Into the Beautiful North(45)

“I am not illegal!” she insisted. “I am on a mission. I am a patriot.”

He put his hand to his brow.

“Okay,” he said. “Whatever.”

He was thinking: the last time he’d seen his daughter, she was wearing a Kangol beret and mouthing hip noises and saying, Whatevs, dawg. Dawg? Who really said dawg, anyway? He shook his head. Nayeli was her size and close to her age. Almost her color.

“What am I gonna do with you kids?” he asked no one in particular.

He patted his own arm.

“Thanks for the compliment, by the way,” he said.

He got up, gestured for her to rise. The place was loud and awful. He wanted to be in the high country. Snow and ravens standing on the crowns of lightning-struck lodgepoles. He had a hold of her arm, but he didn’t go to the holding pen. He didn’t know what he was doing. He was going on instinct. Who could fire him? Who could write him up? He’d go fishing.

Arnie bought Nayeli a cold Coke from a battered machine. He bought some Zagnut bars and M&M’s from the agents’ machine for her friends. Then he locked her in the holding pen.

He stared in at her.

She smiled back.

“Don’t let me catch your ass again,” he warned.

A dog began barking savagely at a small group of young men.

More terrorists, Arnie thought as he walked away, ignoring the whole thing.

Nayeli burned with shame.

She had thought the Americanos would be happy to see her.



We’re going back to Tijuana?” Yolo snapped.

They had found one another in the big pen. They never spotted Candelaria. Tacho was feeling his money belt, amazed that nobody had discovered it.

“We’re starting all over?” Yolo yelled.

“Would you rather be in jail?” Nayeli snapped back.

“I would rather be in Tres Camarones!” Yolo said. “I would rather be home!”

She shoved Nayeli.

One of the migra agents waded into the crowd.

“Hey!” he said. “?Calma!”

“Sorry,” said Yolo.

“Do I have to separate you?”

“No.”

“I’m watching.”

“Sorry.”

He signaled another agent, and they stayed close enough to the friends to intervene, should trouble erupt.

“Great,” Nayeli said. “Thanks.”

“Don’t get smart with me, girl,” Yolo replied. “Thanks for what? I didn’t get us arrested! I didn’t get us deported!”

“Come on, now,” Tacho said. He was stroking poor Vampi’s tangled vampire hair. “Let’s not fight.”

Tacho thought sadly about La Mano Caída. He was missing the counter and the drink cooler, the cement floor and the stinking evil iguana in the window that snuck in every day to steal his mango and pineapple slices. He was suddenly worried that Aunt Irma wasn’t taking proper care of the lizard.

“I can’t believe this!” Yolo said.

“I know,” Tacho said. His voice could be soothing when he wanted it to be. “I know.”

Yolo crossed her arms around her stomach and huffed. She had tears in her eyes. The people jammed in with her bumped into her and pushed against her. She had never hated people as much as she did right then. One tear escaped her eye and ran down her cheek.

Nayeli reached out for her, to give her a hug. She resisted, then gave in.

“I’m sorry,” Nayeli whispered.

Tacho said, “Just think of home. That’s what I do when I feel bad. I think of home.”

It was so noisy. Fences were clanking. People shuffled, muttered. The buses pulled up and the agents were yelling and the pneumatic doors were pulling open and the chain link was rattling. Migra agents moved through, telling them it was time to go home. The friends had to yell to be heard.

“What?” Yolo shouted.

“Home!” Tacho yelled. It was so absurd, he started to grin. He yelled as loud as he could: “Think about home!”

“What about home?” Vampi clled.

“I think about La Mano Caída!” Tacho yelled.

“?Qué?”

“?LA MANO CAIDA!”

Instantly, the Border Patrol agents froze.

“Al Qaeda?” the nearest one said.

“What?” said Tacho.

“Did you say Al Qaeda?”

“?No! ?Dije ‘La Mano Caída’!” Tacho shouted a little too loud.

The agents jumped on him, wrestling him to the ground.

“This guy’s Al Qaeda!”

People shouted and surged away. The gate stood open and the bus loading began. The three girls were forced from Tacho, who was under a pile of ICE agents. People shoved. The girls shrieked. A man’s voice yelled, “Get them out of here!” They were borne onto the bus.

Agents were wading into the crowd from all sides, heading for Tacho.

The bus doors slammed.

The bus lurched away, and the girls were trapped inside, watching them manhandle Tacho.

They sobbed and banged on the glass.

But the bus did not stop.





Norte





Chapter Eighteen



Morning.