriel. Thats not right, she said, even if it is just candy. Its not right to trick his boys like that. Mom, said Gus, your husband messes with our heads all the time. Why dont you lecture him? Ahh, said their father, wheres the harm in a little sugar high? What they dont know cant hurt them. Think of all the chemicals we eat in our food. What kind of reply is that? she asked. Are you saying that just because we dont know whats in our food its not going to hurt us? If its not one thing that gets you, its something else. His father took a large bag of pork rinds, felt around, and held up the biggest one he could find. So you might as well . . . His final words of wisdom were drowned out by the loud crackling. As his father went through his antics, it occurred to Gabriel that perhaps he should tell the Borrados about their fathers treats. If the effect was, in fact, mostly mental, the truth might take the wind out of their sails.

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Gus, though, had already hatched another plan. Suppose that on any given day either Gabi or I beat the smallest Borrado. Thats horrible! said their mother. Why would you beat him up? And the smallest one at that? I mean out-pick him, Mom. Paula gave a derisive snort. Thatll be the day. Gus, armed with the same tenacity he put to good use in sports, managed a supreme effort to ignore her in order to keep the pressure on his father. Heres the deal, Dad. If we do beat them, then you treat us to Disneyland on the way back home. He put out his hand and added, Do we have a deal? Their father, sniffing for the trap on a technicality, tried to hedge with a vague reply until their mother pushed him back into the arena. A couple of days play for weeks of hard work, she said. Sounds more than fair. How can you lose? Thats right, said Gabriel. Everybody wins. When their father reluctantly stuck out his hand, Gus grabbed it before he could reconsider. Wow, said Paula. This is history in the making. I only wish I had film in my camera. Sensing they were on a roll, Gabriel quickly added, Don Pilo also treats them to the pool on Saturdays. Like a little job perk. I guess it gets them motivated. It might do the same for us. Let them have it, Dad, said Paula. If nothing else, itll get them clean. Theyre starting to stink like goats. Why youd want to go there is beyond me, said their father. Theres a perfectly good canal close by. I heard some of the boys go skinny dipping. Their mother came over and tapped him on the head with her work bonnet. Dont encourage them to go there!

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Thats where some boys drowned last year. They were no older than Gustavo. That may be true, but whats also true is that they figured they were old enough for a few beers. Is that what did it? He gave her a peeved look, as if even asking strained the obvious. By the time they went under they were already half-drowned in alcohol. Before the conversation could drift any further, Gabriel repeated his request for a day trip to the municipal pool. By now his father seemed so confident of the larger odds that he agreed to that too, on one condition. Fine. Ill even buy you swimming trunks. Then Ill pay the admission and drop you off at the gate. Hows that? He added one condition. After that its up to you two grackles to stay inside. What do you mean by that? asked their mother. Oh, nothing, just something a little bird told me. Paula, also in the know, smiled. Lets just say nobody could confuse my brothers for the Borrados. Whod want that in the first place? asked Gabriel. Who wouldnt? she answered. Theyre like cute leprechauns. Their mother, trying to open a can of peaches, asked innocently, You said theyre like lepers? Gus laughed. You said it, Mom! Thats how all the other guys treat them. I meant like elves, Mom. Fairies. This time Gus practically howled. Theyre fairies, all right! Maybe, said Paula, but they kick your butts in the field, so what does that make you? It took Gus a while to recover from her withering smile. Why do you bother defending them?

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Because theyre so fragile. Their skins like . . . Touch them sometime, said Gabriel. Ill bet theyre slimy as snails. Speaking of snails, said Paula, I cant wait to bet against you guys. Gabriel first made sure their parents were out of earshot. Then youd better go kiss their albino butts for good luck. Thats right, said Gus. First you go kiss their butts and then afterward well kick them. As always, Paula had the last word. Now who believes in fairy tale endings? She raised her voice for the benefit of their parents. Anyway, Im glad youre trying to follow in their footsteps. Its too bad youll be trailing them by a country mile. But at least youll be in the right place and in perfect position. She made a silent kissing gesture. Then, making sure their parents werent watching, she turned her own rear toward her brothers, as if inviting them to kiss it. They had already prepared their cots when Gabriel heard his father say from across the partition, To look at at the Borrados, you wouldnt give ten bucks for the lot. Gabriel almost reminded him he and Gus were still awake when his father added, You cant even call any one the runt of the litter, since the whole litter came out runts. But get them out on the field and theyre like greyhounds on a track. Just goes to show, said their mother, looks can deceive. His father glanced out the window, toward the darkness of Don Pilos place. No wonder theyre already roosting by dusk. One thing I know for sure, they didnt get that energy from their old man.

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Im sure hes worn out from having to put them to bed each night. At least hes harmless. Hes the only man who can talk to Mrs. Serenata without her husband getting insanely jealous. His father shook his head, as if in reproach. What that woman has that is worth protecting is beyond me. I have to say, between our two neighbors Don Pilo definitely got the better deal. No nagging wife You can say that again. And three hardworking kids. They say she worked herself to an early grave, leaving the poor Borrado to raise their hyperactive sons. I suppose its no harder than raising lazy ones, he said. But imagine having to harness all that energy . . . I wouldnt mind, not if I could harness all the money that comes with it. Hell, look at us. We ended up harnessing two nags. All we get is their constant whining. Gabriel had stayed glued to the conversation, waiting for the inevitable putdown. I heard that, he said, banging on the pegboard partition. Get to bed. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow. I dont think theyll last that long, said Paula. I give them two rounds at most. Dad, youre the one who needs to rest. Ill bet that by noon youll have to drag them out of the field feet first. Dont get ahead of yourself, Gabriel called out. Tomorrows Saturday. Oh, of course! said his mom. Well, all the more reason to rest. That way youll make full use of the day. In his mind the fact that his father had agreed to buy them trunks and pay the pool admission somehow enhanced the odds that he might have to make good on

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the much bigger bet. So what time are you taking us to the pool, Dad? He waited, believing that his father was mentally checking his own Saturday schedule, but there was only silence. Since it was too soon for him to have already fallen asleep, Gabriel began to worry that he might renege. Dad? Dad? Please, said Paula, will somebody get up and give the baby his bottle? Gabriel ignored her. Dad? What time? Well, what time do the stores open for those swim trunks? About ten, I think. Then ten it is. Then Ill drop you off at the pool before noon. Ill even wait outside to pick you up when they throw you out. Dad. It was Paula, who he acknowledged with an absentminded hmm. Just dont buy those trunks with loud colors. We dont want them to . . . stand out. Get them some pastels instead. They shared a conspiratorial chuckle. Youre right, he answered. Well have to tone down that tan.

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arlier that week, Gabriel and his family had been looking forward to going to town together that Saturday. But they had been around each other in the fields and in the claustrophobic shack for so long that by the time the weekend arrived, they agreed to go in different directions. Even Paula, who had decided to join their mother at the movies, couldnt wait to blot out every face in the darkened theater. Yet once they reached the town limits, their mother made one last pitch for togetherness. Boys, are you sure you wouldnt rather see a movie? After all, the water in that pool isnt going anywhere. Actually, it is, said Paula. I hear they drain the pool Sunday nights. Why is that? It has something to do with migrants swimming there on the weekend, said Paula. I guess people of color turn the water a little dingy. At least they time it right, said their father with the same cynical tone. They start the week with clean water and let it get dirty. Then they let the raza come in and put the finishing touch, the ring around the rim. Thats what the Anglos used to do back home when I was a kid. Dad, said Gabriel, youre not talking your way out of this one. Im not trying to. Im just saying that maybe the movies are a better choice. Yet underneath the feigned

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concern in his voice was a hint of someone attempting reverse psychology, knowing that the boys would do the opposite. Mom, Dad, Gabriel corrected them, down here in the sticks they call them pitcher shows. Its a double feature, said his mother. You know why? Because neither ones a first run. If theyre showing the same ones from the last time we were in town Gus started to say. You know they are, said Gabriel. Then I already saw both back home, said Gus, way back during spring break. Im not sitting through that again. He turned to Paula. Look, Ill save you some money and tell you how it ends. Dont you dare! Im in the mood for a movie and no ones going to ruin it. Any good, old-fashioned picture show will do. Id even go see one of those old silent movies. I spent every day in that harsh sun and every night listening to you guys whining. Now Im going to chill out in some air conditioning, like a bat in a dark cave. Her anticipation was so vivid that she revealed the gooseflesh on her arms. She was also hoping to get under her older brothers skin, and the tactic proved so enticing that he ended up arguing back. Ill bet shes meeting her Borrado boyfriend in the theater, he told Gabriel. I dont blame her. What girl would want to be seen with him in broad daylight? Anyway, he shouldnt be hard to find. Hes so pale he glows in the dark. Actually, she replied, you guys are more likely to bump into them. Maybe you can even race a few laps against them. Just for practice. She squeezed Gabriels left bicep before he had a chance to make it taut. You

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know, to start getting in shape for the championship round. After shopping for swimming trunks and leaving the women in front of the theater lobby, their father drove Gabriel and Gus to the pool. He was about to pull away when Gus reminded him, Didnt you say youd wait for us? I think Ill find a watering hole of my own. Remember, Gabriel called out from the other side of the turnstile. Its not quite noon yet. Maybe the bars arent open. Yeah, Dad, dont get all paranoid and think theyre trying to keep you out. The pool water was still a few degrees short of tepid, so they sat on the edge and dipped their legs to acclimate. Gus seemed anxious to dive in, but for the time being Gabriel was content to paddle his legs in the water the same as in the canal. Say, Gus, I see the Borrados over there. He tuned out his brothers mumbled curses, and for a moment he almost felt like a member of an exclusive country club. Well, I dont want them around us, so ignore them. Come on, lets start a little action around here. Whats the hurry? Lets get the lay of the land first. What for? Ive got everyone here figured out. He pointed out the assorted Anglo cliqus, as well as the smaller clusters of migrant kids. Just remember the first rule of psy ops. Dont let your enemy control the field of battle. Put him on the defensive. Since when have Anglos been your enemies? Were not here to fight, Gus. Were here to have a good time. Exactly, he said and dived in. Gabriel slipped into the shallow end while Gus wasted no time challenging two Anglo teens as tall as he to a lap

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race. When they gave him the once-over and turned him down with disdain, he started to ask again, but the lifeguard chirped his whistle and motioned him to keep quiet. Gabriel and Gus looked at one another across the water and wondered with simultaneous shrugs why, in the midst of the pools commotion, he had been singled out. Soon Gus recovered his self-confidence and swam over to a small gaggle of local girls. Gabriel, still by the shallow end, couldnt make out the conversation, but noticed when the oldest girl began playfully splashing Gus, he responded with a cautious splash of his own. Quit it! she laughed. Suddenly the lifeguard blew his whistle again, harder this time, as several migrant kids ducked underwater, leaving only hanks of shiny black hair on the surface. Even the Borrados, sitting along the edge, wrapped their towels around their thin frames like roosting bats. Hey! Im talking to you! The lifeguard pointed straight at Gus, then at a sign beside the diving board. Cant you read? Gus grinned at the girls, then at the lifeguard. Sure. You need someone to read it for you? It was a sophomoric retort, one that the towheaded young man could have defused easily with another reprimand. Instead he plodded along the rim of the pool and nearly slipped twice, which only made him madder. He reached Gus, who was still smiling and oblivious to his rage. Youre out of here! Hey, guy, take it Right now! At that moment, one of the migrant boys who had come up for air assessed the situation and promptly dove under again.

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Right now! he repeated. Or Im calling the cops! Gus pushed himself out from the pool in a single thrust. The guard must have been expecting a slight migrant like the Borrados, because when the glistening dark body hunkered in front of him, his fear eroded the little reason he had left. I dont want any trouble. Just get your things and get out. Why? I just got here. Cant you read? Gabriel held his breath, afraid that his brother would repeat the silly reply. He did not, but the damage had already been done. You mean the stuff about horseplay? Look, I took lifeguard lessons too His remark, less a boast than an attempt to find common ground, only led to the Anglo turning on his heels and waddling away. Gus took his towel and walked straight to the exit without a word and looked straight ahead. When the lifeguard saw Gabriel follow him, he did not even bother adding that the expulsion did not apply to him. For their part the girls who had been talking to Gus now basked in their reflected infamy, utterly indifferent to the injustice. For a time, both brothers roamed the town like two mutes, in an inseparable and silent suffering. But it was still early afternoonGabriel figured his mother and sister were still watching the first featureso he suggested getting a bite to eat. Gus, still gnawing at his humiliation, could only answer with a clich: How can you think of food at a time like this? How can you think of anything else? We havent eaten all day. When hunger finally got the better of Gus, he wondered aloud whether the restaurants only served Anglos.

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Theres one way to find out, said Gabriel. At least theyll turn us away before taking our money. What about there? Gus pointed to a fast-food place. After what weve been eating, itll be like a four-star restaurant. They both devoured their burgers and fries, even as Gus looked over his shoulder a time or two, suspecting that someone might ask them to leave. Gabriel was right, though it was the closest to a back-home meal they had eaten in a long time. Their mother tried her best, but she lacked the little extras like napkins and ice, sometimes even the basics like enough chairs or a sturdy table. The best part was that no one bothered them. The workers, mostly Anglos, were courteous. After placing a second order, Gus even considered hoarding an additional order of fries for the road. Gabriel talked him out of it, pointing out that they would turn soggy by the time they returned to camp. In the end, they settled for refilling their soft drinks with plenty of ice. Having nothing to do until the double feature was over, they window-shopped along Main Street to walk off their meals. This time, with a full stomach and a more pleasant encounter with the locals, Gabriel had a more positive view of the place, despite the occasional storeowner who stared out with suspicion. Finally he paused by a store window. Arent you going to send your girl a postcard from here? Gus glanced down Main Street one way, then the other. He did not have to look far either way. What for? Its nothing to write home about. I guess youre right. If they have any souvenirs, theyre probably about strawberries. Or else shrunken migrant heads. Besides, whod want to let anyone know hes here?

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They walked a while longer and Gabriel asked, Dont they have a place in Disneyland called Main Street? When his brother shrugged, he added, I wonder if its anything like this. Well, dont tell Dad. Hell say, So then why bother going out there? But their conversation triggered a reaction in Gus, who began scanning the street again. Didnt Dad say something about calling his cousins in Anaheim? Youre right, and its about time. Lets find him first, then well find a phone. Gus looked around and his gaze paused on a pack of young stag workers from another camp, with the raw and rustic look of illegals. Wait. Ive been thinking. Maybe its not a good idea to tell them were working here. At least not yet. Lets wait till all this is over. Why? Well, dont you feel strange? Strange? Yeah. About working in the fields. I dont think migrant workers feel strange. They dont, because thats what they are. But were not. But we are, at least for now. Thats what weve been doing all summer, and weve got the sunburn to prove it. Weve been working with migrants. That doesnt make us migrants. What are you getting at? That we join a union? Gabriel took the teasing no further, since he himself still felt ambivalent about the label. He didnt mind it in camp, when he was among the other workers. But around town he was conscious of it, constantly. A couple of times, among the locals, he had used a certain word or even hummed a certain tune in order to set himself apart from

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the herd, but then afterward he had felt a tinge of shame for having done so. His brother, though, was ashamed, period, and rubbing his face in the reality only exacerbated the self-hate. Gabriel could only wonder how Gus would explain his rough hands to his friends, to say nothing of an erratic tan that would never pass for a summer on the beach. He realized that back in Texas Gus had decided to go to California because everyone at school was convinced they were leaving anyway. Gabriel had assumed that Guss decision meant he had put the migrant issue behind him. It was obvious now that he had only buried it, and in a shallow grave at that. Dont worry about the call, Gus. I dont think Dad will tell his cousins what hes doing either. But theyll know. Once they ask where hes calling from, theyll know. Gabriel tried to explain that their relatives would find out the moment the family showed up in Anaheim with calluses and leathery, farmworker complexions. But he could tell by the way Gus narrowed his eyesthe same way his father looked when he was corneredthat he was determined to postpone that call. They continued walking the few downtown blocks, peeking through display windows while hoping their father wasnt soaking his woes in a bar, until they found him inside a drugstore. He was close enough to a pay phone that Gus took no chances. Dad! His yell inside the store startled not only their father but the pharmacist as well, who was probably used to a meeker type of migrant. You havent called your cousin, have you? He must have taken the remark as a reprimand, because he put aside the heartburn medicine he was

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holding and started crafting an apology. Not yet, but now that you mention it Then forget I mentioned it. Lets wait till the seasons over. and were ready to hit the road. Gabriel thought he recognized the look that came over his fatherthe slight flaring of his nostrils and the cagey arch of his eyebrowswhenever he detected a chink in his opponents armor. So youre calling off the bet? The bets still on. All Im saying is we should hold off on that call. Gabriel, though, still had his doubts. What if we miss them? They need to know ahead of time. Maybe theyre making vacation plans too. And you know it wont be Disneyland. Well just take our chances, said Gus. Their father nodded solemnly, even as a sliver of glee leaked through his mock disappointment. Well, if you boys insist . . . Gabriel started to say that he wasnt the one insisting, but by now his father could barely stifle his satisfaction. He looked so comical that Gabriel had to abandon his own seriousness. Dad, youre cross-eyed with delight. Im happy when my boys are happy. Gus neither noticed his fathers smile nor his brothers sarcasm. In fact he seemed oblivious to the outside world until their father was out the door. Look, Gabi! They do have postcards! Yet in the short time it took Gus to maneuver his brother to the souvenir rack, his tone had turned calculating. Dont worry. If his cousins are gone its even better. Then well make the old man spring for rooms to make up for the shack were staying in. Let him pay through the nose.

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I dont know about that. Hes not exactly making money hand over Look, Gus interrupted, let me ask you something. Do you think those Borrados are any better than us? The Borrados? Yes, the Borrados. The same jerks cooling their butts in the town pool as we speak. But what do they have to do with? Dont get all complicated on me. Just answer my question. Do you think they deserve a better life than we do? No, but Once more, the moment that Gabriel tried to voice his doubts, his brother immediately interrupted him. Then let Dad be a real father to us. Let him pull out the wad for once, just like old Don Pilo.

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abriel felt a hand on his shoulder, rocking him awake, then heard, Dads been hinting he might go into town again. Keep an eye on him. Even into the following morning Gus was still worried that their father might try to contact his cousin. Gabriel tried rubbing the sleep from his eyes but it only made the drowsiness worse. Why cant you watch him? I have. I just need to go see if Victors around. Gabriel did not agree until he felt alert enough. Maybe were going about this the wrong way. Maybe we should encourage him to call his relatives. If he commits to seeing them, then were locked into the trip. Maybe. But if he does call and they give him the runaround, thatll be his excuse for not going. But he already agreed, Gus. Now its up to us to beat one of the Borrados. I guess I just want to close all the loopholes. You know Dad. Even Paula calls him the Hispanic Houdini. Gus, dont take this the wrong way, but youve been doing too much thinking lately. Imagine if youd done that Yeah, yeah, imagine if Id done all that thinking during the school year. Youre starting to sound like Dad. Gabriel knew better than to argue. It had become a battle of wills for Gus, even though their father was unaware of their duel.

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Gus returned shortly with the news that the white preacher was organizing another open-air service. You should go down there, Dad. What for? I have nothing to confess. Fine. Its just that I heard a couple of guys asking if you planned to show up like last time. Their father pondered his options, including the likelihood of drumming up clients, then slowly made his way to the van. Do you two want to come along? Weve got other plans, said Gus. And its like you just said. My soul is spotless, so why waste my time anywhere close to a preacher. Gabriel was in the dark as to their plans, but he backed Gus. Besides, if they see us fumbling next to you, itll drive everyone away. After most of the camp had trickled off in the direction of the sermon, Gus told his brother, Get your trunks. Victor said hed take us to the canal. But after it became obvious that Victor would not be there to guide them, they decided to make their own way to the canal. After backtracking twice, they eventually reached a high clearing that gave them a better glimpse of the terrain. They then followed a faint path that cut through the underbrush and wild vines and up the canal bank. As they stripped to their new trunks, they assumed they were alone until a male voice called out, Whos there? The tejanos. Gabriel shielded his eyes and squinted into the waters reflection to identify the voice. Thats not saying much. There are tons of tejanos in camp.

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Were the brothers from the border. From McAllen. Noticing a head beside a patch of river sedge, Gabriel quickly added, But were not the Borrado brothers. The young man showed the rest of his face and shoulders, dark and shiny as a wet seal, as he swam toward the gunnysack rope. Hell, everyone knows those guys never swim here. When he pulled himself onto the bank, Gabriel recognized him as one of the bachelors from the stag barracks, yet he didnt quite know what to call him. Some of the other bachelors called him Shorty behind his back and Chorizo to his face. The latter sounded too personal, even vulgar, yet Gabriel did not want to offend him with Shorty either, so he decided to draw him out. Im Gabriel, and this is my brother Gus. He introduced himself as Chori, a blend of both nicknames. Physically he had an even more imposing presence than Victor. Despite being shorter than either Victor or Gus, he was even stockier and more muscular, with dark skin that seemed to compress his height while at the same time augmenting his bulk. And whereas Victor always made an effort to be the center of attention, Chori stood out naturally. Having already heard that they had been kicked out of the pool, he asked for a firsthand account, listened quietly, and then asked, So what happens now? Gabriel answered, Now we just hang around here, I guess. You could go sneak back in next Saturday. We all look alike to that lifeguard. Gabriel shrugged indifferently, but he could tell that the incident at the swimming pool still bothered Gus, who

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said, In that case Ill go back and slip something in his Coke. Whoa! I just meant go back and behave. That includes keeping away from the local Delilahs. Or maybe Ill go rip off a store or two. Chori said nothing and simply shook his head to suggest that some people never learn. When Gus saw this, he repeated the threat with a more menacing undertone, as if someone had called his bluff. The idea frightened Gabriel a bit but also intrigued him. Thats one place I wouldnt mind picking. But the instant Gabriel mimed a swift grabbing motion, Chori made an even quicker one, cuffing his wrist with a thumb and forefinger. Sure, and you know what theyd love? To pack you and put you away in the freezer section. I heard its not that hard, said Gus. Being in the shade for a season or two? Chori sounded like someone who knew a thing or two about jail time. No, stealing. You make eye contact with the clerk until he gets uncomfortable and looks away. Chori made a timeout sign with his hands. Whoa! First of all . . . did you hear that from your buddy Victor? Why? Guss tone was tantamount to an outright admission. Because looking at clerks and managers just gives them an excuse to get you into a conversation, hoping to trip you up. But Victor said Chori nodded immediately. I knew it was him! Ill bet he said that if you look a salesclerk in the eye hell figure you have nothing to hide. It makes sense.

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Maybe, but thats also why so many people get popped. Besides, that doesnt work on a good store manager. So what do you do? asked Gabriel. Avoid looking? That looks just as guilty. You act like someone else caught your attention. Zoom in on a nice girl and pretend to check her out. Ill bet even the manager looks in her direction. And once he looks, hes locked. The windows open for just a few seconds. What about hidden cameras? In that two-bit town? Theyd be lucky to have the oldfashioned kind. I mean, the really old-fashioned kind, the ones with the gunpowder flash. By now Gabriel wanted to examine every angle. What if the clerks a girl? Then you pretend youre gay and check out a guy, I guess. But how do you know shell find the guy goodlooking? Jesus, Gabi, do you want a detailed map for every possibility? Cant you see what hes getting at? Just dont steal anything. Listen to your brother, instead of that neighbor of yours. Chori gazed absently at the horizon to let them know he was done with the topic. Come to think of it, said Gabriel, we havent seen Victor lately. I dont think hes even our neighbor anymore. I mean, his old man still gives a serenade or two, but I havent heard Victor going out to bring him inside. He stayed at our barracks for a while, said Chori. But he missed his mommys tortillas. I heard a contagious disease was going around the barracks. Is that why he left?

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He moved in right in the thick of it. Naturally we couldnt let him leave until he was cured. Otherwise he would have brought the damn plague to his own house. Their eyes widened as Gus asked, Was it that bad? Was it contagious? Gabriel added. You mean you didnt know? Chori started to approach them but then deliberated. After a moment he continued cautiously until he stood inches from their faces. Then he exhaled audibly. Gus tried his best not to flinch, while Gabriel was simply too terrified to breathe. Chori finally broke the tension with a good-natured laugh. Yeah, something went around, and everyone caught it. It was crabs. They swept through like a flu bug, except these bugs had real legs. Crabs! said Gabriel. Wow! Around Victor he might have masked his amazement to appear unfazed, but he felt more spontaneous around Chori. Who got it first? Who knows. That herd stampeded through those barracks so fast we couldnt keep track. He described the bachelors routine of taking turns on the cots by the windows. The rotation assured everyone of an occasional breeze, but it had also fanned the wildfire. Anyone whose standards of hygiene went beyond changing the sheets was teased as a seorita, and the next evening he might find a mint and a feminine napkin on top of his cot. I think a son picked it up at a whorehouse and passed it on to his father. Then it was brother to brother, until finally it was every man for himself. There was even this old-timer who had checked in his equipment, put it in mothballs ages ago, well, he got it! At least with him those chatos were easier to track down, what with his white hair.

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He went behind a sapling and pretended to hide behind it. Its bark, as pale as a poplar, was a striking contrast to his dark skin, and Gabriel had to laugh at his pantomime of fugitive pubic lice. So thats why Victors going back to his parents place? asked Gus. Actually, its because he ended up as the exterminator. He was the new guy, so we handed him the flit can. He pretended to pump a bug sprayer. We stole some pesticide from the grower and diluted it, but it was still potent stuff. Then each night we stripped and lined up while Victor sat on a chair and sprayed us. Did it work? Gus asked. Wiped them out, along with every last sperm in every swinging chorizo. The old-timer even suggested we shouldnt crank out kids for a year or two. Otherwise they might end up half my height and with extra arms. Chori grinned. Theyd probably make great pickers, though. No wonder Victor hasnt told us what happened, said Gabriel. If you had to spray other guys crotches up close, would you? It must have been embarrassing. He was the low man on the totem pole. Besides, a little humility never hurt anyone, especially him. I dont know much about humility, said Gus as he pulled up the gunny sack, placed a few rocks and empties inside, and then lowered the rope for an unsuspecting sucker. But if its about embarrassment, Im your man. Ill tell you all you need to know.

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ictor showed up at their shack that same day with an enticing offer for Gus. I just saw a couple of college girls on the other end of the camp, he said through the screen. Lets go check them out. Gus and Gabriel both stepped out and walked away from the porch, where Paula was gossiping with a friend. I cant go right now, explained Gus. My folks left a while ago on an errand. I promised them Id look after my kid sister until they get back. Victor gave Gabriel a cold-blooded look. Why cant he do it? He was napping when they left, so they asked me. He turned toward Paula, pretending he was confused. But why do you have to look after her? Is she handicapped or something? Gabriel did not appreciate the sarcasm in Victors voice, and he felt a cold anger wash over him. He was not that fond of Paula, but she was his sister. Listen, dude . . . Gabriel knew Victor hated being called that. Out in the fields she might not give the Borrados a run for their money. But get her on a basketball court and she can run circles around you. Victor was about to say something when Gus agreed with his brother. Yeah. If you ever want to lose that beer belly, just go one-on-one with her some day. Victor insisted, I was just asking your brother why that other girl couldnt be her babysitter.

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Gus imitated his guarded voice. My parents dont trust Gloria that much. Thats why they asked me to stay. Victor gave Gloria a casual glance and nodded as if the excuse satisfied him. Well, then, Ill drop by later. But Im telling you, we cant let these college girls slip away. Both brothers stayed outside after Victor left. They kept their distance from the girls, yet hovered close enough to make sure their conversation was proper. Glorias cropped hair was even lighter than Victors, even though she covered it from the sun with a Yankees cap. She liked to roll up her jeans just below her knees, perhaps to show off her firm, athletic calves. They reminded Gabriel of a tennis players legs, as did the even, golden tan that went well with her warm, caramelcolored eyes. Gabriel suspected that she liked him. If it werent for the fact that she was barely Paulas age, he would have taken an interest too. She was sitting next to Paula on the porch steps, knees raised and propping up what appeared to be an opened, oversized notebook. Its pages were so large that it spanned both girls laps. Every now and then Gloria would glance up from the notebook and, for several seconds, stare at Gabriel. At first it made him uncomfortable, thinking that Gus might notice and start to tease him. In fact the glances were quite obvious, but after a while he noticed that she was also gazing at Gus. What made it even more baffling was that at times his sister would also look up. She too would stare intently before turning her attention back to the large notebook. Every now and then she turned to her friend and whispered something, and when she did this, the low,

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intimate laughter that followed only whetted his curiosity. He even tried to overlook their antics, but the sneakier their spying, the more difficult it became to ignore them. He was about to get up and ask what the fuss was all about when the girls stood first. As they approached, they held the large notebook cover before them like a protective shield. They were about three yards away when suddenly and simultaneously they stopped and flipped the notebook over. At that moment Gabriel realized what all the fuss had been about: it was an illustration done on dingy construction paper. The subjects were Paula and her brothers. Gloria, trying hard to suppress her proud smile, held a stubby charcoal pencil in her fingertips, smudged black where she had shaded the drawing. Not bad, right? Paula asked. She draped an arm around her friend, eager for some of the credit. I gave her the idea and a little guidance. Gloria did everything else. She nodded at both boys. Like looking in a mirror. Right, bros? Despite the distance, Gabriel immediately recognized his own caricature. So did Gus, even as he grimaced. Please tell me thats not me. Paula flexed her fingers with excitement. Then who? Anyone but me. Look at it, Gus. Its more you than you yourself. Fine, Gabriel told her, but I dont see you. He pretended to study the drawing more closely. Oh, here you are! I didnt recognize you without those beady eyes. But by now Gabriel had to admit that the likeness was indeed impressive. For that matter, his caricature did resemble him, down to his long eyelashes. It suggested that Gloria had noticed details that only a girlfriend might.

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With Gus she had merely exaggerated the obvious. She had padded his caricature with an excess of muscles, so much so that his torso seemed ready to pop out of his shirt, as though pumped with steroids. As Gus examined his own likeness he was flattered by the bulging muscles that seemed sculpted by steroids. So what if they were meant to poke fun at his vanity? What did disturb him were the large rodent ears that rested on top of each brothers head. And the sparse mustache he was starting to grow was now a rats whisker. On top of that, he and Gabriel were stretched out on the ground, and over each eye was a conspicuous X. Since the eyes, ears, and facial hair had been sketched crudely, Gus confirmed his sisters hand. Gabriel answered, Those extermination jokes are getting old. Jokes? Paula replied. I dont see anybody laughing. She suddenly flipped the drawing toward her, scribbled something, and then showed them again. Underneath the picture, Paula had scrawled a title in bold letters: I SURVIVED THE CALIFORNIA TOUR. A moment later she added another caption beneath that in parentheses and in smaller, lower-case script: (My brothers ended up as road kill.) When we get home, she boasted, Im going to one of those places on the mall that makes customized T-shirts. Im going to put the whole thing on a T-shirt. Knock yourself out, said Gus. Itll be one more stupid T-shirt in your closet. Gloria, though, encouraged her. Everyone will think its a souvenir from a rock band concert. From California, no less. What could be cooler? No, said Gus, everyone will just wonder what the heck it means. Instead of that message, you should put

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this on the back: My family made me work in the fields all summer, and all I got was this lousy T-shirt. Minutes later, when their parents returned, Paula called out, Come check this out, folks. Gus waited until they had examined the drawing closely. Then he asked, Now, tell me, whats wrong with this picture? Their father studied it again and said, Your ears should be bigger. Come on, Dad, get serious. How can I when I dont even know what the drawings about? Its supposed to be road kill, said Gabriel. Once again his father turned to the drawing, but this time he barely gave it a glance. Look, the only road kill I remember was when . . . He studied both sons, then looked at Gabriel and added, It was when I was your age. Their mother thought a moment and then laughed. Oh, Ive heard that tale! Tell them what happened. He was either reluctant to tell them or else he was pretending and waiting for them to plead. Finally, at Paulas insistence, he said: What happened was that one year I decided to join my Uncle Chuy and his family. Theyd done migrant work in Texas, but it was their first time out of state. And guess where they were headed that summer? California, of course, said Gabriel. And let me guess again, Dad. Your uncle was so cheap he fed his family bologna sandwiches the entire trip. No such luck! said his father. My aunt made a pile of bean tacos and packed them in a basket. That was going to be breakfast, lunch, and dinner, until we got there. By the next morning, those flour tortillas felt like

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hard rubber. So you could say I was relieved when he squashed that animal on the road. I figured wed at least have a little meat for a change. Daddy! Thats so cruel. Why, Paulita? The animal, whatever it was, was already dead. And I was kidding about my eating it. Gabriel agreed. Were talking about eating a carcass. Even Dads not that hardcore. It doesnt matter if it was dead, Daddy. Why didnt your uncle just swerve to avoid it? Swerve to avoid it? her father repeated. He went out of his way to run over it. I tell you, he was one ornery man. Well, said Gus, now we know where you got your mean streak. No, son, you dont. Believe me, Im a kitten compared to him. Paula, though, could not get over the uncles cruelty. So he actually swerved on purpose ? To squash it? Sure. It was already by the shoulder. It wasnt even in anyones way. Thats horrible, Daddy! Like I said, the man was no saint. Yeah. Sounds more like Satan. But, added their father, the animal was already road kill. Havent you ever heard of karma, Daddy? Obviously he had not, but he did not admit as much. Instead he turned to his wife, who had already heard the story. The best way to answer that, she suggested, is by telling them what happened next. He smiled to let her know he now understood. I was just getting to the whole point of the story. Afterward my

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uncle got back on the road, but we hadnt traveled five miles when we got a flat tire. We all had to pile out of the car in that horrible heat. Then we had to unload all our stuff from the trunk and take out the spare. Thats what karma is, Daddy. Bad karma. For a while he said nothing more, implying that the story was over. Their mother, though, prodded him once more. Keep going. Tell them the rest. Get to the moral of the story. Well, talk about bad kar. . . whatever you call it. Youre absolutely right, Paulita. We pulled out a splintered rib. It had punctured the tire. Thats what caused the flat? asked Gus. A bone ? This was back in the days before steel-belted radials. And my uncle was too cheap to buy tires with thick ply. How about that? said Gabriel. Another family trait. Never mind that, said Paula. Now were talking double-dose karma. Their mothers eyes brightened, as if appreciating the irony. Oh, wait till hes through. Youll have to come up with a new level. Their father paused again, perhaps to spite her, but his silence only added to her insistence: Go ahead. Finish it. Hmm . . . so after Uncle Chuy put away the flat tire, he decided to join the family under a tree where everyone else was waiting. But no sooner did he sit down to rest than a pickup sideswiped the car. Wow! Paula added an eerie whistle. That is so weird! Wow is right, and so is weird. It was one of those old, iron-side pickups. What did the driver say?

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Nothing we could hear. He just kept on trucking, like hed . . . Like hed run over a dead animal, Gus interrupted. He kept driving like nothing happened. He just honked and waved from the rearview mirror. Paula repeated her spooky whistle. The perfect payback, Daddy. It doesnt get more cosmic than that. Although their father was sometimes a superstitious man, this time he appeared unconvinced. No, I wouldnt say that. Its not like my uncle ended up as road kill. Speaking of road kill . . . Gabriel slowly turned to his brother to make sure they were on the same wavelength. Remember that caf we stopped at in New Mexico? How could I forget? replied Gus. History was made there. Dad actually took us out to eat without us bugging him first. Im not thinking about that type of history, said Gabriel. I remember seeing a roadside marker as we pulled in that night. One of those historical plaques. Now I know what it said: On this spot, the meanest man in Texas ran over a dead animal. Gus immediately picked up on the sarcasm. So thats why that place specialized in road kill! But their father was an old hand at this sort of sniping. You mean the same road kill both of you wolfed right up? As I remember, neither one of you left enough for a greasy spot. After a moment he added, Besides, Uncle Chuy never got that far. What do you mean? asked Gus. We never got out of Texas. By the time a tow truck took us to the nearest garage . . . by the time they patched up the car while we did dead time in a motel . . . by then

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my uncle barely had enough money to take us back home. Gabriel still sensed a tinge of sadness in his tone but humored him anyway. So you were a migrant worker wannabe, Dad? He smiled a bit. I didnt make it to the Promised Land. His smile broadened. Until now.

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ater that day, after supper, Victor returned to their porch with a friend that Gabriel had seen around camp. He was nicknamed Strawberry Boy, and judging from his size he might have been Paulas age. Gabriel doubted it, though, since he could not imagine Victor befriending someone so young. The boy always had an open smile, as if he liked everyone he saw. Up to now Gabriel had assumed that his nickname came from that lopsided grin, because it reminded him of cereal commercials for kids, where the various cartoon fruits wore a goofy grin. But now, as he got a closer look, he realized that Strawberry Boys face seemed flushed, like someone with permanent sunburn. His face was also dotted with a dozen or so tiny moles, which reminded Gabriel of seeds on a strawberrys skin. Yet what fascinated him most about the boy was the rumor he had heard: Strawberry Boy was the only kid in camp who had ever given the Borrados a run for their money. When Gabriel asked whether the tale was true, Strawberry Boys grin grew broader. Twice, he answered. The oldest one once and the middle one too. Even Gus was impressed. So how did you do it? Drug them? Its all in the eyes. He moved closer as if to demonstrate with his own. You can see it all there.

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Victor draped his arm around him in order to bask in his reflected glory. My friend here is a master of psychological warfare. You have to be a pretty good picker too, said Strawberry Boy. Victor backtracked at once, as if being careful not to upset him. Well, sure, that goes without saying. Satisfied with the reply, Strawberry Boy added, You see, Id been messing with their heads for some time. So have we, admitted Gabriel. But the whole thing just bounced back on us. Its like theyve got a one-track mind. How do you get them off the rails? I told you, the trick is in their eyes. You see, I started watching them real close. I noticed their eyes have this glow, almost like a little lightbulb inside. Well, one morning I saw how the oldest ones eyes were a lot brighter. It gave me the creeps at first. But by that afternoon the light started to flicker. Sort of like a lightbulb, just before it goes out. It gets a lot brighter for a moment. Then it starts to flicker and finally goes bad. So I was ready the next morning. And I was there, Victor boasted. He walked up to that freak and took him on, in front of everybody. It still wasnt easy, said Strawberry Boy. For a while it was touch and go. Gabriel admired his honesty. Unlike the other boys, who downplayed the Borrados stamina, he gave them credit where it was due. Perhaps, Gabriel thought, it took another hard worker to appreciate it. Victor must have decided that the conversation had dragged on too long without his being the center of attention, so he turned to Gus. Are we still set for meeting those girls I told you about? I never said we were set.

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Come on, man. Theyre college girls. From which college? How should I know? Oh, wait . . . they had this thing on their car. It said . . . He turned to Strawberry Boy. What did it say? The boys grin turned to laughter. Unifornia of Caliversity. Yeah, said Victor. I didnt get it at first, until he explained it. Gabriel seemed confused. Thats what they have? On their car door? Like its official? Strawberry Boy laughed again. No, its just a bumper sticker, like a joke. I still cant say it, said Victor. He tried to pronounce it, but it proved too much of a tongue twister. See? he pleaded with Gus. With this messed up English of mine, youre my only hope. He hooked his arm around Guss neck the same way he had done with Strawberry Boy. Come on, lets do this thing! Youre the main man here! Youve got the mouth . . . youve got the muscle . . . and youve got the moves. Instead of answering him, Gus asked, Which one? What do you mean which one? What are you talking about? Which university are they from? Why, the University of California, of course. But which one? Dont you follow college football? Theres more than one campus. I know theres more than one. Lots more. What difference does it make? But Victor hesitated, perhaps worried that he might mention the wrong place. Do you have a favorite team or something? Still not getting any hints, he said, Well, maybe its the . . . The Bruins? asked Gabriel.

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Victor, hoping it might be a clue, said, You know, I think those girls did mention . . . Or maybe the Bears? added Gabriel. Or maybe that was what they said. A bear and a bruin are the same thing, replied Gabriel. Victor nodded this time but said nothing. Gabriel added, just to mess with Victor, But theyre still different teams. Victor spoke cautiously now, as if treading on thin ice. Yeah . . . I . . . suspected . . . that . . . But the only thing Victor actually suspected was that Guss brother did not intend to help him out. He was just toying with him, so Victor shifted the spotlight toward him by asking Gus, So your brother thinks he knows it all, huh? Gus, reluctant to enter that discussion, asked instead, So why are these college girls here in the first place? Im not sure, said Victor. Well, said Strawberry Boy, as long as theyre not dentists. It sounded like an inside joke to Gabriel, and when Strawberry Boy began grinning again he asked, Whats so funny? You tell them, Vic. Victor didnt bother to add anything until Strawberry Boy opened his own mouth, and by then it was too late. Its just that Vic doesnt get along with dentists. We went to see one in a nearby town once. They had a free clinic day for migrants. Are you afraid of them? asked Gus. Not no, but heck no! Victor stared at Strawberry Boy. Who wanted to go in the first place? Me, right?

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Then he turned to Gus, Now, do you think Id go there if I was afraid of them? Strawberry Boy grinned again. Maybe you took me along so I could hold your hand. Besides, it wasnt even a real clinic, just a Winnebago with stuff. But thats not what got you ticked off. Before Strawberry Boy could add anything, Victor admitted. I wanted to get my two front teeth fixed. He didnt have to show the brothers what he meant. Gabriel had noticed the overlapping incisors the moment he had met him. Now that he knew about Victors vain streak, he could see how something like that would bother him. So thats why I went to that stupid place. There was already a waiting line, like they were giving away free cheese or something. When I finally got in, I took one of the dentists aside and quietly explained what I wanted. But he told me they couldnt do that sort of work there, only stuff like cavities and cleaning. Id already waited so long I figured Id get my teeth cleaned. Strawberry Boy, whose grin had been widening all along, suddenly began laughing uncontrollably. He tried to interrupt and add to the story, but he was too busy bent over and clutching his sides. So, Victor continued, somewhat annoyed, I sit on a chair and this . . . assistant . . . says real loud, for all the world to hear, You know, you really should get those crossed teeth fixed. They look awful. Strawberry Boy paused the hysterical laughter long enough to add, You should have heard the other guys! Come here, buey , Ill fix them for you. Victor was still furious at the memory. I mean, I almost jumped out of the chair and knocked her teeth out.

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A girl? Gus asked. You wanted to punch out a girl? She was older, Victor insisted, and very large. The remark quieted the criticism long enough for him to come up with his own distraction. Speaking of girls, he said, and turned to Gus. Are you with me or not? You mean the college girls? I saw them on the way over. We can still catch them if we hurry. Ah, theyre probably just do-gooders, like those Anglo girls from the church. Theyre do-gooders, but theyre also do-badders. Were not talking angels in the choir here. So what are they doing here? Theyre interviewing. So heres the plan. We go over there, and you give them a little bull. You act like you want to be interviewed. Just enough to get our foot in the door. I still dont get it, said Gus. Whats the interview about? Theyre interviewing migrants, of course. We get a few every summer. Why else would they be here? Suddenly the cold truth splashed over him and sobered him up. Gus had insulated himself in the fiction that he was an outsider. He had fancied himself a tourist slumming through a strange land. But this time, try as he might, he could not see the idealized fantasy that his father had seen earlier. No Promised Land lay before him. There was only the sad squalor of the camp and a primitive road that took them to the fields and returned them to their shacks each day. At that moment he saw their small group as little more than an assignment for college students. He wanted to distance himself from the teens, to pretend they were subjects in a photograph he was trying to take. But he found himself on the same side of the viewfinder as

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they. He was no longer a tourist, as he had pretended all along. He was just one of the toured. He turned suddenly on his heels and headed for the screen door. Im going inside, he said abruptly, without explanation, and went into the shack.

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couple of unusual sights awaited Gabriel when he woke the next morning. First, Guss cot was empty. By now his having to nudge his older brother had acquired the predictability of a ritual, and for a moment he wondered whether Gus had finally made good on his threat to leave. He decided that was not the case because there had been no outburst the night before. Moreover, the rest of the family seemed unconcerned about Guss absence, which meant that he must be up and about. The second surprise came when Gus finally returned. He was already sweating. Beads of moisture freckled his brow, while the rest of his face shone with perspiration. Lets go, Gabi! We need to warm up for the main event. Youre more than warmed up. Youre already melting. Youre nuts, Gustavo. Save all that sweat for the field, their father said. Gus turned around so swiftly that he flicked a few drops on the floor. Dont worry, Dad, theres lots more where this came from. Then he came up close to Gabriels face and added in a low voice, On second thought, you need to stay fresh as a daisy. Just follow the Borrados and snap at their heels. Leave the rest to me. They showed up at the field before the Borrados, who arrived as eager as ever. Gus strode up to them with his most intimidating pose, and at that moment they seemed no different than anyone else. By contrast he radiated a self-confidence so focused that he appeared menacing.

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Did I mention our fathers taking my brother and me to Disneyland? What about your sister? asked the oldest. Gus came closer. What about her? His smile seemed more nervous than usual. Isnt he taking her, too? Before Gus could answer, another Borrado added, Our father is building us a huge house, like that castle in Disneyland. With air-conditioning! said the third one. But well only use it in the summertime. Gus regarded them with withering disbelief, as if they were too stupid to see the obvious. What good will that do? You suckers spend your summers in labor camps. Saying no more, he faced the morning sun that still hugged the horizon, as though it could bathe him with its blessing, then started his first row with an invincible expression. He barely paused to tell his brother, Imagine, migrants in a mansion! Jesus, you just cant beat these guys! They never stop. By the time the sun had cleared the horizon, the last two sentences began to prove prophetic in a way he never intended. At first both brothers followed closely behind, trying to frame their opponents moves into a predictable pattern. Yet the Borrados lacked even the automatic, effortless flow of veteran pickers. Instead they fed off a nervous energy, like hummingbirds flitting from flower to flower. Just watching them made Gabriel feel disoriented until their movements, rather than motivate, merely wearied him, until his fascination melted into fatigue. Let them pull out ahead, said Gus. Well stay right behind, pushing until they tire out. Just like that fable, where the coyote chases the roadrunner.

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Thats a cartoon, Gus, not a fable. And the coyote never catches up. So whats the one Im thinking about? The tortoise and the hare? Yeah, I knew it had to do with animals. Anyway, were staying right on their tails. But in no time they lagged so far behind that they couldnt even see the Borradoss tails, much less staying with them. When Gus stopped to peel away the drenched shirt plastered to his back, Gabriel stood too. Maybe you prayed a little too hard to the sun god. Dont worry, said Gus, putting a pebble in his mouth and handing him another. Thisll cut down our thirst. Victor said our Aztec ancestors did this. Gabriel almost added that the Aztecs had also been annihilated by whites. But he didnt have to go that far, after Gus conceded with his next breath, Today lets just get in shape. Think of it as training for tomorrows showdown. But by noon even tomorrow seemed light years away. By then everyone had left the field for lunch except for the Borrados andlike their distant shadowsGabriel and Gus. Finally, Gus stood ramrod straight and stared ahead, as though Disneyland were only a shimmering mirage. Well never make it, he sighed. Gabriel gazed at the same distant spot where heat waves warped the horizon and where his own evaporating vision was more immediate and down to earth. So long swimming pool. Hold on! whispered Gus. They stopped! I think theyre starting to crack. Youre the one starting to crack. Why are you whispering? Theyre over a hundred feet away. I think theyre about to take a lunch break.

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They were, but to Gabriels dismay, they decided to take it on the spot, standing mid field. One of them took advantage of the break and removed his shirt. Then, hoisting it like a sail, he began turning in place to catch the weak breeze. Gabriel shook his head at the sight of the pale, puny torso in the distance. Hed better watch it. A sudden breeze can blow that carcass away. They lagged so far behind that the thought of closing the gap during the Borradoss lunch break was not even a mirage. Instead they retreated to the tree line for lunch and collapsed under an enormous, inviting shade tree where Don Pilo, their own father, and several other workers were already giving their food time to settle before heading back out. Gus barely managed a nibble or two before dozing off, but even after Gabriel half-covered his eyes, the intrigue of eavesdropping on his father kept him awake. He watched him watching Don Pilo, who in turn contemplated a worker who had settled for a snack and was now trudging back to the field. Don Pilo looked at the man with awe and admiration but made no effort to do likewise. Working hard? Gabriels father asked. Or hardly working? Don Pilo sighed as if the mere sight tired him. Just enjoying the view. You mean watching others work? Thats my favorite pastime, too. No, I mean all this. This is paradise. His father, seeing only other workers as dog-tired as he, tried to wipe the grime and sweat from his face. Im a little rusty on my Bible studies, Don Pilo but if I remember right, paradise means you dont work. But an honest days work is paradise.

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His father seemed perplexed at first, then laughed abruptly, as if suddenly getting the insight. Oh, you mean a workers paradise! He shifted his line of sight to make better eye contact, then held his gaze. Well, sir, if theres one thing I know, its work. Im not just a farmworker. Im a mechanic Yes, you told us. Its a good-paying profession. And an honest one, too. But sometimes it pays better than other times. Anyway, my trained ear told me your cars running sluggish. Not that its any of my business, but I cant help what I hear. Don Pilo, not quite convinced, squinted. Sluggish? Its not up to speed. Right now it may not sound like much, but sooner or later these things take their toll on an engine. Impossible. I have the oil and filter changed every four months But look at all the driving you do. You didnt let me finish. Its every three months when were on the road. All Im saying And all Im saying is that you must have heard wrong. Why, right before we came up, I had our car checked at the Motor Medic. Youre from back home, you know the place. Yes, of course. Eddys place. Exactly. And Eddy himself told me, Don Pilo, you pamper this car like it was one of your boys. And I answered, Just following your advice to keep up the maintenance so the engine will outlive me. And thats excellent advice, said Gabriels father, already beginning to backpedal. Youve got to keep that engine in top shape.

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Its like breathing fresh air! Like vitamins and exercise! Oh, sure, I could find my boys summer jobs in some supermarket. But whats so natural about that? The only natural thing is the produce we pick. Exactly. Thats nature for you. Thats why I take my boys to the pool every weekend. One, they can wash away that pesticide, and two, they can mix with a healthier class of people. I agree. Just look at what happened over in the bachelors barracks. A pigsty. Thats why everyone here admires you, Don Pilo. You do whats right. Well, I try. You do more than that. You set the standard. Why, just the other day my wife and I were saying . . . Never mind, you must be tired of people praising you for how well youve taught those boys the value of hard work. Believe me, its no easy task with mine. Yours either, Ill bet. Its obvious theyre a handful. He lowered his gaze, both to gather his courage and to strike the proper pose of submission. Anyway, Don Pilo, since you have the last word here when it comes to work, maybe you could put in a good word for my line of work. You know, in case anyone needs a mechanic. Don Pilos eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment Gabriel thought the man was about to express his indignation. His father must have thought so, too, because he immediately added, Of course, Id insist you let me check out your cars engine first. That way you can vouch for my work firsthand. Don Pilo answered with a coy, reluctant silence, then finally said, Ive been sending almost our entire earnings back to my brother. Hes supervising a new home were building. I wouldnt be able to pay you much. I wouldnt dream of asking for money!

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Now that you mention it, my brakes have been squealing lately. Im sure youve noticed, what with your trained ear and with us being neighbors. Ill look at them first chance I get, he said with a nervous grin. Id appreciate it. After all, thats what neighbors are for, right? Were not just neighbors here, but back home too. Well, practically. Yes, practically. Don Pilo surveyed the field and forced himself to his feet. Id better gather my flock for a while. Otherwise theyll stay out there all day. I dont have to worry about gathering mine. Look, the oldest ones counting his own sheep. A while back your boys were out there too. For a time ours were the only ones in the field. Mine? Really? He sounded genuinely impressed. Must be the example your boys set. Maybe theres hope for mine yet. A few minutes later, and with considerable difficulty, Gabriel roused Gus from a profound slumber. What time is it? Gus asked him with a parched voice. Their father answered, Its time to get your butts back to work. But despite an impressive fanfare to get up, he could only lay there like a floored boxer whose body no longer obeyed his brain. Screw it, he finally said, then closed his eyes and immediately sank back into sleep. Gabriel, wrapped in heat and sweat and the memory of their defeat, thought only of one thing: Goodbye swimming pool and hello irrigation ditch, again. He plopped another pebble in his mouth before he returned to the field, but then suddenly spit it out as though it had turned sour. He repeated his brothers observation. Whats the use? They would have kicked us out of that pool again.

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ess than an hour after returning to the field, Gabriel ran back to the tree and roused his brother from a profound sleep. Lets get out of here, Gus. Look. Theres a storm headed our way. Gus made a lethargic attempt to wipe the drool from his chin, but his mouth was already bone dry. Lets stay under here instead so we dont get wet. Look at those huge clouds! This tree is the last place we want to be. He was still pointing to the deep, dark mass when a flash as brilliant as an arc light scissored through the horizon. The contrast of the overcast sky seemed to intensify the violent energy, as Gus jumped to his feet. Lets get the hell out of here! They were running to the van when Don Pilo crossed their path going in the opposite direction. When he yelled something, Gabriel looked back then nudged Gus to do likewise. Theyre still out there? Gus asked in disbelief. Whats with those guys anyway? I hope they end up electrocuted. Gabriel watched them as they continued to work, oblivious to the elements. Theyre like insane drones, he said, as much in disbelief as in admiration. More lightning began moving in from the west. Now the crew leader was ordering every worker to leave the field and seek shelter. True to form, the Borrados had to

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be told twice. By the time everyone reached camp, the storm quickly started veering north, but the crew boss called it a day. By then Gus had recovered enough and both brothers snuck off to the canal. Chori and two teenagers from the camp were already on the opposite bank, enjoying the overcast sky. Knowing that Gabriel would not cross, he swam over while continuing his conversation with the teens. Finally he turned to Gus and said, I saw you under that tree during lunch. I thought wed end up burying you there. Because of the lightning? No, because you looked dead tired. How did you make it all the way here? Guess I got my energy back. Gabriel felt like commenting how the first bolt had given Gus an adrenaline charge that brought him to his feet. Instead he said, They say lightning in the air revives you. Unless it kills you, said Chori. But you dont really realize it when youre in town. Here in the country, though, you might be the only thing standing. You can be out on a clear day, and suddenly, out of nowhere, it strikes. One of the boys said, Thats why they have that phrase, Like a lightning bolt out of the sky. The other one added, Say, Chori, your father said you guys saw something like that up in Utah. I thought it was Idaho, but maybe hes right. Yeah, we were out in a field, running from some rain clouds, when out of the blue a woman just ahead of us gets zapped. One second shes sprinting and laughing, and then just as quickly shes crumpled on the ground. I jumped straight up, I was that scared. My old man and I

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were the closest, so we ran over to her. He paused, somewhat confused or reluctant to continue. It seemed her whole skeleton turned to dust. My old man tried to pick her up, but she was limp as a sack of flour. Her body kept sliding from his arms, and when I tried to help, she barely felt solid, like a large slab of flesh without a single bone. Even her face was flattened, like she didnt have cheekbones or a nose. He said nothing more, quieting even the loud boys on the opposite bank. Gabriel continued to stare, expecting a sudden laugh from him to erase the episode. But Chori merely glanced downward and nodded absently. This type of conversation, where life and death seemed so up front, fascinated Gabriel, and while they might occur at any moment in camp, they were rare back home. There, almost everything felt routine or else people made an effort to appear unmoved. Too bad Victor wasnt around to hear it, said one of the boys. What for? said Chori. He would have just mumbled, Cool. It was obvious that Chori did not think much of Victor. Gabriel had the vague impression that the dislike was not simply a matter of two people locking horns. He sensed a more complex relationship, as if they had been close friends who had a falling out. Physically, while they shared some traits, those same characteristics set them apart. Victor, although almost as muscular, tried to look bulkier than he really was, while Chori never flexed his biceps for show. And whereas Victor was forever flaunting a timid tattoo he sported on his upper chest, Chori tried to conceal the bold blue-green dragons on his upper arms.

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Where they did differ was in their intellect. Victor would not express an original thought even if it struck him from the sky. Chori, however, avoided the clichs and folk sayings that passed for wisdom in the camp, even though his thoughts took longer to express. Yet like many of the other migrants, he did have his share of superstitions. When Gabriel asked for more details about the lightning strike, Chori added that they had found two cavities where the bolt had passed through the woman and deep into the ground, as if someone had plunged a pitchfork with two enormous tines into the earth. My old man and I started digging to see what had made the holes. It was lightning, of course, said Gabriel. He looked at Gabriel like a child with a more mysterious explanation. There was something else, though. We kept digging and digging, but the holes kept running side by side, deeper and deeper. Finally we got tired and had to stop. My old man decided it was the Devils doing. The ensuing silence left Gabriel a little nervous, not about supernatural threats but about natural ones. An occasional flash still split in two in the distance, and he was sitting on the highest open ground as far as the eye could see. Chori noticed him watching the sky. You like nature. Right, buddy? Gabriel nodded but kept his eye on the horizon. Im also a little scared of it. Thats why Im checking for lightning. Thats all right. He gestured downstream. The guys who went under over there werent scared, and they bought it.

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One of the boys said, Its good to feel a little scared, like when a nice girl gives you butterflies. Something about the cautious way he glanced at him left Gabriel wondering whether he was referring to Paula. He said nothing, though, especially after the other boy added, You know why you get scared? Because something inside tells you she can really mess you up. Gabriel half-followed their conversation, but mostly he lost himself to the hues of green and the distant drone of insects. At that moment the fatigue of fieldwork gave way, and he began telling the boys how even after all the colors and sounds were blotted out at night, he liked to pretend that the fireflies all around him were like aspiring, infant stars. At other times he imagined them as embers of ancient stars returning to die. He added how different life at camp was from the one back home, where he frittered his summers inside the house, like cabin fever in reverse, even though their house was infinitely more comfortable than the shack. Here each day felt different, despite the tedious fieldwork. An early morning might begin with a huge flock of birds rushing out of the bushes, so that afterward every boom box was turned off, hoping to witness a second sudden whoosh. Another morning might bring such a contagious silence that every worker grew quiet, as though passing through a place of worship. By the time Gabriel finished, Chori was smiling the way old friends do. Gus was smiling too, but with a tinge of teasing. Before Gus could say anything, Gabriel added loudly, So anyway, thats how I spent my summer. I discovered that lightning bolts are the Devils death rays and that lightning bugs are stars in disguise. Dont feel ashamed, said Chori. I admire people who work outdoors all day and can still appreciate it.

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Not me, said Gus. Our summers back home are too hot to go outside. I even thought of working part-time as a lifeguard, but then decided, Who needs this! And the rest of the year, Gabriel added, were cooped up in the classroom. In that case, said Chori, you should ask your dad to pull you out early in May, and bring you back late September. His comment, intentional or not, stopped Gabriels complaints cold. He had known since first grade that some migrant parents did just that, shaving months from their kids schooling each year. That had never bothered him before, but now, listening to Chori, a bright and sensitive young man who might have gone far otherwise, it seemed almost criminal. Gabriel wondered how often he had dismissed anonymous migrant students like him. So you guys came all the way up from the Rio Grande Valley, right? added Chori. Youve heard of that hellhole? Gus asked. Sure. Ive met lots of workers from there. Gus started to add that the area had more than just farmworkers, but before he could continue, one of the other boys asked, Arent the Borrados from there, too? Give these two guys a break, said the other one. Next youll ask if theyre related. The Borrados are all right, said Chori. They just never stop to . . . One of the boys laughed, Smell the strawberries? As a matter of fact, said Chori, strawberries do have a smell. Just take the time to find out. Ill tell you after I find one. Those Borrados tear through the fields like locusts. Chori gazed idly at the countryside. This is nice, but I like Michigan better, with all those cherry orchards. At

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least you work in the shade. But theyre pretty much using machines now. I even like the sugar beet fields if they werent such a pain to weed. He glanced at both brothers, assuming they were in the know, but Gus immediately distanced himself from the migrant stream. Never been there, never done that. What about New York? Gus assumed Chori was pulling his leg. Oh, sure. New York City? No, around the Finger Lakes area. Cayuga, Canandaigua? He waited awhile then added, Well, some parts of Michigan are a lot like that, but I guess you havent been there either. Gabriel tried to fill the awkward silence by wondering out loud, Say, do you suppose that right now there are migrants over there doing the same thing we are? Shooting the breeze? said Chori. I guess, if theyre having bad weather too. Gus suddenly stretched his arms high. Forget other guys. Forget Mother Nature. Where are the girls? Chori nodded in the direction of the town. You mean the local talent? Who else is there? To get to the ones here you have to go through more interference than at a football scrimmage. Chori pointed at the dark cloud over the town. The locals are probably hanging out by the town pool, even with that storm over them. But theyre off limits too, at least to us. Tell me about it, said Gus, who watched the black cloud linger like an ink stain over the town. Maybe theyll get zapped in the pool then. Lets just hope the weather clears up, said Chori. Around harvest time anything can mess up these

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berries. A strong wind rubs the leaves against the fruit and leaves them bruised. If theres too much rain it tears up the skin, and the berries get moldy. Hell, a few days of steady rain can wipe out an entire crop. A little later, Chori dressed and slipped his work boots back on, saying he had promised to go into town and buy groceries for his mother.

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inutes after Chori left, Victor showed up, leaving Gabriel to wonder whether Chori had sensed him coming. He was certain the two had crossed paths, yet Victors sole remark about his hike was that he had seen several hares on the way. I should have brought my fathers four-ten, he said. Youd have the grower here by the third shot, said one of the boys. So? Id pop his cottontail too. He immediately stripped to his briefs and dove in. The water level had dropped enough since the last time so that Gabriel could no longer dip his feet. Victor splashed around awhile until he tired. Then, unable to secure a foothold on the slick cement, he tried hoisting himself up the high bank by grabbing a shrub branch that grazed the water. Everyone ignored him, even as he cursed his impotence, and no one reminded him of the gunnysack rope behind the rivers edge. Finally he had no choice but to ask for a helping hand. Back on dry land he pretended that nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Still, when he glanced at Gabriel, this one said, I didnt help because I cant swim well. Then whats the point of buying new swim trunks? He suddenly remembered the gunnysack for submerging six-packs and pointed to the other end of its frayed rope, tethered to a blunt peg on the bank. Just hang on to that.

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Gabriel did not like overbearing people, so now he had yet another reason to dislike Victor. I dont think that rope can hold me. A puny kid like you? Sure it can. I didnt see you use it yourself. Suit yourself. You dont know what youre missing. Yeah, replied Gabriel. You sounded like you were having a great time in there. Victor held his temper only because Gus was there. Theres nothing like a cool dip after a hard days work. What hard days work? Everyone quit after lunchtime. And youre as laid-back as we are, continued Gabriel. Are you calling me lazy? I said laid-back. Thats not what I heard. Victor looked around, but nobody backed his version. Maybe your ears got plugged. This time Victors tone was stripped of any polite pretense. Good thing your brothers here to protect you. Cut him some slack, said Gus. He meant the laidback stuff as a compliment. What, youd rather be a Borrado? The comment distracted him for the moment. No way! In fact I had a couple of cousins like that. Fieldwork or schoolwork, it made no difference. They worked their butts off. Before hitting the road up north, theyd get their hands on next years textbooks. What for? Gus asked. Since they missed most of September, they caught up during the summer. When they came back in the fall they wanted to hit the ground running. Well, good for them, Gabriel said. A lot of good it did them. A few years ago, they were heading home when my uncle fell asleep at the wheel.

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Most of the family bought the farm. The only one who survived is mental. Every now and then hell ask why he cant join the family up north. Well, thats not going to happen to us, said Gus. Not with my kid brothers good-luck charm. He tapped Gabriels soles with his own toes to prompt him. Show them Don Pilos candy. Gabriel retrieved his shirt from a bush and carefully pulled out the wrapped lozenge. He handed it to Gus, who passed it on to Victor, who in turn scrutinized it with such intensity that he must have thought it indeed had special powers. Its not a good-luck charm, said Gabriel, bothered by the attention. It just caught my eye, so I picked it up. Looks like that old cheapskate wrapped it himself, said Victor. Suddenly he bit into it but just as quickly spit it out. Jesus, it tastes like chalk! He wadded what was left and flung it into the canal. Hey! said Gabriel. Thats our secret weapon. We planned to beat them at their own game. Dont cry over it. Ill get you a lock of their hair. Fair enough? The other boys laughed while Gabriel pretended not to mind. He watched the bright cellophane bob downstream and then disappear. Like chalk, said Gabriel, pretending to ponder Victors reaction in order to dissimulate his own anger. It just goes to show those Borrados are too dumb to tell the difference. No wonder they work their butts off for candy and warm Cokes. Gabi, I dont care if those candies are cheap knockoffs from Mexico. We dont even get that crap. After all, its the thought that counts.

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Don Pilo buys them everything in Mexico, said one of the boys, including those funky sombreros the size of beach umbrellas. Thats why theyre so white. Think of it, Gus told his brother. Theyre more Mexican than us, but whose butts got kicked out of the public pool? Ours! And were as American as any of the locals! Well, said Victor, pulling up the waistband of his soggy briefs, nobodys kicking me out of this watering hole. Expecting him to plunge back in, Gabriel inched away from the edge to avoid getting soaked, but Victor simply stood his ground. Thinking he needed more clearance, Gabriel moved another foot or so. Arent you going to jump in? Sure, said Victor. Right after you. Gabis fine where he is. He can help us climb back up. Like he did with me? Victor stared straight at Gabriel as if struck with a sudden insight. I get it. Youre afraid of those guys who drowned, right? I never knew them. I didnt ask if you knew them. Youre scared of their ghosts, right? Victor immediately had everyones attention. Someone told you about that fat guy from camp. One of the boys asked, The huge guy who used to swim here all the time? How come he never comes around anymore? You mean Shamu? added the other boy. Victor gripped his wet abdomen to hold in his laughter. Is that what they call him? Perfect. Why? What happened?

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Well, he was in the water a while back when something pulled on his trunks. Im not kidding! He leaped straight out of the water. Like Shamu! said the skinny boy. Victor laughed and coughed uncontrollably, until he finally stopped from sheer satiation. If it was a ghost that pulled him, Gus asked, why would it want to hurt anyone? I knew the guys who drowned, Victor said, changing the conversation. They were no angels. Ill bet the Devil already made them lieutenants. One of the boys on the opposite side swam over to hug the nearer bank. The skinny one, though, moved to the middle and defiantly tread water as he faced Victor. Youre trying to scare us with ghost stories? Yeah, I saw that movie too, dude, a few Saturdays ago. Dont tell me that was you screaming in the balcony. Before Victor could react, Gabriel asked him, But why would a ghost grab your shorts? How the hell should I know? You said you knew the guys. Yeah, Victor, said the skinny kid. How well did you know them? Victor found a flat stone and skipped it in his direction, barely missing him. He tried again. He would have continued had the boy not ducked underwater. No sooner did Victor jump in after him than the skinny boy, using little more than a clump of sedge, scaled up the cement canal with the agility of a lizard. Suddenly Victor found himself on the receiving end of a rock. Take it easy! he yelled, as he tried to redirect his teasing. I jumped in because I thought you were one of those farmers daughters!

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The other boy, still in the water, joined in and gave out a girlish squeal. Oh, get away from me, you . . . you . . . You horny octopus! Gabriel yelled in falsetto. Victor also tried to pick up on the banter, but his voice was too husky and his accent too thick to mimic a gringa. Dont you dare squirt me with that ink! Gabriel dropped his impersonation and his voice an octave or two to correct him. An octopus doesnt squirt ink. Only squids do. Gus, sensing another showdown, called out, I think they both do, Gabi. No, Gus, just squids. Everyone knows that. By now Victor had stopped his horseplay altogether. Ive noticed your kid brother thinks he knows more than anyone around. For a sissy whos so terrified of the water, he acts like some ocean expert. Gabis not scared. He cant swim, thats all. Victor dog-paddled to the edge of the bank to crawl up again. But before he could reach the rope, Gabriel had already pulled it from the water. He did not offer to hand it over until Victor asked with his own outstretched hand. Yet no sooner did the rope dangle within reach then Victor lunged at it. The instant he grabbed it he gave a vicious yank. Gabriel teetered but let go just in time, and by the time he realized that his rival intended to throw him in the water, Victor had scrambled back on the bank and was already closing in on him. Let him be, man. I told you he cant swim. Rather than run, Gabriel stood his ground. Of course I can swim. Then, before Victor could touch him, he plunged feet first into the canal. No sooner did he go under than Gus ran to the spot and crouched on the edge with the concentration of a speed swimmer, holding back the instinct to jump in

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without first seeing him. Gabriel resurfaced, but before he could call out, an unknown yet unforgiving force tugged him down and away from them. Gus began running back and forth along the bank, searching for bubbles or ripples. Stay still! he told the boy who had just jumped back in. Im trying to help! I cant see a damn thing with that splashing! Gus took the frayed rope and waited for the slightest sign in the water. Gabi! Grab on to this! He cant hear you, said Victor, squatting on the bank. Hes under water. Gus glared at him. If he doesnt come up, youre going down with him! He said it with such cold certainty that Victor immediately stood and began searching like his own life depended on it. He ran downstream about twenty yards and then pointed to a spot almost as far. Look! Over there! By that swirling water! What? He got sucked into a whirlpool? No, I saw some ripples over there! Maybe hes out there! Out where? Out there ! Gus, as angry as he was desperate, tried to shield his eyes from the waters glare with both palms. At the same time he kept shifting his axis to blot out the sun overhead. Out where , damn it? Im over here! Gus heard the call so softly that he thought he had imagined it. But it was enough to freeze him for a moment. Gabi!

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Gabriel had in fact surfaced just a few feet from where he had fallen in. The splashes from the two boys had pushed him toward the opposite bank, behind a thick clump of sedge that all but covered his torso. He clung so tightly to the blades of grass that his fingers had begun to bleed. The water he had swallowed squelched his second cry for help, but a moment later one of the boys resurfaced close enough that Gabriel reached out and grazed his shoulder blade. The ghost story must have been so fresh in the boys mind that he shrieked and ended up gulping water. The commotion caught the attention of Gus, who swung the rope several times until he was able to fish out his brother. When he touched ground, Gus held him in a brutal grip, determined not to lose him again. Then he began shaking and embracing him at the same time. I told you I could swim, said an exhausted Gabriel, barely standing on trembling knees. I learned a little in school. Gus glared at him as if he had just heard the most outrageous utterance ever. A littles not enough, Gabi! Not out here, not in the middle of nowhere! You could still be down there, and by now it would be too late. Then next time dont doubt what I say. About what? Your swimming? That stupid squid? About what? Gabriel stared at him defiantly. Then he glanced at Victor, who kept his distance in case Gus might still make good on his threat. About anything, said Gabriel. No one uttered a word, nor did they go back in the water. No one even thought of teasing the boy who had screamed. They merely lay on the bank, speechless and

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emotionally drained. Finally, after everyone dried out and recovered his calm, Victor slowly began to dress. He led the group back without a word and without even bothering to glance at the occasional rabbit that darted out. Gabriel lagged behind with his brother, who kept rapping him on the spine with his knuckles. Cut it out, Gus, that hurts! Im just whacking out the water you swallowed. Whats the use in saving you if amoebas eat out your insides? Gus pretended he was about to hit harder, just to see him flinch as he braced for the blow. Reminds me of when Dad would try to burp you. He paused and asked in a more serious tone, So what got into you all of a sudden? What, my jumping in? Gabriel contemplated the question for a moment, even though he knew there was no way to explain it. I sprinkled myself with pixie dust and wanted to test it out. I figured Id walk on water and give you guys the shock of your life. You shocked us, all right. I guess thats what I get for getting my pixie dust from Dad. But youre not turning into one of those mental cases, are you? A mental case? Yeah, you know, the kind who cant go into a high building without wanting to jump. Gabriel almost laughed, but then realized his brother was serious. They were in fact nearing a small precipice that dropped some twenty feet into a dry creek bed, and he wondered whether their location had prompted the concern. He faked a quick peek toward the drop, but before he could even pretend to run, his brothers grip had already rooted him to the spot. For a moment not even

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Gabriels laughter could free him. In fact, it only made things worse. Gabi! Whats with you? Look at you! You are mental. Even after Gabriel finally convinced him that he was joking, Gus said, You had me fooled for a while. A little later he added, Listen, maybe you can turn on the crazy laughter when we get to the shack. Ill tell Dad what happened and . . . Now whos the one whos nuts? Dad would kill me! Just think about it. We could use it to go back to Texas. Like a mental discharge. It might even give us a trip to Disneyland. You know, like therapy. Itll never work, Gus. Besides, you know Dad. It would be the perfect excuse to skip Disneyland. They were approaching camp when Gus finally asked, So how long were you under? Long enough to think I wouldnt come up again. Actually, I did come up for a second or two, then something hit the water and took me back down. Must have been the guy who jumped in. At least he tried to help. I saw Victor from behind the weeds. He was grinning. He was just terrified. He thought Id use him as bait. Anyway, Chori was right. Victors a total jerk. Look whos talking. Because of what I did? I only put myself in danger. Hes a danger to everyone. Thats why you jumped in the water? You thought hed come after you? Gus squeezed him hard enough to hurt. He wouldnt dare. They were already at the outskirts of the camp. A girl who had arranged a secret rendezvous there with her boyfriend took one glance at their damp hair and said, Back from the canal, huh? Be careful. I dont know if

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youve heard this, but a while back they pulled out two bodies. At any other time they would have dismissed her advice with the impatient reply that they had heard it a hundred times. This time no one said a word. The thin boy even nodded solemnly, like someone who had actually been there.

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till shaken, Gabriel waited outside the shack, afraid that his father might sense something odd if he saw him. An hour later, when Paula came out to say they were having Polish sausage and ranch-style beans, he replied he wasnt hungry. But thats your favorite. Dads too, so you know he wont leave a drop of grease. Ill leave the door open anyway, so you can hear Dad and Gustavo arguing. I can hear them with the door closed. Theyre as bad as Seor Serenata. She paused at the door and turned back. Whats with you? Youre as white as . . . As the Borrados? he interrupted, hoping to get her off the scent. That reminds me. I spent this morning trailing your favorite one. The oldest? By the time Paula caught herself it was too late. For a moment he forgot his own troubles as he watched her bite her lip. So now we know. Im not saying I like him. I just think hes . . . amusing. Amusing? Yes . . . entertaining. She tried to rephrase her reply, but he would not relent, especially since it took his mind off his own anxiety. Well, Sis, since youre his number one fan, its too

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bad you missed his performance. He did a striptease in the middle of the field. In truth he had been too far away to make out the details. He didnt even know if it had been the oldest Borrado, but that did not stop him. You should have seen his puny chest. And the way he moved around! He tried to imitate his awkward pirouette. Youre just jealous. Of what? They can stay in the pool as long as they want without worrying theyll be kicked out, while you guys have to wallow in that filthy canal like livestock. She turned toward the door and lowered her voice. You two lost the bet, didnt you? For a moment she actually sounded sorry. He forced himself to hold her gaze. Today was just practice. Were training for the real thing. She nodded absently to go along. Then its a good thing you didnt work all day. Its like Dad says, Dont blow a gasket before the race even starts. After she went back inside he tried to distract himself with the notes of a faraway accordion, but bits and pieces of the argument from inside the shack kept spilling out. The truth is, he heard Gus say, Ive had it with this place. Its dangerous. Dangerous? said his father. So you heard about the kid who grabbed a snake by mistake this morning? It was just a rat snake. Maybe so, mi amor, but the poor boy almost had a heart attack. A little excitement is good for your work. Got his juices going. Maybe thats what my brothers need. On second thought, a rat snake might just end up eating them.

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At any rate, that boy probably gave the Borrados a run for their money. At least until he ran out of adrenaline. Actually, no, mi amor. The boy barely picked anything afterward. He was terrified another snake might turn up. The women even convinced his mother to take him to the camp curandera. Wow, people here have nothing better to do than gossip and meddle, said Gus. Thats how boring this place is. Their father gave an exasperated sigh. First you say the camps dangerous. Now you say its boring. Its both. Theres nothing to do so some of the kids hang out by the canal. And then what happens? Two of them turn up bloated. Oh, yes, said their father, the drunks. Well, if the other boys invite you along, just say no. Youve never had a problem telling me that. So what do I do instead? He gestured toward the pegboard wall. Watch our giant TV set? Find other things to keep you busy. Look at your brother. Hes sitting outside, nice and quiet, listening to music. Even the music here sucks. Gabriel was still listening to the distant accordion when Paula and his mother brought out an empty laundry basket. Dont get close to the poles, Seora Serenata called out. Theres still lightning. But a moment later, even though she had nothing to bring in from the clotheslines, she approached their mother and began a hushed conversation. Almost immediately Paula rushed over to Gabriel and reported what she had overheard. The woman told Mom.

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About what? But since she was Victors mother, he already knew the answer. That you jumped into a river and almost drowned. Now Moms all stressed out. Shell be here any second, as soon as the woman stops yacking. What river? It was just a stupid canal. Drowning is drowning, Gabi, whether its in six feet or sixty. And speaking of stupid . . . Look, I didnt drown, did I? No, but now she convinced Mom you lost your appetite and youre acting quiet because you have susto. What the hell is that? Its the same thing the kid who picked up the snake got treated for. Havent you heard grownups talk about it? He didnt remember his parents ever using the phrase, but his grandmother had mentioned it once or twice. I think Abuelita said susto was a shock. You get it after something scares you. Im fine, though. Then how come youre all moody? Listen, if anyone got the crap scared out of them it was Gus and Victor. They thought theyd have to bring my body back to camp and face the music. Whatever. But now Mom wants to take you to that woman at the other end of camp. The one the camp calls the Green Lady because shes always dressed in green. Is she . . . He had heard the word a moment ago but could not remember. A curandera? The camp thinks so, so I suppose that makes her one. Its not like she has a degree or anything. I dont believe that stuff, curing people with plants and prayers. So why should I go? Because if you dont, then Mom will tell Dad what happened. Hell cure your susto for sure. Either that or make it ten times worse.

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He didnt realize his terror was so obvious until Paula pointed out, Wow! Talk about your hairs standing on end. One things for sure. If you didnt have susto before, you definitely have it now. That same evening, he let his mother take him to the curandera, on the condition that she would wait outside. He entered the shack expecting something spooky, yet without knowing precisely what. Instead the womans calm demeanor immediately put him at ease. She glanced at him and said without hesitation, Youre my second boy with susto today. She used the same gentle tone when she glanced at a little boy in the room and asked, Would you mind waiting outside and joining this young mans mother on the porch? The child left without protest and with total trust, and soon Gabriel heard him chatting with his mother. The Green Lady turned up a kerosene lamp, dimmed another and lit a votive candle. Then she started reciting religious phrases and sweeping his body with soft branches. At one point she called out, Espritu de Gabriel, regresa. Intuiting that he was a newcomer, she cued him with a whisper: Ya vengo. She repeated the exchange, this time draping him with a childs sheet that made him feel more energized. Finally she tapped the top of his head to indicate the ritual was complete. She snipped off two smaller branches from the branch she had used. Have your mother brew some tea from the leaves. Drink a cup each night, for three nights in a row. Its bitter, but dont sweeten it. He put his denim jacket back on and realized that he did feel more at ease, but he also could attribute it to the fact that he had avoided facing his fathers inquisition.

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Yet soon he realized that the ritual had been a rite of passage and also an affirmation that he had survived the worst of the summer. He gazed around the camp and understood that he was part of it. He joined his mother under the glow of an outdoor lamp as she talked to the curanderas neighbors. For a moment he imagined the worst, that his mother had mentioned his being treated for susto and that they might find it old-fashioned and superstitious. He realized he no longer minded in the least. As they both walked back the people called out, Que pasen buenas noches, with the familiarity of old neighbors. Both replied, Hasta maana. As he stumbled with the phrase, a part of him understood that although there were many differences between them, there was a link that tied them. It had been there all along but became evident only when he accepted that he was a migrant too, even if just for that summer. It occurred to him that perhaps Gus might feel differently about his stay at the camp if he underwent the same ritual. Maybe we should bring Gus along, he told his mother. The whole thing in the canal shook him up, too. She considered it and concluded, No, hes too much like your father. As they walked back to the shack she shared that she had been cured of susto countless times. You too, Mom? I never knew. Thats because I never told you. You kids think were old-fashioned as it is. So how did it happen? You kept jumping into canals? No, nothing that dramatic. Lets see, the first time I must have been about five, at a camp a lot like this one. I was trying to corner a snake when my older brothers saw me and ran off screaming for help. Funny, but I wasnt

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scared of the snake. It was my familys yelling that frightened me. And after that? After that it was everything and anything. It wasnt until years later, as a teenager, that I outgrew it. So you see, it runs in the family. So I have you to blame. A moment later she added, When I heard what nearly happened to you I felt my own insides freeze. I almost asked her to cure me too. You should have, Mom. Maybe another night. She glanced up at the shimmering stars. Maybe I can bring your father for a barrida. Whats that? Its a sweeping ritual, similar to what you had. Its supposed to get rid of your negative energy. Good luck trying to get Dad to agree. Besides, he creates some of that bad energy himself. Gus says he needs therapy. Your father says the same thing about Gus. They walked awhile and she added, almost to herself, Still, it might help if your father saw The Green Lady. It might, he admitted absently. They do have something in common. What do you mean? Before he realized it he said, Well, she sort of lets people think shes a doctor . . . He let the comment trail off, but it was too late. What do you mean? she asked again. Yet even as she asked, she realized they both knew. Well . . . just like Dads not a real mechanic. She said nothing for a moment. Did he tell you himself?

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When he lied with a slight nod, she seemed relieved that the truth had come straight from his father. Hes gone through a lot of things in his life, starting with his own fathers absence. And in the past few years hes had some setbacks. Hes had to compete with younger guys at the shop who are better educated. Thats why he could never get the certification, even though he can take a car apart and put it back together blindfolded. Her seriousness melted into a resigned shrug. And of course that sharp tongue of his doesnt help. He didnt dare tell her the truth, how he had discovered his fathers secret one day after school. He had stopped by the shop to ask his father for permission to stay at a friends house and had approached a new supervisor to help find him. Hes one of the mechanics, Gabriel had said. I know who he is. But hes no mechanic. Hes just a grease monkey. The supervisor had finally tracked him down, and as his father approached, wiping his hands on a red shop rag, Gabriel feared that the man might repeat the remark. He had not, and Gabriel never mentioned the incident to anyone. When they reached the shack he remained outside, listening to the same accordion he had heard earlier. He focused on the playful riffs until almost everyone was asleep. Then another insomniac accordionist even farther away, perhaps as far as from a neighboring camp, began a melancholy accompaniment. For a time, the animated accordion seemed to answer the sober notes of the second with lively flourishes and rejoinders. But as they continued their musical duel, the sadder notes began to soothe the jumpier notes until subduing them completely. By the time Gabriel retired he could hear low thunder in the dis-

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tance, as the accordionist who remained standing continued the barely audible monologue. He lay alongside Gus and thought about the music back home. He could understand why his brother found this music so foreign. He did too, despite the fact that it was Tex-Mex. But back home, although their entire neighborhood was Chicano, one would never guess as much from the music the kids played. No sooner did a new mainstream song appear than the parents themselves were out looking for it, bending over backward to help their kids become bona fide Americans. Everything was in English, incessantly so, and it was not just music. He and his friends turned their backs on the trite Tex-Mex songs with their insipid lyrics, only to embrace the monotonous rhythm of hip-hop. Of course many of the migrant kids were also fans of hip-hop and mainstream music. Yet their parents kept listening to their own songs in Spanish, without apologies. Perhaps what bothered Gus and Gabriel about the camp was the same thing that bothered them about their father. It was not only the camps music and the surroundings, but the parents skeptical view of American popular culture. Whenever their father pointed out the complicated, split-second clicks on an accordion keyboard, they both cringed, partly because it sounded corny and old-fashioned, but also because it struck so close to home. They realized, through his insistence on advertising his origins, that no matter how much they pretended otherwise, their world was but one generation removed from his.

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he next day Gabriel and Gus reached a dubious milestone in the field. They finally overtook a Borrado. Unfortunately, it was the original, Don Pilo himself, who was falling behind to start a conversation with a young woman in the next row. Her boyfriend, working just ahead, barely paid the chatter any mind and neither did she. Soon she moved on, leaving Don Pilo to fidget with his upper shirt buttons and find someone else to engage. Gabriel was trying to ignore him by pretending to concentrate on his row when the youngest Borrado rushed past and startled the exhaustion out of Gus and him. Without wasting a word, the scrawny boy looked up at his father and began opening and closing his mouth like a starving baby sparrow. Time for your treat already? Don Pilo squinted and glanced up to check how high the sun had climbed. Then he reached inside the pouch that always dangled from his belt. He noticed the brothers curiosity and explained, I cant keep anything in my pockets because it melts. In the meantime the boy kept his beak raised and wide open, with the mute urgency of a chick too famished to peep. As his Adams apple bobbed visibly, his father sorted through his pouch and kept him at bay with a warm cola. The Borrado peeled back the tab without caring that the can had been tossing in the pouch all day. As a result, the drink spewed a long arc that soaked his shirt and that dried on his hands almost at once, adding another veneer of stickiness to his skin.

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Don Pilo slowly pulled out several plain, hard-shell treats, along with two small, bright-red hearts. They reminded Gabriel of the cheap Valentine candy he exchanged in grade school. First your vitamins. In his eagerness the boy grabbed both hearts at once but dropped one. Before he could reach for it, his father covered it with his heel and clucked a warning. The Devil kissed it already. Then he ground it underfoot until it disappeared in the dirt. The boy gobbled the remaining one at once and waited silently for the replacement. He crunched and swallowed the hard-shell treat in no time, asked for seconds and got his wish. All that sugar must have dried his throat, because he started to cough. He tried to stifle the cough by washing down the residue with the soft drink, but the carbonation only made the coughing fit worse. He must have found his predicament amusing, because he suddenly giggled in the middle of his drinking. But the colas fizz forced him to spew it through his nostrils, which started another fit. By the time the boy unbuttoned his shirt, the spilled drink had added a gooey gloss to his chest. Gabriel caught a glimpse of his rib cage, even pastier than how he had described it to Paula. The translucent skin, with its tiny, spidery veins reminded him of the gecko lizards that clung to the shacks ceiling and that sometimes fell in his hair. For a second or two he even thought he could make out the purple, opaque outline of his hyperactive heart. Don Pilo began murmuring to his son in a low, soothing lull, then he peeled off his cotton gloves. They were cut off at the middle knuckle and were ostensibly for picking, but Don Pilo wore them mostly for show. He wadded one into a ball, soaked it with his canteen, and gently

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wiped off the grime from his sons chest. Then he used the other glove to pat him dry. The gesture almost seemed maternal, as the soft strokes pacified his sons coughing. But the serenity was short-lived. Once the Borrado was back to normal he ran past Gabriel and Gus again with that unbridled energy that everyone envied. Dont forget, Don Pilo shouted, I still have half your sandwich in the cooler. And no more Superman vitamins or candy for today! You need real food from now on. He winked at Gabriel and Gus as if they shared an inside joke. Gabriel trailed behind him for a while, intrigued by the gentleness of his gestures. He tried to imagine his own father tending to him, until he finally gave up. The next morning a steady rain blotted out the dawn, allowing everyone to stay home. At least I can rest my weary bones, Gabriel heard his father say. But then the dampness makes them stiff. Still, Ill gladly take some time off any day, answered his mother. Gabriel was still in bed when he heard his father step out to the porch. He greeted Don Pilo, who said, If this keeps up, I dont know how Ill keep my boys inside. Theyve been ready to go since six. Mine opened one eye long enough to look out the window, then went back to dreamland. Don Pilo laughed. Thats what I like about you, Seor. You dont go around bragging about your kids. I would if I had something to brag about. See, there you go again. After all, theyre well educated. Next to the other kids, their English is impeccable. Thats because thats all they speak. Besides, good grades dont make you a good picker. Id rather have them bouncing off the walls like yours.

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Don Pilos soft laughter covered Guss muffled obscenity under the blanket. Gabriel, unlike his brother, did not really mind their fathers faint praise. Even when he teased them in public there was undeniable intimacy, because in a way he was putting himself down too. He was the opposite of parents who praised their kids with inflated superlatives in order to claim some of the credit. The rain began to fall harder, creating a chaotic racket on the tin roof and forcing Don Pilo to raise his voice in the downpour. Your boys told mine they were going to . . . that place with the flying fairy. His father paused, then returned to peek inside before answering. Convinced they were still asleep, he tiptoed back along the porch, made creakier by the rain. Only in their dreams, Don Pilo. Only in their dreams. Even though Gabriels eyes were shut to feign sleep, he could still imagine his fathers grin. Let him laugh his ass off, whispered Gus. We wont be here much longer. He smiled too, not in the way that Gabriel had imagined his father would have but with a vengeful edge. Whats that mean? Gus took his time answering. Remember how the old man figured he wouldnt spend much time in the fields? How instead of stoop labor hed be lying on his back, fixing cars in camp? He hasnt worked on one yet. And he wont, not as long as I have a say in the matter. I dont get it. When I went to visit Victor at the barracks, a few of the guys asked how good a mechanic Dad was. What did you tell them?

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Same thing he says about us. Nothing to brag about. You really said that? Actually, I told them what Mom said. What kind of mechanic has to work in the fields for a living? Not a very good one, Ill bet. Gabriel had to hold down his voice. But she never said that! No, but I said she did. And thats what counts. He half-covered his face with his pillow. Look, do you want to leave here or not? Not like this. Not by burning him with the other workers. Besides, what if he does plan to take us to Disneyland? Yeah, right. Someday. And maybe when were forty well fly like Peter Pan. He raised the pillow from his mouth to make sure his advice sank in. Just forget it. We cant. Weve already worked too hard. Forget it. Its like Paula says. Its time we opened our eyes and grew up. They did not work that day or the following two. The fourth day dawned with a slight break in the cloud cover, but it soon became a replay of the previous three, down to the familiar sight of their father as he paced the gloom, his cigarette glowing like an anxious firefly. When do you figure this will be over? he asked Don Pilo that evening. Im not God. This deluge could last for days. But its already the fifth. Oh, one year it poured for an entire week. That was the record, though. I doubt itll go that long. Well, even if it does I wont stick around to see the old record broken.

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I wouldnt blame you, said Don Pilo. But you see, even if God cleared up the heavens this instant, wed have to let the fields dry out. I just hope there are enough berries to make it worth the picking. Good thing I have another grower lined up down south, just in case. I take it you do too. Don Pilo carefully opened the door of his own shack and peeked into the quiet gloom. It took a flood, but theyre getting some much-needed rest. The following day the rain tapered into drizzle but refused to leave completely. Gabriel stepped outside for a breath of fresh air and was faced with a stifling dankness. He had somehow expected the rain to wash the area sparkling clean and leave the vegetation a lush green. Instead everything appeared muddy and flattened, as the camp was transformed into a third-world shantytown where sewage trickled alongside the road. His father joined him, assessed the situation without a word, and then took out his toolboxes and opened them. The tools remained as clean and as neatly arranged as the day they had arrived. He closed the boxes carefully, aware that by now the entire family was watching. Lets get ready, he said. Dad, that fields like a sponge cake, said Paula. Gabriel agreed. Well be walking around with Frankenstein shoes. Were going back home. You mean to Texas? Gus asked incredulously. Youre joking, right? He stared hard at their father for a long while, until he told the others, Hes serious! Look at the road, said their mother. I doubt we can even get out. Hell, said Gus, Ill push the damn van if I have to. Then lets get ready, their father repeated. Were going back home.

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abriel spent the next eight years following his sisters advice: growing up and slowly putting the past in perspective. Gus, however, moved out immediately after graduation, first to Houston, then to California, and never looked back. Gabriel tried to contact him several times, but the terse replies were few and far between. During that time the people he had met eight summers ago rarely crossed his mind or his path, until the autumn of their fathers funeral. Their fathers death came as abruptly as one of those blunt remarks when he had to have the last word. Indeed, his final anecdote involved a pesky customer whose brakes he had serviced that afternoon. He was one of those in-your-face idiots who pester you around the shop, he was telling his wife, the kind who wants to know everything. At one point I had his car under the lift and he followed me underneath. Wait a minute. Can they do that? Of course not, and I told him so. I even pointed to a couple of signs on the wall. So then what? So then he looks up at his car and asks. Have any of these ever fallen on you? Paula, talking to Gabriel in the living room, could not help but overhear. Let me get this straight, Dad, she

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said as she entered the kitchen. The guy wanted to know if the hydraulic lift had ever crashed down on you? Exactly! So I said, Well, if it did I wouldnt be here, would I? I walked away, but he stayed underneath his car, looking up like he still doesnt get it. So I stroll over to the hydraulic controls Oh, crap, said Gabriel, already anticipating the next part. Dad, you didnt. By now his father could barely contain his glee. And I tell him, But theres always a first time. And at that instant I pushed the on button that makes the lift shudder. You should have seen him leap out from under there! I think he even screamed! Dad, said Paula, youre a mean old man! And totally insane! What if something terrible had happened? He was laughing so hard that twice he had to catch his breath. I had to get rid of him. Yeah, said Gabriel, but not permanently. Whats so bad about weeding out the idiots in this world? Gabriel got ready to drive back to his apartment when his father stretched and said, I guess Ill punch the clock too. The next morning, although barely daybreak in California, Paula was on the phone with Gus for a second time in as many hours. I know, she explained again, its a total shock for us too . . . No, he seemed okay. He told us about some incident at work and then went to bed . . . Mom said hed been going to bed early the last few days . . . Yes, shes taking it hard. But this morning she insisted on calling you herself, even though I had to place the call for her. She wanted to know when you were getting in, but then she took some tranquilizers. Now shes out like a light . . . No, we got them across the border, so we didnt

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need a prescription . . . No, theyre not from Javier. In fact Gabis seeing Javier tomorrow. He volunteered to pick up Aunt Lupe and drive her down here . . . Yes, in his semi . . . Well, I assume hes just taking the tractor part, but with him who knows. She glanced at Gabriel to make sure he took note. So youre getting in tomorrow morning on the 10:40 flight from Houston? Fine, Gabi will be there. So how did he take it? Okay, I guess. I didnt expect him to break down or anything. But I also didnt expect him to sound so . . . serene. She swept a palm over her face as if erasing all emotion. Well, he hasnt seen us since he moved to California. All the more reason, considering how long its been. It works both ways, Paula. We could have gone to visit him one summer. He never invited us, Gabi! Not even after Dad found out about his heart condition. She said nothing more until she was herself again. Anyway, you think youll recognize him at the airport tomorrow? Youre not coming along? Ill let you soften him up first, then Ill work on him here. Sure, Ill go. I hope I recognize him. I havent seen him in years. We have that picture he sent one Christmas. I mean face to face. That evening, even though Paula still lived at their parents house, Gabriel spent the night and helped look after their mother. He slept in the bedroom he had once shared with Gus and that later became his until college. After that his father, aware that his nocturnal tossing and turning was taking a toll on his wife, had moved in.

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The next morning Gabriel woke up with the hopeful amnesia of the newly bereaved, convinced that somehow the previous day had been undone. The unfamiliar surroundings only added to his confusion, and for a moment he even thought of checking up on his father, until he realized he had spent the night in his bed. Gabriel took the long way to the airport, past the garage where his father had worked. He glanced at the place as he drove past, half-expecting to catch his fathers profile, when he noticed the funeral wreath over the office door. Although it was a painful reminder of his own loss, he also felt grateful for the thoughtful gesture. He told himself to bring Gus this way on the return trip. Whenever he passed this spot he remembered the time, a few years ago, when he stopped at the garage to drop off a prescription for his father. He was getting back into his car when he was taken aback by the sight of the oldest Borrado. He approached Gabriel almost like an apparition, silent and with an eerie smile almost as if he had been conjured. Gabriel greeted him because the somewhat sad smile seemed to impose an obligation on him, and it wasnt until they exchanged some awkward words that Gabriel realized the Borrados smile had not been one of recognition. It was simply a social tactic to make a stranger pause long enough to commit to a handout. It was a ploy that transients sometimes used in that part of the barrio, and he usually refused on principle. Instead of giving in, Gabriel tried reminding him of the time they lived in Don Rafas camp. He figured that if he forged a more personal link, the Borrado might be reluctant to exploit an acquaintance. However the man tried using the bond as leverage to extract a greater helping hand. But try as he might to strengthen the link with

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an anecdote or two from old times, the Borrado could only come up with vagaries and soon fell back on the speech he had practiced on many othersa litany of his present plight. As Gabriel half-listened, he had the strange feeling that their encounter in California had taken place fifteen years ago, not five. It was not only because the Borrados recollection seemed so blurry. There was something about the Borrado himself, his face and physique. Even after Gabriel factored in the Borrados puniness as a teen, he still seemed faded, brittle, like the cheap lawn furniture Gabriels father had once left out in the sun all summer. Had Gabriel not been aware that they were about the same age, he could have sworn that the man before him was anything but young. A few times after that, he thought he saw the Borrado ambling through the barrio, but they never spoke again. On those occasions Gabriel wasnt even certain it was him, as he only caught a fleeting glimpse here and there. By the time he arrived at the airport, Gus was already waiting at the pick-up curb. Gabriel spent so much time apologizing for his tardiness that he failed to get a good look at his brother. After that he did little more than offer an obligatory hug and load the luggage. It was only later, when they took the main road home, that he noticed the preternatural composure that Paula had mentioned. They drove without saying much, but fortunately the silence fit the occasion. When Gus finally spoke he kept the topic safely on the mundane. Say, wasnt there a convenience store on this corner? It was more of a mom-and-pop store. Gabriel was somewhat disappointed that Gus had forgotten their childhood days. Thats where we used to buy comic books, remember?

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Well, now its a video store, Gus said, without a trace of nostalgic regret. At least the neighborhoods made some progress. At that moment Gabriel was busy keeping an eye on a pickup truck following too closely, so he could not check whether the remark had been said with a straight face. I dont know if Id call it progress, he finally said. You should see the junk they have. At least it helps people around here improve their English. All at once Gabriel realized that Gus had a more anglicized accent. He wondered why he hadnt noticed it until now. Perhaps, he decided, it was because Gus had said so little on the way. Youre partly right. Their English has improved, but only about obscenities. I guess we have California to thank for that. Hold on, said Gus, also half-joking but with enough emphasis to make his point. Not everyone over there cranks out movies. Gabriel thought of using the opportunity to ask pointblank about Gus job, given his sketchy letters. But in the end he took advantage of his brothers scanning the old neighborhood to examine his profile. Gus looked larger, yet less powerful than he remembered him. Everyones been saying, Its been so long since we saw Gustavo. Gus. What? Its Gus now. Oh, now that Dads gone? No, since way before. I changed it legally, so my son could be Gus Junior.

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The remark threw Gabriel off balance, but he dissimulated. Thats what I said a moment ago. Its been so long. Well, time slips away. And starting your own family sort of takes over your life. We all looked forward to those family pictures. Especially Dad. And I can guess what he said. That now Id learn its hard work being a father. His remark came so close to the truth that Gabriel did not bother disputing it. Well, Gus continued, for once Dad was right. It is hard, at least if your kids truly come first. Right now Ive saved up for a pool Wow! Youre putting in a swimming pool? No, he answered a bit awkwardly, a pool table. Gabriel also felt uncomfortable. It was the sort of comment his father might have made, but not as a deliberate put-down. Gus, remember the time we got thrown out of the town pool? For the first time his brother showed genuine emotion, but so vituperative that Gabriel regretted having touched a scar that had never healed completely. At first Gus lashed out against the towns Anglos. Then he cursed the migrants, insisting that they had brought all that ill will on themselves. Gabriel waited anxiously to change the subject. And what about the time I jumped in the canal? Gus grew quiet again, so Gabriel added that he still remembered the moment he resurfaced and saw the sorrow and terror in his brothers face. You know, Gabi, for a long time I had bad dreams about that.

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You had bad dreams? Im the one who almost drowned. Thats why. Id dream that if . . . you had drowned . . . that would have been the ultimate punishment for Dad, for tricking us to take the trip. Well, excuse me for being alive. By now Gabriel was almost glad they were nearing their block. What I meant was Just kidding, Gus. Theres no need for apologies. Maybe thats what I really regret about Dad and I. Its too late for apologies. Dont worry. I dont think he ever expected one. Gus gave him a puzzled look. I meant an apology from him. Gabriel did not know what to say, but he knew he had to say something. Well, in the end you had the last word. You even moved to California. Youre not going to believe this, but I still havent taken the kids to Disneyland. But next year Im taking them, for sure. As they neared the garage Gabriel slowed down as much as possible without stopping outright. He pointed at the wreath on the office door. Gus nodded and, for the first time, his tone betrayed a tenderness. Nice touch. Ill bet he never imagined they cared so much. It surprised me too. Those guys seemed even more hard-bitten than Dad. Gabriel was about to accelerate when Gus suddenly said, Wait! Gabriel braked completely, startling the driver behind him, who was about to pass them. Gus was oblivious to the drivers prolonged, passing honk, staring instead at the opened garage doors. Then he blinked a few times

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and finally said, Sorry. For a moment I thought I saw Dad in there. Lucky you. When I passed by earlier I looked hard, but nothing. Lucky, my butt. It scared the crap out of me. They had not yet reached the intersection when Gabriel added, That reminds me. A few years ago I came face to face with a ghost from our past. As Gabriel described his unusual encounter with the oldest Borrado, his brother grew increasingly interested, especially when he heard about the mans misfortune and his frazzled look. Gabi, thats what happens when you work as hard as they did. You burn the candle at both ends. I guess youre right. You just burn out. Did Dad get a look at him? Not that time. Too bad. But Im pretty sure I saw the guy hanging out in the area a few times. So maybe Dad saw him another time. Did you give him any money? I dont do that. You should have, just to rub it in. He wouldnt have gotten it, Gus. The guy seemed sort of out of it. What do you mean, out of it? Like I said earlier, he hardly remembered that summer. He just complained about his family, more precisely his father. But even that conversation was vague and not very coherent. Maybe he went mental. Maybe. A little, at least. Gus said nothing more until they turned into their block. So then Dad didnt have any last words?

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Gabriel sensed his brother was still ruminating about the apology, and for a moment he considered giving in and lying. But in the end he simply repeated his fathers anecdote about the customer under the car. Thats the last thing we heard him say. They werent exactly words of wisdom from an unforgettable death scene in some movie. But it was a classic. Classic Dad. Gus gave a muted smile, like something he was unable to suppress. That was him, alright. Always poking and probing, just to get a reaction from people. He started to chuckle. Remember the time at camp when we were standing by a propane tank and he scared the hell out of a guy? Gabriel smiled too, as much at the memory as at the fact that his brother was starting to reminisce about happier, more intimate times. I remember. But I also remember it was an accident, so I dont think it counts. Accident my ass, Gabi! Ill bet anything he brought along that big-ass tool just to stir things up. Gabriel suddenly seemed to remember something. He pulled over, stopped at the curb, and reached for his wallet while Gus simply watched without a clue. Gabriel finally pulled out from the innermost, least accessible fold a dog-eared bill with permanent creases from where it had been folded. It had the texture of soft cloth from having been in Gabriels wallet for years. Look, I still have my lucky ten from that summer. It was one of the bills I got from that first day of work. I always forget I carry this around, until its time to replace my wallet. Why do you consider it lucky? I dont know. I guess I told myself at the time, And for many more to come.

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Gus smiled and slowly shook his head. Well, we didnt get too many more, thats for sure. But we ended up with other things, Gus. We got out of Texas, for one thing. Me for that summer, you for good, eventually. Even better, Gus added sarcastically, we got out of that camp. Besides, how many kids get to work alongside their parents? And that was a good thing because . . . ? Think of it. How many kids get to tag along with their parents when they go off to work? We got to see Dad work. Gus grinned again. If you could call it that. Whatever. At least after that he couldnt pull his Iwork-my-butt-off-for-this-family routine, because we knew better. As they pulled up to the house Gabriel was pleased with himself. He had indeed managed to soften him up for Paula. Listen, he said as he took his suitcase, I have to meet Javier at the funeral home parking lot. Aunt Lupe needs someone to bring her down here, and he volunteered. Thats an eight-hour drive, each way. Javier says he can make it in five. Besides, she insists she wont take the bus. Shes afraid of the lowlife in bus stations. Hasnt she heard of airplanes? Shes terrified. Of heights? Of hijackers.

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Fine, but those terrorists make the bus station perverts look like altar boys. Youd think shed see things in perspective and take the bus. Thats not how she sees it. Thats why Javiers bringing her down. If I were her Id still take my chances with weirdos. Speaking of weirdos, did you know Javier actually visited us during one of his West Coast runs? Just pulled up out of the blue in his eighteen-wheeler. My wife kept a close watch on him the entire time, what with all those tattoos. Gabriel, hoping to take him back to the old days again, said, Hes seedier than a box of strawberries. The kids kept asking, Dad, is your cousin a carny? Is he hauling a scary ride in the back? I should have said yes. At least it sounds more respectable than hiding dope in the produce. I hear he started to move away from that. The only thing hes hauling this trip is a load of onions up north. At least thats what he says. Anyway, I have to go and give him directions to Aunt Lupes. Let me know if you want to go to the funeral home now. That way you can pay your respects Id rather rest for a while. Well, if you change your mind later just give me a call. Paula has my number. I can swing by and pick you up. Fine. But right now I could use some sleep. Well, your old beds still there. I slept in it last night. Gabriel did not mention that more recently the bedroom had been their fathers. He figured Gus would find out soon enough.

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avier was already waiting at the funeral home parking lot and offered his condolences and an effusive embrace when Gabriel arrived. Gabriel thanked him, then handed him a crude map and directions that an elderly relative had jotted down. Im just passing this on, Javier. I cant promise its accurate. Javier seemed anxious to start. I understand, primo. They probably visited Aunt Lupe when dinosaurs still roamed her barrio. But dont worry, its a two-horse town, so Ill find her. Gabriel invited him inside the funeral home, but he declined. Look, Ill be honest with you. Those places creep me out, especially right before I hit the road. Suit yourself. By the way, Gus says hello. Great! Hes here already? Hes at home, resting. I once dropped in on him out in Califas. His neighbor got a little pissed when I parked my semi out front. Hes a tough nut to crack, that Gus. For that matter so is Paula. Dont take this the wrong way, primo, but youre more like your mom. You take things to heart. Well, right now everyones taking our fathers death to heart. Maybe I can help. Javier patted his windbreaker above his left chest. Gabriel was trying to decipher the gesture when a pair of cavernous eyes from a passenger in a nearby car

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caught his, like a stranger daring him into some dark, dangerous corner. Javier, noticing his concern, turned and stared the stranger down. Gabriel thanked him again for offering to bring his fathers sister. But take it easy. We want Aunt Lupe here safe and sound, and in one piece. Ive been accident-free for as far back as I can remember. His grin betrayed him. Just dont ask how far back I can remember. Well try to remember this. Bring her back safe and sound, and in one piece. That includes her mind. At least she wont have to sit next to some weird geezer on the bus. Gabriel glanced at Javiers tractor rig, parked close to the street. And shell be traveling in style, too. You bet. One of your Dads buddies, some sixty-yearold hippie, did those double eagles on the doors a few months back. At first he wanted to spray-paint Janis Joplin and Esteban Jordan. I had to talk him out of it, saying they were before my time. To be honest I didnt want to draw attention at the Border Patrol checkpoint up the road. Not that type of attention, at least. Then that explains the birds, said Gabriel. He studied the graphics on the drivers door, a belligerent bald eagle armed to the beak with weapons that bristled from its splayed talons. I guess the law-and-order crowd likes that sort of thing. They eat it up like Thanksgiving turkey, especially the Border Patrol. Look, I like Jordan as much as the next guy. But tell me the truthwould they feel the same way about some accordion player with an attitude and an eyepatch? Gabriel noticed another design. And whats with the Confederate flag on the grill, Javier?

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A buddy of mine, another trucker, did that. The cops seem to like it too. Maybe so . . . He paused, hoping that it would give his cousin an occasion to reconsider. Anyway, my buddy said itll save me from getting a few tickets. He says cops figure youre alright if you have one. One trooper even pulled me over just to tell me so. He scared the piss out of me, though. Gabriel eyed the man inside the car. Too bad it also draws the attention of other types. As the man stepped out he draped his head with the hood of his sweatshirt, tapped on the car roof signaling the driver to leave. At first Gabriel thought the man might be one of the unsavory characters his cousin befriended. But then he wondered whether his cousin was being watched by plainclothes cops. While he himself had nothing to hide, Gabriel still felt uneasy. Javier nodded to show that he was in the know, and then gestured toward his rig. Its like an ice-cream truck drove up. Must be the pictures and bright colors, said Gabriel. Javiers eyes crinkled. Works every time. Gabriel suddenly noticed Javier turn serious with concentration as he surveyed a car that pulled up a few yards behind them. For a moment he thought that he had walked into a police bust. Gabriel turned slowly and was surprised to see his fathers car. No sooner did the driver step out than Gabriel called out, Gus! Come say hi to Javier! Javier responded with a nervous giggle of relief. Gus! For a moment there I was sure it was your dad! I thought I was tripping. Paula suggested I get out here before Dads buddies leave work and take over the place. He thought for a

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moment and shook his head in disbelief. And guess what? I actually listened to her. I must be getting old. No, said his brother, youre just getting wiser. Gus greeted Javier, but this one seemed just as interested in the car as in his cousin. I remember Uncles car from the times Id have my truck checked in the garage. I knew hed make sure theyd look over my rig as careful as if it was yours or Gabis. Gus didnt quite know what to say, so he took out his self-conscious unease with a thump on the hood. I tell you, this old heap still has some kick in it. Thats what I told your dad. You know what you have here, Uncle? A muscle car! A classic! They dont make them like this anymore. Youve got to get inside there and juice it up. And you know what he said? Before he realized it, Gus was imitating his fathers unfazed nonchalance. Im the classic. They dont make them like me anymore. Javier slapped his thigh. Thats right! Then he gave his left chest a tap and mimicked, Better yet, what if they put some of that juice into this muscle? He covered up his mouth and lowered his voice. Say, I hope Im not being disrespectful to your dad. Dont worry, said Gabriel. Besides, I dont think hed want us moping all over the place. In fact, Gabriel remembered the times he had come to the same funeral home with his parents. He always preferred to stay with his father, who waited out in the parking lot with the other men while the women stayed inside and mumbled through their mass rosary. Gabriel recalled how the men generally passed the time in subdued but entertaining conversations. Every now and then someone would remind the group why they were gathered there, and they would pause and say a few good things

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about the deceased, along with some of their better times together. Then soon theyd return to their muted banter. Gabriel considered asking Gus whether he was ready to view their fathers body, but then decided to wait a while. He was glad that despite the occasion his brother was easing into a more lighthearted state of mind. Gabriel even directed his brothers attention to the rig. If you think you made an entrance driving up, check out what Javier brought. Gus examined the eagle as closely as Gabriel had. Those bombs hanging from its claws . . . they look like nukes. Thank you, said Javier. But a moment later he reassessed his beaming pride. You dont think its too over the top? Oh, not at all, said Gus, with a straight face that would have made his father proud. Javier seemed relieved. My girlfriend says I got carried away with all the arrows and bombs. Not at all, Gus repeated. Like I used to say in high school, if you have to show your guns, theyd better be big ones. He flexed his own arms for emphasis. On the other hand, Gabriel added cautiously, Maybe you could do without the rebel flag. But its just harmless stars and bars, primo. No guns, not even a mean-looking eagle. Gabriel wanted to bring up the racial message it sent to nonwhites like themselves, but he didnt know where to start, so he didnt. Gabriel noticed that the man who had been watching them had pulled back his hood. Usually he was bad with names and faces, but the mans eyes were unforgettable. Isnt that one of the Borrados?

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Oh, you know those guys too? asked Javier. Yeah, hes the oldest. Gus agreed. Whats he doing here? You tell me, primos. Hes not here for Dads funeral, is he? asked Gus. Could be. I remember he dropped by the garage one time. Your dad and this other guy gave him some spare change. So did I. In fact, I got the impression it was a regular thing. Gus turned to his brother first. So Dad did know him! Then he turned to his cousin. Did he know he was one of the Borrados? Javier shrugged. That I dont know. What I do recall is his telling another worker afterward how fortunate he was to have two successful, able-bodied sons. Gus looked at him closely. Dad said that? His very words, primo. How come you didnt tell me that when we talked about him back home? Simple. It hadnt happened yet. Youre sure? Youre not just telling me . . . It hadnt happened yet, Javier said once more. I know that for a fact because after your dad made that comment he asked me about my recent trip out there. He kept asking me about you and your family. After Gus grew quiet, his cousin added, Your dad was a good man, Gus. He was a character, but he helped out other characters. He gestured toward the Borrado. Maybe hes paying his respects. Talk about ghosts from the past, Gabriel said, almost to himself. We met them one summer, at a migrant camp in California. In fact, Gus and I were just reminiscing about the place.

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Oh, the time your dad took you guys out West. Javier paused and glanced at Gus. Hey, Im not touching a sore point, am I? Gus made a never-mind motion with his hands. Gabriel tried to get a better look, then averted his gaze when it seemed the Borrado might bolt at any moment. Say, primo, does the guy owe you money? asked Javier. Who, him? He wouldnt be asking me for money. His other brothers must have a fortune by now. The Borrados, you say! Youre sure you met them in this world? Sure. They worked like ants, said Gus. Isnt life strange? This one hasnt done a full weeks work in years, and his brothers arent much better. All that work as kids must have worn them out, said Gabriel. Ill have to take your word for it. Javier tried to savor the irony. So you knew the Borrados as kids, huh? The phrase had a strange ring for Gabriel as well, and he realized that even back then he considered them miniature adults. Well, I sort of knew them. They didnt hang out with the rest of us guys, though. Javiers tone turned more incredulous. And they worked their butts off, you say? Ill say, said Gus. Their father would just set them loose, step back and rake in the money. He could not help but think of his own father, and how they had let him down that summer. His melancholy continued until he realized that the disappointment had been mutual. I wonder if their father ever built them that air-conditioned castle he promised.

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Now that you mention it, old Don Pilo does have a big house, right outside town. But hes the only one living in it. Right now his middle son lives in an even bigger house. The kind with burglar bars, except they keep the burglars in. And hes locked into that lease for a few more years. He said this so matter-of-factly that it took Gabriel a moment to figure it out. Javier added, Maybe thats the castle Don Pilo promised them. It may not have a moat, but its got watchtowers. What happened to the one who worked with you? asked Gus. Good question. One day he took off for Dallas with a load of Mexican mangos and never returned. Poof, not a trace. Its one thing to disappear when youre small and scrawny. But you tell me how an entire eighteen-wheeler can vanish into thin air. Gus couldnt, so he simply stared at the Borrado, until he could no longer see his face directly. So, Gabriel said, this one ended up with all those empty rooms in his fathers mansion. All to himself. Are you kidding? He hates Don Pilo! Dont ever get him started on one of his our father stories. I mean, none of our old men are perfect, but why keep harping on it? He even said his mothers passing away was the old guys fault. Can you imagine? But Don Pilo took them on R and R every year, said Gus. Gabriel added that even with the cynicism of his adulthood he still saw him as nothing worse than a lethargic widower who, left with three energetic sons on his hands, had harnessed their hyperactivity. Javier gestured with his chin toward the Borrado. See, thats how I would have answered the guy if I had known about their childhood. I even said one time, Just

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stop whining and get a life, man. His gaze locked Guss. After all, whats past is past. Right, primo? Unless its prologue, Gabriel muttered. Whats that mean? Gus asked him. I was just hoping that Dad did find out how they ended up. He felt ashamed after he said it, even though it had been mostly for Guss sake. They watched the Borrado put a soft drink to his lips nervously. Look at him, said Javier. Like a bantam cock wetting his beak. Except this ones got no fight left in him. Hes all tail feathers and hollow bones. He must have crammed a lifetime of work in a few years. Gabriel recalled the time in the field when the youngest brother had reminded him of a famished chick. Now he wondered how he had ever envied them. A moment later he added, They never looked well, not even as kids . . . Javier dismissed his concern with a sharp click of his tongue. Ah, nothing modern medicine cant cure. Javier said goodbye and headed for his rig, where the Borrado intercepted him. The two talked, but Gabriel only caught their gesticulations. At one point Javier pointed toward the funeral home and guided his attention to his cousins. The man looked his way, with a gaze that was both absolute and abstract, as if seeing them for the first time. Then and there Gabriel realized that all that time the Borrado had been staring at his cousin, not at him. Twice Javier waved him a polite farewell and attempted to move on, but each time the man trailed him. He even pulled out his wallet and offered him money, but it was not until Javier tucked something shiny between the bills that he was able to walk away without being followed.

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The Borrado waved goodbye with one hand and made an odd gesture with the other, pressing a fist to his lips as if he had touched a holy man. The movement was so mesmerizing that even after he retrieved his soft drink from the cars hood and took a gulp, Gabriel and Gus stayed glued to his every move. The Borrado held up the bright, dollar-sized object Javier had given him and tried to tear through the bright foil with his teeth, but the cardboard backing proved too tough. He then held it tight while he pushed through the foils blisters with his thumb. He cursed when the first pill fell on the asphalt, and when the second bright red heart dropped, Gabriel felt his own heart jump so quickly that he barely felt his brother nudge him hard on the ribs. Christ! Gus whispered. Remember, Gabi? Gabriel thought he had whispered back, until a second nudge startled him again. Remember, Gabi? Remember that time, in the strawberry field? I remember, Gus, he answered softly. Its identical. I mean, its the same stuff. So then the guys not really mental, right? No. Not the way we thought, anyway. His brother, so close that Gabriel felt him shiver slightly, said, This is so strange. Gabriel could only nod. After a moment he added, It was one of his brothers we saw, though. Still, its like . . . what do they call it, bro? Dj vu. Gabriel could see once more the small red heart the other Borrado had dropped in the dirt on that distant afternoon. But what he found so odd was not how the scene had been repeated just now. The truly disturbing thing was how something so terrible could have taken

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place long ago in that field, in broad daylight, and before their very eyes, and they had been oblivious to it. If anything, they had been envious. By now the Borrado facing them had scooped up his own amphetamines in one quick move, yet it wasnt until his hand was halfway to his mouth for the second dose that he realized Gabriel was watching. With a slow sweep of his hand he slipped the remaining drugs in his shirt pocket and glanced around with a studied, nonchalant air. Perhaps sensing that his dissimulation seemed unnatural, he began approaching them. But at that moment, Gus grabbed his younger brother and hurried to the funeral home. When they reached the entrance, Gus stopped and said, I had to get away from that guy. I dont want to deal with that stuff. Not now. Me neither. Gus put his hands on his younger brothers shoulder and pushed down a bit, as if trying to plant him on that spot. What I do want is to be alone with the old man for awhile. I understand, Gus. Ill wait out here by the door. While he waited, Gabriel scanned the parking lot for the Borrado. He had just decided that the man had left when someone grazed his shoulder so unexpectedly that it made him startle. Gabriel looked behind him and to his left and found himself face to face with the Borrado. Gabriel was so surprised by the apparition that he could not even ask him where he had been all along. Instead, staring at the small, assorted scabs on the mans forehead and hairline, Gabriel did all he could not to flinch. Now that the Borrado walked all day without the protection of his field sombrero, his complexion had

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taken on a splotchy aspect. But his eyes remained the sametransparent. He stammered a bit, as if conversation did not come easy, then he pointed to where Javiers truck had been. My friend told me . . . Javier. Hes my cousin. The interruption threw the Borrado off somewhat, and he started a new round of stammering. But when he finally spoke again, his words were clear and steady. He told me your father died. He said he worked with Mr. Woods. Yes, he did. The Borrado extended his arm to offer his condolences. Gabriel was expecting the calloused, clammy hand he remembered from the time Don Pilo had introduced them in the fields. Instead it had the soft warmth of a childs hand. Your father seemed like a kind man, said the Borrado. Gabriel, not quite knowing what to say, almost answered, So did yours. But he caught the irony behind the innocuous reply just in time. He said instead, I always thought your father was nice too. He realized at once the raw, unintended truth behind the remark, but it was too late to take it back. Afraid that the words might trigger one of the Borrados diatribes, he tried to explain how they had met before, in California. When the Borrado didnt seem to remember, Gabriel said, Then I ran into you again a few years ago. Outside Mr. Woods garage, where my father worked. The Borrado remembered that occasion and, oddly, it seemed to trigger his recollection of the earlier encounter. Oh, yes. We knew each other from Don Rafas camp.

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A part of Gabriel wanted to continue the conversation, but another part felt the unease of walking on eggshells. I have to check up on my brother, he finally said. Hes inside. The Borrado nodded and started to back off a bit. Wait, said Gabriel. He reached for his wallet and started to search for a five when he remembered his tendollar bill. My father would have wanted you to have this. He removed it carefully from its special compartment and offered it. I carry it for good luck. He didnt mention how he had come by it. He only said, almost as an apology, Spend it before it falls apart. He didnt wait for the Borrado to thank him but instead opened the door and went in. For a moment he was convinced that the man had followed him inside, but when he looked back there was no one there. Gabriel entered the chapel on the left and immediately saw Gus. His brother was still standing before his fathers body, his arms clasped behind his back, as if he were guarding the coffin. An elderly couple stood silently a few feet away, waiting to pay their respects. Gabriel did not interrupt Gus either but rather waited a few minutes and then cautiously ventured outside again. By now the Borrado had retreated to the shade of an enormous jacaranda where the hearses were parked. Gabriel watched him retrieve another heart from his shirt pocket and slip it in his mouth. Then he took such a deep, satisfying quaff from his soft drink that Gabriel almost envied his pleasure. For an instant, Gabriel thought he saw in those jaded eyes the momentary glimmer of a childs joy, or at least the closest that man would ever come to it.

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