25
That night, as news of another Amber reservoir drying up spreads through town, the protests turn violent. My parents and I watch the footage on TV, of the police holding up plastic shields while people push against them and throw trash cans at parked cars. Someone sets a dumpster on fire.
Mayor Perez holds an emergency press conference. He assures people that the government is looking into the possibility of drilling more public Amber wells, that the solution to the problem will be found. And even though he sounds confident, I realize I don’t believe him.
I must look worried, because Mama pats my hand and says, “Everything will be all right.”
“What if they come back here?” I ask softly. “The people who put that sign in front of our house, who spray-painted your car…” The angry red words still aren’t completely gone, even though Tata has scrubbed at the paint over and over. “What if they want to burn our house down this time?”
“That won’t happen,” Mama says. “The police have been patrolling our neighborhood to make sure everything is all right.”
“But all the police are there!” I say, pointing at the TV.
I catch my parents exchanging a look over my head. A few minutes later, Tata puts on his coat. “I’ll be back soon,” he says.
“Where are you going?” Mama asks, but he’s already out the door. He’s in such a hurry that he doesn’t shut it all the way.
“Can you close that?” Mama asks me, her voice tired. “We don’t want to all catch colds from the draft.”
I nod and go to shut the door. Then I lock it to make myself feel better.
When I turn back to the news, unable to keep my eyes away, I notice that the protestors finally have a leader. Standing in front of the crowd, holding up the biggest GO BACK TO YOUR OWN COUNTRY sign, is Mrs. Perez.
I shouldn’t be surprised, but it stings to think that Krysta’s mom, whose house I’ve been to more times than I can count, despises me. It’s one thing to suspect it. It’s another thing to have her holding up a sign that screams it to the world.
A half hour later, Tata reappears with a few shopping bags in hand. He pulls out a newly purchased alarm system. Without a word, he starts installing it. Mama and I sit on the couch, still watching the news, as he drills and grunts and tests. Finally he arms the alarm, and I can see his shoulders relax.
“There,” he says. “Now if anyone even touches one of our windows, the alarm will go off and scare them away.” He frowns at the news, where one of the protestors is being arrested.
“Don’t worry,” Mama says, patting my hand again. “I’m sure the police will break this up soon.”
But these days, every time someone tells me not to worry, I only worry more.
In the morning, there are some smashed tomatoes on our front steps, but the house is all in one piece. Nothing’s been damaged, and Tata declares it’s because the attackers saw the new alarm system and went on their way.
I’m not sure if that’s true, but all three of us sigh in relief and busy ourselves cleaning up the steps. Then Mama makes some calls and finds out that a chemist she works with had rotten fruit and vegetables thrown at his house too.
“A potato broke his window,” Mama says when she comes outside to tell us about it. I’m scraping smashed tomatoes off the steps while Tata hoses down the walkway.
Even though it’s far from funny, I can’t help laughing at the image of a spud sailing into someone’s living room. My laughter immediately dies down as Tata says, “We can’t stay in this town. Not when things will only get worse.”
“I also spoke to my boss,” Mama tells us. “She says the police are bringing in officers from neighboring towns to keep an eye on all the houses that have been targeted thus far. We’ll be safe.”
“For how long?” Tata asks. “When is enough enough?”
“We waited years to come here!” Mama says. “We can’t simply give up now.”
“And I don’t want to leave,” I say. “There’s a writing contest and—”
But my parents aren’t listening. “We can’t put our child in danger,” Tata says. “We came here to be safe.”
“So you want us to flee because things are getting too hard?” Mama asks.
“Isn’t that why we left our home?” Tata cries. “Because we thought life here would be easier? Do you think this is easy?” Then he tosses the hose aside and storms into the house.
Mama and I are quiet as we work on cleaning up the last of the tomatoes. “Tata hates it here,” I finally say when we’re finished.
“He feels powerless,” Mama says. “Back home, he was respected. Here, people think he’s not as smart as they are because he has an accent. Since he can’t use his medical training, protecting us has become his main job. Now he feels as though he can’t even do that anymore.” Mama rubs her eyes, and I realize suddenly that she’s wearing her glasses again. “Maybe he’s right and it makes no sense for us to stay here.”
“You think we should go back?” I ask in disbelief.
“Or move to another town. We could try living in the city, but…” She sighs. “Things like this have been happening all over the country. I’m afraid nowhere will be safe until people accept that Amber is a limited resource and they’ll have to make do with what they have.”
“Does that mean you’ll never be able to make more of it?” I ask.
“Based on our research, no. I believe there’s no way to make more.”
My insides squeeze. “So you won’t have a job anymore.”
Mama gives me an odd smile. “I didn’t want to tell you this because it’s not definite yet, but we’re getting funding for a new project. In trying to make more Amber, we discovered a way to strengthen it. That means a small amount will be nearly twice as powerful as it is now. It might be the miracle that people have been looking for.”
So this is the big “breakthrough” that’s kept Mama at work all those extra hours. It sounds like good news, but…
“The Amber will still run out, won’t it? If you can’t make more of it?”
“Yes,” Mama says. “But that won’t be for many years. Perhaps people will have found ways to live without it by then.”
“Like technology. Miss Patel says the technology in other countries is better than it is here.”
Mama lets out a soft laugh. “A famous writer once said, ‘Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.’ If we make the technology good enough, people might not even miss the Amber.”
I think of Daniel’s flying cars and the self-driving ones he claims already exist. But maybe I’m more of an “Amberland girl” than I thought, because no matter how hard I try, I can’t imagine a world without magic.