CHAPTER 10

A gasp of disappointment went up in the crowd as everyone turned their heads to look for the winner. Nobody was coming forward to claim the prize.

Finally a tiny voice cried, “¡Número quince! Aquí.”

The crowd parted. A boy, eight or nine years old, was holding his ticket up in the air. When the crowd saw who had won, they burst into a cheer and hoisted the boy up onto their shoulders. They carried him to the front, chanting his name.

“¡Miguel! ¡Miguel! ¡Miguel!” they cried. Then they chanted other things that I didn’t understand.

“They’re saying he is the town’s kid genius,” Luna said to me. “He invents all kinds of stuff and goes around fixing everyone’s radio.”

I grabbed the Pocket Buddy, my only remaining prototype, and handed it to Miguel. I confess, it was hard to give it up. But at least it would go to someone deserving, a fellow science kid. I hoped that someday in the future, Miguel would invent something amazing himself.

We inventors have to stick together.

We left the crowd chanting Miguel’s name and ran from the plaza. It was six minutes to five. As we reached the dusty road out of town, we came across a group of boys gathered there. I recognized them as the boys from the flower stall. They stood in a line with their arms folded, blocking our way.

The one in the middle cocked his head and stepped forward. He said something to Luna in Spanish. It didn’t sound friendly.

“He wants some of our money,” Luna said, looking worried.

The leader of the flower-bully gang took another step forward.

“¡Ahora!” he said, reaching out his hand.

“What’s that mean?” I asked Luna.

“It means ‘now,’” she said. “But I don’t care what he says. He is not getting Sofía’s money.”

“Pardon me, Miss Luna,” Chives whispered. “Perhaps this requires a butler’s skills. May I handle this for you?”

“Do your thing, Chives,” Luna said.

Chives stepped forward to face the bullies.

“Hola, puerco,” one said with a smirk.

Chives smiled and took a few steps toward the large mud puddle in the middle of the road. With a sudden mighty squeal, he jumped into the mud, stomping and snorting like a pig having a meltdown. Mud flew everywhere. The bullies put their arms up, trying to protect themselves, but stumbled and fell into the puddle. Chives yelped in delight, kicking mud all over them.

“Run!” he cried to us.

We took off down the dirt road, our feet practically flying. As we came closer to the shop, we heard hooves behind us.

“I’m a pig, and I love it!” Chives screamed.

It was three minutes to five when we arrived back at the shop. We were winded and panting, covered in mud and sweat.

Things were almost exactly as we’d left them. Viola was resting in the shade, her foot propped up on a bamboo chair. Señora Juárez was serving her a cold fruit juice. Viola was holding little Sofía on her lap, while right next to her, David and Héctor were playing guitars and singing.

“¡Mamá!” Antonia cried, as she ran up to Señora Juárez, her palms filled with pesos. “¡Mira, Mamá! ¡Mira!”

When Señora Juárez saw the money, she screamed and lifted Antonia into the air and hugged her with all her might.

“You did it!” David cried, putting his guitar down and giving us high fives. “Now little Sofía has a chance to get her surgery. We were hoping for this moment. Señora Juárez is all packed. The bus leaves in just a few minutes.”

“Then they better hurry to the bus stop,” Luna said. “They can’t miss it.”

“I’ll take them,” David said. “It’s not far. Just up the road.”

“There isn’t time,” I said. “We have to be back exactly where we landed in two minutes.”

“Then we can all go home,” Luna said. “All of us.”

David and Viola were strangely silent.

“We’ve decided . . . ,” David began. “I mean, we’ve talked it over and . . .” He couldn’t go on. Viola handed the baby to Señora Juárez and put her hand on David’s shoulder.

“I’ll explain,” she said. Then she stood up, tall and healthy looking. “David and I are not coming with you. We are going to stay here, in Mexico.”

“What?” I cried. “But the whole point was to bring you two safely home.”

“You’ve got to come back with us,” Luna said. Tears began to form in her eyes.

“I’ve lived in the real world long enough,” Viola said. “This is where I want to be. In the world of art. Here there is no time. My cough is gone, and my back is as strong as it was when I was young. And I will remain the same age as I am now. I can be with my son for as long as we’d like. We have so much time to make up, don’t we, David?”

David wrapped his arms around her. “There’s a small farm next to Señora Juárez’s that is empty,” he said. “Mama and I are going to live there. We’ll farm the land. Mama can paint the fields and the hills. And Héctor is going to teach me guitar.”

“Who knows?” Viola said. “My David could be a musical genius, one day, if he practices.”

“Is this what you want, David?” Luna asked.

“We’ll have a good life here,” he said.

“A life filled with fresh air, good friends, good food, and as much color, art, and music as we like,” Viola said.

“Can we come visit you?” I asked. I felt a lump in my throat, the kind you get when you’re trying not to cry.

“Perhaps from time to time,” Viola said. “And if we want a change, you can always place a different painting in the frame. Or Chives will do that task. That is, unless you would like to stay here with us, Chives.”

“No, Madame,” Chives said. “I must go back where I belong, where I have a proper wardrobe. I’ll look after the manor, see to it that the house stays in decent shape but spooky enough to keep away the curious.”

Antonia pointed at Chives and laughed.

“¡Sí! ¡Sí!” she said. “El puerco puede hablar.”

“Yes, the pig can talk,” Viola said to Antonia. “And bathe. Which I suggest you do at once upon your return, Chives.”

Chives smiled and bowed. “On my honor, Madame.”

“Wipe your tears, everyone,” David said. “This is a happy ending.”

David stretched out his arms for a great big hug. We all held one another tightly. It was hard to separate, but we knew we had to. As we took our positions, I felt the real world pulling on me, that suction I had come to know.

“Goodbye,” I said. “We’ll miss you!”