Do Not Become Alarmed(45)

“Oh, mija,” Maria breathed.

“What took you so long?” June whispered, taking the bunny.

They followed Maria in bare feet over the unpaved driveway. Her car was parked a long way from the house, down by the security gate. As they walked, Isabel felt unsteady and thought the trembling in her legs was getting worse, but then she realized the earth was actually moving.

“Earthquake,” Marcus whispered.

They all looked at each other, then looked back at the house. Isabel hoped it would collapse. She hoped a huge chasm would open in the ground and swallow the house and the sleeping brothers. But the shaking stopped. No lights went on in the windows. No one burst out after them.

They hurried to the car. Penny took the front seat. Isabel slid in back with Marcus and the little ones, closing the door as silently as she could.

Maria started the engine, peering up at the house. They drove down the rest of the driveway with the headlights off, to the gate.

“Push it open,” Maria said in Spanish. “The power is off.”

Isabel got out and ran to the gate, which opened. The car rolled past her and through. Isabel closed the gate quietly and ran to the car.

Then they were on the paved road down the hill. Maria kept checking the rearview mirror, but no one followed them. Isabel lost some more time, but then the car stopped outside a small white house. They all got out. They were on a quiet street, with one streetlight at the end of the block. Maria jangled her keychain, looking for the key in the dark.

There was a sticker beside the front door that said, “En este lugar, creemos en Dios,” with a little drawing of praying hands. Maria led them inside, to a crowded living room with two mismatched couches and an armchair.

Maria knocked at a door, and called, “Oscar!”

After a minute, a teenage boy came out of the room in a T-shirt and boxer shorts, with his hair messy from sleep. There was a picture of him on the wall, as a little boy with his arm around an older girl. A sister somewhere.

“This is Oscar, my son,” Maria said.

He was trying to put his glasses on. When he did, he saw the children all standing there in their matching clothes. He put his hand to his forehead. “Ay, Mamá,” he said.

She spoke to him in rapid Spanish, saying, “You have to drive them to the American embassy, right now.”

“Me?”

“Yes. Get dressed. I have to go back to work.”

“You can’t go back!”

“I have to,” Maria said. “If they see me gone, they’ll come straight here.”

He looked frightened. “I don’t even know where the embassy is.”

“In the capital. Ask someone. Take your uncle’s car.”

“That piece of shit?” he said. “You’re not giving me yours?”

“I can’t.” Maria went to a closet and pulled out five pairs of flip-flops in different sizes.

Oscar stared at the shoes. “When did you buy those?”

June pulled at Isabel’s arm. “What are they saying?” she asked.

“We’re going to the embassy,” Isabel said.

Maria handed Oscar a set of car keys. Then she gave him a small paper bag. “Insulina,” she said. “For the little boy.”

“I’ll keep that,” Penny said in English, and she snatched the bag away.

“What do I tell the Americans?” Oscar asked.

“Say these are los ni?os del barco and you need protection.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine, mijo.” She kissed his sweaty forehead and cupped his cheek with her hand. “This is the thing we have to do.”





25.



PENNY SORTED THROUGH the flip-flops Maria had pulled from the closet and found her size. Maria had done a good job guessing. It was nice to have shoes again. The boy, Oscar, came back out of his room in jeans and a T-shirt.

“Hijo de puta,” he said, rubbing his hair. “Qué hizo mi mamá.”

June, in her new flip-flops, put her hands on her hips. “Do you speak English?” she asked.

“Yes,” Oscar said.

“I’m hungry,” June said.

“No time.”

“Can you bring something?”

He handed her a banana from a wire basket.

June made a face. “It has brown spots.”

“So don’t eat it.” He went to the refrigerator and pulled out a block of cheese and some apples. He put the food in a nylon backpack and added a jacket and a flashlight.

June peeled the banana, grimaced, and took a bite.

Oscar opened the front door and waited for them to file out. The other houses were dark. It was strange to be outside, and free.

Oscar unlocked a very old car parked on the street, and they all got in. Penny had never been in a car so old. It was even older than her dad’s Volvo. There was dust all over the windshield and the windows. When she pulled the passenger door shut, the handle felt sticky, like the plastic was breaking down. “Whose car is this?”

“My tío’s,” Oscar said.

“Will he care?” she asked.

“He’s dead.”

“Oh.”

Oscar turned the key in the ignition and there was a straining, chugging noise. Then it stopped.