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  Hector typed on his keyboard. “Ah, she can repent later.”

  Grandma never skipped Mass or any holy day. “You need to tell her. I’d be thrown out of the house for suggesting anything against God, especially a telenovela.” I thought Grandma’s heart would break when the nuns stopped visiting our church.

  Papa had missed the past three weeks of telegrams. I heard the ping, and the printer began to stutter out the paper. It was a telegram from Papa!

  Hector peeled bills out into a large stack. “You’re in luck. The money is here with a message.” He clapped me on the back with enthusiasm.

  I felt my sad smile dissolve as I rushed out the door. My focus tightened on Papa’s note. I knew enough words to get by, but it was time to learn more if I wanted to go anywhere in life. My ambitions had to be tempered with my family’s needs.

  I’m sorry it is late. Tell Nora to be good. Work is difficult. Te amo para siempre y siempre, Arturo.

  The computer didn’t show any of his messy scrawls. I tried to remember his voice, but it seemed so faint that the absence of it made my heart sting.

  A hot breeze pulsed through my hair, making me feel freer than I had in months. Maybe now would be a good time to ask for a pair of earrings.

  When I delivered the stack of money, Mama squeezed my cheeks. “Thank you, mija. You are my lucky charm.” Mama passed the money to me. “Do we have enough?”

  My heart pounded. “Enough for what?”

  She shook her head. “Never mind. It will never be enough.”

  We.

  The happy feeling crumbled, and I felt for my hair, gently pulling it back into a braid.

  If we could be a “we” again with Papa, that would be enough for me.

  CHAPTER 5

  Tipo de Cambio

  The money was gone faster than it had arrived.

  Dreadful feelings in my stomach turned into hushed whispers in my head that I couldn’t translate. It was like trying to listen to an argument through a wall. You can’t hear the details, but you know it’s not good.

  There had been eight weeks of silence from Papa.

  Angry. Uncomfortable. Nervous. I felt like that every day. I tried to escape to my trees, but the swirling feelings in my head only made me dizzy on the brittle branches. I braided and unbraided my hair again and again.

  “Nora,” Mama called. “I need you to go into town.”

  I lingered in the trees and pulled the last grapefruit off one of them. Our small farm was losing the last of its green. The trees were pressed closely together, but each branch clamored for water and fertilizer. I felt like I was watching my own little pets die because we couldn’t afford to feed them. What could I do to help?

  “Please!” Mama said in a way that made me feel guilty for not being more responsible. I couldn’t dream in the trees forever. “I’ll meet you at the market later.”

  I walked on the craggy dirt that had been pressed down from a few trucks traveling this path, yet brambles still insisted on growing and throwing themselves into the road. Tall pieces of ragweed mixed with burned-out remnants of cypress roots stood motionless in the ground from lack of rain. One string of electricity hung from a pole, swinging toward our farm. I carried a ripe grapefruit for Hector.

  A raven cawed from the pole as if he were trying to send me a message.

  Do something.

  I shook it off. I felt like I had to apologize for all of the time I went to the bank to ask Hector for the money and nothing would show up in the computer.

  I swallowed hard and tried to re-create our old patterns, although I felt like I was trying to put on clothes I had outgrown years ago. My reflection in the glossy door showed me a worried face and shabby clothes. My once bright orange shirt was now a washed-out tangerine with the armpits turning yellow and thin.

  “Nora.” Hector looked up from his computer screen. “¿Qué mas?”

  We never asked the question on the tips of our tongues: “What is really wrong?”

  Mama’s frustration mounted each time I came back to report there was nothing from Papa. “Same things as always,” I said, looking down at my shoes. Part of the heel was prying loose. “Is it here or what?”

  “Don’t act like a nasty little girl,” Hector said hurtfully.

  An uncomfortable silence filled the space between us. I noticed his glasses were full of smudges, yet I pulled my hands away and stuffed them deep into my pockets. His comment burned sharply into my pride. I felt my cheeks flush.

  Hector pecked at his keyboard and softened his tone. “You know, I look every day. I’ve even called the main office in the United States. Nora, he hasn’t sent anything.”

  Shaking my head in refusal, I reached across the counter to look at the computer screen. “We have to figure out a way. I can’t go home without something.”

  Hector crossed his arms. “I can’t steal money for you.”

  “I’m not asking you to steal,” I murmured, a rock in my stomach growing cold. “I have always been an honest person. I just can’t wait around anymore.”

  Hector’s mouth hung open for a second. “I’m sorry.”

  I stood in silence, waiting for some sort of explanation. “Where is he?”

  The pain in my stomach began to churn, and a headache spread across my forehead. Suddenly I felt like I was going to faint.

  Hector rushed to my side and gently placed me into a chair. “Just try to breathe. Let me get you some water.”

  I pushed my head into my hands. How would we pay for groceries this week? Or the taxes next month? This couldn’t be real. The room slowly stopped spinning, but I heard a faint voice.

  He’s gone.

  “What did you say?” I asked through squinted eyes. I needed to be stronger.

  Hector patted my back. “It will be okay.”

  “No, before that. You said my father was gone. What do you mean by that?” I said, annoyed.

  “What are you so angry about?” asked Hector.

  “My father is not gone!” Venomous tones spewed out of my mouth. I took the grapefruit and hurled it against the steel safe. The fruit landed with a soft goosh and the juicy bits sprayed against the wall.

  Hector pulled back as if I had slapped him. “What the hell are you doing? I’m your friend. If your family needs money, I have a—”

  “No!” I shouted at him. “He’s coming back!”

  I ran down the dirt street while my head exploded with thoughts about Hector, my father’s absence, and my mother’s disappointment. When I passed by the door of the old church, I took a rock and threw it against the old wooden door.

  I sat in the truck holding back the emotions. My throat tightened, making me gasp to keep the tears from falling down my face. I remembered when Papa got this Chevy. It was already five years old, but it was new to us—our first car. I didn’t want my dreams to be flushed away just because we were broke.

  Mama and Grandma pushed themselves into the cab of the truck as I looked away to hide my face.

  “I need to pay the grocer. Then we will ask the tax man if we can pay in installments.” She chattered on like I had a million dollars in my pocket.

  Mama continued, “No more credit at the grocery store until I pay our old bills.”

  My breath came out in jagged bursts. It was all I could do to keep the tears from spilling out. Was this the end? Was this where we give up?

  “Nora.” Mama playfully tugged at my hair. “Did he send extra?”

  “I can’t,” I said, hiding my wet eyes. I couldn’t say the words.

  Mama’s face held such hope. “Did he send extra money?”

  It felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the sky. I couldn’t look her in the face. “He…he didn’t send anything.”

  Mama slammed on the brakes and we all lurched forward. I could see the veins popping out of the back of her small hands. Her eyes flamed. “Where. Is. The. Money?” she roared.

  I was gasping for breath from where the stick shi
ft had gouged my stomach. Mama’s disappointment swelled. I felt myself getting smaller and smaller. Heat filled the car like an oven.

  “The fruit isn’t selling. The money is running out and where is your father?” she screamed.

  I yelled back, “It’s not my fault he’s gone!”

  Grandma yelled louder than both of us. “Please stop arguing!”

  I flung open the truck door. “If I knew how to fix this, I would.” The air ripped from my lungs.

  I slammed the door and watched the truck rumble away in a cloud of dust.

  I was worried about Papa. I had the empty feeling that he was gone from our lives forever. Why was Mama the only person allowed to be mad? And why did all of this seem to be my fault?

  I screamed over and over again, but the vulgar words provided no relief to my breaking heart.

  As I stumbled toward the orchard, I reached the first tree and threw up.

  CHAPTER 6

  La Voz

  I had to do something to fix us before we burst into flame and floated away like singed paper. I sat on the highest branch, staring at the moon until the night air gave me a chill.

  Go home, whispered the voice.

  “Who’s there?” I asked, but only the gentle creak of the trees answered me. I scratched at my ears and I almost lost my balance.

  No one answered me. The voice was inside my head. It felt like the same voice from the bank. The same voice rumbling from my stomach.

  The leaves shuddered as a crow tried to land and quickly took flight, seeing me in its roost.

  Another sound echoed through the trees. Mama’s voice was hoarse, like she had been crying. “Nora, come in!”

  I heard the fight continue between Grandma and Mama. “How could you say those things? What does a teenager know?” It was easy to hear Grandma roar from the house.

  From my tree, I saw Grandma stomping back and forth in front of the kitchen window. The more I heard the words, the more I couldn’t control the tears coming from my eyes. I wanted to be stronger than my silly tears.

  You know, it said again.

  “She misses her father. She watches her crazy grandmother invent recipes to keep the fruit from rotting,” said Grandma.

  I leaned forward on the branch to get a better view of my grandmother pointing her index finger at Mama. “She doesn’t have to know everything. Let her be selfish for once. Let her want for candy, a whole family, and a quinceañera. She is changing into a woman as we speak.”

  Mama yelled back. “Don’t you think I know that? I see how the men in town look at her!”

  Mama opened the screen door. “Nora! Come inside. We need to talk. Nora!”

  I felt a shiver run down my spine. I could hear how she wanted to forgive me in her cracking voice.

  Grandma’s tone echoed angrily through the orchard like never before. “You don’t have to take your frustration out on her.”

  Mama’s voice stabbed back at Grandma. “How am I going to explain that Arturo might be gone for good? How am I going to explain to her that nothing is left?”

  Papa couldn’t be gone for good. I still had a scrap of hope. Something could be done. The ache in my heart made the voice stronger.

  Find him.

  Who was saying these things? Me? God?

  Grandma interrupted Mama. “Is this everything to you? Money?”

  I considered going back into the house, just so we could all stop screaming.

  “Of course it’s about money. How are we going to explain that this orchard and everything in it will soon be lost because we can’t pay the taxes?” said Mama.

  Grandma sighed. “Aurora, we need to pray. God can provide.”

  Believe.

  Mama stood in the light with her hand to her forehead. “I don’t know what to do anymore, and God isn’t helping. Just look at this place!”

  I knew what she meant. Cedula didn’t hold hope for us anymore.

  Go.

  My heart jumped around in my chest. My stomach churned and I could taste the vomit rising to the back of my throat again. Lose the orchard? The voice made me doubt everything I knew and understood. I mean, why would God speak to me? What makes me so important? “You don’t think I’m fighting too?” said Grandma. “We own this orchard, but it’s not everything. ¡Familia! That is what comes first.”

  It was easier to pretend life was good and Papa was coming. It was more fun to climb through the trees than to look at the truth. I could just keep on being a stupid fruit picker and never think again. But I couldn’t. I wanted more.

  Mama stood at the door and called out, “Nora! I’m so sorry.”

  How can you move when the world is tumbling down around you? I was trying to stay a little girl, even though womanhood sprouted out of me in a new way every day.

  Papa would want me to fix this. The voice echoed in my head.

  Go.

  I shifted my weight in the tree. The branch creaked under my dress. A few leaves crackled. The branch split before I could grab for another limb. I lost my grasp on the postcard. The darkness swirled around me as I tumbled backward out of the tree.

  With a thump I hit the ground, and everything went blank.

  CHAPTER 7

  Aspirina y Aceite

  I opened my eyes. It was dark outside but the overhead light shone dimly. I looked beyond the bed and into the mirror. The side of my cheek tinged purple and my lip was cut. My barrettes were gone. Although there was no blood on my face, plenty was splattered on the front of my dress.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “Grandma and I were talking…”

  “Arguing,” spat Grandma.

  Mama ignored her and turned toward me. “Out in the dark we heard a huge crack and a thump. You screamed. We think the tree limb broke underneath you.”

  The falling. The fight. The voices. A large, pulsing bump grew from my cheek. I licked my lips and tasted oil.

  “Aurora, we should take her to a doctor. Look at the size of that lump,” said Grandma.

  I didn’t want to walk to the other village past Cedula where they had a doctor. “Who has been putting oil on my lips?” Mama pointed to Grandma.

  “The doctor is a foolish old quack. He will tell us she only has bruises.”

  I remembered when I had an ear infection a few years back. This doctor prescribed aspirin and olive oil. When Papa had diarrhea from food poisoning—aspirin and olive oil. No real doctor in site.

  “No, I’m fine,” I lied. Grandma left the room in a huff.

  Mama’s face creased with worry. “I’m glad you’re finally awake. You’ve been talking, but none of it made sense.”

  I noticed she was wearing the same shirt, but now it was streaked with my blood. “I don’t want to fight like this anymore,” I said, looking into her deep brown eyes.

  Mama reached down and touched me gingerly. “I’m sorry about what I said. It was so wrong of me to explode and drive off like that.”

  I followed the voice from my head. “We have to do something.”

  Mama pulled me in. “I wish I knew what to do.”

  I burrowed my head into her shoulder until I felt the heavy puffs of deep sleep lulling me back to a fitful slumber. I awoke in the middle of the night, but I couldn’t stay in bed any longer. The rest of the house was dark. Mama had curled herself away from me with my only sheet.

  Stiffly, I pulled myself out of bed. The pain still lingered. The feeling of the voice remained. God spoke to people on television all the time, like on telenovelas when people are in comas going toward the light, or on some of those holy programs Grandma likes.

  Are voices things people make up to feel better about their choices, or does someone really talk inside your head? Was the voice really telling me to go find Papa? How would I do it?

  In the kitchen, I looked inside the money jar. We had enough to buy our way across the border, but then what?

  A small light clicked on behind me. “What are you doing?” asked Mama.
Her eyes looked sleepily at the piles of money on the table.

  “I was thinking about America. Do we have enough to get across?”

  Mama rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. “I don’t know.”

  I bit the inside of my lip. “I think we should go find Papa.”

  “I need some coffee.” She yawned. “Maybe after the next harvest I could try to get a job in Mexico City and save more.”

  The answer became clear to me. “No. We need to go soon, not in a few months.”

  Mama shook her head. “We can’t just leave. There are things to do, and we can’t just leave Isabel.”

  “We’re not leaving Grandma, because we would come back,” I insisted. This would be the plan: find Papa, get some education, and come back to fix Cedula.

  “Nora, we can’t just leave. There isn’t enough money,” said Mama.

  I felt my voice rising above our midnight whispers. “This isn’t about money. It’s about Papa and what we are supposed to do.”

  We wouldn’t be abandoning Cedula. This would be the fix.

  Mama looked at me with concern. “We can’t just go.”

  Grandma stuck her head into the room. “What is all of this whispering?”

  I poured water into the pot and lit the stove. “Mama and I are going to Texas to find Papa,” I said with rising confidence.

  She raised her eyebrows. “What? Are you crazy? It’s five o’clock in the morning. Put the coffee away.”

  Mama shook her head slowly. “I’ve been thinking about it too.”

  I moved the stack of money and pulled out three mugs. “We’re going to find Papa and bring him home.”

  Grandma crossed her arms. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow. I’m going to call the doctor in the morning.”

  Mama and I said in unison, “No doctor!” Grandma stomped out of the room mumbling.

  I handed the stack of pesos to Mama. “Take the money. Do it for us.”

  Mama’s face was lined with worry. “Nora, I don’t know how to do this. Maybe we should wait.”