Into the Beautiful North(52)

Vampi pointed across the water. Bonfires burned on a low island. They could see fat men in lawn chairs drinking from cans.

“I stand corrected,” Atómiko announced. He raised his staff and called, “Party!”

“Maybe we can find some dead dogs, too, so you’ll feel at home,” Yolo said.

“You are very humorous,” the Warrior replied.

A VW Bug circled the round driveway. It was full of American girls. The bass was bumpin’, and the girls laughed as the car circled. Nayeli could smell them from this far away—shampoo and perfume and cigarettes.

“Eminem!” Vampi shouted.

The girls waved and sped off into the night.

“It is the sisterhood of music,” Vampi intoned.

Yolo and Nayeli shook their heads.

“This chick is too much,” Yolo complained.

Vampi was so happy, she threw her arms around Atómiko.

“Do you love it here?” she asked.

“It’s peachy,” he said.

“Ooh, you’re so tough!”

“I love you, though,” he offered.

“Me and every other hot girl.”

“You are hot,” he agreed. “Muy, muy caliente, mi chiquita.”

“All right, buster,” she said.

She let him go.

“?Morras!” she shouted. “What do you want to do now that we’re in Los Yunaites?”

Nayeli: “Find my father.”

Yolo: “Find Mateo.”

Nayeli: “That, too.”

Yolo: “Find Tacho.”

Tacho! They all started crying again. Darling Tacho!

Atómiko hawked up some phlegm and spit.

“I want to go to Disneyland,” he said.

They goggled at him—everyone expected he’d say something like I want to go to a strip club and see hardbodies, or something like I want to get into a gang fight and kill a hundred men with my bare hands. He felt self-conscious, the way they were staring at him and sniffling, wiping their eyes and noses on their sleeves.

“What!” he demanded.

They giggled.

“Disneyland, Atómiko?” Nayeli said.

“Hey,” he said. “I just want to whack Mickey Mouse with my pole!”

The girls burst out laughing.

“Your pole!” Yolo cried.

“You could have whacked Tacho with your pole if you were lonesome!” Vampi said.

Then they thought about Tacho and felt weepy all over again.

Nayeli banged on the phone one time.

“Tachito,” she said.

“Food,” Atómiko proclaimed, saving face.

He pointed with his pole at a Jack in the Box across the freeway.

“Did you bring money?” Nayeli asked.

“Nel.”

“I suppose I’m buying you a meal?”

“I am earning my keep, guarding you on your journey. I am—”

“We KNOW who you are!” Yolo blurted.

The girls all crowed: “You are Atómiko!”

He shrugged, looked away inscrutably.

Nayeli pulled out her Missionary Matt card.

She and Yolo stared at each other.

“Should I?” Nayeli said.

“You have to.”

“I’m nervous.”

“Just do it.”

Nayeli picked up the phone, then laughed and hung it up.

“You coward,” Yolo said.

“No!” Nayeli replied. “I don’t have any American coins left! We spent it all. I have pesos, and it won’t take pesos!”

Atómiko coughed, spit.

“Food,” he repeated.

They walked over the bridge.





Chapter Twenty



The girls had never eaten tacos made with hamburger meat.

“American food,” said Yolo.

Vampi slurped a Dr Pepper.

“Doctor Pimienta,” she translated. “But I don’t taste any pepper.”

“Let me taste it,” said Nayeli.

She scrunched her nose.

“I think that’s prune juice,” she said.

“Let me taste! Let me taste!” demanded Yolo. She took a pull.

“Cherries,” she said.

They had been lucky. All the employees in the burger stand were undocumented Mexicans except for one Guatemalan. They exchanged pesos for dollars at a bad rate, but at least Nayeli could buy food and get change for the pay phone.

Atómiko had acted out a violent attack of nausea and retching when they ordered tacos. He wasn’t falling for that. He ordered two Jumbo Jacks with cheese and large fries and a chocolate milk shake. And a piece of apple pie.

“Enjoy your diabetes,” Yolo muttered.

“You’re in America now, cabronas,” he noted. “Apple pie!” He pronounced it appo pize! “That’s what they eat!”

“If we keep you here very long,” Nayeli noted, “you will spark a famine all by yourself.”

“All the paisanos will come home on their own,” Vampi said, “just so you don’t force them to die of hunger.”

They slapped her high fives, always eager to reward her for saying something witty or pithy.