The House of the Scorpion Read Free Page A

times ten! He can melt anyone’s heart with those wide, innocent eyes. Everyone falls for it, but not me. He gave María a bottle of lemon soda today. ‘It’s the last one,’ he said. ‘It’s really cold and I saved it especially for you,’ he said. Do you know what was in it?”
    “No,” said Matt, wriggling with anticipation.
    “Pee! Can you believe it? He even put the cap back on. Oh, she was crying, poor little thing. She never learns.”
    Celia suddenly ran out of steam. She yawned broadly and fatigue settled over her right before Matt’s eyes. She had been working from dawn to well after dark, and she had cooked a fresh meal at home as well. “I’m sorry, chico . When the well’s empty, it’s empty.”
    Matt rinsed the plates and stacked the dishwasher while Celia took a shower. She came out in her voluminous pink bathrobe and nodded sleepily at the tidied table. “You’re a good kid,” she said.
    She picked him up and hugged him all the way to his bed. No matter how tired Celia was—and sometimes she almost fell over with exhaustion—she never neglected this ritual. She tucked Matt in and lit the holy candle in front of the statue of the Virgin of Guadalupe. She had brought it with her all the way from her village in Aztlán. The Virgin’s robe was slightly chipped, which Celia disguised with a spray of artificial flowers. The Virgin’s feet rested on dusty plaster roses and Her starspangled robe was stained with wax, but Her face gazed out over the candle with the same gentleness it had in Celia’s bedroom long ago.
    “I’m in the next room, mi vida,” whispered the woman, kissing the top of Matts head. “You get scared, you call me.”
    Soon the house shook with Celias snores. To Matt, the sound was as normal as the thunder that sometimes echoed over the hills. It in no way kept him from sleep. “Steven and Emilia,” he whispered, testing the words in his mouth. He didn’t know what he would say to the strange children if they appeared again, but he was determined to try to talk to them. He practiced several sentences: “My name is Matt. I live here. Do you want to color pictures?”
    No, he couldn’t mention the coloring book or the crayons. They were stolen.
    “Would you like some food?” But the food might be stolen too. “Do you want to play?” Good. Steven and Emilia could suggest something, and Matt would be off the hook.
    “Do you want to play? Do you want to play?” he murmured as his eyes closed and the gentle face of the Virgin of Guadalupe floated in the candlelight.

3

P ROPERTY O F T HE A LACRÁN E STATE
    C elia left in the morning, and Matt spent the entire day waiting for the children. He had given up hope when, just before sunset, he heard voices approaching through the poppy fields.
    He planted himself in front of the window and waited.
    “There he is! See, María, I told you I wasn’t lying,” cried Emilia. Her hand rested on the shoulder of a much smaller girl. “He won’t talk to us, but you’re about his age. Maybe he won’t be afraid of you.” Emilia pushed the girl ahead of her and fell back to wait with Steven.
    María wasn’t at all shy about coming up to the window. “Hey, boy!” she yelled, rapping the glass with her fist. “What’s your name? Do you want to play?”
    With one blow, she stole Matt’s carefully prepared speech. He stared at her, unable to think of another opening.
    “Well, is it yes or no?” María turned toward the others. “Make him unlock the door.”
    “That’s up to him,” said Steven.
    Matt wanted to say he didn’t have the key, but he was unable to get the words out.
    “At least he isn’t hiding today,” remarked Emilia.
    “If you can’t unlock the door, open the window,” María said.
    Matt tried, knowing it wouldn’t work. Celia had nailed the window shut. He threw up his hands.
    “He understands what we say,” said Steven.
    “Hey, boy! If you don’t do something quick, we’re going away,”