Until I Find Julian Read Free Page B

you’ll be a wetback.”
    Wetback.
Wet from the river. I’ve heard that American word before. Miguel at the factory calls Julian that. Not a nice word coming from Miguel’s mouth.
    She’s pointing now, and it’s there, almost like a miracle: a wide swath of river swirling around a small island in the center. The water’s dark and a little muddy, almost like the creek in front of our house.
    “We’ll cross later on,” Angel says. “If you can’t swim, if you’re lying, you’ll drown.”
    She knows I’m lying, but still my head goes down. It’s been so long since I’ve slept. I need five minutes. Ten.
    I close my eyes.
    “And if you sleep, they’ll catch you, throw you in prison for who knows how long, then send you back wherever you belong.”
    My eyes fly open. “I’m not sleeping.” I look away from her, embarrassed. “I can swim…a little.”
    “I knew it.” She bites her lip. “We’ll have to use an inner tire tube I’ve hidden away. I pump it up once in a while. I hope it isn’t poked out with holes now. I don’t have time to babysit you. I have things to do.” She hesitates. “This is the most dangerous part.” She points across the river with one hand; her nails are rimmed with black.
    I stand searching. I don’t see anything, but to have come all this way for nothing!
    Angel yanks the edge of my shirt, pulling hard so I move into the shelter of a knob of trees. “You’re just dying to be caught.”
    My face is inches from hers. “I’ve traveled a long way alone. I can even cross this river without you.”
    “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says.
    I take a breath. Mami said that a long time ago. And I’m reminded of something else: a froth of water, rocks, a sheer drop, the far end of the creek at home.
    She rolls a stone in her mouth and acts as if we haven’t been whispering furiously at each other. “We’ll wait until it’s dark again. Until, just for a moment,
la migra
needs coffee, or changes shifts, or travels somewhere else, and then we move.”
    I reach in my pocket for the pen and the small notebook. There are hours to wait, hours to write down my memories.

It wasn’t my turn to weed the rows of vegetables on the side of the house. “The weeds don’t harm anything anyway,” I told Mami.
    “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. “Go and weed, Mateo. Do you want to eat the vegetables when they’re ripe? Do you even want to have dinner? It’s suppertime soon, you know.”
    I didn’t want dinner. Who’d want rice boiling on the stove when the whole world was boiling hot? “I’m six years old,” I said. “Old enough to run away.”
    “Goodbye,” Mami said.
    “I’ll miss you, Mateo,” Abuelita said.
    Lucas waved at me.
    “When Julian comes home from work, tell him I’ll see him one day,” I said over my shoulder.
    I went out the door, held open with a brick to catch a breeze that might come our way. A few steps and I reached the creek. The green water was shallow from the dry summer weather; it was deeper far down when it reached the rocks and fell over into a pool.
    Yes, a perfect spot for me. I’d wade in the pool, eat plums from the trees heavy with fruit. I’d sleep on the soft grass with the song of the frogs to keep me company.
    I’d never weed the vegetables again.
    Barefoot, I walked along the edge of the creek. It was a long way, almost forever, it seemed. Head down, I passed the old woman’s house on the other side of the water. I didn’t need her yelling at me.
    I went faster when I heard the sound of the water running over the rocks, loud enough to drown out the sound of the frogs. I was close to my new home.
    I sank down to catch my breath. Mami would be sad by now, sorry her middle son had run away forever. And what about Abuelita? I knew I was her favorite, even though she’d never said so. I could tell by the way she put her hand on my head, the way she gave me an extra scoop of