Later that day, Fabi and Santiago returned to the hall to pick up Fabi’s Vans. The evening had been so crazy she’d forgotten her shoes under the quinceañera table. Fabi still wondered about Orlando. Grandma Trini refused to utter a word about him. She wouldn’t say where he lived or even tell her how to reach him.
They walked around the ground underneath the window where Orlando had jumped, looking for signs of him. Fabi was looking for some kind of evidence, like maybe a wallet. Orlando, like everything else she’d experienced the last couple of months (Melodee, Daniel, and Quince Dreams), felt like someone else’s memory. It was hard to believe she was the eye of this storm. A small smile danced on her lips. The last couple of months were kind of cool in a weird, my-family’s-crazy kind of way, she thought. Daniel was still a sore spot for her. Had there been a sliver of truth to what he said at her party? she wondered.
Poor Orlando must think she had a schizo family. How could her abuelita attack her chambelán like that? The area under the window was clear — except for some empty chip wrappers and beer bottles.
“Hey, look at this,” Santiago said, pointing at an indentation in the dirt.
“What is that?” Fabi asked, kneeling down for a closer look.
“They look like some kind of prints,” he said, using his finger to trace an outline.
“They don’t look like footprints.”
Fabi stared, trying to think of what could have made those prints in the dirt directly under the window Orlando had jumped from. Then it hit her. They looked just like the hoof-prints Grandpa Frank’s goat made in the mud in the corral. Well, at least, one of them did. The other print was a long line, with two shorter lines poking out, like a triangle.
“Hey, that’s a chicken footprint,” Santiago said. “Didn’t Abuelita Alpha say something about the devil’s feet …”
“No.” Fabi started to laugh. “It can’t be … could it?” Could Orlando really be the devil? she wondered. But if he was the devil, why did he help her? Didn’t the devil have bigger people to fry? She was nobody. And how come her grandmothers knew him? No, Orlando was not the devil, she thought. In the Valley, the real devils were the narcotraficantes murdering innocent people, giving kids guns, and spreading violence on the other side of the border.
Just then a black Escalade with tinted windows pulled up alongside them and parked. Fabi held her breath as El Payaso Diamante stepped out of the vehicle. Had she willed the narcotraficante to appear with her thoughts? Santiago stood as stiff as a statue next to her. She could sense his fear, like a rabbit caught in a hunter’s trap. This couldn’t be good.
The husky man with salt-and-pepper hair and a fat gold medallion on his chest walked up to them. Fabi’s eye glanced around for an escape route.
“Santiago Reyes,” El Payaso said in a raspy authoritative voice. Fabi and Santiago swallowed at the same time. “I hear you changed.”
“Yes, sir,” Santiago stuttered.
“I hear you’re going to school and staying away from the girls and the business. I hear you even made a promise to La Virgen. Is that right?”
Santiago glanced sideways at Fabi with a surprised expression before answering, “Yes, sir. I did. But how did …”
El Payaso waved Santiago’s question away. “A promise to Our Lady del Valle is not something to take lightly. Have you gone to the Santuario to make an offering?”
Santiago’s eyes got real wide. “I, um, I …”
“I thought so.” El Payaso looked down at his boots. “You better get on it.”
“Yes, sir.” Santiago nodded quickly.
“I’ll be watching you, Santiago. I’ll be watching your grades, your after-school activities. If I hear that you’re messing with any girls or in any dealings, I will be on you like hell’s wrath. I let you go because mi hija likes you and I made a promise not to harm a hair on your pretty little head, as long as you stay in line. ¿Entiendes, menso?”
“I understand, sir,” Santiago answered.
“Now, get over to El Santuario and thank La Virgen before I change my mind,” El Payaso said threateningly.
Without answering, Santiago grabbed Fabi’s hand and pulled her down the alleyway, away from El Payaso. They ran hard, as if they were running from the devil himself. Neither one of them spoke. Life in the Valley was full of surprises. As they ran away, Fabi realized that they both had a lot to be thankful for. They had their health, their family, and luck on their side. Someone was definitely watching over them. Was it La Virgen or someone else? Whoever it was, Fabi was thankful for their protection and made a promise to take a bouquet of flowers to Our Lady of San Juan del Valle’s shrine, just in case.
MALÍN ALEGRÍA is the author of Sofi Mendoza’s Guide to Getting Lost in Mexico and Estrella’s Quinceañera. Malín grew up in San Francisco, California, and lives there now, where she teaches, writes, and is hard at work playing in dirt. To learn more about her and her books, visit her online at www.malinalegria.com.
Copyright © 2012 by Malín Alegría
All rights reserved. Published by Point, an imprint of Scholastic Inc.
SCHOLASTIC, POINT, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
First printing, July 2012
Cover photo by Michael Frost
Cover design by Yaffa Jaskoll
e-ISBN 978-0-545-47290-6
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
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