She hadn’t attended church much, but Lonnie knew she believed in God. When he was little, she had taught him the “God is Great, God is Good” prayer, and he used to recite before he ate. She had also taught him the “Jesus Loves Me” song, which they would sing together. Surely God wouldn’t keep his mother out of heaven just because she didn’t go to church or read the Bible on a regular basis.
Lonnie had seen a movie — he couldn’t remember the name of it — about a guy who died and had been condemned to live on Earth as a ghost, until he could earn a place in heaven by helping a troubled kid turn his life around.
Was that what God had in store for his mom? Was Lonnie that troubled kid? Was she still roaming the Earth as a ghost, watching over him, making sure he didn’t muck up his life anymore than it already was?
The sound of rustling leaves startled him.
Lonnie spun around and looked in the direction of the noise. Something was moving through the underbrush, about twenty yards away. At first he thought it might be a feral dog or even a coyote. They’d had problems with coyotes preying on domestic dogs and cats in their neighborhood. Lonnie jumped to his feet and hid behind a tree, fearful of being attacked by a wild animal, with no one knowing where he was. He ventured to poke his head out and saw a skinny man with long, gray hair and a long, gray beard emerge from the underbrush.
Moses! What’s he doing here?
The homeless man made his way to the creek bank, where he slipped off his backpack and dropped it on the ground. He rolled up his pants legs, removed his T-shirt and stepped into the water. Stooping, he splashed his face, chest and arm pits. When he was done, he toweled himself with his shirt. He sat down, opened his backpack and took out a water bottle, an apple and a 7-Eleven sandwich.
Lonnie felt like a Peeping Tom watching him, but he didn’t know what else to do. If he made any sudden moves, Moses was sure to hear him. Shielded by the tree, he remained a captive audience, hoping Moses would hurry and leave.
When he finished eating, Moses wiped his teeth with his T-shirt. Then he pulled a clean shirt out of his backpack and slipped it on. He gathered his trash and stuffed it into his backpack, which Lonnie thought was commendable. He would have thought that a homeless guy wouldn’t care about being a litterbug. Moses stood and stretched his arms, inadvertently turning his face toward Lonnie.
“Hey, I see you! What are you doing, kid? You spying on me?” Moses took a couple of steps, then stopped and motioned for Lonnie to move away from the tree. “C’mere, kid, I wanna talk to you.”
The “stranger-danger” sirens sounded in Lonnie’s head, and he ran up the hill, ignoring the limbs and overgrown prickly weeds that scratched his face and arms.
Reaching the railroad tracks, he looked back to see if Moses was following him. Thankfully, he wasn’t. Lonnie paused to catch his breath. He felt mortified. His private hiding place had been invaded. Moses had taken it over. Or maybe he was the invader. Catfish Creek might have been Moses’ home, and Lonnie was the one who had intruded on his privacy. Moses probably slept out there somewhere.
Lonnie didn’t know much about homeless people, except for what his dad had told him. He had seen them on major street corners throughout the city, holding cardboard signs that said things like, WILL WORK FOR FOOD or HUNGRY PLEASE HELP or SPARE CHANGE? And each sign ended with GOD BLESS. Sometimes when Lonnie and his parents drove through downtown, he would see homeless people lounging outside the city’s shelters, like stray animals.
As shaken as Lonnie was, he couldn’t help but be curious about Moses. Had he once been a working stiff, like his dad, with a home and a family? Had he lost his job and was never able to find another one?
Heading home, Lonnie thought about their situation. His parents had seldom discussed money matters with him, but he knew that ever since his dad had gotten fired, they had struggled financially. His mom had never earned much as a security guard, but somehow she had managed to pay the bills, even with his dad’s meager unemployment checks. What was going to happen to them now that she was gone, and they could no longer count on her income? His dad would have to find work soon. But what if he couldn’t? What if no one hired him?
Lonnie shuddered to think that the same thing that happened to Moses could happen to them.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
IN THE WEEKS THAT FOLLOWED, Lonnie learned how to make dinner. After reading through a cookbook he had checked out of his school’s library, he was able to prepare a number of meals, including baked chicken and mashed potatoes, beef patties and fries, and spaghetti with meat sauce. It wasn’t gourmet, but they weren’t starving. Breakfast was usually cereal or Eggo waffles. If Lonnie had time, he would fix sausage and eggs.
He even learned how to do the wash. It took a few mishaps, such as turning their white T-shirts and underwear pink, when he mixed colored clothes with white ones, but in time, he got the hang of it.
Lonnie kept the house, including his room, tidy and clean, something that would have shocked his mom. He didn’t do it because he thought she was an angel who was trying to steer him in the right direction so she could earn a place in heaven. Mainly he did it because his grandparents popped in one day, unexpectedly, and saw the house in a mess. Appalled, his grandpa threatened to report Lonnie’s dad to Child Protective Services.
Lonnie knew his grandparents Salinas loved him and were concerned about his well-being, but there was no way he wanted to live with them. He had been surprised to learn that his mother had considered divorcing his dad and had planned to have Lonnie move in with her at his grandparents’ house. Why hadn’t she asked him what he thought?
His grandma was okay. She was a gentle, soft-spoken woman, who always welcomed him into their home with a warm hug and a kiss. She laughed at all his jokes, no matter how dumb they were. She never got tired of playing checkers or tic-tac-toe with him, and she always let him win.
His grandpa, on the other hand, could be rough and demanding. He never made a request. Everything was an order.
“Bring me the newspaper. Serve me some coffee. Call the plumber, and tell him I said to hurry it up.”
When Lonnie was little, his grandpa would take him outside to play baseball, but it was never fun. He would always yell at Lonnie for any mistake he made. And he made plenty of them.
“You’re not keeping your eyes on the ball!”
“Is there something wrong with your arm that you can’t throw any harder than that?”
“Stop acting like you’re scared of getting hit!”
Lonnie could tell that his dad was intimidated by his father-in-law, so he had to give him his props when he stood up to him the day of the funeral. He may not have been the ideal father, but he was still his dad, and Lonnie was not about to abandon him, especially at a time like this.
The problem was, his dad wasn’t making much of an effort to take care of him. He continued to drink, averaging a six-pack a day—more on the weekends. Whenever Lonnie talked to him about trying to stop, he would get defensive and tell him to stay out of his business.
He still hadn’t found a regular job. His dad contacted his former boss at Mateo’s, the restaurant he once worked at as a waiter, but was told that with the economy being so bad, they couldn’t afford to hire anyone. He tried other restaurants and got the same response. Even the fast-food places — McDonald’s, Burger King, KFC — all turned him down.
“They want kids working for them, not old guys like me,” Lonnie’s dad complained.
He did manage to talk Gilly Sandoval, Joe Lara and Mario Hernández into reuniting Los Brujos, and Gilly was able to book the band for some gigs at a club called El Mocambo, but it wasn’t anything permanent.
If Lonnie brought up the subject of money, his dad would tell him not to worry about it and to just focus on school. What he didn’t realize was that with all the chores Lonnie had to do, he had little time left for his studies. His dad expected him to do all the housework, just like he had done with his wife.
&nb
sp; A week after Lonnie’s grandparents’ surprise visit, a case worker from Child Protective Services showed up at their house. The woman introduced herself as Peggy Fontaine, but Lonnie’s dad made her produce her ID before letting her in.
The second she entered the house, Ms. Fontaine’s eyes darted around. Luckily, Lonnie had cleaned house the day before. When she shook his hand, she reeled him in and sniffed his hair, while giving his clothes a subtle glance.
They sat in the living room, which was seldom used except for company. Ms. Fontaine was pleasant, but Lonnie knew this wasn’t a social call. She had come to see if there was any truth to his grandpa’s allegations that his dad was doing a poor job raising him. She asked Lonnie’s dad how they were adjusting.
“It’s hard, as you can imagine, but we’re doing the best we can,” he said.
Ms. Fontaine asked him if he was working, and he told her about Los Brujos and their gigs at El Mocambo.
“Plus, I still got my unemployment checks coming in,” he said. “I’m also following up on some job leads, and I oughta be hearing something pretty soon.”
“Where does Lonnie stay when you perform with your band?” Ms. Fontaine asked.
“Well, you know, he’s thirteen, and he’s pretty responsible for his age. Lonnie does a lot of the cleaning and cooking around here, so he knows how to take care of himself.”
A lot of the cleaning and cooking? Lonnie did all of it, but he didn’t tell the case worker that.
“Just to make sure he’s okay, I have our neighbor, Mrs. Escamilla, check in on him from time to time. Her daughter Carmen used to babysit Lonnie when he was little. Usually, though, he spends the evenings doing his homework.” He turned to his son. “Right, buddy?”
“Where do you do your homework, Lonnie?” Ms. Fontaine wanted to know.
“In my room.”
“May I see it, please?”
“Sure.”
Whenever his mom went inside his room, Lonnie would panic because she would see that he had lied about having cleaned it. But Ms. Fontaine was met by a neatly organized room, with everything in its place. Again, her eyes roved around, making Lonnie nervous because his walls were covered with horror movie posters. She also directed her attention to his DVD rack.
“I see you like monster movies,” she said.
“He’s like any boy his age,” Lonnie’s dad interjected. “You know how they love all that stuff.”
Lonnie’s interest in horror films didn’t appear to bother Ms. Fontaine because she didn’t say anything else about it.
“How are you doing in school, Lonnie?” she asked.
Again, his dad answered for him. “I ain’t gonna lie to you, Miss. Lonnie’s grades ain’t what they should be, but you can understand that, with his mom passing and everything. But we’re working on it.”
“What’s your favorite subject?” she asked.
“Texas history,” Lonnie said. “I’ve got this really cool teacher who likes to dress up in costumes when he teaches.”
“When I was in school, I couldn’t stand any of my teachers,” his dad told her. “I had this one teacher. Her name was—”
“Do you have many friends at school?” Ms. Fontaine broke in. “Do you get along with your classmates?”
“Yeah, I’ve got lots of friends,” Lonnie said. “Both guys and girls. And they’ve all been really supportive.”
“That’s good.” Ms. Fontaine lifted the bed cover and peeked at the sheets. “May I see your kitchen?” she asked Lonnie’s dad.
“You bet,” he said and led the way.
Without asking for permission, Ms. Fontaine opened the pantry and looked inside. Next, she checked the refrigerator and the freezer. Lonnie wasn’t worried. They had plenty of groceries. If she was concerned about all the beer in the fridge, she didn’t mention it.
After a few minutes, she said, “Thank you for showing me around. Everything looks fine. I apologize for the intrusion.”
“Hey, you’re welcome to come by any time,” Lonnie’s dad said. “We ain’t got nothing to hide. Oh, and you tell that father-in-law of mine to keep his nose out of our business and let me and Lonnie get on with our lives.”
Lonnie wished his dad hadn’t ended their visit on a sour note, but it didn’t seem to faze Ms. Fontaine. She got in her car and drove off.
Hopefully, that was the last time they would have to deal with CPS.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LONNIE’S FIRST REPORT CARD OF THE YEAR came out. He received an F in math, an F in science, and a C in Progressive Reading. On the positive side, he did get an A in P.E., but Coach Rizzo gave everyone an A if they had perfect attendance. Lonnie had missed a few days of school, but Coach understood and let those days slide. Lonnie also got an A in art, but Ms. Tedesco, like Coach Rizzo, was an easy grader.
The grade he was most proud of was the B plus he made in Texas history. Lonnie thought he could have gotten an A, and maybe next time he would.
Mr. Bigelow pulled him out of class once again to see how he was doing. Lonnie assured him that he was fine and was trying to move on to the next chapter in his life.
Lonnie found himself spending less time with Axel. They didn’t share classes, and the only time they saw each other was at lunch. Even then, they didn’t always sit together. They were traveling in different paths. Axel was an honors student, and it had been ingrained in him since birth that he was going to go to college. Lonnie could only hope to graduate from high school. Axel’s parents were actively involved in their children’s lives, whether at school, at church or at home. Lonnie’s mother was dead, and his dad was dead drunk most of the time.
Lonnie tried hanging out with some of the other guys — Noe, Fernando and Bobby—but they were on the Wyatt Wranglers football team, and they mostly talked about their games. He wished he could join the team, but with the grades he was making, the coaches wouldn’t have allowed him to be the water boy.
On the way to first period, the hallway traffic suddenly stopped. Kids were pointing and laughing, but Lonnie couldn’t see what was causing the commotion. When he finally squeezed through the crowds, he saw Mr. Arrington in his strangest getup yet. He had on a long dress, a bonnet and a dark wig.
“Who are you supposed to be, Mr. Arrington?” Lonnie asked.
“My dear young man,” he replied in a falsetto voice. “I am not Mr. Arrington. My name is Jane Long.”
“Who’s Jane Long?”
Without breaking character, Mr. Arrington said, “Please take your seat inside the school house, Lon Chaney. You shall learn my story shortly.”
Lonnie entered the classroom and saw Yvette sitting at her desk, searching through her purse. Since she was alone, he decided to talk to her.
“Mr. Arrington sure looks funny, doesn’t he?” Lonnie said.
Yvette jumped, and he realized he had startled her. “Oh, hi, Lonnie. Yeah, he does look pretty funny. He’s supposed to be Jane Long, whoever that is.” She pulled a pen out of her purse and scribbled circles on a sheet of paper to see if it worked.
“Do you know who Mr. Arrington reminds me of?” Lonnie asked. “Our fourth-grade teacher, Mr. Treviño.”
“You’re right. Mr. Treviño was cool, just like Mr. Arrington.”
“I ran into him at the grocery store not too long ago,” Lonnie said.
“Really? Is he still teaching at Lamar?”
“Yep. Same school, same room,” Lonnie said, quoting Mr. Treviño.
“I’d love to go back sometime to see—”
The bell sounded.
“We’ll talk later,” he told her and sat down.
Mr. Arrington entered the classroom. In a high voice, he said, “Good morning, children. My name is Jane Long. Some people know me as the Mother of Texas.”
The class erupted into cheers and applause.
In first-person narrative, Mr. Arrington recounted Jane Long’s story. As ridiculous as the teacher looked in his dress and wig, Lonnie was nevertheless drawn bac
k to the early 1800s, when Jane Long, one of the first Anglo females to settle in Texas, endured the hardships of winter at Bolivar Point. This is where she gave birth to her third child, while waiting for her husband to return from Mexico, not realizing he had been killed there.
Having teachers like Mr. Treviño and Mr. Arrington made Lonnie think that if he didn’t grow up to become a horror film actor, he might like to go into teaching.
When the bell rang, he waited for Yvette to get up so they could leave together. They didn’t share second period, but he thought that as long as they were both headed in the same direction, he could escort her to her next class.
No such luck. Megan Patterson and Lisa Yarbrough met her outside the door, automatically positioning themselves, one on each side of her, like a pair of bookends, and the three of them walked down the hallway together.
During math class, Mrs. Ridley called Lonnie to her desk. He dreaded having to hear what she had to say. She went over his grades with him. Then she handed him a permission form for his dad to sign and told him he needed to begin attending after-school tutoring if he expected to pass the semester. Lonnie realized he needed help with math, but with so much housework to do, plus homework, he didn’t know how he was going to fit tutoring into his schedule.
Because he had also failed science, he expected to receive the same lecture and permission form from Mr. Malone. His science teacher didn’t mention anything about tutoring, and Lonnie got the feeling that as old and decrepit as he was, Mr. Malone didn’t want to stay after school any later than he had to.
In Progressive Reading, Ms. Kowalski placed Lonnie in a small reading group with Herman Gilmore, the dimwit formerly known as Slurpee, and some other low readers. They were given soft cover books to read from a reading program called Breakthrough Books. Lonnie didn’t think anything could be more boring than The Dumfrees Move In, but Breakthrough Books proved him wrong. While Ms. Kowalski had the flunkies take turns reading aloud, Lonnie made a mental list of the items he had to pick up when he went grocery shopping. His dad had turned that responsibility over to him as well, saying that since Lonnie was doing all the cooking, he had a better idea of what to buy.
On the Other Side of the Bridge Page 9
