CHAPTER 35
Santiago stays in the infirmary for the weekend, until his cough disappears and his strength returns. Every mealtime, Consuelo brings him a different soup—lentil, beef, tortilla. Each one homemade, each one probably paid for from her own salary. He insists she doesn’t need to, and she insists she wants to. In exchange he tears out a page from a magazine the doctor has, writes muchísimas gracias on the top, and presents her with a picture of a flower bouquet.
The doctor releases him in time for Señor Dante’s Monday afternoon class. Everyone stops their boredom to stare. Some back away like they did with Llorón’s sleepwalking. Others gawk like they’re witnessing some kind of phenomena. Thanks to Chismoso, everyone knows more about Santiago’s medical state than him.
“Is it true you almost died of hypothermia?”
“Mano, I saw you faint. That was some scary stuff.”
“Where did you stay?”
“Did you see the dead body?”
Too much, too many. Santiago cowers from the mob, covering his head with his arms. “Please, just leave me alone.”
He needs somewhere to hide. The bathroom? No, a different open door beckons. He darts into the classroom and slides into a folding chair near the teacher’s desk in the front. “Save me.”
Señor Dante nods without question. He walks to the door and calls the class in. “Chicos, vamos.”
Once the afternoon teens enter, the teacher turns to the class and addresses them all in English. “Today, anyone who wants to talk has to do so in English.”
“¿Por qué—”
“No, English.”
A grumble echoes through the room as Señor Dante throws out questions like “What is your favorite animal?” and allows squawks and roars in lieu of responses when the boys don’t know the name in English.
Santiago meets the teacher’s eye and mouths, Gracias.
Señor Dante raises his eyebrows, waiting. Santiago’s lips form new words. Thank you.
Señor Dante blinks in acknowledgment and continues teaching.
The nighttime screaming stops with the death of Lorén Mendez, and several things change in the center.
People from the outside visit and inspect the facility: politicians, lawyers, and reporters. Heads shake, interviews are conducted, and more scolding is done, but their standard of living doesn’t change much—no beds and food that’s only sometimes edible. The exception is their clothing.
Now if their clothes get wet, they’re required to ask for a dry set. No exceptions. In a room full of bored, mischievous teenagers, a lot decide to take showers with their clothes on. And the guards can only keep issuing dry clothes.
Also, if they’re cold, they have the right to additional clothes. For a few days, a group of boys go around with underwear on their heads as skullcaps until the joke stops being funny. A real thing that becomes popular is to use an extra pair of socks as mittens; Santiago’s live in his pockets along with his toothbrush and metallic blanket. His book still lives in his waistband.
Turns out the metallic blankets only work by retaining heat. Señor Dante explains the science of it, and they even conduct an experiment with a lamp and a cup of ice. It would have been a cool class if their lives hadn’t depended on it.
But most of all, the guards now actually pay attention to everyone, shifting their eyes from one boy to the next like special agents, except without the sunglasses. Chismoso swears the doctor actually shouted, “Make sure you check on the boys you’re paid to protect instead of standing around counting the fleas on your arms.”
Anyone who gets sick receives a dose of nasty-tasting medicine. Lesson learned: If you’re only a little sick, you use up all your weakened energy to pretend you aren’t.
Who knew that even in death Lorén Mendez, the whiny sleepwalker the boys called Llorón, could cause so much trouble?