Until I Find Julian Read Free

people speak such a hard language?
    But Julian wouldn’t give up. Every day a new word!
    I move now and feel a quick pain in my side.
    Ahead, the coyote yells at a woman who’s fallen behind. “Leave the baby,” he shouts, “or I’ll leave you here and you’ll both die.”
    I watch, terrified. What will she do? What can she do? But the woman struggles on, and the coyote turns, paying attention to someone else.
    I scramble to my feet, holding my side.
    The coyote stops, his arm raised, standing completely still.
    I hear it too.
    The rumble of a motor growing louder.
    Lights flashing through the yucca trees. It’s a truck coming fast, too fast for me to think, to run.
    Who could it be? Police? Or even worse: thieves, looking for money?
    The coyote, baseball hat gone, dives behind a jumble of rocks; the others scatter like ants, dropping bags, the baby wailing as the truck swerves toward them.
    The lights sweep over me. I drop down and dig myself into the ground, my heart beating so fast I can hardly breathe, my mouth open, sand on my teeth, on my tongue. I don’t dare to whisper, but I think:
Don’t see me. Don’t…
    The travelers disappear behind rocks, behind scrub bushes. It’s as if they don’t exist. Even the baby is silent. The truck idles; two men in front lean forward, searching for them. But it’s no use. After a few moments, they turn the truck and disappear too.
    Nothing is left but paper bags filled with fruit and bottles of soda, or water, hot from the day’s fierce sun, a few pieces of clothing, a baby’s blanket, all scattered across the ground.
    The coyote, a shadow, head down, comes from behind the bushes and heads back the way we’ve come. He just misses me. I turn slowly and watch after him, listening as he whistles to himself.
    I crouch there, afraid to move. Suppose the men in the truck come back?
    And then I realize I’m alone. Not one of the travelers returns for his things. I’m really alone.
    Sounds surround me: wind, beating insect wings. A lizard darts away, its feet and curved tail leaving delicate traces behind it.
    Everything is suddenly still: the small creatures, and even the wind. It’s as if the earth knows I’ll never find my way to the river that flows along the border. I’ll never find Julian in the north.
    All the stories I’ve heard about people crossing the border come flooding into my head. Mami, when she was twenty, hoping for a job, was lost for hours, and then caught and sent home. Mr. Juarez, who’d lived across the creek from our house, was killed by coyotes for a few pesos. A boy from our village was turned away from the border four times, and finally gave up.
    I raise my head, remembering the bags left by the travelers. I can’t wait to taste the fruit, to feel its sweetness sliding down my throat that’s as dry as the desert sand.
    And bread! I’ll bite off huge chunks and eat until I’m full. Maybe I’ll find another sweater and that poor baby’s blanket for the cold nights.
    What would Mami say? How terrible to be glad I’d have what the poor people left. But I am glad, my thirst is terrible, and in another moment I’ll have something to drink.
    I crawl forward slowly, my side aching, and hear something.
    What?
    A large animal?
    I cover my head with my hands.
    It’s not an animal. It’s the sound of feet.
    If only Julian were still at home with us.
    If only I were home, writing in my book, the stray cat curled up next to me, the sound of the creek out back, water lapping against the rocks.

Someone is right behind me, coming fast.
    If I get hurt I’ll be no help to Mami and Abuelita, no help to Lucas. And I’ll never find Julian!
    A foot digs hard into my back, pushing me down. I spit out a mouthful of earth.
    Someone breathes over me. “Move,” the voice mutters.
    I slide out from under the foot slowly, dirt scratching the side of my face and my arms. “Don’t.” I try to sound hard, to sound tough.
    “Pathetic.” There’s something