A Rumbero at the front of the group has stopped. This is where they will stay.
“Why here?” I ask.
Tomasa smiles. “Why not? Tonight we greet the supermoon from Orchard.”
I’ve seen the moon many times. When you break night, you develop an intimate relationship with the large star. I felt reassured breaking night would go well with a full moon guiding our way. Since we’ve arrived, the Rumberos have been waxing on about the supermoon. The occasion is to be marked. Another reason for the new location. A shift is occurring. They are preparing for a change. I assume the supermoon is connected to this.
“Here you go.” Truck hands me a shovel. I start to dig. Truck finds another shovel and joins me. The tents will be up soon.
“This is exhausting. I miss hanging at the Luna Club. I miss hot baths. I miss wrestling,” Truck says.
“I know this might be hard for you to believe, but I don’t.”
“Liar. There are things you miss.”
She’s right. I miss the swagger. The moment when my embedded rank passes muster and there is a sound of a bell proving I belong. My thoughts also turn to Books.
Tomasa inspects our holes. She approves after a few modifications.
“Tell me. Why are the Rumberos allowed to continue?” I ask. “It’s just a matter of time before Déesse decides to crack the whip.”
“If she ends us, the city will revolt,” Tomasa says. “You can only push people so far before they push back. The Rumberos aren’t a threat because she doesn’t see the numbers. She thinks all we do here is dance and play the congas. Besides, what she’s afraid of is already happening. People are leaving Mega City because of her. You can’t be worshipped when there is no one around to adore you.”
“I guess you are right.”
“You think because she is up in that building that she is larger than life. The truth is, I knew her before she became the great Déesse,” says Tomasa. “There were five who helped rebuild Mega. Of the five, one was Déesse’s father. Mega hasn’t always been a man-haters club. This city was open to different types of love. Her father believed, even celebrated it.”
“Graciela,” I say.
“Graciela was beloved. And when she became too beloved, she had to go. So did Déesse’s father,” Tomasa says. She thrusts another pole in the dirt. “Is Graciela singing? She wouldn’t here. There was too much pain.”
“Yes, she is.”
“She truly has a gift.”
She does.
“Truck. Can you help the pair over there?” Tomasa says. “They don’t know what they are doing.”
Truck takes her shovel and slowly walks over. As much as she says she misses her old life, Truck enjoys the stillness of being with the Rumberos. For once she is forced to be calm. Even though she gripes about the relentless music, I’ve seen her tapping her boots to the rhythm.
There is one thing I keep thinking about. I find the courage to ask.
“Your granddaughter told me I was going to die,” I say. “That the LMCs would cease to exist.”
“Yes, she did. You didn’t want to hear that, did you?” She laughs. “Can’t ignore a vessel.”
“Well, she was wrong. I’m here.”
“Oh? The LMCs are not the same crew that left here ten days ago. You are not the same.”
She is right. Too much has happened. What if I go back? If I don’t have a dream, then what do I have to strive toward?
“The visions Marisol has are messages. They are seeds. You take the seed and you find a place where there is room for it to be nourished,” she says. “Rethink your life.”
We continue placing the poles. To open the tent, I need Tomasa’s help. We spread the sheet and secure it with rope.
“I’m curious to see what will happen next. Aren’t you excited? I am,” she says. “A rebirth. Chief Rocka, how long before you are only Nalah? Not long, I think. Not long at all.”
We are done. There is another tent to be built.
When do I return to being Nalah? Chief Rocka and Nalah aren’t interchangeable. They are both sides of me. The innocence and the violence. To let one go is to let go of a part of me. Perhaps I can reenvision a person who is more than just a label or a nickname christened by another.
I’ve never once been to the beach. Manos Dura would have loved it here. So would have Mami. While the others continue to work, I walk toward the large body of water. The closer I get to the shoreline, the finer the sand becomes.
The coldness of the ocean is jolting. Sunlight reflects off the water in a bright and sparkling display. The vastness of the shimmering sea seems to never end. I’ve avoided my own reflection all my life. There was no point in seeing how I looked. My appearance never helped in a throwdown. I equated beauty with weakness.
I see traces of my mother in the reflection. Before the sueños took hold, she was beautiful. She had pronounced cheekbones. Her smile was crooked just like Yamaris and it radiated warmth. My life with her wasn’t always full of despair. I remember.
I keep thinking of my sister and what Graciela said to me. How she is both parts protector and friend. Hard and soft. Most of my life consisted of being rocklike, of never permitting anyone to touch me in any way. Is it possible to be both?
There are no black eyes or scratches on my face. For once I’m clean and healthy. My skin even has a glow from the sun. This is the first time I am allowing myself to see parts of my mother in my profile. The cheekbones. The eyes. I can’t deny it. I look just like her. If I let go a little, perhaps I can discover the beauty within me.
The waves continue to oscillate. My reflection in the water ripples and moves.
CHAPTER 30
BUFFALO GALS GO
Déesse steps out on the balcony, looking glorious as ever. She is impressive with her long, flowing hair. She manages to take my breath away even now. For a split second I can recall exactly why I wanted to be with her. How much I wished my plans had gone my way. Now that I stand with the other toilers in the back of the courtyard, I have a very different view.
“My beautiful children! If you hear me, let me know. If you feel me, scream it to the sky. All who hear me, far and wide, know that we are in this world for one thing, to make this life right. When everything around us was being destroyed by those lost in their blind ambition, we didn’t cry. We didn’t ask, ‘why?’ No, children, we got up and got to work.”
Déesse always begins her speeches the same way. I used to live for this moment. Her words fueled me when I entered the throwdowns.
When the applause dies down, she continues.
“I need everyone to pay close attention. There are those who do not want us to succeed.”
The newsletter from the Towers made its rounds yesterday in the tents. The list of infractions was pretty elaborate. Laughable even. She is also creating a new narrative hinted at in the newsletter. Déesse has a gift. I can give her that much.
“We’ve seen with our own eyes how the degenerates in Cemi Territory live. It’s important we secure our borders,” she says. “Training our young people to fight is vital. I’m here to tell you the rumors are true. The Ashé Ryders want to destroy Mega. We can’t allow it.”
Standing beside her are Santo and Sule. Sule stands a bit straighter. There is a slight difference in her stature. It could just be me searching. Sule did manage to fumble the microphone when she addressed the crowd. There is more to Sule than I could have ever imagined.
Truck nudges me. “There she is.” I spot her. Nena stands in her buffalo stance. Hard face. No longer a baby soldier. She’s a full-fledged fighter. She looks very comfortable.
There are no colors on us. No red and gold, nor the Rumberos blue. We left them behind with our hosts. Four weeks of hiding. It felt even longer. I wanted to make sure Truck’s wounds were healed even though the stitches were taken out a couple of weeks ago. Another scar to add to the many on her body.
The time we spent with the Rumberos wasn’t altogether a smoot
h ride. Sometimes Truck and I would get caught up in plans on how to destroy the Towers. Anger can make a person irrational. Other times I wanted to revert right back to begging. If only Santo would listen to me, then surely he would change his mind. I did none of those things. Tomasa’s rants in her spiritual bachata language would get on my nerves. I don’t understand most of it. At least what she says doesn’t frighten me as much.
The sun slowly slides down behind the Towers. Smiley cozies up to Shi. She’s on stealth mode. We don’t want to attract any attention.
“I’m excited to welcome to the fold Nena,” Déesse says. “She’s proven to be instrumental in protecting Mega City. You’re going to be seeing a lot of her. Our first job is to get our training camps in order. We will need every soldier. We take the fight to the Ashé Ryders.”
There it is. The big news Déesse mentioned in the newsletter. She is going to go after the Ashé Ryders. How will they defend themselves? The large stockroom filled with tronics is worthless if they are not going to use them. I can’t find myself following the Ashé Ryders’ decree of nonviolence. When Déesse’s soldiers arrive at Los Bohios, will the Ryders simply give up? They must defend themselves.
Everyone in the courtyard cheers except for a single toiler. He yells to Déesse, complains about sleeping in the cold tunnels. The apartments in the Towers look pretty toasty. Back where I stand, those around me are not adding to the adulations. Instead, there is anger. Snide remarks about Déesse. Crude jokes. Funny the things you miss when you are trying to be a good Mega City soldier.
“We built Mega together,” Déesse continues. “Together we can do anything.”
Nena has a smug look on her face. A slight envious twinge rises in me. Nena stands in my spot. She made it. Déesse introduces the crews battling in the throwdown. There’s no point in staying.
“Let’s bounce.”
Truck alerts Smiley and Shi.
“How long do you think Nena will last?” Truck asks.
“She’s got more lives than most of us,” I say. “The person she needs to pay attention to, though, is Sule.”
Truck laughs at this. “Yeah, Sule and me. When she least expects it.”
I pull up my hoodie and dig my hands into my pockets. We keep our heads down. No eye contact, not as before. No rage face. Blend in with the rest of the toilers. That’s how we roll in Mega City now. We know how they handle those who betray them. Déesse and her supporters make them disappear or feed them sueños until they can’t differentiate day from night. I loved being in people’s mugs. Oh well, things change.
There’s one more place to hit before we leave.
The Luna Club is dead except for a couple of twinkling lights left on the open sign in the front. I circle toward the back of the club. There’s no need to freak Doña out. She must be already hysterical over many other things. As expected, Books waits for me. He has his uniform on. I wonder how long he will continue to work here before it becomes pointless.
The girls give us privacy.
“Did you enjoy the spectacle?” Books asks.
“It’s definitely different when you go as a regular toiler,” I say. “Interesting, I guess. So how long you think you will last here?”
“Not long. Things are brewing. I’m staying on top of any sudden moves.” He pushes his glasses. “Aren’t you doing the same?”
I nod.
“I wanted to thank you for what you did for Truck. I can never repay you,” I say. “I have only this.”
I dig in my pocket and hand him the azabache. “People say it can protect the wearer from harm.”
He looks at the charm and smiles. “Who are these people you are referring to?” he teases.
I turn to leave. Books reaches for me. “I’ll be right back. Five minutes,” he says.
Truck throws me an impatient stare. Breaking night is soon approaching, and we have a lot of ground to cover.
He returns and hands me a book. It’s the one he would read when I came to visit. The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.
“This is yours,” Books says.
I shake my head. “I don’t know how much reading I’ll be doing in the future.”
“Don’t you want to know how it ends?” His smile is genuine. It doesn’t seem syrupy or fake. It is stripped of papi chulo pose. Real.
I thank him for the book and place it in my backpack. I’m not sure if I’ll see Books again. Tomasa told me people who are meant to be by your side will appear again and again. There are no coincidences.
“Maybe the next time I see you you’ll tell me your real name,” I say before following my crew.
“Sure, Chief Rocka. Be safe.”
“My name is Nalah,” I say, and run to join the others.
• • •
A sudden chill from sleeping on the floor wakes me. Not wanting to disturb anyone, I quietly walk outside.
To avoid the Muñeca Locas, we decided to take a longer route. Shi found us a place where we can squat for a day or two. A run-down building with a couple of families on the top floors. We traded a few food pellets so they wouldn’t call us out.
There’s so much to do. Déesse’s soldiers will be heading this way. We need to warn the Ashé Ryders. We also have to convince the Gurl Gunnas to work against Déesse. I haven’t figured that part out yet. Will there ever be a moment when sleep is no longer a struggle? When will I feel safe?
While we were with the Rumberos, the LMCs each took time to reimagine our future. We shared our visions with each other. Smiley and Shi decided they didn’t want to follow us. They want to join the couple we met a while back and try to carve a different kind of life on their own. No more crews for them. It’s not to say they won’t join in on the fight if we need them. They just want to explore other possibilities for what a home can be.
Truck and I are headed back to the Ashé Ryders. I don’t know what to expect. It’s hard for me to let go of this feeling that I’m returning as a punk. A failure. I brush it off. Pride will get me iced. The LMCs aren’t dead. The crew is just evolving. Only time will tell what the future holds for us.
“You up?” says Truck. She chopped her hair off while we were with the Rumberos. Now her face is a full dark moon. I couldn’t believe when she walked out of the tent. She held her brown twisted locks in her hands as if they were her babies. Then she threw them in a fire pit.
“I’m waiting for the sun.”
“Why?” she asks, annoyed.
After a few minutes she drops to the ground and sits next to me.
Zentrica and the Ashé Ryders can try to do their thing. I don’t know if the Ryders have the answers. I don’t know if anyone does. Change doesn’t come overnight. It’s a slow build. Mega City is my home, and I intend to take it back. Maybe with the Ryders, or maybe we need to start anew elsewhere. I’m just glad my sister Truck sticks right by my side.
“It’s cold,” Truck says. “Let’s go back inside.”
“Wait for a few more minutes,” I say. “Why are you so impatient? Just wait.”
Truck makes a smacking noise with her lips. She stays. I knew she would.
We watch the sky transform from dark inky blue to a slight rose color. The hues we see are so intense. Before, I would never stop to watch day break. Instead I would hole up in a boydega or in a tunnel, eager to sleep off the night’s activities. This incredible sight, the transforming sky, will be my guide.
It’s slow, this heavenly movement. We huddle in closer and wait for the day to finally break.
Acknowledgments
Dealing In Dreams owes so much to my brilliant editor Zareen Jaffery. While I drowned in themes that seemed too big in scope, Zareen always nudged me to dig deeper. Thank you, and to everyone at Simon & Schuster, including the art department for once again finding the perfect artist, Aster Hung, in creating such a beautiful cover.
Thanks to my agent, Eddie Schneider, for always answering my questions and quelling my doubts. Gratitude also goes to Kima Jones at Jack Jones Li
terary Arts for going above and beyond in getting the word out for this novel.
This story was first workshopped in VONA with author Tananarive Due in her speculative literature class. It also got much love at Clarion with author Christopher Barzak. I love my 2015 Clarion family, with a special shoutout to Vanessa for reading an early draft.
Sisters are at the heart of this story and I so dearly love my sister Annabel. I’m also here for my other hermanas: Ritzy P, Lady Imix, Aditi, Jean, Brandy, and Isabel. I also can’t do this without my family—David, Bella, and Coco—and my forever Bronx Puerto Rican crew.
This story is for all the young ones who wonder where they stand in this world. I hope they find strength in their buffalo stance.
About the Author
Author photo © Vanessa Acosta
Lilliam Rivera is the author of the young adult novel The Education of Margot Sanchez. A 2016 Pushcart Prize winner and a 2015 Clarion graduate, she has published works in Elle, Lenny Letter, The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, and the Los Angeles Times, among others. Lilliam lives in Los Angeles. Visit her at LilliamRivera.com.
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