Mañanaland

by Pam Muñoz Ryan

  Max couldn’t picture his life without Papá either. “But you said you’ve never stopped looking for her? Wasn’t it to convince her to come home?”

  “No, Max. At that point I knew we wouldn’t be together again. At first, I searched so I might convince her to give me the papers she took. But as the years passed, I continued to search—through every crowd, every marketplace, every large gathering—to make sure she, or someone she sent, didn’t show up and try to take you.”

  “Could that happen?” asked Max.

  “When you were younger, yes. She had all the documents to prove you were her son, and I had none. I admit, the fear of you being kidnapped has caused me—and all of us—a lot of anxiety over the years. That’s why Buelo and I, and Tío and your aunties, never let you out of our sight. But even now, that slim fear that it could still happen haunts me.”

  Max stopped walking. Everything finally made sense, and he felt his eyes fill with tears for all that Papá had been carrying. “Papá, you don’t have to worry anymore. And you don’t have to struggle alone. No matter what happens, I would always find my way home to you. But I … I need you to see that I’m older now, and growing up.”

  Papá’s eyes glistened in the twilight. He pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed them. “I do see it, son. I’m sorry it has taken me so long.”

  “And, Papá, I like talking about my mother. Even if I never meet her, I want to know about her. What if she had taken me and never told me anything about you? My life would have been so empty not knowing about you and Buelo and Tío and my aunties and my life in Santa Maria.”

  “I only meant to protect you. I didn’t want your life to be filled with sad illusions and false hope, or dreams that would never come true.”

  “I like illusions and hope and dreams, whether they come true or not.” Max stood taller. “I know you probably don’t believe me, but I went on a journey with Yadra. I held tomorrow in the palm of my hand.” He braced himself for Papá’s doubt.

  But Papá just pulled Max close and rested his cheek against Max’s forehead. “I never told you,” he whispered. “I once held tomorrow in my hands, too.”

  Max couldn’t believe it. “Papá! When?”

  “The day you were born.”

  Max smiled. “And was the path you were on leading to the place you wanted to go?”

  “Of course,” said Papá. “It still is.”

  They rocked back and forth until Lola tried to squeeze into the embrace and Churro squirmed.

  “What is this?” asked Papá, patting Max’s chest.

  He carefully lifted the sleeping kitten out of the sling and handed him to Papá. “Papá, meet Churro, the newest member of our family.”

  As they walked, Papa cradled the kitten in one arm and kept Max close with the other.

  When all of La Reina Gigante came into view, Max knew they were almost home. As the light waned and the world grew dim, she kept watch over them.

  “Papá, what happened in San Clemente?”

  “I followed Tío’s recommendation and contacted everyone I could think of who knew you as a baby. I talked to people here in Santa Maria, and I even knocked on the door of old neighbors in San Clemente and found the doctor who delivered you. They all sent letters.”

  “And Father Romero?”

  “Yes, him too. If the application is approved, the official documents will be mailed. But will it be in time for fútbol registration? I will be honest, I am not sure. With any luck …”

  “Papá! Did you say with any luck?” Max grinned.

  Papá laughed out loud. “I think I did.”

  Max knew the papers might arrive in time or they might not.

  He took Papá’s hand and whispered, “Solo mañana sabe. But in my mind, I am hoping for good luck, too.”

  The last game of the season was against Santa Inés in their stadium for the regional championship.

  Nearly all of Santa Maria turned out for it, taking buses and piling into cars and trucks. Even Max’s aunties and Miss Domínguez took the bus with Buelo and Tío.

  Papá and Max rode with the team.

  There hadn’t been any more talk about Papá being a criminal. Tío had put an end to all the rumors. No one knew about Max’s mother being a hidden one either, at least for now. But if it was discovered, Max was prepared to tell anyone who she really was—a brave and selfless hero who wanted to protect her family and to live life without fear.

  Max knew who he was, too—someone who was true of heart and proud of the legacy into which he’d been born.

  He came from a long line of stonemasons who built bridges that never collapsed and allowed one side of the river to hold hands with the other.

  Fútbol was in his blood—the talent hadn’t skipped him—and with hard work and practice, he had made the village team and might one day make the national team.

  He was a Guardian of the Hidden Ones.

  Max lined up on the field with his teammates in their green-and-white uniforms. The soft, snug leather of his now well-loved Volantes hugged his feet. Papá had bought them in San Clemente. Max had earned them after working all summer as his apprentice.

  He didn’t use them to spring from one side of the goal posts to the other, though. Ortiz played goalie. He’d done well at the summer clinic and honed his skills. He was the best choice. Chuy was center back, Gui a midfielder, and Max played forward.

  The coach, Héctor Cruz, paid attention to him, saying he hadn’t seen such fast feet in a long time. When he found out that Papá had once played professional, he asked him to help with the team. Even Buelo sometimes came out to watch their practices and to show all the players the photo of him and Nandito.

  Héctor Cruz had high hopes for this team.

  The stadium was full and the crowd wild. With little time on the clock, the score was tied. The fans swayed and sang, “Santa Mar-EEE-ah. Santa Mar-EEE-ah.”

  An opponent dribbled toward Max. He was big, like a mountain moving in his direction. But Max attacked and stole the ball, then kicked it back to Gui. He ran toward the goal and pushed around a player to get open. Gui passed the ball to him. Max trapped it and dribbled around a defender. When he saw an opening, he kicked the ball and scored!

  The whistle screamed.

  They’d won! The cheering, like thunder, filled the stadium. Max raised his arms and ran in a circle.

  Papá rushed to him from the sidelines and lifted him off the ground in a giant hug. Then, with their arms around each other, they looked toward the stands. Papá pointed to a section, and Max spotted Buelo, Tío, his aunties, and Miss Domínguez. They waved and cheered madly.

  Just as he did at the end of every game, he scanned the stadium of people. He knew that neither one of them was likely there, but just in case the impossible became possible, he waved his arm in a wide arc, back and forth.

  Chuy flung himself at Max. “Hermano, we did it! We’re champions!”

  His teammates surrounded him. In a giant huddle, the team began to chant, “CÓR-doe-bah! CÓR-doe-bah! CÓR-doe-bah!”

  Max felt like he could fly.

  Saturday night during a windstorm, Buelo made himself comfortable with a cup of coffee in his chair that sagged in all the right places. Max claimed one corner of the sofa and Papá the other. Lola lay on the tiles in front of the fireplace. Churro batted at the brooms of rosemary in the firebox.

  “Maximiliano, it is your turn to tell,” said Buelo. “I told last week.”

  Max held up a finger. “Remind me, how do I begin?”

  Buelo beamed. “Once upon a time …”

  Max cleared his throat. “Once upon a time, there was a princess from a faraway land who did not want to marry the man her parents chose for her. They did not see her or notice she had a mind of her own. Besides, the man …”

  “… was mean and smelly,” said Buelo.

  “And liked to eat toads for dinner,” said Papá.

  “Exactly,” said Max.

  “So she r
an away to a grand palace in the next kingdom and hid in a deserted tower. She didn’t know it, but a dragon owned the palace grounds. At first, when the dragon discovered the princess, he was nice and friendly and he said she could live there, too. Why not?”

  “The more the merrier,” said Papá.

  Max laughed. “I am telling the story! The dragon became more and more protective of the princess, barely allowing her out of his sight. He began to think that she was his possession.

  “One day, when she was doing laundry at the river, she met a man from the local village and over time, they fell in love and secretly married. But when the dragon discovered the news, he became so angry and jealous, he stomped around the palace and made the earth shake. The walls fell down and the floors crumbled.”

  “He went on a rampage,” Papá added.

  Max nodded. “Only the tower remained. The princess and her husband ran away. Months later, they had a baby.

  “The dragon grew jealous and more furious every day,” Max continued. “One night, the dragon kidnapped the princess, took her away from her husband and baby, and brought her back to the tower. With magic, the dragon turned her into a peregrine falcon and caged her in the domed tower room. But one day, a storm tore the tiles off the roof and the peregrine princess escaped. Finally free, she flew away to live among other birds. She nests high on a hilltop, where she still lives today.”

  “I hope that is not the end,” said Buelo.

  “No,” said Max. “Sometimes she soars over the small village where she once lived with her husband and baby, hoping to see them from the sky. And when she does, she swoops as close as she dares, and sings, ‘Arrorró, mi niño. Arrorró, mi sol. Arrorró, pedazo de mi corazón.’”

  Outside, the wind whistled, but inside the room was quiet. Max’s words settled around them like downy feathers drifting to the floor.

  Papá whispered, “Bravo.”

  Buelo wiped tears from his eyes. “One of your best.”

  Papá helped Max up, hugged him, and said, “Off to bed now. I’m going out for a while.”

  “Tell Miss Domínguez the story,” said Max.

  Papá smiled. “I will.”

  Before he went to sleep, Max stood at his window and looked at La Reina Gigante. He and Papá had been there recently to collect stones. The peregrine had long ago left the nest, until next spring. Max had gone inside the tower, and as promised, he finished carving Isadora’s name on the stone next to her sister’s, to show she had made it that far.

  He gazed up at the tower now and whispered, “La Reina, do you believe in happy endings?”

  The moon shone on her face. Leaves swirled through the air. Distant clouds raced behind her. Within the night’s frenzy, her crown seemed to bob back and forth.

  And Max had his answer.

  A book has many guardians.

  I am grateful first and always to my editor, Tracy Mack, who shepherded this book through my many tangents and meanderings. The story and I would be lost and mired if it weren’t for her thoughtful and unfailing direction.

  Heartfelt appreciation to those who held Mañanaland’s hand along the way: assistant editor Benjamin Gartenberg, art director Marijka Kostiw, copy editor Kerianne Steinberg, production editor Melissa Schirmer, and everyone in publicity and marketing—especially Lizette Serrano, Rachel Feld, Lauren Donovan, Elisabeth Ferrari, Emily Heddleson, and Erin Berger. And to Paola Escobar for her stunning art, un mil gracias!

  Early readers, my cultural caretakers, gave me valuable advice. Thank you to researcher Jerusha Saldaña Yáñez; Laura Carmen Arena, former Assistant Director for Multicultural Affairs at the Harvard Graduate School of Education; and Andres Aranda.

  I am forever indebted to my extended Scholastic family for their continued support and enthusiasm. Special thanks to the entire trade and library marketing and sales teams and to the booksellers, librarians, and educators who introduce my books to readers.

  PAM MUÑOZ RYAN is the recipient of the NEA’s Human and Civil Rights Award and the Virginia Hamilton Literary Award for Lifetime Achievement. Her celebrated novels—Echo, Esperanza Rising, The Dreamer, Riding Freedom, Becoming Naomi León, and Paint the Wind—have received countless accolades and are treasured by readers around the world. Ryan lives near San Diego, California, with her family.

  Copyright © 2020 by Pam Muñoz Ryan

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Available

  First edition, March 2020

  Cover illustration © 2020 by Paola Escobar

  Cover design by Marijka Kostiw

  e-ISBN 978-1-338-15788-8

  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 hereafter 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.