The Painted Boy

by Charles de Lint

“You’re my problem. You’re talking about starting up a gang and I’m here to tell you that if you keep it up, I’ll be sending you out of the barrio. One-way trip, no return.”

  The kid laughed. “You don’t look like much. You’re the big deal supposed to be keeping us all safe? How’re you going to keep us safe if you kick us out?”

  “You misunderstand my job,” Jay told him. “I’m only here to look after the people who live in the barrio—who want to be here. I couldn’t care less what happens to you if I have to kick you out.”

  The kid shook his head. “You don’t look so tough.”

  “I’m not,” Jay told him. “Not really.”

  He held out his hand and woke a ball of dragonfire.

  “You ever see how fast one of these things can burn up a person?” he asked.

  The kids started to back away, all except for the biggest one.

  “You don’t scare me,” he said, though his eyes said different.

  “I’m not really trying to. I’m just explaining the rules that allow you the privilege of staying here.”

  “Man, the sooner I get out of this shithole the better.”

  “That’s fine. But still no gangs.”

  “Screw you.”

  Jay nodded. “What’s your name?”

  “José Vargas.”

  “Are you related to Malo Malo’s drummer?”

  “She was a cousin. Why? What’s it to you?”

  “She’d be disappointed in you.”

  “Jesus, like I care.”

  “You should. Say good-bye to the barrio, José.”

  He grabbed the boy’s arm and shifted them into el entre. When he let José go, the boy took a swing at him, but Jay dodged it with little effort. José took another swing and Jay asked the wind to push the kid away. José spun comically, arms windmilling to keep his balance.

  “Enjoy your new home,” Jay said. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

  Then he stepped out of el entre, just in time to meet the girls for lunch.

  “Sorry,” Anna said. “We got sidetracked in the bath-room.”

  Jay held up a hand. “Don’t need to know more.”

  “So what’ve you been up to?” she asked. “You’ve got a bit of a glow happening there.”

  “Nothing. Just making new friends.”

  After school Jay went back to el entre to look in on José, but the kid started throwing rocks at him, so Jay left him there.

  Rosalie had already told Ramon that she couldn’t see him because she had too much homework. So did Jay, but he wanted to talk to Ramon before he started, and since Ramon wouldn’t be coming by, Jay went to him. The medicine wheel led him to Ramon’s backyard, where Ramon slouched in a lawn chair, his gaze on the night sky. He turned his head when he heard Jay’s footsteps.

  “Hey, dragon boy,” he said.

  “I’d say ‘Hey, music boy’ back,” Jay said, “but you’re not playing anymore, so . . .”

  Ramon nodded then returned to watching the sky. Jay pulled over a plastic milk crate, turned it over, and sat down.

  “Yeah,” Ramon said. “It pretty much sucks. I haven’t picked up an instrument since we finished that gig in front of the pool hall.” He fell silent for a moment, then added, “No, that’s not exactly true. It’s just when I do pick up an instrument, there’s nothing there anymore. No spark, no joy.”

  “Joy,” Jay repeated.

  “Okay, I know. I was totally the political animal and I wasn’t exactly writing happy songs, but there was still a joy in what I was doing.”

  “Well, sure. If it had all been downer tunes you’d only have had a bunch of goths coming to your gigs.”

  “You’re being hard on goths. They’re not into depression. They’re just not afraid of looking into the darkness.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah. But the problem is, when I play now, it all sounds flat. I think I’m done. Maybe I’ll start hanging out with the uncles, drinking mescal tea.”

  “Come on, man,” Jay said. “The people need Malo Malo. You don’t see me turning my back on my job, do you?”

  “Actually, I think your job makes my job unnecessary.”

  “Good music’s always necessary. I haven’t solved all the problems down here. All I did was get rid of the gangs. The kids still need you to be their conscience. How else are they going to learn to develop their own? And you’re their voice, man. You’re the one who tells their stories.”

  Ramon shook his head. “With Margarita gone, it’s not the same.”

  “Of course it isn’t. But do you really think she’d want you guys to give up your music? Do you think that’s the legacy she’d want to have?”

  When Ramon didn’t respond, Jay decided to take another tack.

  “Remember that hike we went on?” he asked.

  Ramon nodded.

  “You told me then that it was important for us to follow our dreams. You said I should go for what I believed in because at least I would have tried.”

  “That sounds like something I would have said.”

  “You’re not trying anymore.”

  “I told you. When I pick up an instrument—”

  “That’s when you’re sitting back here,” Jay broke in, “or in your room, right? On your own.”

  “Your point being?”

  “You didn’t try with the band.”

  “They feel the same way.”

  “Anna doesn’t. I haven’t talked to the others about it, but I know she doesn’t.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “You know what I’m saying,” Jay said. “You need to get together with the others again. Find another drummer, or just work with Hector’s beats.”

  “And if it doesn’t happen?”

  “At least you gave it a shot.”

  “I don’t know. . . .”

  “Okay,” Jay said. “I’ve got one last card to play. Do you think Rosalie deserves to be with someone who doesn’t have the courage to get off his ass and try?”

  Ramon sat up. The light was dim, but Jay could feel the flash of anger.

  “That’s low, man,” he said.

  His voice was mild, but the fire stayed in his eyes. His hands gripped the arms of the lawn chair.

  “Maybe,” Jay said. “Probably. But I’m sticking with the question.”

  “What? You want me to break up with Rosalie?”

  “God, no. I want you to play music again.”

  Then he told Ramon about the idea he had. Ramon didn’t say anything for a long time. He stared across the yard. He looked past the old GMC truck his brother was rebuilding, past the cacti and creosote bushes, through the chain-link fence to the alley beyond. Jay didn’t think he was actually seeing anything.

  “And everybody else is on board with this?” Ramon finally asked.

  “Don’t you think that’s something you should be asking them?”

  Ramon turned to look at him.

  “Man, this dragon business sits well on you. The kid I met back when wasn’t half so decisive and sure of himself. There’s steel in your backbone now, and no give.”

  Jay shook his head. “I would never try to make anybody do anything—except if they tried to bring the gangs back. That’s nonnegotiable.”

  Ramon nodded. “You really think Rosalie’s disappointed in me?”

  “Are you kidding me? She adores you. What I was asking was if she deserved to be with someone—”

  “Who doesn’t have the courage to follow his dreams. Okay. I get it.” He sighed. “You win. I’ll give it a try. I can’t promise anything. I don’t even know if anyone besides Anna still wants to. But I’ll try.”

  Jay checked in on José before he returned to his room at Tío’s. The threads of the medicine wheel could have taken him right to where the boy was, but he chose to step into el entre some distance from where José sat on a rock, his arms wrapped around himself. He watched the boy for a while, then approached on silent feet
until he was right behind him. He reached over José’s head and dropped a bottle of water in the boy’s lap.

  “What the—”

  José turned around, but Jay was already gone.

  A few nights before the big free concert and fiesta that Malo Malo was headlining, Rosalie and Jay were sitting out in front of Rosalie’s trailer. The sky was huge tonight—no clouds and the stars went on forever, even with the light pollution from the city. Occasionally, coyotes would start up their song somewhere in the desert and all the dogs would lift their heads for a moment before settling down again. The day’s heat had died and a cool breeze was blowing in from the desert, carrying the scent of creosote.

  “I think the concert should be a memorial for Maria as well as Margarita,” Jay said.

  Rosalie turned to look at him. “That can’t happen. I know she killed El Tigre, but so far as most people are concerned she was still one of the Presidio Queens. Most people just think it was because of a falling out among the Kings.”

  “They’d be wrong.”

  “I know. I mean, probably. Oh, I don’t know.”

  She sat back in her chair and stroked Oswaldo’s head where the big mastiff was resting it on her lap. If he could have had his way he would have crawled right up on her the way Pepito was sprawled across Jay’s knees, snoring softly.

  “I made a promise not to tell you something,” Jay said after a while, “but Lupita thinks it doesn’t hold anymore because Maria’s dead now.”

  He heard Rosalie’s intake of breath.

  “What do you think?” Jay asked. “Does it still hold?”

  “Is this about why she became a Queen?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh, my God. It has something to do with me?”

  Jay sighed. He should have known. Once you started something like this, you had to take it to the end.

  “Yeah,” he said. “They were going to jump you. They wanted to get back at Tío because of the way he always speaks out against the gangs.”

  “I would never join a gang.”

  “You weren’t going to get a choice.”

  Rosalie just looked at him, not getting it.

  “Maria did what she did,” he said, “so that they’d leave you alone.”

  “Tell me that’s not true.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Oh, God. That means . . . all this time . . .”

  Rosalie put her face in her hands and started to cry.

  Jay sat staring at her for a long moment, not knowing what to do. Finally, he put a protesting Pepito down and knelt by her chair, an arm across her shoulders. She burrowed her face against him, her whole body shaking. He patted her awkwardly on the back and wished Ramon was here because he didn’t have a clue how to deal with this. He just knew he felt awful for having caused it. Lupita had been so wrong.

  “I should never have told you,” he said.

  Rosalie kept crying, but she shook her head.

  “I—I needed—to—to know. . . .”

  Jay didn’t think so. Not if it left her feeling like this.

  The dogs were restless now, sensing her distress. Oswaldo had begun to growl, low in his chest. His gaze raked the yard, looking for the cause of Rosalie’s upset. Little Pepito pressed himself against her leg, whimpering.

  Jay came to a decision. He didn’t know if it would help or make things worse, but he had nothing else.

  He stood up, pulling her to her feet. She had to lean against him, unable to stand by herself, her shoulders still heaving.

  “I’m going to show you something,” he said.

  And he took her to the plateau in el entre.

  She stiffened in his arms, then slowly lifted her head and looked around. Jay didn’t think she could see much through the blur of her tears, but she knew she was no longer in Tío’s backyard. She stepped back, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her shirt.

  “What . . . where . . . ?”

  She turned from the vast starlit view of the mountains. She looked him in the face, then saw the tall cairn of stones that rose up beside them.

  “This is where I brought her,” Jay said. “It’s a place she always wanted to see. She called it Aztlán.”

  “The promised land,” Rosalie murmured.

  She knelt down in front of the cairn and laid her hands on the stones.

  “Oh, Maria,” she began, then she could go no further.

  She pressed her forehead against the stones and began to cry again, softer now. Jay sat beside her and put his arm around her shoulders once more, offering what comfort he could.

  This hadn’t been such a good idea, either, he realized.

  It was a long time before Rosalie finally sat back. She wiped her eyes again, then turned to Jay.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “For what? Making you feel awful?”

  Which was certainly how he felt for putting her through this.

  She shook her head. “No. Thank you for giving me back my friend.”

  “I don’t know what to do with him,” Jay said to Lupita. “I left him here overnight, but . . .”

  The two of them sat on top of a jut of red rock and watched José walking aimlessly through the arroyo below them, kicking at stones.

  “He’s just a wannabe gangbanger,” Jay went on. “He hasn’t actually done anything yet. But he seems pretty determined to get another gang started.”

  “Have you asked him why?”

  Jay shook his head. “I can’t get past the tough-guy mask he won’t take off.”

  “He looks around fifteen.”

  Jay nodded. “Any ideas?”

  “You have to get him to talk to you.”

  “Or maybe us?” Jay said.

  Lupita grinned. “You’re pretty chicken for a big, scary dragon.”

  “I just don’t know where to go with this,” Jay said. “I thought it was a good idea to take him somewhere to chill, but I didn’t really think it through. I should have let it go until he actually did something.”

  “And then you’d banish him.”

  Jay sighed. “Yeah, that doesn’t really work, either, does it?”

  “You might not be able to save him. Some people don’t want to be saved. They need to make their own mistakes, no matter how much it hurts them.”

  “I suppose. He’s a cousin of Margarita’s.”

  Lupita nodded. “Okay. And sometimes you have to go all tough love on them.”

  She stood up and brushed stone dust from her pants.

  “Let’s go see what he’s got to say for himself,” she said.

  Jay was so used to Lupita in el entre, walking around with her little horns and her floppy jackrabbit ears, that sometimes he forgot how other people reacted. José looked up when he heard them coming down into the arroyo and his eyes went so big Jay thought they might pop out of his head. And though he might be a wannabe ’banger, Lupita’s appearance had him ready to bolt.

  “Hang on!” Jay called to the boy as they approached him. “I just want to talk to you. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot.”

  José couldn’t stop staring at Lupita.

  “What . . . who’s that?” he said.

  Lupita grinned. “Oh, he’s cute. Can I have him?”

  “Not helping,” Jay told her.

  He stopped a few yards from where José stood, grabbing Lupita’s arm to keep her beside him.

  “Seriously, man,” José said. “Did you spike that water you dropped on me last night? That was you, right?”

  “I brought you the water,” Jay said, “and it wasn’t spiked. This is Lupita. She won’t hurt you.”

  José nodded, though he didn’t seem convinced.

  “Is she the devil?” he asked.

  Lupita giggled.

  “Okay,” José said. “I don’t see the devil giggling. But, man.” He gave his head a shake. “I don’t know if I’m coming or going anymore.”

  “I know the feeling,” Jay said. “So Lupita says I should have asked
you why you want to start a gang.”

  José gave him a how-dumb-are-you look.

  “You have to ask?” he said. “It’s the only way to stay safe. You need your homeboys to watch your back.”

  “Against what?”

  “Huh?”

  “What kind of danger do you think you’re in?” Jay asked. “The gangs are all gone from the south barrio.”

  “Yeah, and if we want to go across the river for a show or something? You don’t think the 66ers are gonna be all over our asses?”

  Lupita laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” José asked.

  “Nothing. It’s just you five-fingered beings make everything so hard on yourselves.”

  “Five-fingered what?”

  “People,” Jay said. “Humans.”

  José gave him another withering look. “You trying to tell me you’re not human?”

  “Have you really looked at Lupita?”

  “Oh . . . yeah. But what about you?”

  “You don’t want to see my other face,” Jay said.

  Something in the tone of his voice kept José from making a smart remark.

  “What are we going to do with him?” Jay asked Lupita.

  She shrugged. “Let him do whatever he wants across the river. If he’s stupid enough to still get mixed up with the bandas over there, is it really your responsibility?”

  Jay shook his head. “That’s Jesus Abarca’s territory.”

  “So there you go.”

  “You can’t tell me what I can or can’t do,” José said.

  “Do you want to stay here?” Jay asked.

  “No, but—”

  “Then listen up. Do whatever you want when you’re on the other side of the San Pedro. But if you bring gang business southside—and I mean any kind of gang business—you’ll be seeing me again. But for only as long as it takes me to escort you to the border.”

  José shook his head. “What makes you think—”

  “I think he needs a demonstration,” Lupita said.

  Dragonfire would be impressive, but Jay bent and picked up a rock.

  “This is your head,” he told José.

  He asked the rock for a favor, and when he closed his hand the rock crumbled into dust. He opened his hand.

  “And this is your head if you keep pissing me off,” he said.