My sister’s big smile would be very heavy to carry home if she didn’t win today.
The Auditorium at South San High School was jammed full with people waiting for the spelling bee to start. Students waved signs with the names of people competing—“Jiving with Sekou” or “Marisela Is #1.” Luz, my sister, was older than me by two years, and in the ninth grade. She sat on the stage among the other kids who were all on metal folding chairs set in a row. She didn’t have to wear braids. Her black hair, styled in a bob, fell just above her shoulders. Our tías were always touching her hair because it was so thick and always saying how beautiful it was. She didn’t look at anyone else on stage; she just sat there with a big smile on her face.
My three best friends, Sofia Cuellar, Diana Ortíz, Sally Jane Mendoza and I stood up and shouted, “¡Viva Luz!” several times. Sofia stuck a fist in the air. Diana jiggled in her seat with excitement.
Sally Jane tugged at my skirt. “Justina, watch out.” Mrs. Garza, the school monitor, hurried over to us and made us sit down, telling us we were acting like pachucas. Sally Jane made a face behind Mrs. Garza’s back.
Across the aisle from us, Kathy, Virginia and two of their girlfriends, all from the fancy Alamo Heights area, were laughing at us as the school monitor walked away. Each held a sign with one word that, all together, read, “All the way Debbie.” Debbie, Kathy’s older sister, with curly blonde hair and a silk blue blouse under a plaid jumper, was sitting on the stage next to Luz.
The four of us jumped up and yelled, “¡Viva Luz!” as the school principal walked onto the stage. We dropped to our seats before Mrs. Garza could stand up.
The words flashed on a screen above their heads, faster than a video game character, yet each contestant spat out the correct letters. I knew how important this was for Luz. She had a straight-A report card and each correct answer got her closer to the scholarship she wanted for college.
I gripped Sally Jane’s hand, my knuckles turning white. Luz had sworn me to secrecy. Our parents didn’t know she was in the finals. It would be too hard to have to tell them if she lost.
Ten of the fifteen kids had misspelled. Only five stood out in front now. Luz’s smile was still as bright as it had been an hour ago. My stomach burned like the inside of a volcano, as if I had eaten too many chiles. Spelling doesn’t come easy to me. Nothing much about school did. Luz was the star and our whole family was proud of her. She would go far, they kept saying.
Two more people sat. The three up front stood closer together. My heart banged in my chest. I thought for sure that the girls next to me could hear it. But I didn’t bother looking at them; my eyes were hooked with a telepathic beam on Luz. She had to win. She had to because she wanted to so very much. My sister would be miserable if she lost, more for all of us than even for herself.
The third person sat. Now it was only Debbie and Luz standing alone on each end of the stage. I held my breath when Luz had to spell Mississippi. On her next word, we clutched each other’s hands when she correctly spelled the word M-I-S-S-P-E-L-L-E-D. We looked at each other and shrugged. It appeared that Luz was getting all the hard words. Luz could do it. I just knew she could.
As my big sister, she had always done everything first and better. I was proud of her. She was the one who was making it easier for me. She would be the first to do it all. I had no doubts. When she spelled the next word right, I stuck my fist into the air. She was a winner, no matter what happened next, and she was my sister!
Then Debbie missed. We mouthed prayers to Our Lady of Guadalupe as Luz slowly spelled F-U-C-H-S-I-A. Our fingers ached as we seized each other’s hand, but we didn’t care.
My mouth was dry as the next word flashed on the screen. I sucked in my cheeks. I looked at Sofia, who was the smartest one of us, and she shrugged. She didn’t know the word. How would Luz?
Luz was silent for what felt like a thousand years. Then she smiled a face-cracking smile and spelled C-H-R-Y-S-A-N-T-H-E-M-U-M. We were on our feet. Everyone, brown, black, red, and yellow, was yelling and cheering. Luz had won!
Usually I ate lunch outside with the other girls who had bean taquitos just like mine. But this time my friends wanted to be included with the older students. No one noticed the pesky little sister in the way.
Mis amigas and I were on one side of the lunch room table. Sofia, tiny, five feet, flushed with excitement, her dark skin crimson, sat next to me. She brushed her long black hair off one shoulder. Taller by three inches and several pounds heavier, Diana, whose brown hair was held back by pink butterfly barrettes, sat next to her.
Sally Jane sat at the end. She had light brown hair and light skin and a mamá who made sure that everyone knew her grandparents had come from Spain. We didn’t care, except when Sally Jane would forget she was the same brown as we were. The three of us would ignore her for a little while and soon the white girls would remind Sally Jane that they never forgot she was mostly Mexicana.
My sister, her best friend, Arturo, and two other Chicanas from her class sat opposite us. I took bites from my tortilla, hidden underneath the wax paper.
Debbie and her girlfriends stopped at our table. Even her little sister Kathy trailed behind them. They waved hands wearing rings that were forbidden by school policy.
“Congratulations, Luz,” said Debbie. “But don’t think you’re going to represent San Antonio at the National. This was only the first round. Don’t get too comfortable.”
Arturo took a big bite from his sandwich and said, “Yeah—you should know, runner-up!”
Everyone laughed, including me. Kathy nudged Debbie and pointed at me. They sniffed.
“What’s that I smell?” She stretched out her arm. I saw the finger coming my way and felt scared. I didn’t know what she wanted from me.
With the tip of her finger, she lifted the wax paper off my taco. “You’re eating peanut butter on a tortilla! How gross!” Debbie cried for everyone to hear.
I looked into Kathy’s blue eyes as she said, “You’re in America now. Why don’t you eat American food?”
Arturo jumped to his feet. Several boys, who were sitting across the aisle, sprang to their feet.
The cafeteria monitor bounced out of his chair and headed in our direction.
Debbie took Kathy by the arm.
“C’mon, Kathy. You know, you can take them out of the field, but you can’t take the field out of them.” The four girls, my two classmates, and all the students eating lunch laughed. Everyone except us at our table.
I hung my head.
My sister hissed at me from across the table. “Keep your head up high, Justina.”
I did as she told me. “I’m sorry to ruin your happy day,” I said.
“Eat your taco with pride.”
I stared at her, trying to see if some monster from outer space had taken over her body. My bossy sister was telling me to eat this tortilla with pride? Just yesterday she made me walk with her down the hallway to throw away the plastic wrapper with “Tortillas made in San Antonio” written across the front that abuelita had used to bag the tacos. Now she was telling me to eat my food with pride just because some white girls made fun of me.
I was about to say something back to her when another burst of loud laughter came from the table across the aisle. I swallowed my anger at my sister, crumpled the paper with the taco inside it, and tossed the heap onto the pile of trash on the cafeteria tray.
On the way home from school, mis amigas were talking about what they were going to wear when they went to see Luz win. They had no doubts. She would be the first Chicana to win and they wanted to look fine.
The sidewalk heated the bottom of my shoes. I walked, watching my feet drag alongside the others. My satchel hung from my hand; the strap scraped the concrete. Sweat stung my eyes, but I didn’t wipe it away because I didn’t want anyone to think I was crying. I had disappointed my sister. Those girls had laughed at us because of what I didn’t have. I had taken my sister’s great moment and messed it up. She had avoided me after school and I didn’t blame her. I wished I could avoid me, too.
The others kept me inside their chatter, ignoring that I wasn’t saying much. A woman with a bag of groceries in her arms walked around as we turned a corner.
“Justina, where are you?” whined Sally Jane.
“You better catch up with us, or else you know what could happen.” Diana touched the pink barrette in her hair to make sure she hadn’t lost it.
I walked backwards to where they were and spun around. “Did you notice what was sticking out of the top of her bag?” They shook their heads. Sally Jane twisted her neck around the corner to see.
“Let’s go.” I walked past them and they followed, complaining. I walked through the double glass doors of the H.E.B.
Diana shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. “Hijo, this grocery store is freezing.”
“Let’s go,” I said, and headed down the aisle.
“What for?” asked Sofia, pulling Diana by the arm to stay even with Sally Jane and me.
“I know,” said Sally Jane, swinging her knapsack around her legs.
I threw a dare over my shoulder. “So what?”
“So what—what?” Sofia twisted her head from me to Sally Jane, walking fast to keep up.
I stopped in front of the bread rack. The others crashed behind me.
Sally Jane smirked. “She gonna buy white bread so she can eat sandwiches for lunch.”
“What of it?” I glared at Sally Jane, making her take a step back.
Her smirk vanished and she shrugged. “Just making an observation.”
“Right. Go observe somewhere else. I don’t need your grief right now.”
Sally Jane raised her hands in surrender. “Fine with me.”
“Fine with me, too.” We stared for several moments before Sally Jane looked away. I turned and faced the bread rack.
I felt as if I had opened the book to the math quiz and all the problems with all the angles were there in front of me. “So many kinds.”
Sally Jane said in a voice that sounded a lot like our teacher, “Oh yeah. We’ve tried this kind and this one, too. They were too cheap.” With her chin, she pointed at the row of bread above our heads. “That’s the kind we eat. It’s way too expensive for you.”
“Oh-oh.” Diana covered her mouth, waiting for the fireworks.
“You think you’re such hot stuff. You think no one is as good as you.” I moved toward her, my hands growing into fists.
Sofia stepped between us. “You know she’s stupid with that light-skin-better-than stuff. Don’t let her get to you.” With a jerk of her head, she urged me on.
Sally Jane pretended all innocence. “Ay, I was just telling you what kind we…”
Sofia wheeled on her and scowled. “This is what Justina wants to do. Shut up.”
Sally Jane stuck her hands out in front of her. “Fine with me. I was just trying to be helpful.”
Diana, standing behind her, said, “Well, don’t. We don’t need it. Justina knows what she’s doing.”
“This is the one I’m gonna buy,” I said and picked the one Sally Jane had pointed to. Snubbing her as I walked by, I headed for the check-out with Diana and Sofia on my heels and Sally Jane trailing behind.
My grandmother stood at the stove, stirring a pot of frijoles. She laid the spoon down and went back to the kitchen counter. She was making tortillas for my father’s supper when he returned home from delivering mail. The skin on her hands looked like a crushed brown paper bag, yet her hands were strong as she kneaded the masa. Her hair hung down her back in a braid streaked with gray. She wore a black, felt reservation hat with the beaded hatband. A brown cigarillo hung from her lips. She would smoke it after supper.
My mother sat in her white uniform, drinking coffee at the table, talking with her mother, ready to work all night at the hospital. I proudly placed the loaf of bread on the table. My mother stared at it. Her face, the color of warm molasses, wrinkled up in confusion as she asked, “What is this?” Her hair, soft and curly, swung freely around her neck. Her fingernails, spotted with different colors of paint, were the clues that she had been painting today.
“Butter Krust loaf of white bread.”
“I know what it is, but what is it?”
“Butter Krust…”
“Who bought it?”
“I did.” I clicked my heels together, and if they hadn’t been sneakers, I know they would have made noise.
“Honey, you spent your allowance on this bread?”
I nodded as I corrected, “White bread.”
Abuelita turned from the stove, took the cigar from her mouth, and stared at the loaf. She snorted. “I could have made a bigger one than that.” She twisted back to the stove and flipped the tortilla on the grill, putting the cigar in its familiar groove with the other hand. My mother leaned over so her face was even with mine. “Mijita, ¿por qué?”
“I want to take sandwiches for lunch.” My sureness was spilling from my heels at the look on my mother’s face.
The screen door slammed behind my sister as she ran into the kitchen yelling, “Hey, everyone, guess what happened?” She sneaker-squeaked to a stop in front of the table and spotted the loaf. “White bread. All right!” She looked at our mother. “Sandwiches for lunch?”
My mother shrugged. “You will have to ask your sister. She bought it.”
Luz faced me. “Oh.”
My mother watched the silent exchange.
“Sure, because you won the spelling bee today,” I said.
My mother clapped her hands. “Mijita, how great it is! Let’s celebrate.”
I grinned and nodded eagerly, looking forward to having all the relatives over to the house. We were all so proud of Luz.
With both hands, I carried the loaf of bread to the far end of the counter so no one would squash it. I wanted perfect sandwiches for school tomorrow.
Off the kitchen counter, mi abuelita grabbed her black reservation hat and with a flick of her wrist, she tossed it on top of the bread. No one dared touch her flat-brimmed hat. My bread was safe. I smiled at my grandmother.
The next morning, we woke late. Mamá hurried us out the door, but I stalled to check my lunch bag. At the bottom of the bag sat the white bread sandwich, wrapped in wax paper. I gave my mother a squeeze around her waist and ran to join mis amigas.
At our lockers, I announced to my girlfriends that I was eating lunch in the cafeteria.
“But why? It’s fresher outside.” Sofia slammed her locker door.
“Fresh air and fresh boys.” Diana grinned, clicking her locker door shut. Today she wore blue turtle barrettes.
“I know why she wants to eat in the cafeteria.” Sally Jane’s ponytail danced.
Sofia and Diana watched; Sofia bit her lip, and Diana twirled her finger around her hair.
Sally Jane pointed at my lunch bag with her elbow. “She brought a sandwich in her lunch.”
“Really?” Sofia and Diana responded, their eyes growing as big as pesos.
“You do what you want. I’m eating in the cafeteria.” I spun away. I knew they would follow me. I knew they would stick by me, as we had always done for each other. At least, I was hoping really hard that they would, so I wouldn’t be alone.
In the cafeteria, my sister, sitting with her friends a table row away, didn’t wave back to me, but then she never did when she was with her friends. I spotted Debbie and her girlfriends in line for hot food. I sat at the table, near where they usually sat, waiting for them to pass by.
A few minutes later, Sofia and Diana sat across from me. Sally Jane sat next to me. We smiled at each other. Sofia reported the latest romantic troubles of the beautiful women and men in the novelas on TV. She was the only one whose mother allowed her to watch the novelas, especially “Simplemente María.” She kept us all up-to-date on what they wore and who loved whom and especially who was “living in sin.”
Debbie, her girlfriends, and her sister Kathy wore stud earrings, hair ribbons, and faces masked with enough make-up to be against the school rules. They cornered the last table and walked down the aisle. I popped open my lunch bag and pulled out my sandwich. I flattened the brown paper bag with one hand and set my prize on top. I carefully unfolded the wax paper, spreading each piece flat against the table. The sandwich blossomed before me. It glowed white and was spongy like masa.
Debbie and the others were setting their trays down next to the boys from eighth grade, when Kathy glanced over at our table and spotted my sandwich. She nudged Debbie.
I wrapped both hands around the sandwich. Loud laughing and hollering filled the room. Everyone at the table where my sister sat was poking each other and acting funny. My sister sat in the middle of all that noise, quiet and small.
Sally Jane stood up and stretched her neck to see what was happening.
I lifted the sandwich for my first big bite when the laughter jumped across the room.
I looked at Debbie and Kathy giggling, their shoulders butting each other in rhythm. I heard Sally Jane say, “Oh, oh.”
I turned back to my first white bread sandwich and opened my mouth. I felt like this was the last breath of air I would ever want to take.
The bean broth had soaked the bottom slice of bread and turned it brown. The pressure from my hands ripped the soggy bread. The frijoles were dropping out from the side of the bread and landing on top of the wax paper like brown freckles. My hands dripped with juice and sliding frijoles. Mi abuelita had made us bean sandwiches.
When I arrived home, I opened the door and ran to my bedroom. My mother cried out, “Hola” from the living room, but I didn’t answer and shut my bedroom door very quietly. I didn’t want my mother coming in to ask me a bunch of questions that I didn’t have answers for.
I lay on my bed and watched the skies turn a bruised blue through the window. I didn’t change my clothes; I didn’t cry. I listened to all the noises that made up my family: the baby laughing as my sister fed him, my father and brother wrestling. My father spoke in a voice that tumbled into my room like thunder from the top of a mountain. My brother answered in a voice that reached for the same heights but only screeched in places.
I wondered why I was so different. Why couldn’t I want what everyone else in my family wanted, to be happy with the things that were here? Why did it matter what anyone else thought?
A long arm of light cut across my bed when my mother opened the door. “Justina, are you feeling well?”
I nodded, afraid for her to hear the pain in my voice.
“Mijita.”
“I just want to be alone,” I pushed the words out hard, too hard. My mamá’s face was the same color as my dark room. Her brown eyes were soft with sympathy. Her black hair curved under and bounced off the collar of her white hospital uniform; her thin artist hands reached out to me.
She sat on the edge of the bed and stroked my arm. “I’ve talked to your sister.”
I jumped into my mother’s waiting arms and cried. She rubbed my back and rocked the pain from my body.
“I just wanted to be something nice like them.” I sobbed between the words.
“Mijita, you have to be strong. You can’t let them get you down. We think you’re very special.”
“You’re my mother. You’re supposed to say that.”
My mother pushed me back from her, smiling. “Mijita, I can tell you what I believe. It’s up to you to decide how beautiful you are.”
“But, but…”
“¿Qué?”
I couldn’t tell her that I was ashamed of my color. She would hate me forever. “But the teachers say…”
My mother’s voice gained an edge to it. “Are you going to let the ignorance of others tell you what’s real about your own life?”
“But they’re the teachers. They know everything.”
“Let me tell you something, mijita…”
“You just don’t understand, Mom. It’s a lot different from when you were little. Lots different.”
I pushed away from the warmth of her arms, got off the bed, and changed into my nightgown. She watched me for a little while; the space between her eyebrows pinched tight from thinking hard. But there was nothing she could tell me that I didn’t know already.
Two days later, during third period, the teacher announced, “Children, put your pencils and books away. Today we have a special treat.”
The buzz of questions skated across the room as we packed our books.
“Today we have a guest speaker. She has volunteered to speak to us about something very important. It is about the food we eat. Say hello to Mrs. Rosaura Ríos.”
I slipped down in my seat, trying hard to become invisible. Sally Jane and Sofia looked at me. I shrugged. I hadn’t known she was coming. Diana waved at my mother with a big smile on her face.
The whole class rang out, “Hello, Mrs. Ríos.” Several boys, who sat in a bunch in the back, snorted. One called out, “Beaner.”
Mrs. Letts stepped to the front of the room and clapped her hands. “Silence.”
She stared her Darth Vadar stare—her face didn’t move a muscle, her eyes didn’t blink, her jaw thrust forward—until everyone quieted down.
“Mrs. Ríos was gracious enough to come in to make this presentation. We owe her the courtesy of giving her our complete attention and our most respectful behavior.” She waited a moment, the weight of her gaze silencing each student.
“Good. Mrs. Ríos, the class is yours.” The blonde teacher stretched her hand out, palm up, offering my mother the room.
I was thankful that she had on a red-and-yellow-flowered dress instead of the janitor’s white uniform; it made her look pretty and her skin richer, darker like cinnamon. I felt a mixture of pride and total embarrassment.
“Today I want to tell you a story that began before there were any people from Europe living in this country. Thousands of years ago, there was a tribe of people called the Aztecs that lived in a place we now call Mexico.”
I saw Kathy, Debbie’s little sister, look at Virginia and roll her eyes. I moved so that I was hidden behind the person in front of me.
“There was much hunger. People and their children didn’t have enough to eat. There was much suffering in all the villages.
“One day, a woman was walking through the woods searching for something to feed her family. She discovered a trail of ants, coming out of their home and traveling up into the mountain.
“She hid to watch these ants because she knew they were very hard workers.” My mother crunched her shoulders forward as if she were hiding, and I covered my eyes with my hand.
“Soon she discovered that they were coming back carrying blue corn. She asked the ants to show her where the blue corn was hidden because her family was very hungry. But the ants would not tell her their secret. She went home very, very tired.” She leaned against the teacher’s desk and wiped her brow. I wanted the floor to open and swallow me whole.
My mother perked up and raised a finger into the air. “Her youngest children were twin boys who became very sad when they saw their mother crying. So they took off during the night and climbed up to the moon and asked the moon to help their mother. La Luna sent her beams down to the earth. The waters roared and tumbled all night, but the mountain did not give up any of its treasures.
“Morning came and the twins asked the sun if he would help their mother. El Sol made angry clouds at the ants for being so selfish. There was a great storm with giant bolts of lightning. The sun sent one huge bolt of lightning which split the mountain in two. All the blue corn inside spilled out and the village people rushed to fill their baskets.”
Once again my mother slouched into her disappointed position. A couple of boys in the back of the room snickered. The teacher, standing behind my mother, shook her head at them.
“The sun was very disappointed in the ants and sent another bolt of lightning which turned the ants red. They were so hot to touch; no one wanted anything to do with them. There was such a cry from all the ants. The lightning was the hottest the sun had ever made, so hot that it turned all the corn yellow. And that is how we know the corn today.”
Her hands moved in circles in front of her like propellers. “Everyone was very happy for a long time. Then some men from across the ocean came upon our land. They were pale and weak from their trip. When they saw the fields of yellow corn growing, they thought they had found the land of gold.” She arched her hands over her head.
“They had a little of the white bread they had brought from their home, but it was green with mold and was making everyone sick. They were all about to die, when the King of the tribe invited them to eat with him.”
At this point, my mother stood taller, more proud. “At the King’s table, he had a kind of bread the men from across the ocean had never seen. It was flat, but stronger than their white bread. It could hold more food to keep them from hunger as they traveled. They asked the king what was this food. He told them it was a tortilla.”
Here my mother lowered her voice with doom. “These men took our homes, broke up our villages, and even killed many of us, but they never could take away our language and our food.
“To this day, the food we eat is the same food that kept those men from across the ocean alive. It is the same food that the priest would offer up to the Gods in the heavens, the same food that was served to the Aztec kings of many years ago.”
My mother stood up straight, her hands slowly coming to rest, one cupped in the other, at her waist. “The food of the Chicanos is not just everyday food. It’s food that has come down many generations. Our food is our history.”
No one made a sound when my mother finished. My teacher thanked her and then asked if anyone had questions. The boys that had giggled at her before asked, “The twin sons? Did they know any karate?”
My mother smiled. “Probably. But they didn’t need it because they could climb up to the stars to talk with the moon and the sun, so who would bother them?”
His friend punched him on his arm. The Chicano students sat taller in their seats.
My stomach flipped as if I were on a roller coaster when Kathy raised her hand. She smiled as she stood. “Isn’t it true that that kind of food is really only for poor people?”
My mother smiled and I thought, oh, oh. I knew that smile well. “Do you and your parents ever eat out?”
Kathy threw a look at Virginia, then answered, “Of course.”
The smile never changed and I knew the machete was coming fast. “Where was the last place you ate out?”
Without hesitation, Kathy answered, “La Hacienda.”
The smile disappeared. She stood with her head arched out. “People pay lots of money to eat our poor simple food that kings ate.” She winked to Diana who smiled brightly in return.
Kathy opened her mouth, but the teacher quieted her with a pointed finger. A boy in back stood up and asked, “What kind of weapons did they have in those days? Any Uzis?” The teacher sat him down with another finger-pointing gesture and ended the question period. She shook my mother’s hand and had the whole class say “thank you” aloud.
I felt so much relief that my mother didn’t talk to me in the classroom before she left.
After class at our lockers, Sofia and Diana were taking their lunches out of their lockers. Sally Jane looked around me. I heard Kathy’s group coming up behind me.
“That story was so quaint,” said Kathy. “It actually brought tears to my eyes.” The rest of the girls in her group giggled.
Another girl cut into the laughter. “Didn’t she talk funny? Her accent was so cute?” She pushed her thick glasses up her nose with her middle finger.
I balled my hands in fists with a look filled of threat and menace. Sally Jane edged beside me, fists in the air. Swinging her waist-length black hair over her shoulder, Sofia, all five feet of her, dropped her books and spit out, “You chupa. We were here before you.” Diana hoisted me back by the arm, halting our forward motion as a teacher strolled by, smiling at us all.
As the teacher rounded the corner, Kathy shoved Sally Jane as she walked by.
Sally Jane bounced off the locker and the three of us stepped in front of Sally Jane to keep her from tackling Kathy.
Virginia stepped out of the gang of girls as the group moved on.
“I thought the story was, you know, really great.” She hugged her books to her chest.
Diana sneered. “Who cares?”
Kathy looked back. “Ginny, catch up.” She reeled Virginia back into the group with a smile that had sharp teeth in it. “What did you say to them? Something really good?”
“Yeah. Of course.” Virginia looked back and blinked both eyes.
Sally Jane muttered curses.
Sofia shook her head. “Now you gonna have to go to confession.”
Diana nodded. “For having bad thoughts.”
Sally Jane smiled. “Nah. These are really good thoughts.”
We all laughed.
“Let’s go eat in there.” I moved ahead of them toward the cafeteria.
Diana looked at me as if I had frijoles stuck in my hair. “Justina, are you bonkers?” She and Sofia got on either side of me.
Sally Jane said, “You looking for trouble? Because I’m ready.”
Sofia and Diana nodded at Sally Jane’s invitation.
“Nah. No trouble.”
“Then what?” persisted Sally Jane as she followed me toward the cafeteria.
“My mom. It took a lot of guts today. If she can do that, I can go in there.”
Sally Jane grinned. “Let’s do it.”
Sofia nodded. “We have as much right to be in there as they do.”
Diana didn’t say anything; she just opened the door for us.
Kathy and Virginia purposely sat across the aisle from us. We had ignored them throughout the lunch period.
We had finished and were pushing the chairs back under the table when Kathy, sitting second from the end, sang out, “Did you enjoy your sandwich?”
Sally Jane said, “Leave Justina alone.” Her light brown hair jigged in a ponytail.
Kathy scoffed, “Can’t she talk for herself?”
Sally Jane advanced another step toward their table. “If she did, you’d be sorry.”
Kathy touched the arm of the boy sitting next to her. “Oh, I’m so scared,” she said, waving her hand in front of her face. “Maybe you all should just stick to where you belong.”
Sally Jane stepped up to the table, picked up a milk container, leaned over the guy, and poured it down the front of Kathy’s peach silk blouse.
Kathy sat with her mouth opened wide and her arms outstretched as her eyes tracked the descent of the milk falling through the air. Her shoulders turned inward with the shock of the cold milk as it splashed down the front of her new blouse. The two boys sitting on either side of her twisted away to avoid the splashing milk.
Screeching, Kathy shoved her tray forward, bumping it into Virginia’s tray across the table. The bowl on Virginia’s tray slid across the slick surface and toppled over the edge, splashing soup onto her lap. Virginia bounced to her feet, hollering, “It’s hot!” She sobbed loudly as girls on both sides of her dabbed napkins against her legs and picked the noodles off.
Pulling her blouse away from her body, Kathy stared at Sally Jane, eyes sending torturous messages. “My mother will make sure you are never permitted back into school.”
The two boys at the end of the table rose and stood like sentries in the aisle, towering over Sally Jane. Sofia and Diana skirted around Sally Jane and took their place on each side of her. Their eyes glared machete messages at the two boys.
Sofia, barely reaching the mid-section of the boy in front of her, held her fist in the air, swinging her black hair over her shoulder. Diana flipped her middle finger at the other boy. Having grown-up with five older brothers, she had no doubts about taking him down.
Boys and girls from surrounding tables were on their feet, hollering and yelling. Kathy whipped up her dish of vanilla pudding and swung her arm back to throw it as the cafeteria monitor grabbed Sally Jane by the arm and pulled her out of range.
While everyone cheered for Sally Jane as the monitor dragged her out of the cafeteria, I stepped across the aisle. Swinging my arm, I hooked Kathy’s hand that still held the dish of vanilla pudding and it crashed on the floor.
Sofia cheered, “¡Andale!” Diana grinned.
“Las Amigas” walked out of the cafeteria with our heads high.