He rapped twice, then opened it. She was gone.
He opened Blanca’s door, which was next to his mother’s. The room was straightened up and the bed was made, as if it had not been slept in. A white teddy bear that Blanca had won at the state fair sat on top of the bed.
The bathroom door down the hall was closed. Izzy knocked. “Hey, Blanc, you in there?”
He opened it, expecting to find his sister sitting on the toilet. Nothing.
He flipped on the light, just to make sure. The bathroom was just as empty with the light on as it was with the light off. A weird, unsettling feeling washed over Izzy. He felt as if he was the last person on earth.
He recalled a warning he’d heard from a TV preacher his mom liked to watch, Brother Clyde Vincent. Brother Clyde talked about something called the Rupture. Or was it the Rapture? According to Brother Clyde, in the end of days, during the Rupture or the Rapture, the hand of God would reach down and carry all the good people up to Heaven. All the bad ones would remain on earth. Izzy couldn’t remember what the preacher said would happen to those left behind, but he knew it couldn’t be good. After all, if God didn’t want them in Heaven with him, what was the alternative?
Izzy and his family never went to church. His mother worked on Sundays. But she always watched Brother Clyde on TV. She even sent him money when the tips were good. The hand of God, Izzy knew, would surely take his mom during the Rupture/Rapture.
He hated to admit it but Blanca would probably go, too. She never did anything wrong. He couldn’t even think of any sins she was capable of committing. She was too young to do anything really bad.
As for him … Izzy suddenly wished he had been nicer to his sister. He wished he had offered to help her catch the cabbit, even if it turned out to be nothing more than a long-eared cat. He wished he hadn’t …
The front door flew open. Blanca rushed inside and headed toward the kitchen.
“Morning, Izzy.”
He snapped out of his trance-like state. “Where were you?”
“Outside making a snowman.” Blanca opened the refrigerator and grabbed a carrot from the vegetable bin. “This is for his nose. Wanna help?”
Without giving it a second thought, Izzy said, “Sure. Where’s Mami?”
“She left for work about a half hour ago.”
Izzy looked up at the clock. He didn’t realize he had slept that long. “I’ll be out there in a few minutes.”
He got dressed. He zipped up his thick brown jacket and added a scarf around his neck. He slipped on his gloves and covered his head with a navy-blue wool cap.
When he got outside, Blanca was adding tree branches for arms to her snowman.
He stared at the blob of snow that barely resembled a snowman. It looked more like a snowy version of Jabba the Hut, the creature from Star Wars.
But he didn’t tell her that. He didn’t want to say anything negative. Just in case.
“Here. Let’s put this on him.” Izzy removed his scarf and wrapped it around the snowman’s neck, or what he thought was the snowman’s neck. It was hard to tell.
“Get the broom from the pantry. We’ll lean it against his arm. Then he’ll be complete.”
While Blanca ran inside to get the broom, Izzy smoothed the edges, rounding each section, trying to give it a more defined semblance of a snowman.
Whack!
A snowball, which was mostly composed of ice, struck him on the back of his head with such force that it made him stagger. Izzy had to grab onto the snowman to keep from falling. He turned around as another snowball zipped toward him and smacked him on the chest.
Billy Ray Cansler, Luther Bowers, and Joshua and Jacob Bukowski were standing on the sidewalk in front of Izzy’s house.
“Would you like me to help you with your snowman, little boy?” Billy Ray asked in a mocking voice. His gang laughed.
“Leave me alone, Billy Ray!” Izzy stepped back, prepared to run if he had to.
“Hey, no problem, amigo. I just stopped by to help you with your snowman.” He grabbed the snowman’s head and yanked it off.
“There. It looks much better,” he said, throwing the head on the ground.
The glob of snow, with its two black button eyes and carrot nose, gazed up without expression.
“Hey, that’s my sister’s snowman!”
“It was your sister’s snowman.” Billy Ray threw his shoulder against the remainder of the snowman and leveled it with a body block, leaving only a small white hill.
“Call me a buck-toothed, bald-headed orangutan again, you pinhead. Come on, say it to my face.” He gave Izzy a hard shove. “You’re not so tough now without your girlfriend Marco Díaz at your side, are you?”
Before Izzy could answer, Luther Bowers hit him on the ear with a snowball.
Whack!
Whack! Whack!
The Bukowskis hit their target, one on the face and the other on Izzy’s chest.
In a panic, Izzy tore out of the yard.
Down the sidewalk he ran, with Billy Ray and his gang hurling snowballs at him. One caught him on the shoulder; another one hit him on the back of his neck.
“Yeah, you’d better run!” Billy Ray yelled.
Izzy sped toward the construction site. Maybe Marco would be there. He rounded the corner and saw a group of kids. They were sliding down a hill on a makeshift cardboard sled. Unfortunately Marco wasn’t with them. Izzy stopped at the building frame and turned around.
Whack!
A snowball tagged him hard on the face.
He glanced past the steel structure and discovered he was trapped. The wooden fence, too high for him to climb, blocked any possible exit. The cabbit may have been able to scramble underneath it, but Izzy would never fit.
He had an idea. If he scaled up the building frame and Billy Ray and his gang climbed up after him, he could leap off onto the sand pile and get away. He’d do it with ease. He’d done it a million times. He knew Billy Ray and his gang wouldn’t jump off as effortlessly. It was a long way down. They’d probably be scared to even try. It had taken Izzy and Marco a while to build up enough courage to attempt it the first time.
Their reluctance to jump would be all the time Izzy would need to get away. Then he’d run back home. Or maybe he’d head over to Marco’s.
He shinnied up a girder. He could feel the coldness of the steel even through his gloves. He made it to the second floor.
Billy Ray and his gang stopped at the foot of the building. “Now we’ve got you!”
Come on, climb up here, you buck-toothed, bald-headed orangutan! Climb on up and we’ll see who’s got who.
To Izzy’s horror, Billy Ray and his gang didn’t try to climb up the building.
“Thanks for making yourself such an easy target, idiot!” Billy Ray gathered up a handful of snow and shaped it into a ball. Then he fired.
Izzy clung to the girder as he dodged the snowball. Luther and the Bukowskis tossed another volley of snowballs. Izzy swung around, trying his best to avoid getting hit.
He peered down at the sand pile. He could still leap off and make his getaway. Billy Ray and his gang wouldn’t expect him to jump. Not from this high up.
He released the girder. Carefully he crossed the beam, ballencing himself like a tightrope walker. Another few feet and he’d be directly above the sand pile.
Whack!
The snowball hit Izzy flush in the eyes. Instinctively, he reached for his face. As he did, he lost his ballence, slipping on the slick, steel surface.
He fell, banging his head against a beam on the way down. He landed limply on the ground with a painful thud.
Izzy lay dazed and disoriented. His head throbbed with a sharp, stinging pulse. Blood poured freely from a cut just above his right eye. It streamed down to the white ground, coating it like a snow cone with a brilliant shade of red.
The world became blurry. Izzy could feel the ground spinning. He gazed up at the large gray clouds hanging above him.
The last thi
ng he saw before he passed out was the hand of God reaching down for him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“He’s suffered a concussion,” the doctor told Izzy’s mother. “The worst of it is the gash, but we’ll take care of it easy enough. All in all, I’d say your boy was pretty lucky.”
Lucky? Stretched out on a hospital bed with his forehead about to be stitched up, Izzy didn’t feel lucky at all.
“Will he have to spend the night here?” Ms. Peña asked, “‘cause I ain’t got no insurance and …”
“No. After we suture the wound, he’ll be ready to go home.”
It was Blanca who had found him. From the living room window, she had seen Billy Ray and his gang harassing her brother. When they started chasing him, she followed them to the construction site.
After Izzy fell, Billy Ray and his gang ran away. Blanca rushed over to him. He was unconscious and bleeding profusely from a deep cut on his forehead. She tried to revive him by smearing snow on his face.
Finally, he began to stir.
She helped him to his feet and walked him home, with Izzy leaving a thin trail of blood behind them. She called her mom at work and explained what happened. When their mother arrived, Blanca was dropped off at her friend Teresa’s house, and Izzy was driven to the hospital.
The doctor stroked Izzy’s hair while the nurse cleaned the wound. “I’m going to give you an injection, an anesthetic,” he said. “Now I won’t lie to you, son. It’s going to sting. But after that, you won’t feel a thing, okay?”
Izzy nodded weakly. He undid his cuff button and started to roll up his sleeve.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t make myself clear,” the doctor said. “I’m not giving you a shot on the arm.”
Not on his arm? Then where? On his butt? No way. It’ll be so embarrassing! This’ll be worse than falling off the building.
“You’d better steady his head, Fran,” the doctor told the nurse.
The nurse, wearing latex gloves, grabbed the sides of Izzy’s head while the doctor prepared the syringe and needle.
“What are you going to do?” Izzy wailed with a growing fear.
“Hold him still.” The doctor plunged the needle into the cut.
“Aaahh! No! It hurts! It hurts!” Izzy flailed his legs. He tried to jerk his head, but the nurse’s grip was too strong.
His mother, still in her waitress uniform, turned her face and cowered in the corner as she listened to her son’s screams.
There was another injection. Then one more.
“That’s it,” the doctor said at last. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
After a couple of minutes, the pain was gone. The doctor then meticulously sutured the wound. Izzy couldn’t believe what was happening to him. He was getting sewn up! He could see the doctor working over him, but he hardly felt a thing. There was only a slight pressure when the needle, which looked more like a type of fishing hook, tugged at his skin.
When the doctor was finished, the nurse released her grip. She cleaned Izzy’s head, then applied a bandage over the cut.
“How many stitches did it take to close it up, doctor?” Ms. Peña asked. Her stomach was still queasy.
“Fifteen, I think. Yes, eight on the inside and the rest on the outside. It was a pretty nasty wound.” He removed his gloves and dropped them into a medical wastebasket.
Ms. Peña tottered unsteadily toward her son. “Ay, m ‘ijo.”
“You’ll need to keep him off his feet for a day or so,” the doctor advised. “Give his wound a chance to heal. Also, keep an eye out for signs of dizziness, nausea, or confusion. I’ll give you a prescription for antibiotics to keep the wound from getting infected. I’ll give you another one for the pain.” The doctor rose and headed for the door. “I want to see him in a week to make sure the wound is healing properly. Fran will take care of you from here on.” Then he left.
“Mami, I’m sorry,” Izzy apologized. “I know I shouldn’t have been at the construction site.” He started to cry.
“Let’s not talk about it right now,” his mother said. “The important thing is that you’re okay. We can talk later. Right now, let’s just get you home.”
Twenty minutes later, Blanca saw the car pull into the driveway. She flew out of Teresa’s house and ran to meet them. She opened the passenger door and saw her brother slumped over.
Terrified, she whispered, “Mami, is Izzy all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Izzy answered. He sat up. “Here, help me out.”
“Let me do that.” His mother came around to his side.
Teresa’s mother approached the car as Izzy climbed out. “How’s Izzy?”
Ms. Peña offered a faint smile. “He’s a little banged up, but he’ll be fine.”
“Your brother looks like he was in a war,” Teresa told Blanca.
“I know. Come on, I want to see him in the light.” The girls followed Izzy inside the house.
“Teresa! Come back here,” her mother called. “Izzy needs to rest.”
A few seconds later, Teresa poked her head out the door. “Come take a look at Izzy, Ma. This is so neat. He looks like somebody beat him up or something.”
“Teresa!”
“But he does!”
“Let’s go. Now!”
Ms. Peña hugged Teresa’s mother. “Carol, I really appreciate you watching after Blanca while we were at the hospital.”
“Oh, sure, no problem. Call me if you need anything, okay? Teresa!”
“I’m coming!”
Izzy lay on the sofa in the living room. His mother sat on the love seat next to him. It was almost time for her evening shift. The restaurant had been swamped with customers during lunch, despite the ice and snow. Her boss anticipated it to be just as packed at night. She hated to leave Mingo Salazar shorthanded, but right now her priority was her son. She asked Blanca to fill a glass with water so Izzy could take the sample pain tablets the nurse had given him.
Blanca handed her brother the glass. “Why were Billy Ray and his friends chasing you?”
Izzy washed two tablets down his throat with a drink of water. He leaned his head back against the arm of the sofa and closed his eyes. “It’s a long story.”
His mother took the glass and sat it on the coffee table. She unfolded a Mexican flag pattern quilt she kept on the sofa and covered him up with it. “I want you to give me the names of the boys who did this to you,” she demanded. “They’re not gonna get away with it.”
Izzy muttered something, but his voice was barely audible.
“It was Billy Ray Cansler and three other boys,” Blanca answered for Izzy.
“Who are those other boys? I want all their names.”
Blanca shrugged. “The only one I know is Billy Ray.”
Ms. Peña looked down at her son, but Izzy didn’t say anything. “I’m gonna call the school first thing in the morning and report them to the principal. They’re not gonna get away with this. ¡Muchachos sin vergüenza!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Marco Díaz was looking for Billy Ray Cansler. His heart pulsated with anger. He wasn’t sure what he would do or say once he found him. His first instinct was to beat him up. Bust his head open just like Billy Ray had done to Izzy. But deep inside, he knew he wouldn’t do that. For one thing, Marco didn’t want to risk getting suspended. For another, he tried not to fight outside the ring. Boxing was a sport, an art, as his grandfather often described it. But brawling in the school yard was stupid. Still, he couldn’t let Billy Ray get away with what he’d done. Even if Izzy had brought the whole thing on himself. He’d tried to warn him. If only Izzy could learn to control his big mouth.
Marco spotted Billy Ray and Luther Bowers hiding behind a leafless oak tree near the auditorium.
Billy Ray scooped up a handful of snow. He slipped away from the tree and snuck up behind Karen Ingram, shoving snow down the back of her shirt.
“Stop it!” Karen jerked away and brushed out the snow.
Billy Ray laughed like a loon. “I’m just trying to help you be cool, Karen—like me.”
Whack!
The snowball caught Billy Ray on the back of his head. He spun around. “Who the …?”
Marco Díaz was posed ominously against a parked car in front of the school. “Why don’t you try to help me be cool, Billy Ray?”
Luther hustled to Billy Ray’s side. He crouched down and picked up some snow.
“You do that and I’ll cram that snowball down your throat,” Marco threatened.
Luther dropped it immediately.
“L … Listen, man,” Billy Ray blurted, “what happened to Izzy was an accident. It was his fault for climbing up that building.”
Marco tromped up to him, stopping inches from his face. “You want to tell me why he felt the need to climb up that building in the first place?”
Billy Ray nervously retreated back a few steps. “Y … You trying to scare me or what?”
“Why?” Marco answered with a wild look in his eyes. “Do you feel scared?”
Billy Ray looked around the school yard. The Bukowski brothers had already gone home. The only person he had to back him up was Luther Bowers. That would make it a two-to-one fight. Even so, he didn’t like the odds.
“I … I didn’t touch Izzy or nothing. He slipped and fell off the building. Didn’t he, Luther?”
Luther nodded.
“He slipped, huh?” In a flash, Marco assumed a boxing stance. He cocked his left arm and faked a jab.
Billy Ray jumped back. As he did, he lost his ballence on the slippery ground and fell, landing on his backside in a puddle of slush. He tried to scramble to his feet, but he fell down again. He flopped around in the melting snow like a fish out of water. Finally, he turned over on all fours and picked himself up.
“I see what you mean now, Billy Ray,” Marco said with a twisted smile. “Izzy slipped. Just like you.”
Billy Ray swiped the back of his wet pants.
“Next time, get yourself a pair of Pampers,” Marco mocked. “That way, when you pee on yourself, it won’t show through.” He turned and walked away.
Luther and Billy Ray watched him as he crossed the street and turned the corner at the stop sign.
Alamo Wars Page 9
