On These Magic Shores Read online

  The sound of the thrum changed when I passed Blessings’s house the third time.

  I should’ve stopped then.

  But the night was beautiful, and I was alone and free. Nothing could go wrong.

  Until the scooter stuttered, shivered, and stopped, right in a stretch of road where there were no street lamps and where the next house looked so far it might as well be in another world.

  “Seriously?” I said, cursing myself for not noticing how late it was, how the purplish blue of the sky had turned into deep ink. Most importantly, for not paying attention to the sound of the thrum. The thrum!

  A car zoomed by me and honked the horn so loud I had a flashback to the school alarm and how close I’d been to disaster. Mamá always said the fairies went to sleep when the sun went down. If that part of her tales was true, then I doubted anyone was coming to help me now.

  I had to go get help, but I couldn’t leave the scooter behind. What if it got stolen or a car ran it over? It was Maverick’s and I had to take better care of it than if it were my own. So, I grabbed the handle and walked it uphill, pretending the shadows didn’t scare me, that I didn’t imagine a kidnapper hiding behind every tree. The scooter without power was heavier than when Maverick and I had walked my sisters to his house.

  Like a baby, a sleeping scooter was much heavier than one that was awake.

  A flash of red and blue lights behind me froze me in my tracks.

  But it was at the sound of the voice that I started shivering, and not because I was cold. “Where are you going with that and where did you get it, young lady?” the bald police officer I’d seen several times before asked.

  If I dropped the scooter and ran, I could hide among the trees and stay still as a shadow until the officer got tired and went away. But then he could stay here all night and find me with his laser-beam flashlight, and then what would I tell him, what excuse would I give him for running away? If he called for backup, I’d be in real trouble.

  “Do you speak English?” he asked. “Where are you going, I said!”

  Slowly, I turned around to face him. What I saw didn’t reassure me. Not a tiny bit. His dark brown eyes didn’t reflect any kindness.

  Under other circumstances, I’d give him a very insolent answer, like: Yes, I speak English and Spanish. Did you know bilingual people are smarter than those who only speak one language?

  I suspected he wouldn’t react kindly to my ­cheekiness. Besides, I was tired of lying and running.

  Maybe it was my time to face whatever the future sent me, and when I got there, I’d deal with whatever it brought: foster home for me and my sisters, a life apart from each other. Maybe if they were super lucky, they’d be placed with a nice family like Maverick’s or Blessings’s, and they wouldn’t be hungry or alone anymore.

  With nothing to hide, I faced the officer with my head held high like I thought a princess might. I’d done nothing wrong.

  The officer’s mouth quivered in a smile that made me shudder. “Where did you get this scooter? A neighbor a street over complained of some Mexican girls trying to steal vegetables and fruit from the co-op garden. Is that you? Are you and your friends stealing?”

  Understanding fell on me like an anvil. It wasn’t a community garden then. It was a co-op, the kind people have to pay for before they can take produce from it. We never intended to steal anything, but suddenly I saw things from the garden lady’s perspective. We weren’t Mexican, though. We were born in Utah.

  “My friend let me ride his scooter,” I said in a small, quivery voice.

  The officer tsked and clicked his tongue as if I’d given the wrong answer. “I’ve been watching you all day. You either missed school or cut out of class right when the alarm went off. Did you have anything to do with that?”

  The mask that usually hid my true emotions slipped off my face. That was the only explanation for the guy’s expression. He smiled like he’d solved the crime of the century. “Aha! I knew you had something to do with that.”

  The officer stepped in my direction, and I raised my arms, I’m not sure why. Maybe to show him I wasn’t armed. Right then, I saw Maverick and Blessings running in our direction, waving their hands in the air and yelling, “Minnie! Minnie! Are you okay?”

  Maverick reached me first and hugged me so tight I had to make a superhuman effort not to start crying right then.

  “What took you so long?” he asked. “I thought a car had run you over or something.”

  Blessings stood a little behind us, eyeing the officer with suspicion.

  “So you were telling the truth about the scooter, then?” the officer’s voice was little nicer now that my friends were with me. He must know that the boys were from this rich neighborhood.

  “Of course she was telling the truth! What did you think?” Maverick exclaimed, outraged.

  Oh, my dear Maverick. So spoiled. He didn’t know when to shut his mouth and take it in silence.

  “Don’t talk back at me, kid,” the officer hollered, making Maverick flinch. “In any case, it’s late for kids your age to be out and about. How old are you, anyway? I’ll drive you guys to your homes and have a word with your moms. It’s always your kind making my life extra hard.”

  Our kind? What did he even mean?

  My mind was going a billion miles an hour trying to figure out what to say. I needed to get Maverick and Blessings out of this mess. If it weren’t for them, I would’ve fainted right then and there. How did I get myself into this situation? To go home in a police car would be the ultimate humiliation.

  Blessings reacted first, keeping his hands visible. “I was just helping Maverick look for Minerva. I don’t want to get in any trouble.”

  The officer was already putting the scooter in the cruiser’s trunk. “I want to make sure your moms know you’re driving around with no helmets on.”

  My brain shriveled out of clever comebacks. Blessings hadn’t done anything. Apparently, Maverick’s smart-alecky attitude went missing too because he didn’t say anything either.

  Without a word, I got into the car and sat on my hands. What could I say once we arrived at my house? What would the cop say when he saw it was dark and empty? Would we continue to Maverick’s and Blessings’s? What about after they were safe and sound with their families? I didn’t want to be last and be alone in the car with him.

  The guy had other ideas though. “I know you live on Chrysanthemum Way, but I haven’t figured out the house,” he said.

  Maverick and I exchanged a look of complete horror.

  What else did the cop know? How long had he been following me? The ride was short, of course. I hadn’t realized we were so close to my house or I would’ve made a run for it at as soon as I saw the lights.

  Ay, Minerva! You were doing a good job staying off the radar, and then you had to go and ruin it!

  “It’s okay, Minnie,” Maverick whispered. “It’ll be okay.”

  He knew what this meant. He knew my mom wasn’t home and then we would all be in so much trouble. There was nothing he could do to help me, though.

  Mr. Chang’s house was all lit up like there was a party. A stream of cars lined the street. I’d never seen even a single person visiting our landlord. Of course he had to have a party the night the police brought me home. I’d never live down this day.

  “Here we are,” I said, my voice choked with nerves.

  The officer got out of the car and opened my door. So far, he was being a gentleman. I couldn’t complain, but there was a dark, negative energy flowing from him that told me tonight wouldn’t end on a happy note.

  Maverick made as if to get out of the car, too.

  “Not too fast, amigo,” the cop said, stretching the word into an insult. “You and Big Eyes there stay put.”

  Blessing’s eyes were normal size. The comment was beyond inappropriate. W
hy did this man feel it was okay to disrespect us? But what could I do?

  I got out of the car and marched ahead, the officer following closely behind. The front door light was on, although I remembered clearly turning it off before we left for Maverick’s today.

  I should’ve stayed home all night.

  Nothing good came of disobeying.

  I’d be in so much trouble.

  “My mom might not be home until later,” I said, trying to come up with some excuse that would make my situation better. “She works late sometimes.”

  “How old are you? It’s against the law for a minor your age to be alone for more than four hours in a twenty-four-hour period. If she’s not home, then I’ll wait outside until she comes back. Or better yet, I’ll get my friends from Child and Family Services to come keep me company until she returns.”

  Okay, keep your mouth glued, Minerva. No more words.

  The guy had a smile on his face as if he knew there was no mother at my house, as if he knew I was lying.

  I stood under the porch light.

  The bowl for the Peques’ milk was empty. Glitter sparkled around it just like the stars. The mountains were magically beautiful with clouds swirling around them. Maybe they had some power to grant wishes. I wished with all my heart that the officer would forget why he was here and would go back to whatever police officers do when they’re not following kids or trying to catch vegetable thieves.

  He knocked on the door.

  One.

  Twice.

  Three times.

  Before he could knock a fourth time, and I could tell him there was no one home, the door opened.

  Mamá, looking pale like she hadn’t seen the sun in decades, stared at the police officer.

  I screamed.

  If I won a billion dollars in a lottery,

  If I won the student body elections,

  If I became the queen of Neverland,

  I wouldn’t have screamed a happier sound.

  To Mamá’s credit, she smiled. Kind of. Her eyes went crinkly in the corners and lost a little of that vicious glint she’d sent the officer.

  “Mamá!” I hugged her, and she staggered back.

  She wore an outfit I’d never seen before — jeans and a white blouse, all billowy and with curlicues embroidered on the hem. She smelled of a laundry detergent that wasn’t the kind we used. Her clothes were new to her, but they weren’t new, by any means. She was so cold, the cold seeped through the cotton fabric, and she shivered. But she was here, in the flesh.

  “Mamá, estoy feliz!” I only managed to say because I didn’t want to cry in front of the police officer.

  He wasn’t a happy camper. Maybe he got worried about what I said in Spanish. Lifting his hands, he said, “I don’t know what she’s telling you, but my only interest was to see to her safety and the boys’.”

  Maverick and Blessings watched us from the car. Blessings was totally oblivious to what Mamá’s ­presence meant. Maverick, though, gave me the thumbs up, like he meant, “Perfect timing!”

  Mamá turned businesslike and asked, “Was she in any trouble?” Her calm tone of voice invoked respect.

  The officer cleared his throat and looked down to his feet. I looked, too. His shoes were scuffed on the points.

  “Not exactly, ma’am. She was out riding a scooter without a helmet. We don’t want her to fall and hurt that pretty head now, do we?”

  We.

  Mamá laughed, but I knew that little laugh. She wasn’t amused. “Thank you for escorting my child to make sure she’s okay. Now, how may I help you?”

  I took Mamá’s hand in mine. It was like holding an icicle. I looked to see it was really her hand and noticed she wore a white plastic bracelet, like the kind she kept in her box of memories. She’d worn something like this when Avi was born.

  A hospital bracelet.

  Under the tinge of detergent I smelled on her clothes, there was a whiff of disinfectant and medicine. Paper bags with pharmacy labels on them ­covered the kitchen table.

  I had a million questions, but the officer kept saying tonterías to cover his backside.

  “This street is so dark. And did you know there was a drug house in the neighborhood not too long ago? Yes, even in this nice neighborhood! We can never be too careful. Some ex-customers still don’t want to understand it’s not here anymore.”

  Mamá let him blabber on, and he finally agreed to leave the boys at our house under the condition that they would call their parents to pick them up. He left the scooter by the curb and he drove away, the lights of his cruiser off.

  As soon as he was gone, Maverick said, “Mrs. Miranda, it’s totally my fault. Minnie said she had to stay home because you’d be back from work, but I so wanted her to come to my house, and then I convinced her to ride my scooter and she insisted she needed a helmet, but then I went to Blessings’s house and then I got distracted. And yeah, it’s totally my fault.” He was panting at the end, his freckles standing out against his face.

  Stupid boy. She hated being called Mrs. Miranda, and for people to call me Minnie. The fact that I’d been persuaded to ride a scooter (which was a lie) would be evidence enough to ground me for the rest of my life. But it was proof of how sick she felt that she didn’t say anything else; she didn’t complain or even look at me in that way of hers of saying, “Ya vas a ver. When your friends leave, you’ll see how mad I am at you.”

  Instead, Mamá brushed Maverick’s head in a way that gave me shivers. “You’re such a good friend. Thank you. Now, why don’t you call your parents to pick you up? And Minerva?” She emphasized my name, which told me just because she hadn’t protested didn’t mean she’d start calling me by a diminutive now. “Where are your sisters?”

  I cleared my throat and wrung my hands. Now I had it coming.

  There was no point in delaying the inevitable, so I went with the truth. “They’re at Maverick’s, Mamá. There’s a party there, and they were playing Barbies. I’ll go get them.”

  She sat on the sofa, straight-backed but shaking. I suspected that if she leaned back, she wouldn’t be able to leave her seat again, so I held her hand to let her know I’d get rid of my friends as fast as lightning, so she could stop pretending she was all right.

  But she pressed my hand. “Stay,” she said. “Maverick, can you call your parents and see if they could bring the girls when they come pick you up? The officer left, but I don’t put it beyond him to lurk around to catch you in a mischief of some sort.”

  Blessings and Maverick exchanged a look. Even they could tell she wasn’t well.

  “For sure,” Maverick said.

  We sat in silence. I had so many questions in my mind for my mom, I didn’t know where to start. Maverick and Blessings were whispering, and Mamá kept her eyes closed as if she were praying.

  “Are you okay, Mamá?” I asked. “I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

  It’d have to be sugarless because we had run out this morning and with the whole disturbance at school, I hadn’t been able to snatch a few packets from the lunchroom to bring home.

  She didn’t say anything, though. Her breathing was shallow and fast. I rushed to make her a tea, anything to make her feel better.

  After calling his mom on his cell phone, Maverick followed me to the kitchen. “Is your mom okay? She looks really sick.”

  Oh, Maverick. He wasn’t so clueless after all.

  “She’ll be fine,” I said, surprising myself with the calmness of my voice. “She just needs to rest. It must be her blood sugar. Sometimes it’s low.”

  I don’t know if Maverick believed me, but before he could say anything else, someone knocked on the door. I ran to open it, but the door flew open and pushed me out of the way. Kota ran into the house like a tornado.

  “Mamá!” she cried and threw herself onto o
ur mother like I would’ve wanted but wasn’t brave enough to do.

  My sister’s sobs broke my heart.

  Mamá, maybe sensing that Maverick’s parents were close behind, gently pushed Kota away, and in the sweetest voice I’d ever heard her use, she said, “Calm down, mi amor. After the company leaves, you can cry all you want.”

  Kota understood in an instant. Her tears seemed to run back into her eyes. They dried like this. She hiccupped once, but soon her breathing went back to normal. Her eyes though stayed swollen and her face splotchy.

  “Go wash your face in the bathroom and wait until I ask you to come out,” Mamá instructed.

  Maverick seemed to get cleverer by the second. He took in the whole situation and his face changed, like he understood what was really going on. He walked out to the front door in time to intercept his mom from coming into our house. Mamá struggled to get back on her feet, and she finally did in time to receive the visitors.

  Mrs. Sorensen carried a sleeping Avi in her arms. “Well, hello! So nice to finally meet you! My Maverick’s enchanted by your girls!”

  “Mom!” he exclaimed. “What are you even saying?”

  I avoided looking him in the eyes to save his ego. And mine.

  “Let’s go to the car, Blessings,” he said. “Let’s go, Mom. Mrs. Miranda just came home from work.”

  I cringed on Mamá’s behalf now. I knew what he was trying to do, but now Mamá looked like the kind of person that would go to work all day and leave her kids alone. Which she did, but no one would understand why.

  We didn’t need Maverick’s excuses. We could totally take care of ourselves. That’s exactly what we’d been doing since Papá walked out.

  Mrs. Sorensen shrugged. “I’m sorry, son. I forget how embarrassing moms can be sometimes.”

  She made a face like expecting Mamá would agree, but my poor mother swayed in place, and to disguise her dizziness, she held onto my shoulder. She pressed once, and I understood immediately what she wanted me to do.