Ernesto had signed up for the ninthgrade big brother, big sister program and got a boy named Richie Loranzo. The boy’s story was shocking. He was living in a foster home in the barrio since last year. That was when, in a horrific case of domestic violence, his father fatally shot his mother. The father was now in prison. The boy had no extended family, so he was placed in a foster home. Ernesto learned that the boy was painfully shy and did not relate well to anybody. Ernesto could only imagine what life had been like in the Loranzo home even before the tragic death of Richie’s mother. Deadly domestic violence usually occurred after months or years of brutality. Richie may have witnessed terrible events.
Ernesto, Abel, and Naomi had planned a trip for their three freshmen on the next Saturday. They were going into the mountains for an all-day adventure, with Abel packing the lunches. Ernesto and Naomi kicked in to buy the food that Abel needed. With Abel making the food, Ernesto knew that at least that part of the day—lunch—would be a big success.
Ernesto borrowed his friend’s van, which comfortably fit all six students. Cruz Lopez was happy to lend his gaudily decorated van, and the sight of it was a big hit with the freshmen.
Ernesto drove with Richie beside him. Abel, Bobby Padilla, Naomi, and Angel Roma sat in the backseats.
“So, Richie,” Ernesto asked as they started out, “how’s ninth grade going so far?”
Richie stared straight ahead. “Okay,” he replied. He looked like someone who had seen a ghost. He had looked that way ever since his terrible experience. He was still stunned.
“I didn’t like ninth grade,” Ernesto remarked. “I hated to leave middle school. Lotsa creepy kids in ninth grade. They think they’re big shots or something.”
“Yeah,” Angel Roma agreed. “I hate most of the kids in my classes.”
“I got a coupla friends,” Bobby Padilla chimed in. “One guy’s got a real cool iPhone, and he lets me play with it.”
“You ever been up in the mountains before, you guys?” Abel asked the three ninth-graders.
“I never was,” Bobby answered. “Mom drives, but she’s scared of driving in the mountains.”
“Me neither,” Richie said. “Are there wild animals in the mountains?”
“Maybe some mule deer, rabbits,” Ernesto responded. “We gotta watch out for rattlesnakes. Don’t step anywhere where you can’t see. Rattlers don’t bother you if you don’t bother them, but it’s easy to step on one by mistake.”
“Snakes are cool,” Bobby Padilla commented.
“I hate them,” Angel Roma said.
The road became more twisted as they went higher in the mountains. “Notice how green it gets up here,” Naomi pointed. “In the foothills, it’s kinda yellow, but now it’s lush green. That’s because we get more rain in the mountains.”
“Here’s a good place to have lunch,” Ernesto suggested. Ernesto parked, and they all got out.
Bobby Padilla looked around, brightening when he saw the white flash of a cottontail rabbit. “Did you guys see that?” he asked.
“I love rabbits,” Angel remarked. “Sometimes they come in our yard. They eat the vegetables Grandpa plants, but he doesn’t mind. Grandma used to plant tomatoes before she got really sick. They tasted lots better than the ones you buy in the store.”
“What’s your grandma sick with?” Richie asked, showing his first real sign of interest since the trip began.
“She’s got Parkinson’s disease,” Angela answered. “She walks kinda funny, and she can’t talk good anymore. Sometimes mean kids laugh at her.”
“I wouldn’t laugh at her,” Richie said. He had a serious, almost grim look on his face. “I never would.”
Angel Roma had seen Richie in her classes at Chavez. He always hung his head and didn’t look at anybody. She thought something was wrong with him. But now she thought he was a nice-looking boy with his curly black hair and chin dimple. She thought he would be a lot cuter if he smiled more, which he usually didn’t.
“I have to help my Grandma and take her for walks ’cause the doctor said she’d get even worse if she didn’t exercise,” Angel explained. “Sometimes these girls walk behind us and imitate Grandma, and I feel awful. I’m so embarrassed.”
“I bet that makes Grandma feel bad too,” Bobby remarked.
“I guess,” Angel replied, “but she doesn’t say much. But I get red in the face, and I want to cry. The girls who mock us—me and Gram—they’re in my class at school. That’s why I hate school so much.”
“Who are the girls who make fun of you and your grandma, Angel?” Naomi was asking gently, as she carried one of the picnic baskets toward the little stream.
“Lacey Serrano is the worst,” Angel answered. “Coupla days ago, she was telling everybody that both my grandparents are weird. She said there were terrible pictures of my grandpa online, and she laughed and laughed. I wish I could hit her so hard that she’d never wake up.”
Naomi exchanged looks with Ernesto.
“You know what?” Richie declared suddenly, startling everybody by jumping into the conversation. “When they laugh at your grandma, you should laugh too. And your grandma should laugh too. Then it won’t be fun for them to laugh at you ’cause everybody’ll be laughing.”
“I don’t know,” Angel responded. “I don’t think I could do that.” But Angel smiled at Richie. She knew he was really trying to help, and she appreciated that.
Abel had a large, puffy chef’s hat with him. When he put it on, Angel and Bobby laughed, and even Richie managed to smile. Abel had brought an ice chest with cold drinks and the fillings for the sandwiches. He was making the sandwiches fresh, on the spot.
“Who wants sliced turkey and who wants ham?” Abel asked, taking everybody’s order. Then he started assembling the sandwiches, cheese, pickles, olive slices, and slivers of avocado and pepper. He topped them all of with a special kind of mayo that he mixed himself.
“These are sooo good,” Ernesto commented as he tasted his turkey sandwich.
“Of course,” Abel agreed. “I’m a chef.”
Bobbie and Angel raved about the sandwiches, and so did Naomi. Richie showed how much he liked his ham sandwich by wolfing it down. Then they all had slices of homemade apple pie and cold drinks.
Bobbie stopped munching on his sandwich long enough to ask Abel how he got so good at making sandwiches.
“Ernesto got me goin’,” Abel replied. “He got me to get after my dream of cooking. I work at the Sting Ray, and my boss says I’m good. I think I am too. . . . And I made this dinner for my brother. He loved it. That doesn’t sound like much, maybe. But my mom, she’s nuts about my older brother. He’s a god to her. I’m the goof-off to her. Anyway, he couldn’t get over how good the meal was. And he told me that. That meant a lot to me.”
Abel looked off into the distance. “Yeah,” he added, “a lot.”
“Well,” Bobbie responded, gulping down a bite of his lunch, “whatever you put on this sandwich is super!”
A little after lunch, the three seniors went off with their freshman buddies in different directions.
Ernesto walked along the stream with Richie. “Want to take off your shoes and socks and wade in the water?” Ernesto asked.
“You gonna?” Richie asked.
“Yeah,” Ernesto said. “It’s kinda warm now, and the cold water’ll feel good.”
They sat down on rocks and pulled off their shoes and socks, stacking them carefully against a tree trunk.
They stepped into the little stream, walking carefully on the smooth stones in the stream bed. After a while, they sat in the grass, their feet still in the water.
“Richie,” Ernesto asked, “are your foster parents nice?” He was thinking about his friends, Paul and David Morales. They’d grown up in foster homes and had a lot of bad times. Most of the people who took in foster children did their best. But it was hard to form a real attachment to kids who kept coming and going.
“Do they have kids of their own?” Ernesto asked.
“They’re kinda old. Their kids are gone,” Richie answered.
“Do you like them, Richie?” Ernesto asked.
Richie shrugged. “They’re okay,” he said. Richie swished his bare feet in the water and watched the ripples form. For a few seconds, the boy said nothing. Then he set his jaw, and his eyes narrowed. “They said on TV that Daddy was a monster. He wasn’t, though. He took me fishing on the bay. Once I caught a big fish. It was fun on the boat,” Richie recalled.
Ernesto felt his heart racing. He wasn’t sure how to deal with a tragedy as profound as this kid was dealing with. Ernesto had no idea what had happened to bring about such an awful event. Nothing could justify what the father did. But still that kind of thing happened all too frequently. Married people fought violently, and then—suddenly—things escalated in a terrible way. Ernesto’s mouth was dry. He didn’t know what he could say to the sad-eyed boy that would make things any better.
“She’s nice,” Richie declared suddenly. He glanced over to where Naomi and Angel were looking through the binoculars that Naomi had brought. They were focusing on a distant tree.
“Who’s nice, Richie?” Ernesto asked softly. He was relieved that the subject changed.
“Angel Roma,” the boy answered. “She’s in my history class. One time I forgot my lunch, and she cut her sandwich in half. She cut her peach in half too and shared it with me. I hate it when kids are mean to her ’cause her grandma walks funny.”
“Yeah,” Ernesto agreed. Then he had an idea. “I wonder what Naomi and Angel see up in the tree.”
Ernesto and Richie went back to where their socks and shoes were stacked. They put them back on and joined the two girls. By now, Abel and Bobby were there too. Naomi turned to Ernesto and said, “It’s an eagle—”
“Two of them!” Angel added excitedly.
Naomi gave everybody a turn on the binoculars until they all saw the eagles. “They’re bald eagles. They were endangered for a long time,” Naomi explained. “But now they’re thriving. That’s so exciting that we saw them. You guys can tell your friends at school on Monday that you saw two bald eagles. I got some cool pictures for you on my iPhone. I think I can blow them up and sharpen them on my computer.”
Before they headed home in the late afternoon, they took one more walk. The seniors and their ninth-graders switched places with one other. Ernesto took Angel, and Abel took Richie. Naomi walked with Bobby Padilla.
“Richie said you were nice, Angel,” Ernesto remarked.
Angel turned and stared at Ernesto. “No!” she insisted. “Nobody likes me ’cept for Penny Ruiz. I think he just feels sorry for me. Nobody wants to be with me. That’s ’cause Lacey’s telling everybody I’m gonna start walking funny and talking weird like my grandma pretty soon.”
“Hey, all I know is Richie said you’re nice,” Ernesto repeated. “He said you shared your lunch with him.”
“Yeah,” Angel admitted. She looked intently at Ernesto, “Did he really say I was nice?”
“Yeah, he did, Angel,” Ernesto replied. “And you are nice.”
Angel looked pensive. “None of us got dads,” she commented. “My dad ran away, and so did Bobby’s. Richie’s dad is in jail. I asked Richie once if he hated his dad, and he said he didn’t. I would hate somebody who hurt my mom. I would hate them so much. I’d sneak up behind them one day and hit them hard on the head until they were dead.”
“Ay, muchacha!” Ernesto responded softly. “You have a lot of anger in you. You need to let it go. It makes you sick when you hate people. I know you have the right to be really mad at those mean girls who make fun of you and your grandma. But don’t let them fill your heart with hatred. Hate always makes you sick, and it doesn’t bother the one you hate.”
Angel looked right at Ernesto. “I want to make Lacey Serrano hurt. I get so mad when she mocks me and Grandma that I feel like exploding in a million pieces. Didn’t you ever hate somebody so much that you wanted to hurt them?”
“Yes, Angel, I know what you’re talking about,” Ernesto responded. “But I tried to fight off the hatred. You’re doing a very kind and brave thing to take your grandmother for walks. You’re a hero for doing that. A lotta kids just wouldn’t do it. They’d be too selfish. So you’re a special girl, Angel.”
Ernesto wasn’t sure he was getting through to the girl. “Someday,” he went on, “you’ll look back on how you helped your grandmother, and you’ll be proud of what you did. You’ll feel good. When you do a kind and brave thing, it’s hard at the time. But for all your life, it will comfort you that you did it.”
Tears filled Angel’s eyes. “Why do they make fun of Grandma and Grandpa? Grandma doesn’t want to be sick, and Grandpa is trying to be a good teacher.”
“Angel, your grandfather is my history teacher, and he’s a fine teacher,” Ernesto assured the girl. “Most of his students like him a lot. I’m learning so much in that class. Your grandfather is smart and interesting. You know my dad teaches history at Chavez, right? Well, he says the same things about your grandfather. Dad admires him,”
“When the bad pictures came online, Grandpa cried,” Angel confided. “He told me he wasn’t crying. He said he got dust in his eye. But I knew he was crying. He didn’t want us to see the pictures, but Mom and I saw them. It was so awful. Mom doesn’t make much money on her job. If they fire Grandpa, our family’s gonna be in trouble. Maybe we couldn’t even stay in our house. Grandpa was gonna retire. But then when Mom and me came to live with him, he said he’d keep on teaching to take care of us. Grandpa took us in.”
“Well, Angel, pretty soon everybody is going to forget the bad pictures,” Ernesto said, consoling her. “They’ll only remember what a good teacher your grandfather is. Know what, Angel? On the way home, we’re gonna stop for ice cream sundaes. Does that sound good?”
“Yeah!” Angel responded. “I want lotsa nuts and syrup on mine.”
“And gobs of whipped cream,” Ernesto added, smiling.
Much later, Ernesto dropped the ninthgraders off at their homes, filled with butterscotch and chocolate ice cream sundaes. When it was just the three seniors in the van, Ernesto reflected on the day. He said to Abel and Naomi, “I feel good about today. I think the kids really had fun, and it kinda gave us all a chance to know each other better. The kids could push their problems out of the way for a little while and just have fun. And it gave them the chance to talk too.”
“I talked to Richie’s foster mother when she signed him up for this program, Ernie,” Naomi responded. “She told me he never said a word about what happened to his parents. She said he’s like locked up in a painful little bubble, and he won’t open up at all. But today when you guys were wading in the stream, I saw you talking quite a bit, and that made me happy. I think you have a buddy there.”
“Yeah, I think we made some progress,” Ernesto agreed. “It’s so hard for a kid like that to get past what happened. I just can’t imagine what he’s going through.”
“Bobby had a lot of fun,” Abel piped up. “I told him I’d come over to his house sometime and show his mother how to make cream puffs. Bobby loves cream puffs. His Mom tried to make ’em a coupla times, but they didn’t get puffy. They went flat like pancakes. He was really excited that I’d come over and show her how to do it. I like the kid. I mean, I’m gettin’ as much from him as he’s gettin’ from me, maybe more.”
Naomi looked thoughtful. She looked at Ernesto and said, “I’m worried about Angel. Did you catch how angry she is? I mean, I understand it, but . . . ”
“Yeah, I hear you,” Ernesto agreed. “I tried to tell her that hating just ends up hurting you more than whoever you hate. But I don’t think I got through to her. We’ve got to find a way to stop those kids who’re hassling her. I’m not sure how, but bullying like that can’t just go on.”
That evening, when Ernesto got home, his father had news. “They may have found out who vandalized the school,” Dad reported. “Mrs. Sanchez called me and said there was solid evidence against a student.”