Later that morning I hurried along the trail to Fort Kruse, Clifford loping behind. When I got there, the shutters were closed. The K flag floated on a soft breeze. I climbed the ladder and lifted the trap door. Perla was gone, but her sack bulged with her things on the table.
Beside it were three drawings she must’ve made the night before. One was of her bright blue trailer with the crabapple tree, the tiny garden with the yellow tulips, and the river flowing by across the road. The second was of a tan house with a river behind it. Next to the house was part of a stable with a horse. On its other side stretched a green field. Perla’s two homes. The third picture looked like the cover of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, except there were two rows of back seats with a bigger girl and boy in one and a smaller girl and boy in the other. Perla and Pablo. All their arms were lifted and they wore open smiles.
Obviously, she’d left early for the stables.
I sprinted back along the trail to home. I rushed into the garage, got the Stingray, and stopped to tell Deena, the part-time girl, Joyce’s cousin, where I was headed. I asked her to hold Clifford. Deena grabbed him, sat down in Joyce’s chair, and went back to reading her magazine.
I pedaled across the bridge, turned right onto the two-lane highway, and rode as fast as my legs would go. Just before I got to the road to the stables, I spied red, way ahead—a red dress with a dark braid.
Town was pretty close when I caught up to Perla. Passing her, I slammed on the brakes so the back wheel did a one-eighty. “Where are you going?”
She kept right on walking in her brown shoes.
Steering the bike around, I hustled until I walked beside her. “Aren’t you talking to me?”
She shot me a dirty look. Her jaw was set, and it took few seconds before she said, “To church.”
“Church? Aren’t you scared?”
“Yes.”
“Aren’t you afraid of Immigration? Couldn’t you get caught?”
Perla shrugged. “If I am caught, then I will go to my family on the bus.”
“But what if they’re still here? Or on their way back?”
Perla shrugged again. “You said they will not come back.”
“Yeah…um…that was mean. I’m really, really sorry. You were right. So right. I was mad at my dad. I shouldn’t have said those things to you. Lately, I can get so mad, and I can’t stop myself. But I’m gonna try. You’re my best friend. And I don’t want you to get caught!”
Caught. Town wasn’t far ahead. Tell her Maria Her- says she can stay with her! Tell her she can stay with Norma Jim-! Now I’d get caught in my own lies, and Perla would get caught by Immigration. Oh, I’d done so many things wrong!
Perla kept walking.
I said, “Your dad promised he’d—”
“I KNOW WHAT HE PROMISED!”
Awkward quiet elbowed in between us.
In a little voice, Perla finally said, “Maybe you said the truth. Maybe he will never come back.”
“Perla, I really am sorry—”
“I don’t want sorry! From you! From him! I want my family!” She walked faster. With the Stingray it was hard to keep up.
“Okay…do you want a ride then?”
She stopped, eyes flashing. “I FEEL!” She poked her chest with her finger. “I FEEL!”
“I know.”
“No! You know nothing! For you, I am only a girl from Mexico! A thing to keep you from feeling sad!”
“No—” There I was, lying again. I owed Perla honesty. “Well, I guess you were at first…just Mexican, I mean. And the keeping-me-from-sad-thing.” I remembered us standing there, me with the stick ready to swing, Perla with her hands and chin lifted. “But didn’t I seem like just a mean old white girl to you?” I remembered her stepping out from behind that tree, wiping her tears on her jeans. “Oh jeez! It doesn’t matter! Because all that’s changed! I got to know you! And you got to know me! We’re friends now! In fact you’re the best friend I’ve ever had! And you helped me understand important stuff!”
She sighed. Then she seemed to actually see me. “You look bad.”
“I do?”
“Very bad.”
I noticed the ratty jean shorts and wrinkly old T-shirt I’d scooped up off the floor. I’d dressed in such a hurry, I hadn’t paid any attention to what I’d put on. My hair wasn’t in its pigtails or even brushed. The breeze tickled a piece of it across my face, but I didn’t budge.
Perla sighed again. “Okay. I will ride.”