My throat was so constricted the whole time, I worried I’d been bitten by some rare and venomous snake without knowing it and the venom had taken over my vocal cords. Knowing J.C. might be in danger, I stayed quiet and let the guys go out looking rather than save them the trouble.
I focused my thoughts on Pablo’s bruised thigh and his small size for his age. I tried to calculate in my head if the man had it in him to beat a child, but who knows what a monster looks like? They look like you and me, right? So how would I know? I decided it was better to leave it to the police. In a way, I hoped his stepfather was innocent. I mean, he looked exactly like I’d imagine a child abuser would look, and that seemed so very obvious.
“What are you writing?” Claire climbs up the ladder just as I slam my journal shut. “About the hot kisses you and J.C. shared while we were all in the classroom?”
I shrug. “What? No. Just what’s happening here at the mission.”
“So does that mean there were hot kisses?” Claire giggles at her joke.
“We couldn’t keep our hands off each other,” I tell her, and we both giggle.
“Seriously, what is happening? What are you writing in there?” She sits on the cot and curls her legs up underneath her. “Is there romance? Maybe a small spark of romance?”
“Not unless I want to lose my scholarship, there isn’t.”
It’s not lying exactly. It’s omitting the truth so that I don’t hold Claire liable for knowing a thing. That way she’s in no danger with Libby and I’m in no danger for her being unable to keep her mouth shut.
The phone rings and I startle at the unfamiliar sound.
“What is up with you? You’re as jumpy as a frog in Angels Camp.”
“Shh!” I hiss, trying to overhear Libby on the phone. She’s making sounds of agreement as if she’s listening to a litany of details. I find myself praying for J.C. and hoping that Pablo is safe and hasn’t been sent home if the house is unsafe. In a way, I hope J.C. was wrong and it’s all a giant misunderstanding, and that Pablo is home safe and cuddled into a warm bed.
“Sí. Gracias. Muchas gracias.” Libby hangs up the phone. “Daisy!” she shouts.
“Yes,” I purr as innocently as possible.
“Go pick up J.C. He’s done at the clinic.” I look down over the wooden rail. There’s nothing on her face that gives any sign she knows a thing other than I’m to go pick up J.C.
“I’ll go,” Hank says, slamming a book shut. “I don’t want her out by herself at night.”
“She volunteered herself to be in this situation, she can go. You’re tired from the day’s work. She’ll be fine.”
Hank meekly opens his book again, and I scramble to get my shoes on.
“Do you want me to go with you?” Claire asks.
“No,” I say too quickly, because the ride back is all J.C. and I will have to get our story straight. “J.C. will be embarrassed to have you see him hurting. He’s used to me seeing him all groggy from the meds this morning. You just stay here and get ready for the morning. I imagine Queen Esther’s part will be even bigger tomorrow. Wouldn’t want you to forget your lines.”
She holds up a script. “Totally. It’s really challenging my inner actor to speak in another language. It’s like doing Shakespeare.”
“Except Shakespeare’s in English.”
“Yeah, but ye olde English. Hardly the same thing.”
“Right,” I say, sliding into my sweater.
Claire stands beside me and whispers in my ear, “You may be able to fool Libby, but I know you’re up to something. You’re a terrible liar.”
I swallow the huge lump in my throat. “The less you know, the better. Believe that.”
“I’m certain that’s true, which is why I’m not asking you.”
I grin at her and grab her wrist. “See ya soon.”
I clamber down the ladder and meet Libby’s suspicious glare. “If I find out you know anything about Pablo, you’re done here.”
“Who?”
Libby purses her lips. “There’s just something I don’t trust about you, Daisy Crispin. You have that same glint in your eye that your father always had, and I never trusted him either.”
“Then there’s nothing I can do that will disappoint you or, in effect, please you, right? I can’t win here, and what’s different about me this time is that I’m not even going to try. Not because I don’t respect you, but because I’m a good worker and I’ll do my best regardless. You’re very good at what you do, Libby. Someday maybe you’ll realize others do it just as well, but differently.”
“I doubt that.”
So did I, but it felt satisfying saying what I thought anyway. Libby didn’t seem like the sort to ever change her thinking, no matter how much evidence there was to the contrary. Some people were married to their ignorance and I chalk Libby up to that category. I wonder if people ever think, I hope heaven is big enough for the two of us. Because Libby makes me think that way. I hope she’s on the upper east side and I’m on the lower west side, or however it works. I hope she’s in another wing. Which I know cannot be garnering me any more jewels in my crown, but neither can lying about my feelings.
I grab the keys and rush to the vehicle as if I’m an escaped convict, and in many ways I suppose I am. I turn on the radio, because let’s face it, there’s nothing cheerier than a little Latino music when you’re frantic and fearing a foreign penal system, is there? I’m thinking not.
When I get to the medical clinic, I drive up to the darkened building and there’s not a soul in sight. Truthfully, it looks like a scene out of a horror movie—not that my mom’s ever let me see one, but I’ve seen the commercials. I start to get out of the car, then think better of it. J.C. is nowhere in sight. I press all the locks down on the car doors and pray for some sort of divine guidance. “God, what do I do now?”
There’s silence. Silence and crickets.
“I don’t know what to do,” I say aloud. “God, J.C. didn’t tell me what to do if this didn’t work out, and if I come back without him, Libby will know for certain we were up to something.”
More crickets. It slowly dawns on me that I can actually smell myself sitting in this car. The most gorgeous guy I’ve ever met kissed me today, and I smell like a dirty puppy because water is so scarce here. Like fire and compassion are. I’m disgusting. Maybe J.C.’s nose didn’t work right after he got hit, or maybe we both smelled so ripe that we didn’t notice the stench of the other. Maybe it’s like caveman love or something virtually unknown to those of us from America.
There’s a rap on my window, and I scream as my imagination runs wild. I look up and see a policeman showing me his badge. Lord forgive me, but I’ve seen too many bad Lifetime movies and I don’t want to roll down the window. He knocks again.
“Daisy,” he says. “Daisy Crispin?” He rolls the r in my name, and it’s like Antonio Banderas in my mind’s eye.
I roll the window down a crack.
“Tu amigo? J.C.?”
“Sí? Mi español es muy mal,” I tell him, as if I need to. He can hear I’m not really speaking his language, can he not?
He motions for me to follow him in his cruiser. I toss up another set of desperate prayers and wait for him to start up his car. He slowly rolls onto the road and I follow at a safe pace behind him. I have the most irritating thought: would I have trusted J.C. so easily if he didn’t look like he did? What if this is all part of a deep, international kidnapping scheme where I am taken and sold into a . . . I shudder, not wanting to finish the thought. What if J.C. were a complete troll with a white man fro and a scruffy beard? Would I have said, “Oh yes, J.C., I’ll help you kidnap this child because of a preconceived notion you have in your head after being raised by a mother who could star on Intervention”? Yes, another heaping helping of boy-crazy, inane decisions for me. Please. The police officer is in a police car, but aren’t foreign cops on the take? Seriously, isn’t that the crux of every major thriller?
> A brightly lit building is up ahead, and I’ve never been so grateful to see civilization. There are small stores, still open, a petrol station, and a very modern building that appears to be a full-sized hospital. The policeman gets out of his vehicle and saunters over to my car. Why do all cops walk that way? Is it in the code book or something?
I step out of my car and he hands me a strip of paper with English writing on it. It’s signed by J.C.
“Thank you.” I wave the paper. “Gracias.”
I enter the building and ask for directions. “Cuatro once?”
The nurse, all dressed in white, points me to the elevators, which don’t exactly look like they’re up to American code, so I ask for the stairs. She points in the other direction, and I climb up four flights of stairs until I match the numbers on the outside of the rooms to the one on my strip of paper. I peek into the room and gasp in horror. J.C.’s one eye peers out from behind strips of bandages.
“What happened to your gorgeous face?” I run to the bedside.
“Hopefully it’s still under the bandages.” He smiles with a cut lip. “You think my face is gorgeous, Daisy?”
I touch his bruised face as gently as I can around the bandages, but he still flinches. “Don’t pretend you’ve never looked into a mirror, J.C. You know what you look like. I shouldn’t have to spell it out for you. Who did this to you?”
He grins. “Yes, spell it out for me. It rushes the healing.”
“J.C.” My body tightens at the sight of him, and I wish I could take some of his pain from him. I try to make light of the situation to improve his spirits. “You look like you should be answering to the name of Lucky about now. Have you always had this kind of luck, or is it just my entrance into your life?”
“Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.” He grabs his stomach with his good arm. “You should see the other guy.”
“Does he look worse than you?”
“He doesn’t even have a scratch, but in my defense, I didn’t see him coming. He came up all ninja on me from behind and I didn’t get one good punch in. I hope you don’t need me to defend your honor because I’m not all that good in a fight. In my head I was Superman until it came time to prove it.”
“You’re in luck. My honor is fine and not in need of defending. Regardless of what Libby thinks of me.”
“Would you touch my face again? That was sweet, and I want to take something good home from Argentina that doesn’t come in the form of cotton bandages.”
I allow my fingers to gently graze his cheek and he winces. “The green of your eyes is even greener with the black eye. Very hot, but I’ll take the regular green to have you not beaten to a pulp.”
He laughs again. “Stop it!”
“Were you robbed?”
“Pablo’s stepfather found me.” He says it simply, as if he deserved the beating. “Something tells me Pablo’s mother wasn’t all too happy to find the little guy missing.”
“But he’s okay?”
“Pablo’s fine.”
I brush the backs of my fingers softly along his hand and marvel at how brave J.C. was through all this. He didn’t know the law, but it didn’t stop him from doing what was right. I honor him for that, and I wonder if he hadn’t been here if I would have tried not to notice Pablo’s bruise. If I would have run from the conflict because of Libby and her beliefs about me. In short, I wonder if J.C. wasn’t sent here to show me what a hero looks like.
I’ve never been more myself and tried less with a guy, and it feels fantastic to actually be liked for who I am—but I have to keep in mind that it could be the head injury, am I right? He’s changed my whole outlook on life in two days. I never want to struggle to be accepted again. Not with someone I consider a boyfriend.
Then I notice his expression. He’s got that leaving look I’ve grown accustomed to.
“J.C., you didn’t bring me all the way out here to tell me you’re not coming back with me to the mission, right?”
He’s silent, and I feel my eyes springing moisture. He takes my hand in his, which puts me at ease. “You’ll be fine. I’ll see you at school in a month and a half. You can find your own trouble without me. But I can’t go back to the mission for obvious reasons. If Pablo’s stepfather is around, Libby will get blamed for all of this. Plus how do I explain coming back from the clinic looking worse than when I went in?”
I grip his hand. “Please, J.C. You have to come back. You can just hide out in the house like you’ve been doing. I’d recognize Pablo’s stepfather and I’d warn you.”
“I wanted to say goodbye to you in person. That’s why I asked you out here. Six weeks and we’ll be together again.”
“Libby doesn’t like me, and you’re the only thing that’s made the work there bearable.”
“It’s five days, and if I thought you were in any danger, I wouldn’t leave.”
I grin at the idea but, against my better judgment, decide to complain more. “I’m not working with the kids. I’m in that kitchen all alone and I still have five days left. Can’t you just convalesce in the kitchen like you’ve been doing? Maybe sneak me a peck on the cheek now and again?” I give him my best puppy dog eyes.
His eyebrows rise and fall. “That hurt. I do like the idea of you taking care of me, I’m not going to lie. But it’s not safe for me to be seen at the mission. Pablo’s stepfather doesn’t know where I found Pablo or why I took him to the clinic, and that’s best. In fact, he tried to accuse me of taking Pablo and hurting the boy myself. Luckily, Pablo had already shown them what happened and kept saying ‘Papa,’ so I was free and clear. He trusted the officer right away, and he’d already told the nurse his story when I was with him. His bruises were too old to be from someone who took him that day regardless. I probably wasn’t even in the country when they happened.”
“What’s going to happen to Pablo?”
“He’s safe. He’s with the authorities, and they had a female police officer who was so nice to him. She brought him a stuffed animal, so he snuggled into her just like he did you and me. With all the Latino charm that kid has, he’s going to have few troubles in life once he’s away from this stepfather of his. I don’t think Pablo’s mom is actually married to the guy. She’ll have to get rid of him or risk losing Pablo.”
“I’m so happy to hear it.”
“The reason I brought you out here is so that I could see your face before I left Argentina, and also I wanted to tell you what to say to Libby so that she doesn’t know about any of this. Plus I told you I was going to call, and I wasn’t about to ditch you after that tool didn’t show up with the candy.”
J.C. still has hold of my hand, and right now I can’t imagine leaving him here in a foreign hospital by himself. “I was angry that he didn’t show up with the candy because it was a pattern. I do what I say I’m going to do, so maybe I expect too much of others.”
“I do what I say I’m going to do. Except I can’t come back like I promised, so I wanted you to know why. There’s no telling what that guy is capable of. He pummeled me when I left the clinic. Actually waited for me and had some idea I was there. The cops were right behind me and they arrested him, but not before the guy got his meaty fists on me from behind.”
“The cops had too many doughnuts?”
“I know, right? My grandmother is getting my flight home rescheduled, but I need to get back to town tomorrow. I can’t run the risk of going back to the mission because if Pablo’s stepfather sees me there, the mission could take the brunt of his rage, and we all know that would not end well.”
“For Libby or Pablo’s stepfather?”
“Good point. If it’s not too much to ask, I want you to call your friend, what’s-his-name. The one who didn’t show up. I want you to ask him to come and take me to Buenos Aires. He can pick up my stuff and the rental car and come get me.”
My joy dies. “I just told you he’s not reliable, but if he does come, it will be in his own car. Maybe one of the other guys can tak
e the rental back to the airport when they go.”
“That works for me. Besides, this guy won’t let you down twice. Not when you tell him what happened. His country’s honor is at stake. He has to know you don’t dis a beautiful girl twice.”
I bypass his compliment in favor of worrying about Max’s reliability. “What if you miss your flight? Max is always late.” Naturally, I don’t mention the fact that it’s totally weird to have two guys I’ve kissed by choice (Chase, my kindergarten crush, kissed me in some kind of funky mercy move in the school quad) in the same vehicle and capable of comparing notes.
“Yeah, Max. He can go by the mission, pick up my stuff, and not raise any suspicions with Libby. If Libby sees me like this, she’ll know we were lying to her.”
“But my parents are in town. They could—”
“No parental units.” J.C. shakes his head.
“J.C., you’re being ridiculous. Did you get hit in the head?”
“I did, actually. A couple of times, but this isn’t the end for us, right? We’re going to see each other in Malibu in a month and a half. We’ll each go to the business student mixer, maybe dance or share some punch . . .”
“That would be nice.”
“I’m not meeting your parents looking like a thug on the bad end of a street fight. Plus I can’t wear shoes because my foot looks diseased from a scorpion sting, so they might think I have some rare disease and assume it’s something I could give to you. I think you’ll agree that’s not the best way to introduce myself to your parents, wouldn’t you?”
“I can go back and get your stuff. I can drive you. I’ll just turn in the rental car and get a shuttle or something back.”
“Yeah, and Libby will be more than likely to sign your scholarship paperwork with all that time off, won’t she?”
“What about Claire?”
“Your chaperone?” he asks. “I want Max.”
“In a weird way, I think Libby wants me to get caught being up to something. Why would she send me out to pick you up all by myself if she didn’t?”
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