Silent (26 page)

I couldn’t bring myself to respond, so I just nodded, hitching up my backpack and gesturing for Seb to follow as we headed down the street.

“Bye, Tío! Bye, Seb!” Star waved. “Bye-bye!” Her little hand kept flying back and forth until we rounded the corner and she was out of sight.

And then, at long last, Seb and I were alone.

This wasn’t exactly ideal circumstances, though. Despite all my brave words, I knew our prospects for a comfortable life anywhere in the near future were growing slim.

“Shit, Seb,” I muttered, trying and failing to keep the uncertainty from swallowing me whole. “I really thought we were gonna be able to stay there. I wouldn’t have sprung you otherwise. I’m sorry.”

I wasn’t sure if he’d heard me, because he was busy staring at a man pushing a corn cart across the street. The man stopped honking his little horn and yelling out “
elotes!
” to stare right back at him.

“Seb, quit it. Don’t look people in the eye.”

I could’ve smacked myself for my stupidity. There was a good chance the cops would be looking for us, especially since we were heading to my old neighborhood. They’d have to be pretty fucking observant to pick my brown face out of a crowd, but a white kid with blond hair in South Central was an odd enough sight to attract attention. He’d be like a neon sign to anyone looking for us.

“I think it’s time for the wig again.” I pulled him into an alley and dug it out of the backpack. Then I secured it on his head with the baseball cap, letting my fingers trace the side of his face and his jaw as I examined my work.

“I like your blond hair, but you can pull off the brown, too,” I told him. “Especially since your eye color is so dark.”

He batted his lashes.

Chuckling, I just barely resisted the urge to caress his face again. There was a whole lot more shit to worry about, but Seb’s almond eyes seemed to have some magical power that allowed me to postpone dealing with it for the time being.

“C’mon. We should get moving. Gotta find ourselves a place to stay before dark.”

Chapter 18: Home Sweet Home

Two hours later, we trudged past the 105 freeway. There wasn’t exactly a wrought iron sign announcing our location like there had been for Bel Air, but maybe the old bum crouching under the overpass served the same purpose. He was still right there in his flannel blanket, drinking out of a brown paper bag. It was almost as if he hadn’t moved since the last time I’d seen him.

“This is it,” I told Seb. “This is where I’m from. Not so glamorous, huh.”

Like he was just waking up, Seb lifted his eyes from the sidewalk and blinked slowly into the sunlight. He’d been staring at the ground for most of our trip, ever since I’d snapped at him about making eye contact with strangers. But now he looked curious about his surroundings again, and he swiveled his head in all directions.

I’d always thought there wasn’t much to see, but I could tell Seb was interested, especially by all the vendors on the street selling shaved ice and
fruta con limón y chile
. His eyes danced from one colorful cart to the next, taking in the reds and blues and greens that stood out against the black and white backdrop of the projects.

I thought about stopping to get him some, but I was too nervous to let anyone get a good look at my face.

Turning onto 111
^th
street, we headed for a gray apartment building. I stood on an overturned trashcan to jump the fence that surrounded it, almost ripping the crotch of my pants in the process. Of course, Seb made the leap in a much more graceful fashion, landing on both feet with perfect balance.

I shook my head at him, then climbed the outside stairs of the building and pounded on the door to apartment number five. “Yo! José! You home, man?”

The door swung open a few seconds later, revealing a hallway and living room stuffed with furniture, covered in more cheap porcelain figurines than it seemed possible to collect in a lifetime.

“Alex? Holy shit!” He clasped my hand and pulled me forward so that our chests bumped. “Where the fuck you been, man?”

“Fuck.” I shook my head. “It’s so much shit, I wouldn’t even know where to start. Can we come in?”

Thick brows drawn up in confusion, José passed his gaze back and forth between Seb and me. He’d lost weight, I realized, because his cheeks weren’t as round anymore and his collarbone was starting to jut out from beneath his white t-shirt.

“Who’s this fucker?” He pointed to Seb. “And why the fuck is he wearing a wig?”

“That’s Seb.” I pushed my way into the cluttered apartment without invitation. “He don’t talk.”

“Uh, okay.” José trotted after me as I sank down at his kitchen table.

I shoved a family of porcelain elephants aside so I could rest my elbows on the tabletop. “Look, man, have you seen my mom at all? You have any idea where she might be at?”

“Nah.” José pulled up a chair, knocking off a mangy white cat that was furiously scratching at fleas. “I ain’t seen her or Hector in like forever. Heard they left town. We all figured they was running from something, ’cause they left in a hurry.”

“Shit.”
But you already knew that
, I reminded myself, trying to dull the sharp sting of his words.

It didn’t really work.

“So what the fuck happened, man? Are you gonna tell me? Why’d the cops take you?”

I nudged the cat away from my leg before the little bloodsuckers it housed could decide to snack on me. “It wasn’t really the cops. It was a social worker. They put me in fucking foster care.”

José blew out a breath, making his cheeks puff up. He looked more like his old self that way. “Fuck, man. That fucking sucks.”

“Yeah. But we split, me and Seb. That’s why I’m trying to find my mom.”

“Yeah, I dunno.” José eyed Seb, who was standing perfectly still in the doorway, right where I’d left him. “Like I said, I haven’t seen her.”

“You think we could crash here tonight?” I asked hopefully, even though there was barely a square inch of free space in the porcelain hell, and I was sure I’d wake up with fleas. “Till I get an idea where she might be at?”

“Damn, man. I would, but you know how my mom is. She’s been on this crazy religious kick lately, ’cause she thinks I’m hanging out with the wrong crowd or some shit.” He gestured to a cabinet full of baby Jesus figurines. “And you know she always hated you.”

“Yeah.” Fuck. When would I catch a fucking break?

A fly buzzed past and José swatted it, sending it whirling into a roll of flypaper that hung from the ceiling. “And, well, she’s gonna be home soon.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, I might be going to this party Blanca’s gonna have on Friday. If you’re still in town, you should check it out.”

My lips twisted into a bitter smile. “Nah, man. Can’t really do that.”

In the silence that followed, it suddenly occurred to me that our friendship was over. Maybe it had never been that deep to start with—maybe because I never really let myself get close to anyone. But now that we didn’t go to the same school or the same parties or hang out around the same people…we had absolutely nothing in common.

Seb was my only friend.

“Well, we’re gonna get outta here. I gotta find some place for us to stay. Anyways, if anyone comes around asking about us…”

“Don’t worry, man. I never saw you.”

I rose from the table and headed toward Seb. “Cool. See ya, man.”

“See ya,” he responded, one hand already poised to close the door. “And good luck with shit.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

I didn’t really have a plan when we left José’s apartment. I just started walking, with Seb calmly following by my side, and somehow my feet took me straight to my own street. I pulled up in front of my house and stared at the dull beige exterior like I was studying the portal to another world. My life had taken so many strange turns since I’d last slept within those walls…it didn’t really feel like
home
anymore.

And as hard as I tried, I couldn’t quite bring to mind the memory of the last happy moments I’d spent there with my mother—not with any detail, anyhow. It was just a general blur of bleached blond hair and polished nails and smiles.

I was looking at the house, but not really seeing. So I didn’t notice the shadow moving behind the cheap white blinds until Seb tapped me on my shoulder and pointed.

“Shit, Seb!” I smacked his arm. “There’s someone home!” A flying leap took me over the fence, and I raced to the door to pound on it steadily. “Hello? Mamá? You home?”

But the stout woman in the greasy apron who answered was definitely not my mother.

“Jes?”

“Oh.” I stumbled back a step, colliding with Seb. “Oh, I was looking…I’m here waiting for my mom, ’cause this is my house…well, it
was
my house, and I was waiting here to see if she—”

The lady shook her head. “I sorry. My English no so good.”

“Oh.” My shoulders slumped in defeat. “Well, that sucks… ’cause… uh…
mi español
…
no es tan bueno tampoco
.”

She smiled. “What you…need?”

I kicked at some dirt by my foot, staring down at my once-white sneakers. They were a definite gray, now. “Um…my mom lived here.
Mi mamá…vivía aquí
.”

“Ah.” She moved forward to peer into my face. “Ah
, sí, sí. El niño de las fotos!
”

The boy from the photographs.
What photographs?

“
Pasen, pasen.
” She eagerly waved Seb and me in.

“Oh, um, okay.
Gracias
.”

As soon as we were inside, my mouth fell open and shock clamped down on my muscles, leaving me paralyzed.

What the fuck had happened to my house?

Some of the ugly bits of broken wall had been patched and repainted, leaving no scars behind of the vicious blows that had caused them. The floor was still the same old chipped linoleum, but it was practically spotless. The table was the same, too, except it was covered with a lace tablecloth and several lace doilies. A large recliner had joined our old couch, and both were wrapped in white sheets with tiny green leaves, so that no one could see the rips and tears beneath.

And right by the front door, where my head had once banged pieces of drywall away, hung a painting of Jesus.

“Um…” I gulped in some warm air, tasting the meat and spices that were cooking on the stove. “My mom…have you…”

“
Vienen por sus cosas
?” She asked over her shoulder as she hurried to the kitchen and lowered the heat on the pan.

“No, I don’t want any of the things…
estoy buscando a mi mamá
.”

She turned to me and wiped her hands on her apron. “
No sabes donde está tu mamá?
”

“No. I don’t know where she is. We lived here…in this house…”

My voice trembled as I spoke, and I cut myself off mid-sentence to avoid further humiliation. There was no denying now that our journey to Watts had been completely pointless. My mother didn’t live here anymore. She was long gone.

The woman came around the table to look at me, her eyes narrowed and her brows tightly knit as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She was a good five inches shorter than me, and her skin was darker than mine. Grayed hairs twisted in and around thick black ones in a loose bun at the back of her head.

“
Se fue sin decirte dónde
?”

“Yeah.” I rubbed at my eyes, like that might suddenly make this alternate reality of my home fade away and leave the old one in its wake. “They just didn’t say where they were gonna go.”

“
Bueno…lo siento. Es que estamos rentando, y no me dijeron nada sobre la gente que vivía aquí antes
.”

Still rattled, it took me a few seconds to process that she was basically telling me she was just a renter and knew nothing.

“Oh. Yeah. Okay. We’ll…we’ll get out of your way, then.”

She stopped me with a gentle hand on my forearm. “
Tienen hambre?
You have…hungry?”

Food was the last thing on my mind, but I glanced over at Seb and wondered if one Pop-Tart was enough of a meal for him to last the day on.

“
Porque tengo tamales que ya están hechos
,” she continued. “You like? Tamales?”

Once, a very, very long time ago, my mother had made tamales. If I closed my eyes I could almost picture the afternoon—Mimi and I laughing and hovering around her hips, bits of gooey
masa
stuck to our hands and clothing. But it had only been that once, because after that she’d decided it was way too much trouble to go through when you could just buy them from the lady who sold them on the corner.

I wondered if Mimi ever made tamales with Star. Probably not.

“Um, yeah.” I sighed. “We could eat, right Seb?”

No answer.

The lady smiled and pointed to the chairs at the table. Seb and I waited in silence as she pulled a couple of tamales out of the fridge and popped them in the microwave.

“
Mami, estamos aquí!
” A little boy’s voice rang out. A few seconds later, a chubby kid wearing the navy pants and white polo uniform of the local elementary school stomped into the house, followed by a thinner girl with waist-length straight black hair.

“
Tienen hambre, mis amores
?” the woman asked her children as each one came and gave her a hug.

The girl peeked at me nervously, grabbing her hair and twisting it into a knot. She was dark, like her mother—a lot darker than Star—but she had the same kind of straight nose, strong cheekbones and full lashes that Star did. I wondered if Star would look like her when she got a little older.

She was much more timid than Star, though, because she pulled on her mother’s apron until the woman bent over and listened to her whispering. When she was done, she ran off down the hallway, and I didn’t think she had any plans to come back.

The little boy, on the other hand, was completely undisturbed and immediately joined us at the table.