“I—I mean, I don’t know,” I stammered. “My parents are kind of strict.” That was not a lie! Translation: my parents had never let me go to someone’s house besides family or family friends that they’d known for years.
“So, they won’t let you go to a friend’s house? That’s weird.” Holly instantly grimaced like she regretted what she’d said. “Sorry. It’s just that, going to your friend’s house is kind of, I don’t know…”
“Normal?”
“Yeah.” Holly shrugged.
I picked up my lunch tray. Normal? What was normal? I bet it didn’t involve worrying about whether Border Patrol was going to catch your dad.
I faced Holly. “You’d think. But okay, thanks. I’ll ask.” Then it dawned on brilliant me. I didn’t have to ask! I’d just let Mom think I was going to art club like any other day. Yes!
But the more I thought about it, the more anxious I got. What if I missed the late bus home? So just in case, I decided I should tell Mom about going to Holly’s. But, of course, of all days, I’d flippin’ left my phone at home. I KNOW. So, during study hall I asked for a pass to the nurse, said I had a headache. No lie—except it wasn’t the type an aspirin would help. Then the nurse told me, as I had hoped, that I needed to call my mother to get permission to take aspirin. When my mother picked up, I spoke in Spanish for the whole call. Times like these, I really loved being bilingual.
“Liliana? What’s wrong? What happened? Where are you?” That’s Mom. Instantly hysterical.
“Fine. Nothing. School. I left my phone at home, so I’m calling you from the nurse’s office.”
“Oh.” Mom paused. “So what’s the matter? Are you sick?”
I quickly reassured her that there was nothing wrong.
“Nothing? You called for nothing? What is it, Liliana? I’m late.”
In the background I could hear her scrambling—the faucet running, the microwave beeping. She was probably getting ready for another interview. All of a sudden she’s been trying to get work as a housekeeper—said it paid more. And now I understood why, and why it was so difficult for her to get a job. Probably everyone wanted to see papers! How much money did Dad even need anyway? I bet a lot. And, even with Tía and Tío there now, Mom was still losing it. Just yesterday I found my sock drawer rearranged by color—by color.
“Well, my new friend here, this girl Holly? She and her family are my host family. I told you about the METCO host families. So, she’s really nice. She has red hair. Anyway, Holly asked if I could come over to her house to study for a big test in bio we have next Monday, and you know I really want to make a good impression on my new teachers here, and this test is going to suck. I mean, it’s going to be really hard, so everyone is studying extra for it. Holly’s mom can drive me back to the school so I can catch the late bus to Boston. I’ll be home by seven. So can I go?”
“Fine.”
“Really?”
“I have to go, mija. Ahorita.”
“Okay.” My mother had said fine! What universe was I in?
“Wait!” she yelled just as I was about to hang up. The nurse was giving me a look like, You know, I haven’t heard the word “aspirina” once during your entire conversation.
“Yeah?”
“Call back right away and leave the girl’s name and address and phone number on my voice mail. Just in case. I won’t pick up.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t forget.”
“I won’t. Good luck.”
“Love you.”
“You too.” I hung up.
I thanked the nurse, told her I no longer needed aspirin, and returned to study hall, where I couldn’t focus on my math homework. The numbers all translated to money, which got me thinking about how Tía Laura and Tío R. had flown all the way to Boston to collect cash to bring it all the way back down to Guatemala for Dad, I guess because wiring the money was too dangerous. But the plane tickets alone had to be mad expensive, so how much did a coyote cost? Couldn’t exactly pay that with a credit card, hello. And money was the easier part! I mean, Dad would be trusting his life to a stranger—even if that person was the best smuggler around—with his actual life. And, actually, how far away was Guatemala from the US border? I didn’t even know! And all of a sudden I had to know. I closed my math book and again asked for a pass before heading to the library.
On my way there I passed the METCO office and overheard two girls laughing. I slowed down, peeked inside without trying to be mad obvious. They were eating Halloween candy from a bowl in the shape of a pumpkin. I recognized one as Ivy. But the other part of me was on a mission. Guatemala.
Score. One of the library computers was free. I sat down and Googled “Guatemala.” Up came:
a Wikipedia article and map
photos of volcanoes
news articles about people looking for disappeared family members
a recipe for tamales
“I love tamales!” I yelped. The librarian gave me a disapproving look. “Sorry.… Charley horse,” I said, as if that would explain my tamale outburst. I clicked on the map. Dad was there. Huh. I knew Dad had come to the US when he was eighteen, but I never thought about how he’d gotten into the US to begin with. Mom had come to Boston from El Salvador two years after him. They’d met at a party, and that was that. I kept scrolling. Countries that bordered Guatemala: Mexico, Belize, El Salvador, and Honduras. Next I read some quick facts:
home to volcanoes, rain forests, and ancient Mayan sites
capital is Guatemala City and boasts lots of museums
the old capital, Antigua Guatemala, features preserved Spanish colonial buildings
Lake Atitlán, formed in a massive volcanic crater, is a major tourist attraction
Guatemala is roughly the size of Louisiana
Jeez, I hadn’t known any of this. I wish I’d asked more questions about Guatemala. I had sort of wondered why Mom and Dad never took us there, you know, to visit, especially since we had tons of relatives and everything was less expensive. (Mom and Dad were always comparing US prices to things “back home.”)
I clicked on “Images,” and up came dozens and dozens of photos of coffee fields, villages, women wearing traditional dresses and skirts made of a zillion different colors, kids as young as my brothers carrying big baskets of vegetables on their heads, a blond lady overlooking a huge lake while meditating on a yoga mat, a giant cross in front of a giant church, a Mayan ruin called Tikal, skyscrapers beside an old fountain, a couple getting married on a cobblestone street in Antigua with plump clouds and pink skies behind them, and a rug on a street made entirely of colored sawdust! I couldn’t stop scrolling. Why hadn’t Dad ever told me about any of this stuff? Once in a while he went all nostalgic—telling us how the chicken tasted much better there and how people looked you in the eye more—but then he’d go back to doing whatever he was doing. Or maybe… maybe it was that I never asked him to tell me more? Maybe he didn’t think I was interested? Dad—I’m interested!
Suddenly I felt the presence of the librarian behind me. “Can I help you search for something?” she asked. Her tone reminded me of those annoying salespeople who followed me down the aisles, probably thinking I was going to steal something.