A true Primera can turn her heart to steel, and her face to stone.
—Medio School for Girls Handbook, 14th edition
AFTER A CHILDHOOD IN POLVO, beneath the shadow of the border wall, Dani thought she might never get used to the deference the police showed the wealthy.
Her papers securely in her lap, she watched as officers approached the glossy cars ahead with smiles, even laughter. A far cry from the scowling menaces who had made their way through Polvo once a week, scattering chickens, terrifying children and adults alike as they searched for stolen merchandise, punished families for “hoarding” food, and looked for people to send back over the wall.
Dani couldn’t remember ever feeling as small as she had on inspection days, and that had been their goal. To intimidate. To punish. Simply because she and her neighbors had been born with less.
But she wasn’t the same person she’d been then, Dani reminded herself. She had spent five years in the company of the country’s wealthiest daughters, learning their ways, becoming a Primera worthy of the Garcia family. That, along with her training, could be used to her advantage.
“Good morning, ladies,” said a young officer when they reached the front of the line. Mama Garcia waited until the last possible moment to roll down the window, as if the air outside held something contagious. “We’re so sorry for the interruption. With the influx of new faces around graduation time, we need to make sure we’re not letting in anyone we shouldn’t.”
“Make it quick,” said Señora Garcia, scarcely making eye contact with the officer.
Every girl Dani had ever been, from a scared child sneaking across the border to now, sat in awe of the way she dismissed him—and the way he let her.
“Of course, señora,” he said. “If you could all just pass your papers to me, we’ll have you out of here in no time.”
The señora reached out, and Mama Garcia and Carmen handed their papers over, still looking bored. Maybe slightly irritated. But there was no fear.
And why should there be?
Dani hadn’t moved. She needed to move.
“Come on, child,” said Mama Garcia. “We don’t have all day.”
Of course, Dani thought. They wouldn’t want Mateo’s wine to be a degree over room temperature, now would they? “My apologies,” she said instead, channeling the girl she’d learned to be in the classroom on the hill. The girl with iron in her bones, who would never let so much as a finger tremble.
You were trained for this, she told herself.
Once she handed the papers off, it was done. She would either be heading through that gate to the most exclusive community on the island, or down the road in handcuffs.
Every second was a year. Mama and Señora Garcia’s papers came back in minutes, but all new residents were being double-checked. The air was growing thinner in the car. It had to be. Dani took slow, even breaths to keep anyone from noticing the lungfuls of remaining oxygen she wanted to gulp in. Our restraint is our strength, she told herself again and again.
Carmen’s papers came back next. She didn’t even look up as she took them.
The officer outside the car wrinkled his brow at Dani’s ID. “It’ll just be one more minute.” Another officer joined the first, and together they held Dani’s hummingbird heart in their hands. If the papers didn’t work . . .
But there was no time for thoughts like that. Steel heart. Stone face. Dani shook herself mentally. She wasn’t a little girl hiding in her mother’s skirts when the scary men passed through the village. Not anymore.
In this moment, she was a girl who deserved deference, not the type of scowl usually reserved for dogs. How dare he.
Her voice was as steady as her hands when she rolled her window down and said in her most imperious voice: “Is there some kind of problem?”
The first officer’s eyes went wide. “I’m sorry, señorita—” he began, but Dani interrupted.
“It’s señora,” she said. “Señora Garcia. And my husband is waiting very far up that hill for my safe arrival. We wouldn’t want to make him impatient.”
For anyone else, clenched fingers would have given it away. Trembling knees. Fear set deep in the eyes. But Dani was immune to it all. She was slick and smooth and impenetrable.
She was a Primera.
“Of course, señora, my sincere apologies, only we have a new verification system in place and . . .”
The glare Dani leveled him with cut him off midsentence. The irritation on her face was a tool, and it worked.
“But you all must be very busy?” the officer said, asking her for permission.
“We are,” said Dani with a withering smile. “And if you consider my husband’s position with the military, and the rigorous vetting process we’ve already been through, I’m sure you’ll understand that this silly song and dance you’re doing is really quite redundant.”
The officer’s face actually went red at this. “Of course, señora,” he said, passing her papers back inside.
“We certainly appreciate you keeping us all safe,” Dani said. “You can’t be too careful these days.”
“Yes, well,” said the officer, waving at the car before turning toward the next. “Have a good day, ladies. And we’re so sorry again for the inconvenience.”
“About time!” said Mama Garcia. “Somebody had to put them in their place!” Dani settled back into her seat, resisting the urge to smirk.
Mama Garcia continued to fan herself with her oversized hat until the window was up and the car had been restored to its precise sixty-eight-degree temperature, but Señora Garcia gave Dani a small, approving nod.
The gate in front of them groaned loudly as two more officers pulled it open before them, the white stone drive almost blinding beneath the late-morning sun. The thrill of accomplishment made Dani feel giddy as the gate closed again behind them. Outside, there were still people under suspicion, but in here, she was safe.
Bold, she chanced a look at Carmen, expecting a look of irritation for the way Dani had impressed Mateo’s madres. If this drive had been a competition, she’d just made herself the clear victor, and Carmen had never liked to be bested. Especially not by Dani.
She wasn’t disappointed; Carmen was looking at her. But her expression was far from envious. There was something sharp and appraising in it that Dani had never seen before.
In the face of that look, Dani realized: she enjoyed the power of being a Primera. The way it changed the posture of the people around her. The way it could make even an enemy admire her.
Outside the car, the complex proper was in full midmorning swing. House staff walked along the wide, tree-lined streets with harried expressions, while in the manicured grassy areas young Segundas played with children who would never know the feeling of hunger in their bellies.
Dani had expected this place to be sparse. Utilitarian. A place that would hold up to an attack from outside. The government of Medio was run from inside these walls, wasn’t it? But while the complex might have been those things in practice, to the untrained eye it was nothing short of the most luxurious community Dani had ever seen.
Of course, she mused. The most influential people in the country lived and dined and socialized and raised their families within these walls. It wasn’t as though the upper class of the upper class was going to live in windowless concrete bunkers.
“Here we are,” said Mama Garcia, with the tone of someone unwrapping a rather impressive gift. All eyes swiveled toward the house as the car pulled into the circular drive.
Dani commanded her jaw not to drop. The house was an oasis of rose-colored stone rising from the expansive tropical garden that surrounded it. On its front alone, Dani counted twenty windows. Even Carmen had the good grace to look impressed.
“It’s not quite as far up the hill as ours,” Señora Garcia said. “But it’s in a respectable up-and-coming neighborhood, and if Mateo continues on his current trajectory, you won’t be living here for long.”
“If Mateo continues on his current trajectory,” echoed Mama Garcia, pulling open the door, “you’ll be waving down at us and the rest of the island from your breakfast patio.”
Señora Garcia actually smiled at this, her pride in her son the first crack Dani had seen in her perfect restraint. She cataloged it for safekeeping, this pride. Too much of anything could be a weakness. “Yes, well,” the señora said. “We’ll see, won’t we?”
Dani had heard the whispers, of course, that Mateo was being groomed for the top job. But to hear it like this—intimately, in the very place where the office itself stood—felt like something different.
The presidency was the only governmental seat in Medio that was elected by the people. If Mateo ran, she would be a candidate’s Primera, responsible for assessing the wives of his rivals for probing points, for showing the voting public that Mateo could be trusted.
But if he won, and she was allowed to assume the role her training had prepared her for, rather than just shuffling mail from one side of the house to the other, she would be the most powerful woman in Medio.
The tour of their “modest yet respectable” home took the rest of the morning. There were only two levels, but the floor plan was sprawling and open, with the same rose stone walls inside as out. The floors were tiled, each room a work of art.
It was a far cry from the dirt floor Dani had grown up on, she thought, remembering the fanned feet of her corn-husk dolls kicking up tiny clouds of dust in the summer months. The single bed the three of them had shared. When she’d moved into the dormitory at school, everything had felt temporary; she had still thought of that little slant-walled house as home. How long would it take to start thinking of this enormous place that way?
“And that’s the house!” said Mama Garcia when they had finished at last, gathered back in the entryway.
“It’s beautiful,” Dani murmured, giving herself permission to be awestruck. She couldn’t pretend it was anything less than magical.
Mama Garcia’s eyes softened. “It’s a good life,” she said, tousling her hair absentmindedly. “Though it would be better if those miscreants across the wall were locked up in jail where they belong for carrying on like this and we could get rid of all these damn checkpoints. My hair is unacceptable after all that humidity.”
There it is, Dani thought. It had been inevitable.
Señora Garcia grumbled her agreement, and Dani forced herself not to speak. It had taken only one morning for the ghosts of her past to invade her future.
“Well,” said Carmen lightly, and Dani’s chest tightened further still. Whatever Princess Carmen had to say on the subject, Dani was sure she didn’t want to hear it. “I suppose they’ll keep carrying on until they’re not hungry anymore.”
It was masterful, the way she did it. A statement that neither confirmed nor denied her sympathy. But the skin around her eyes was tight, a mirror of the way Dani’s own face would have looked—had she been at liberty to express the tension now buzzing within her.
But what did Carmen care about the outer islanders? She’d made it her personal mission to make sure everyone knew just how deficient Dani’s upbringing had been, and now this?
“I suppose,” said Mama Garcia, to a statement that would have been incendiary if Carmen had been in rags at the border. “But I’ve been plenty hungry and I’ve never felt the need to disrupt the peace of an entire nation, for Sun’s sake.”
“Mateo will be home this evening,” said Señora Garcia, skillfully changing the distasteful subject. “I expect the size and scope of the house won’t prevent you from remembering your duties.”
Dani was suddenly exhausted. They had toured the kitchens, the dining hall, three living rooms, a collection of studies, a library, and acres of gardens. Even without the unwanted foray into political commentary, she’d never imagined walking around a single house could make you so tired.
“Please make yourselves at home,” Señora Garcia continued, more tension in her face after Mama Garcia and Carmen’s exchange. “It’s been a long day, and there’s still much for you both to accomplish before Mateo’s homecoming. Once the house has been prepared, we’ve instructed Roberta to have dinner sent to your rooms. She’s one of the girls from our kitchen, and she’ll be assisting you until Daniela hires appropriate house staff of your own.” Dani nodded her understanding. “Well, you have plenty of reading to do before morning,” she said by way of dismissal, eyeing the thick folders in their hands.
“We’re glad to have you both here,” said Mama Garcia warmly, smiling at them in turn, her earlier distaste for the downtrodden already forgotten. “Daniela for the order and stability you will bring to our son’s home, and Carmen for the warmth and beauty that will be your contribution.”
“It’s quite a job,” said the señora with a self-mocking smile. “And Garcia men don’t rise to great heights because they are docile or easy to manage. But, Dani, your background”—Dani cringed inwardly at the mention—“could very well have been a detriment. You managed to make it a strength. We know you’re capable of rising to the top, despite any adversity. You and Mateo have that in common. Carmen . . .” She gave Carmen a once-over. “You’ve proven to have an attention to detail and an aesthetic sensibility that will keep him happy at home.”
“And your children will be lovely.” Mama Garcia beamed. “We just want you girls to know we didn’t make these choices lightly,” she said. “We know you’ll do your best to live up to our very high expectations.”
Señora Garcia looked them each in the eye before turning away. “See that you don’t disappoint us,” she said on her way out. “The Garcia family isn’t fond of failure.”
And then, with a wave, Mama Garcia followed her Primera out the front door, leaving Dani alone with Carmen for the first time since they’d shared a seat on that fateful bus ride so many years ago.
Carmen flipped her hair in typical fashion, but for once, she looked determined instead of bored.
For a strange moment, Dani felt that same dangerous kinship flare to life again. Like she was looking once more at twelve-year-old Carmen, her straight shoulders and her careful braid, her eyes fixed on an unknowable horizon.
Carmen met her eyes, and all the air seemed to hang still. A constellation of possibility.
“I hope you read faster than you pick up on upper-class mannerisms,” Carmen said at last, breaking their eye contact and the moment. “I’m not carrying you through this just because you’ve never lived in a house with a floor before.”
Dani’s posture stayed straight, of course, her face impassive, but everything inside her seemed to fold in on itself at Carmen’s words. Would she never learn that there was nothing but misery waiting for her behind those eyes?
“I’m perfectly capable of reading a list,” Dani said, too tired to fight back.
“Good,” Carmen said, turning on her heel. “I’ll start in the west wing and you start in the east. If we do this right, we should never have to see each other.”
“Spoken like someone who can’t see past her own irrational feelings,” Dani said. Carmen, for once, didn’t engage, and Dani wished she hadn’t said anything at all.
Retreating for a moment to her new rooms, Dani took a rare unobserved moment to let herself slump back onto her bed. The relaxation was short-lived. Something crinkled beneath her, and without sitting up, she pulled a piece of paper from beneath her head.
Welcome home, Primera, it read, its edges worn and smudged. A single letter was all the signature he needed.
S.
Dani was no longer exhausted; she felt electric. He had been here. The fox-faced boy who had been both torment and savior.
Suddenly this room, which only an hour ago had seemed awe-inspiring, seemed like too much. Gaudy and over the top. With this smudged, honest sheet of paper in her hands, Dani felt the ache of Polvo stronger than ever in her chest. But not only Polvo. Stirring with Sota’s handwriting was another whisper. A quieter one. Of the place across the wall where she had been born. A place that made Polvo seem like a paradise. A place her parents had risked everything to leave behind.
What right did the Garcias have to live like this when so many others went without?
What right did Dani have?
She was shaken from her thoughts by the faint trembling of the note in her hand. Was it an earthquake? A breeze from an open window? But no. For the first time since she was thirteen years old, Dani’s body was visibly acting without her permission. She was angry, and her fingers had betrayed it.
She was angry with Carmen, for nearly luring her in again; with the Garcias, for having so much and appreciating it so little; with Sota, for soiling what should have been a satisfying if not joyful moment.
And yes, even with her parents, who had been so sure this life was better than the one they had fought so hard to earn.
Just as it had on graduation night—had it only been yesterday?—Dani felt her legs buzz with the urge to run. To take what was left of her self-respect back home, consequences be damned.
But what would that really change? This house would still be here. There would still be suffering out there. The world would still be the same. Just as unfair. Just as maddening.
“Señora?” came a voice from the hallway. “Will you be supervising the arrangement of señor’s newspapers?”
Dani wanted to snap that Roberta probably knew the newspaper protocol better than she did, but she swallowed the words. She’d have a new staff to supervise after this week, after all, and she’d need the practice.
The trembling in her fingers had stopped as soon as it started. Dani checked that the room was secure and slid the note beneath the plump mattress. “Of course,” she said when she’d answered the door, her voice reflective as metal. “Please, follow me.”
Unfortunately, the questions followed, too.