Into the Beautiful North(37)

Before she could comment, a decrepit and slouching white Olds 88 crept out of an alley and made its rough way over the rocks and broken glass. Its muffler was gone, and it made a loud glubba-glubba noise as it came, leaking curtains of blue fumes. It eased to a halt and seemed to list a little farther to the left. A driver as ugly as Atómiko leaped out. His hair was slicked back with oil, and he had a mustache that looked like he’d stolen it from a pimp downtown.

“Was he just sitting there, waiting to hear from you?” Nayeli said.

“I have powers,” Atómiko boasted. “I summon the wind and the stars.”

“You are such a loser,” she said.

The new cholo snapped his fingers and pointed at Nayali. In badly accented English, he barked, “Jou! Show me jou papers!”

He and Atómiko knocked knuckles and laughed.

The cholo turned to Tacho.

“?Tiene papeles?” he demanded. “Jou wetback?”

Again, gales of laughter from these rude idiots.

Nayeli walked away from them.

“Loca,” the driver said. “You need me.”

“That’s like saying I need cancer.”

“?Ay!” he said. He put his hand over his heart and staggered backward. “Badass! She’s hard, brother!”

He and Atómiko slapped palms.

“Está firme, la morra,” Atómiko announced. “She’s so fierce, my little brown girl.”

Nayeli hung her mouth open at Tacho in disbelief that Atómiko would say so many stupid things.

“I can take you, no problem,” the driver said.

“I doubt it,” Nayeli snapped.

Tacho, the goodwill ambassador of Tres Camarones, stepped in.

“How?” he asked. “What do we do?”

The driver looked at him.

“?Y este?” he asked.

“He’s cool,” Atómiko said.

The driver said, “I’ll take you to Libertad. You know Colonia Libertad?”

Tacho shook his head. Nayeli thought of the nonexistent Chavarín’s phone number. Yolo and Vampi stared at the ground in their despair.

“It’s rough; I’m not going to lie,” the driver said. “But I’ll set you up with a good guide, and you’ll go under the fence and into the canyons. They’ll get you up to Otay.”

“What’s Otay?”

Atómiko smiled, spun his staff in front of him.

“That,” he said, “is the United States.”

Tacho and Nayeli looked at each other.

“When?” she said.

“Right now.”

“How much?” Tacho asked.

Atómiko and the driver muttered.

“My socio here wants me to give you a good deal,” the driver said. “I’ll take you for one hundred and fifty. Each.”

Tacho and Nayeli got together and acted as if they were discussing the proposal, but they didn’t know if the price was good or bad, or what they were doing.

“I guess so,” Nayeli said.

“Good!” Atómiko crowed. “Wait here!”

“Why?”

“I’m going to get my stuff!” he cried, and ran off.

Don Porfirio had sneaked out and swiped his jar of rum and milk and sugar from Araceli, and he’d poured the rest of the rum in and had it shaken up into a sweet foam, and he and Yolo powered down the whole thing.

Yolo, feeling no pain at all, said, “That Atómiko, he is definitely not Yul Brynner!”

“Mexico’s greatest movie star,” Nayeli said, with deep nostalgia for Irma and Tres Camarones.



Nayeli was deeply opposed to Atómiko’s presence, but Tacho and the girls voted her down. They felt they could use another warrior for the crossing, and frankly, now that Yolo was drunk, she thought Atómiko was handsome and dashing. Nayeli couldn’t believe her ears—but she also knew the crossing was supposed to be deadly, and maybe Atómiko’s pole would be of use should they meet any bad men. He also carried a tiny Hello Kitty backpack. Maybe he had weapons in there. Vampi, to be helpful, gave him her switchblade.

They said their farewells to Araceli and Porfirio. The couple absolutely refused any money for their hospitality, but Nayeli sneaked into their house as they were hugging and patting Vampi and left a twenty-dollar bill on their little table. Vampi cried disconsolately when she said good-bye to their hosts, and Araceli gave her a rose.

Nayeli and Tacho and Atómiko crammed into the backseat, the staff out the window.

“Why are you coming, again?” Nayeli asked him.

“I’m bored. Nothing on TV,” Atómiko replied.

Yolo laughed and threw him a wide drunken wink over the front seat.

“Nayeli and Atómiko are going to get married,” she said to Vampi.

“Really?” said Vampi.

“We should go to Las Vegas,” Yolo said.

“Oh, yes!” Vampi enthused. “Elvis!”

“Enough,” Nayeli warned.

“Want to hold my hand?” Atómiko asked.

“Are you crazy?” Nayeli shouted.

He looked out the window mildly.

“Sweetheart,” he said.