Historically Inaccurate

by Shay Bravo

  “Do you know who it was?”

  She rests her chin on top of her knees. “I have a good idea, but this isn’t the time to point fingers. I don’t want the risk of fights breaking out in a place that doesn’t belong to us.”

  “I’m guessing you’re not allowed to talk about it either.”

  “You would be guessing right.”

  I grab a small rock and toss it at the lake, the plop in the water followed by a slumbering silence. Ducks float peacefully along the water; the world is peaceful around this perimeter of chaos.

  “What’s going to happen?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Tell me anything, Anna, goddamn it. At least tell me what the other members did so I can have an idea of what everyone is getting into. It’s not fair that we’re in the dark at all points.”

  “Melina went up to the bridge at the entrance of Westray and had to spray paint WCCHS on it, we go by the history club so history society is not necessarily a given. She did this while hanging some twenty feet above the river underneath it. Angela was given a series of tasks that ended up with her digging in the local graveyard under the oldest grave, from the gold rush era, to retrieve a medallion that was placed there for her. It’s something creepy, especially at two in the morning.

  “Xiu had to convince her boss in the biology department to lend her keys for the lab. After school she took some chemicals and used those to damage a photograph of the past chairman of the Liberal Arts department. No one found out, of course. And, well, you know what Ethan did. I vandalized school property, Carlos nearly damaged his self-image, and Ophelia had to go into the mines area, which is closed to the public, and find something placed for her there. Scott broke into the college president’s office, and Alan stole an artifact from the archive.” She pauses and turns to me, her bright hair falling over her cheek. “Feel any better?”

  Pacing around, I chase for something else to demand from her, some sort of divine explanation that will make everything make sense again. Then again, nothing about this made sense from the very beginning. She might be right—the club might have the connections to get us out of this mess. After all, she did say other members had been found out before, but the way she’s reacted doesn’t appease any of my fears.

  The biggest one being me staining my record and that jeopardizing any future petitions for my mother’s citizenship. It was a thought so far away from me, the realization still makes my lungs compress. I risked too much for gilded coins, foolishly believing we were untouchable. I should have known better, I should have done better.

  The possibility of a happy future is crumbling in front of me, like a boat sinking into the water. I’ve once more taken a decision in my life that has the power of breaking me in half, and just like last year, I can do nothing but watch in horror as it unravels.

  “No.” There’s strain in my voice, words that could be used left unsaid. I straighten up, feeling the weight of my own body, the ache in my feet from running and hiking, the tiredness of my soul as I turn away from Anna and make my way back to the lake house.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Aside from the soft jazz music playing on the radio, Scott’s van is deadly silent. We hit the road sometime after five in the afternoon. Our rooms, the bathrooms, and the kitchen had to be cleaned to a certain extent, but Anna assured us there was a professional cleaning crew coming.

  I rest my head on Ethan’s lap. We’re in the back of the van, with all of our luggage. I watch the trees blend into each other out the window. Ethan is stroking my hair absently, headphones plugged in, eyes lost in the landscape too.

  We get to Westray around nine thirty. We drop the girls off one by one. They don’t say good-bye, everyone lost in their own world.

  Alan gets dropped off next. He leans over and kisses Scott so quickly that I nearly wonder if I made that up.

  Next is my apartment.

  “You’re going to be okay,” Ethan says, giving me a hug as I reach for the handle of the door. I nod, shouldering my backpack before leaning in and brushing my lips against his.

  Stepping onto the sidewalk, I watch Scott give me a military salute before he drives off.

  There is a cool breeze rolling through town that I take a moment to appreciate. I let myself smell Westray. Like wet earth, when you don’t know whether it will rain or not, the uncertainty of it making you pack an umbrella.

  My keys jingle as I unlock the door. My cat is asleep on Dad’s lap as he watches crime shows on our old TV.

  “How was your trip?” he asks.

  I drop my duffel bag on the floor and cry. Awful, ugly sobbing. Michi meows and the next moment Dad is kneeling in front of me, because I’d fallen to the floor.

  He places a can of Coke in front of me. We are finally using the small kitchen table that we seldom sit at. The light in the kitchen is the only one on at the moment, making this feel a bit like an interrogation scene. My body shakes with hiccups every now and then, but I’ve stopped shedding tears. I feel like an empty shell.

  Dad didn’t speak at all while I blabbered everything to him. “So, are the police going to come look for you here, or what’s going to happen?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know, I don’t think so.” My lips feel dry. “They said the police are conducting an investigation, but no one knows what that really means. If they were looking for us, they would have already come to each of our houses.”

  “Well, I feel responsible for what’s happening, corazón.”

  “What, why?”

  “I thought we taught you better, that you’d recognize not to . . . to willingly join some sort of thing like this.” He’s looking down at his beer, forehead resting against one of his palms. “I don’t want to say I’m disappointed, Soledad, but I feel like you pushed yourself too much and you put yourself in unnecessary risk.”

  “Papi, don’t.” I was wrong, I can cry more. “All I wanted was to make you and Mom proud of me, but there’s nothing I can do and I—”

  “Soledad, your mom and I are already proud of you. It wasn’t necessary for you to get in a club or anything like that. Seeing you grow from a girl into a young woman is enough to make your mother and I happy. But right now, I feel like I don’t recognize you.”

  “I’m sorry, papi.”

  He puts his hand on mine, finally looking at me. His face is weathered from the sun, wrinkles on his forehead are strained, and his eyes are tired. It’s this that hurts me more than what he said to me. There’s been stress added to his life that wasn’t there before—trust was breached, and aside from his work and his wife, now he has his daughter to worry about.

  I did that.

  “I know you are, baby. Your mom and I are here for you, but whatever the consequences we taught you to know you must face them.”

  “I’m going to call your mom.” He gets up. “You should get some rest.”

  Michi follows me closely to my room, meowing for attention. I can’t even bring myself to be cheerful for her.

  My room is as I left it, the bedsheets messily scattered because of how early I woke up on Friday. I place my bag on the floor by my desk. My laptop, still broken, serves as a paperweight for the exams I had been studying for.

  In the mirror I see how truly horrible I look after having cried nonstop for about an hour.

  As I sit in my rotating chair, I check my phone. Ethan called twice, Carlos texted, and strangely enough Angela both called and sent a string of three messages all with the same five words:

  Angela: Please call me. It’s important

  While I want nothing more than to ignore everyone and go to sleep for the next couple of days, I dial her number.

  “Sol?”

  “Hey, I got your messages.”

  “Thank you so much. I know it’s superlate, and with everything that has been going on I didn’t expect you t
o reply, but I’m glad you did.” She pauses. “You’re a nice girl, Sol, and I know you and Ethan have this whole thing going on, which is great. He kind of got roped into all of this because of you, and what we did was different compared to other clubs, but everyone had their bag of stones with them, you feel me?”

  “Angela, what are you getting at? I’m not following you at all.” Angela and I aren’t very close—I’ve had some encounters with her in the past, but nothing that indicates friendship.

  “We all knew what we were doing was not good. Really it was more me and Xiu, but Ethan was involved at the beginning.”

  “What is it? Spit it out.”

  “I was the one who called the police. At the beginning it was me, Xiu, and Ethan. We had been planning it since we joined the club because it’s not right what they make members do. That time at the festival, I mentioned knowing Ethan from a class to see if you knew that Ethan and I knew each other, but he pretended he didn’t, so I figured he hadn’t told you about it yet.

  “Then afterward Ethan wanted out because of you, and then you guys started dating, so Xiu and I decided to keep going. The trip to the lake was the perfect time because no one would expect it.”

  I have no words.

  “I’m sorry. You’re not the only member I want to apologize to, but I don’t regret it. Please don’t be mad at Ethan. There are rumors about the history club everywhere, but no one thought it was true. When we found out about it and what happened to Ethan and possibly will happen to other people in the future, we didn’t think should go on.”

  I press End Call faster than a lightning strike and get up. Strange energy flows through my limbs as I grab the keys to my bike lock and run out of my room.

  Dad is still sitting on a chair outside on the balcony, so he doesn’t see me as I sneak out the front door.

  Westray is cool outside. The breeze carries the static of a storm nearing and a few droplets fall on me as I pedal. The wind sings in my ears and my breath becomes heavy with the strain of going as fast as I can along the middle of our little streets. This late at night there are not many cars, so I take the liberty of avoiding the speed bumps by riding between them.

  By the time I get to Ethan’s house my energy is so high I nearly jump off my bike, letting it fall on the sidewalk as I march to the front door and ring the doorbell. When there is no answer, I call him on my phone.

  No answer.

  I find the tree that I fell from, grab a pebble, and toss it. It misses. I try again, I miss again. This happens about five times before I finally land the window.

  “Sol?” I finally see his face as he pushes open his window. Flashbacks of when we first met and he looked at me from the same spot make my stomach twist. “What are you doing, I was nap—”

  “You idiot!” I scream, tears welling up again. “You helped them! I thought I’d gained your trust, I thought you liked me.”

  His eyebrows dip together and then his entire expression falters, understanding softening his features as he covers his eyes.

  “Soledad, please listen to me.”

  “You never even mentioned it.”

  “I tried!”

  “No, you didn’t!”

  “I did, but you seemed so happy, and I was scared of taking that away. I told the girls not to do it because of you!” Ethan moves away from the window, hands on his head, before returning just as fast. “I asked you multiple times if what you thought was going on was okay and you’d give me these mixed signals. I didn’t want to hurt you, especially after you met my grandparents—I learned so much about you.”

  “It’s not only me, Ethan! It’s my family! It’s the other members! I’m not the only member of the fucking club.” I’m tired of screaming, tired of being angry and sad, and everything in between. “I’m going home. Don’t call me.”

  “Wait, Sol!”

  I ignore him and walk back to my bike. My limbs ache, as do my eyes; all my body wants to do now is shut down. As I’m about to get on, he opens the front door and sprints toward me.

  His hand grabs mine, but I recoil, “Don’t touch me.”

  Ethan backs away. “I’m sorry, Sol.”

  “It’s over. My parents won’t look at me the same way again, they won’t trust me anymore. I might have ruined any way for my mom to come back . . . it’s all my fault.” The relationship with my parents was crafted through hardships, and while I know we’ll be able to get through this together, it won’t be the same as before. I willingly kept things from them, and that will leave an emotional scar I hope time will heal. “I really liked you, Ethan, I really did. But my life is hard enough without this bullshit.”

  “Sol, you’ve got to think about what you did for the club.”

  “What did I do for the club? You said we might have been meant to meet. You said you were okay with me feeling guilty about breaking into your place, but aside from that what did I do? I went to meetings, I volunteered for the archive, and I made friends. I helped you break the law. What did I do Ethan? I helped keep secrets? Guess what? So did you.” I think of what Anna told me about the other members, the things even Xiu and Angela did to become a part of the organization. “We all played a part in this, and I know things will get resolved one way or the other, whatever that might look like, but you could have said something to me. I promised to get your things back to you, you could have at least told me what you were planning.”

  “Sol, please.”

  “You got what you wanted. You have your key back, the club is gone, and I’ll probably end up in jail. Might be a miracle if I ever get to see my mom again.” I get on my bike, readying my foot on the pedal. “Justice was served.”

  He calls my name once more but I can’t hear him as the wind picks up around me. Rain begins pouring shortly after, soaking my clothes as I pedal back home.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The police department in Westray is a sight to behold when you’re wondering whether or not you’ll be detained inside of it. It is made out of red bricks, and all of its windows are barred with thick black iron. Inside, the floors are a pale beige and the walls are painted a pasty blue, and, like a hospital, it carries that strange feeling with it, as if no one should be there and yet people end up in there no matter what.

  Dad didn’t speak a single word as he drove me here a couple of minutes ago. He has been tense since yesterday, and while Mom and I haven’t spoken yet, I know she’s likely as worried as he is.

  I have to do this, though. No matter what happens, I have to try doing the right thing.

  “Soledad Gutierrez?” An officer walks out of the office into the little lobby in which I’ve been waiting. The woman who took my information glances quickly at us before looking back down at her paperwork.

  It would have been easier to call and give an anonymous tip; in fact, maybe that would have been the smarter thing to do, but I haven’t been able to sleep since last night.

  “Yes, sir, that’s me.” I get up, making sure to keep a safe distance from him. Dad says officers don’t like to feel like you’re trying to intimidate them. He gave me a lot of tips on how to act around the police and how to comply. I can only imagine it’s from so many years of being afraid of being found out as illegal, and later on being scared of his wife being found out.

  “Please follow me.” He makes a motion with his hand and I walk silently behind him.

  We make our way past the security door and enter a room where desks are laid out in an open area. A couple more officers are sitting and working on their computers; one of them is also on their phone. I half expected them to all turn to me with accusatory glares the moment I walked into the room, but none of them pay us any notice as we walk by. The officer takes me to an office on the right side of the building, separated from the open area by a glass wall and a wooden door.

  “Please take a seat, Ms. Gutierrez.” He mov
es past the chairs and into the back of his workstation. His desk is stacked high with papers and in a bit of a disarray, but the center is clear of any objects, and a small golden plaque tells me his last name is Salazar.

  “What can I do for you today?” It’s a simple question, something that shouldn’t cause panic to rise up my throat and make me want to bolt out the door.

  “I’d like to report some illicit activities going on at Westray Community College.” This wouldn’t be the first time they’re hearing about it if Angela and Xiu already reported what was happening. His face shows no sign of either surprise or knowledge of my comment, instead he nods and takes out a small notebook and a pen from his breast pocket.

  “What would you like to report?” he asks.

  “So, what you told them?” Dad asks when I open the passenger door of his truck. From the faint smell of tobacco in the air I can tell he’s been waiting desperately for me to get out of that building.

  “I didn’t say any names, or which things I took part in, but I told them the truth.” The engine comes alive with a loud whine at the beginning, the sun outside tinting the earth a yellowy brown. It’s about to become spring but the heat of summer feels like an omnipresent god, the fear of fire season escalating every day. “We’ll see how the system works now.”

  “You feel better?” You know things are serious when Dad tries to communicate with me in English. It shows he’s giving his full attention to the matter. I’m not too sure when I began noticing this trend, but it’s his thing.

  “No. Pero vamos a ver que pasa.” We’ll see how it goes.

  He sighs, reaching over and cranking on his old radio. Los Tigres Del Norte’s “La Jaula de Oro” plays as we drive back home. I move over and roll down the window, resting my head against the ledge and letting the warm air brush over my face.

  Shelving books at the library is soothing. Once you get the hang of the alphabetical and numerical method, you pick a book from your cart and find its home. I have most of the floors in the library memorized by now—the halls filled with tomes might seem endless to some but their mazelike structure brings me a sense of serenity.