“Psh, how’m I not gonna remember? I’s just screwing with you, bro!” said Raul, smiling. “Whatcha doing here, all by yourself?”
Hector shrugged, wondering whether to tell him, whether to dump on that old drunk friend the whole harrowing story of the last few hours. He looked at Raul, saw the young man squinting through a haze of alcohol, and he knew for certain that he would never tell anyone that he had a gun in his pocket, much less what he planned to do with it.
Unable again to get rid of the thing, Hector’s fate was sealed.
“It’s Christmas, bro! Let’s celebrate!” said Raul. “Nothing bad happens on Christmas!”
Raul put his arm around Hector and pushed him toward the street.
THE BAG FULL of tadpoles was in the middle of the cooking table. Manuela occasionally pushed her finger against the transparent barrier and felt the weak body of one of the polliwogs bang into it. Maria looked at the bag, tears streaming from her eyes. David had laid his cheek on the surface of the table and was sleepily watching as the movements of the tadpoles got slower and slower.
“What do we do?” asked David, raising his head. His cheek bore the impression of the wood grain.
“We keep waiting?” asked Manuela.
“I . . .” Maria began to say, when the door swung open.
Hector stood in the doorway, a bottle of soda in his hand. He looked at them, smiling.
“Let’s celebrate! It’s Christmas!” he told his siblings.
“I’m hungry,” said David. “Did you bring something to eat?”
“No, but I brought a drink,” Hector said, setting the bottle next to the bag of tadpoles. “What’s that?”
“Tadpoles. Are they safe to eat?” asked Manuela.
“Are we going to eat tadpoles on Christmas?” Hector laughed.
“They’re safe to eat, right?” asked David, looking hopefully at his older brother.
Hector looked at his siblings and suddenly noticed Maria’s tears.
“What’s wrong with you?” he grunted.
Maria simply lifted the bag in the air.
“Is there nothing else to eat?” she asked.
Hector shook his head and she threw herself on the bed. The table felt very close to his thigh.
“We’re going to eat them,” announced Hector, pressing his leg against the table so that the metal dug into his flesh. “Better raw than cooked. They’d probably fall apart if we cooked them. Line up!”
The three little ones looked at one another, intrigued, and put Manuela first. Hector opened the bag and emptied the contents into a bowl. Feeling the change in pressure, the tadpoles seemed to revive and waved their tails in a frenzy. With a ladle, Hector served a portion in a cup and offered it to Manuela. She hesitated to take it.
“At least rinse them and change the water,” Maria suggested, getting up from the bed, still weeping silently.
Hector nodded, smiling. Once he had them in clear water, the creatures seemed less repulsive. He again served a portion in a cup and, looking into his little sister’s eyes, handed it to her. Manuela took it with distrust.
“Can I have soda with it?” she asked.
Hector served her a squirt of soda that mixed with the water and stung the skin of the tadpoles, who squirmed frantically in the new world of bubbles.
“Don’t smell it,” Robert advised, nudging her from behind. He wanted the ordeal to be over as soon as possible.
Manuela pinched her nose, as if preparing to jump into a pool, then drank the water, swallowing all those slimy creatures. Terrified, she screamed and ran to find her drawer pulled out from under the bed, holding her belly. The others looked at her, smiling.
“Gross?”
“I don’t know,” said the girl. “I didn’t notice. But they keep moving in my belly!”
She curled up in the little drawer. Although her legs no longer fit, she tried to squeeze inside.
“Now you,” Hector said to David. Looking at the younger boy’s hungry face, he handed him a cup with his portion of tadpoles. David pinched his nostrils and drank the contents without a word. He retched a little, but managed to hold it down as he went to lie down on the bed.
“What do you think?” Hector asked with glee in his eyes. “Any good?”
“I don’t know, but I’m not hungry anymore,” David confessed.
Robert took his serving and drank it wordlessly too.
“Not so bad,” he said, handing the cup back to Hector.
“Now you,” the oldest boy told Maria.
“No, I’m not drinking that crap,” she declared.
“All of us,” Hector growled authoritatively. “Together in everything!”
He handed her a full cup. The girl drank it without looking and, like the others, rushed to the bed.
“Your turn, Hector,” Maria said pointedly.
“Yes,” said Hector dryly. “I’m the last one. Anybody want soda?”
No one answered.
Hector poured himself a cup of tadpoles with soda and swallowed it, taking care not to chew.
“Ugh, that’s disgusting!” he said, and lay down next to Maria, who had her face in her hands.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked again, softly, as soon as he could forget the rotten taste left in his mouth.
Maria lifted her tear-streaked face and looked at her older brother. Motioning him closer with her finger, she whispered something in his ear.
Hector pulled away from his sister. She felt he was seeing her for the first time in her life. It was frightening, the way his eyes widened. A barely constrained groan, almost a whistle, escaped his lips, and without taking his eyes off her, he stood up and backed away toward the door.
Maria sat up in bed, watching the door close. She squeezed her eyes, desperate to stop the flow of tears. She wondered how she could pause whatever mechanism had unleashed them. She wanted to hold them in forever.
Then she heard a noise. At first it seemed the croaking of a small frog, but then it became the repulsive sound of someone retching. She opened her eyes and saw that David wasn’t in the room. Looking out the window, Maria saw him running through the courtyard, stooped over. He reached the laundry area and vomited into the drain on the floor. When he had expelled the last tadpole, he rinsed his mouth and went back to bed, trembling.
“Coward!” Robert grunted. He’d followed his older sister to the window and seen. “You made us swallow that shit, and then you go and throw it up.”
“I didn’t mean it! I wasn’t trying to throw up,” David groaned, apologetic.
“Yeah, sure. Didn’t mean it,” Maria said bitterly. “You knew. What you wanted was to kill us all.”
David opened his eyes and gasped, horrified at what his sister was saying. Bursting into tears, he scrambled under the bed, squeezing to the very back, behind boxes of clothes, where not even the most persistent sunbeam could reach him, where not even the most cunning lightning could illuminate his face. He curled into a ball in that dark nest, closed his eyes, put a wad of chewed paper in each ear, and made a wish:
Let no one ever see me again.
WHEN HE COULD control the shuddering that had seized his body, Hector could feel the slimy touch of the tadpoles in his mouth again. He checked to make sure the revolver was still in his pocket. As he held it in his hand, he guessed it must be midnight because the fireworks had turned the night sky over Bogotá into a conflagration of explosions.
It was impossible to ignore the holy celebration.
He would go in the same order as the tadpoles. Putting his finger on the trigger, he begged forgiveness once more for what he could no longer stop doing.
Five explosions without a single scream blended softly with the bursts of gunpowder that rained from the sky in a brilliant greeting for the Son of God.
T WAS THE FIRST TIME he’d touched me with any affection. I was petrified. We were sitting by the ditch, wearing T-shirts and shorts. He ran the backs of his fingers along my forearm. I go
t goose bumps all over. That boy had the power to make my heart gallop a thousand miles an hour. He ran his fingers down my arm again and smiled at me. Although the sun was out and everything glowed, his smile was like a door leading into the light.
I felt the tadpole squirming between my fingers. Its transparent tail sparkled with the sun. The day was hot, and we were together. I had trained and was sure I could swallow that tadpole, if that was what he wanted.
“No,” he said and let go of my hand. “If you keep the tadpoles in your belly, you die. It happens to everybody, except me.”
I stared at him, waiting for him to tell me more, to relieve the suspense I felt, but more than anything wanting him to brush his fingers against my arm again so I could feel the warmth of his touch.
“They told you I’m immortal, right?”
I nodded. There was no point in lying about something we all knew. Besides, I figured whatever united us at that moment was so strong nothing could undo it.
“It’s true. The bullets didn’t do anything to me. But all my brothers and sisters died,” he said, his voice clenching in his throat. I looked at him carefully.
“I was saved because I threw the tadpoles up,” he continued, struggling to say the words, his eyes still locked on mine. “Don’t eat tadpoles, Nina, if you don’t want to die.”
I realized that his brown eyes had turned slightly green. Letting go of the slimy thing squirming in my palm, I smiled at him.
I understood. I was the one who had to touch him. Reaching out, I ran my fingertips down his cheek. A thick tear followed the path of my touch.
“I don’t want to be immortal. And I don’t wish I would die anymore. I just want to be a normal boy,” David said in a sobbing rush. With a quick movement he leaned forward and pulled up the bucket where he kept his tadpoles, pouring them back into the water of the ditch.
The creatures quickly disappeared into the shadows and slimy depths. I touched his cheek again and he took my hand in his.
“We should’ve planted flowers,” he said. “Eating flowers doesn’t hurt you.”
He stood without letting go of my hand. I followed him almost without noticing my own body. It was like being pulled up by his smile.
We stood there, looking at each other for a second. Silvery gleams danced upon his face. I couldn’t tell whether it was sunlight reflecting off the water or the happiness I felt. It didn’t matter. There were also gleams on my face, and he stared at them too, but I soon realized they were tears.
I was crying for joy.
He took my hands, his lips parting as if to say something, but he closed his mouth without uttering a word.
Then I understood what he had meant to tell me, and I nodded.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Francisco Montaña Ibáñez is an award-winning author for children and a professor at the National University of Colombia (IIE). The Immortal Boy is his first book translated into English.
ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR
David Bowles is a Mexican American author and translator from South Texas. Among his multiple award-winning books are Feathered Serpent, Dark Heart of Sky: Myths of Mexico and They Call Me Güero: A Border Kid’s Poems; he is also the translator of The Sea-Ringed World: Sacred Stories of the Americas, published by Levine Querido. In 2017, David was inducted into the Texas Institute of Letters.
SOME NOTES ON THIS BOOK’S PRODUCTION
The art for the jacket and case was created digitally by Filip Peraic´ using Adobe Illustrator. The collage art for the interior was created by Richard Oriolo incorporating ephemera from the past, present, and sleight of hand. The text was set by Oriolo in Walbaum MT Std, a typeface designed by Carl Crossgrove, Charles Nix, and Juan Villanueva for Monotype, restoring the designs of early 19th-century German punchcutter Justus Erich Walbaum into a modern serif meant to combine charm and warmth. The display was set in Wide Latin, first introduced in the late 19th-century by English typefoundry Stephenson Blake. This e-book was created by Westchester Publishing Services.
Production supervised by Leslie Cohen and Freesia Blizard
Book jacket and case designed by Filip Peraic´
Book interior designed by Richard Oriolo
Edited by Nick Thomas
A Amparo, la mamá
A Claudia Ramírez, la rana
Y a Matías y Violeta
Este es un libro de Em Querido
Publicado por Levine Querido
www.levinequerido.com • [email protected]
Los libros de Levine Querido son distribuidos por Chronicle Books LLC
Copyright del texto © 2008 de Francisco Montaña Ibáñez
Publicado originalmente en Colombia por Babel Libros
Todos los derechos reservados Número de la Biblioteca del Congreso de los Estados Unidos: 2020937502
Hardcover ISBN: 978-1-64614-044-2
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-64614-053-4
Publicado marzo 2021
“En horas semejantes
los hombres y las cosas
se comportan igual
que los accesorios y
que los muñecos de
saúco que, puestos
en cajas de estaño
y cristal, se electrifican
al roce del vidrio y
a cada movimiento
adoptan unos respecto
de otros las posturas
más inusuales”.
“A chaparrones
cae sobre el niño un
aguacero de regalos
que le velan el mundo”.
—WALTER BENJAMIN, Haschisch
CONTENIDO
Capítulo 1
Capítulo 2
Capítulo 3
Capítulo 4
Capítulo 5
Capítulo 6
Capítulo 7
Capítulo 8
Capítulo 9
Capítulo 10
Capítulo 11
Capítulo 12
Capítulo 13
Capítulo 14
Capítulo 15
Capítulo 16
Capítulo 17
Capítulo 18
Capítulo 19
Capítulo 20
Capítulo 21
Capítulo 22
Acerca Del Autor
Algunas Notas Sobre La Produccion De Este Libro
A PUERTA NO ESTABA TRABADA. La empujó y solita, como si tuviera ganas de dejarlo pasar, se abrió. Entró al cuarto, se acercó a la mesa donde estaba la cocineta de gas, metió la nariz en una olla y apartó la cara con asco. En el cuarto no estaban sino Héctor, Manuela, metida en su cajoncito, y él; pero Manuela y Héctor estaban dormidos. Y como era a Héctor, su hermano mayor, a quien necesitaba, mientras él se despertaba dejó que su mirada se perdiera entre las cosas de la habitación, viendo que no eran muchas: las dos camas donde se acomodaban los niños mayores, el cajoncito donde ya casi no cabía Manuela, la más chiquita de los cinco hermanos, la mesa donde comían, cocinaban y hacían las tareas, y unas cajas de cartón con la ropa.
Antes de marcharse, su padre le había alquilado el resto de la casa a doña Yeni. Les había dicho que esta habitación era todo lo que necesitaban. A David le gustaba pensar que la mesa era suya porque la había marcado por debajo con una calcomanía que venía en una paleta. Le tocó los bordes levantados por el ritual cotidiano de comprobar su existencia, y desvió la mirada hacia Manuela. La pequeña había abierto los ojos y lo miraba en silencio, chupando la cobija. Por su hermanita siempre había sentido un afecto especial, le parecía linda, chiquita, como una mamá en miniatura. La iba a saludar cuando el estómago le recordó el dolor que no lo había dejado ir al colegio durante la última semana. Apenas el retortijón lo liberó, decidió quedarse mirando fijamente a Héctor para despertarlo. Y en efecto, sin que David pudiera saber bien por qué, cuando se quedaba mirando a alguien dormido con el propósito de despertarlo siempre lo lograba; como si al verlo lo tocara, como si sus
ojos le dejaran caer encima un peso invisible. Su hermano Héctor no fue la excepción. Abrió los ojos obnubilados por el sueño y, al reconocer esa mirada clavada sobre él, le gruñó.
—Héctor —susurró David—. Héctor —insistió, pues su hermano se dio la vuelta y se cubrió la cabeza con las cobijas—. Héctor —continuó, y lo sacudió con cuidado, midiendo la posible reacción del mayor.
—¡Ah, qué! ¡Déjeme dormir! —gritó Héctor sacando la cabeza de las cobijas apenas lo suficiente para mirarlo—. ¿Qué le pasa, David?
—No se ponga así, Héctor, es que ya me duele menos la barriga. . .
—Lo felicito, David —vociferó el hermano mayor volviéndose a tapar.
—Héctor, es que la vecina le mandó una razón —dijo, retirándole la cobija de la cabeza.
Héctor se apoyó en los codos y le gritó como un toro picado.
—¡Que me deje dormir! ¿No puede esperarse?
—Es que tengo hambre. . . —confesó casi con vergüenza el pequeño.
—¡Pues coma de lo que hay en la olla! —gritó Héctor desesperado.
—Pero es que la vecina dijo que no podía seguir comiendo cosas podridas.
—¿Y eso acaso está podrido? —preguntó Héctor, levantándose y empujándolo al piso. Manuela cerró los ojos y se tapó la cabeza con la cobija.
—Sí. Yo ya aprendí —continuó David desde el piso sin amilanarse—. Doña Yeni me enseñó a distinguir las cosas podridas por el olor. Es por comer cosas pichas que me da ese dolor de estómago. . . ¿Qué hago Héctor? Tengo hambre y María no llega sino hasta por la noche.
Héctor, que había metido la nariz dentro de la olla, lo miró y sintió que debía rompérsela en la cabeza por no dejarlo dormir y ser incapaz de arreglárselas solo.
—¡Ah, tome! —le gritó, tirándole un billete—. Vaya a ver qué consigue con eso. ¡De pronto le dan una sopa para que se mejore y vuelva al colegio!
David recogió el billete del piso y se levantó alejándose de la furia de su hermano.
The Immortal Boy Page 8
