Nilda (20 page)

The door opened and Paul walked in. “What's all the fussing about?” he asked.

“That lady Doña Tiofila, the espiritista, was here. And she did a lot of stuff. Then Papá woke up and he was yelling at her.”

“Oh, man,” Paul laughed. “She was still here when he was yelling?”

“Yeah.” Nilda started to laugh. “You shoulda heard all the things he said. Mamá was so mad, I thought she was gonna punch Papá. The lady was shocked. You shoulda seen her face.” They both began to giggle. After a while Nilda looked at Paul and asked, “Do you believe in that espiritismo stuff, Paul?”

“I don't know,” he shrugged. “It can't hurt nobody anyway, I guess. Do you?”

“I don't know neither. Mamá said that lady Doña Tiofila can talk to the dead.” Paul made a skeptical face. “Honest, Paul, she said she heard her in a seance and everything.”

“Probably some fakeria,” said Paul.

Nilda looked at him, smiled and shrugged, “Well, that's what she said.”

“Listen, Nilda. I'm gonna join the Navy.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I'll be seventeen this year. I made up my mind, you know.”

“Mamá's not gonna let you, Paul. She's not gonna like it.”

“Well, I'm gonna do it. I'll run away to another state if she don't. I'm gonna put it to her, ask her to sign.”

“Ain't you scared, Paul?”

“Naw. I'm not scared. We gotta fight for our country, right? Look at Victor; he's doing his part, you know. Man, I'm gonna do mine. Mamá is real proud of Victor. She got the American flag out on the window since he left for the Army, man. She ain't taken it down yet. And now she's sewing that red-white-and-blue thing you hang up. You know, made of material, with a star on it and his name, ‘Victor'.” Pausing, he looked at Nilda, who said nothing. “Anyway, I'm failing all my grades. I hate that school. God damn teachers always picking on me. Look, Nilda, if I join the Navy, I can learn me a trade, man. You know. Be something, be somebody. And help Mamá out and the family.”

“Are you gonna wait until school finishes this June?”

“No! I made up my mind. I wanna split as soon as I can. I'm gonna be Seaman Paul Ortega.” Jumping up and saluting, he said, “There you go, dadeeooo! You like the uniforms, Nilda?”

“Yeah, they're nice. It's gonna feel funny, you being a sailor, Paul,” she said smiling.

“How about that?” In a more serious tone he said, “Please don't say nothing to nobody. I haven't told Frankie yet, okay? It's still a secret till I talk to Ma.”

“Sure, I won't say nothing to nobody.”

“You coming to the burning tonight?” he asked.

“What burning?”

“The effigies, of Hitler, Tojo and Mussolini. Didn't you hear? Down around on 102nd Street. Man, the whole street is getting together. They got a whole bunch of crates to burn and they are setting up a platform for speakers. There's gonna be music and.…”

“What's an effi- effi-,” Nilda interrupted.

“Effigy?”

“Yeah, what is that?”

“That's what they call a duplicate, like a doll or dummy that looks like the enemies. You remember we did that last year? Before Christmas up on 106th and Lexington Avenue? They burned them dummies.”

“Oh, yeah! That's right,” Nilda said. “I remember. They had people speaking and music and all that.”

“Well, tonight they are gonna have a big rally. To raise money, you know, war bonds and stamps. They made three dummies, real good, man. They look just like the Nazis and Japs, you know. Oh, wait,” Paul laughed. “They made Mussolini into a monkey, man! He got a tail and ears just like a monkey! You know Indio? Well, he's a really good artist, man. He painted the faces really good.” Pausing, he smiled at Nilda and said, “He's almost as good an artist as you are, Nilda.”

“Really? Aww!” she said.

“Honest, you are really good, Nilda. You're gonna be a real good artist someday, you'll see.”

“Wow. Indio is bigger than I am. I'll bet he's way better than me,” she said.

“No, he's not. He's good, but nobody beats you, Nilda. You can really draw.”

Beaming, Nilda said, “I'll send you some drawings when you're in the Navy, Paul.”

“Well, I gotta go. Can't wait till tonight. Everybody's gonna stomp on them dummies. Man, then a big blaze. Whoosh! … You coming tonight?”

“Yeah, I'm gonna tell Benji and Petra; maybe they don't know about it,” she said.

Paul stood up to leave. “Okay,” he said. “I gotta go. Remember, don't say nothing about what I said. Okay?”

“I won't, Paul, don't worry. I promise.” Paul walked out of the room.

Nilda put her “box of things” away and opened her schoolbooks. Taking her English grammar, she started her homework assignment. She thought about the rally tonight and her friends. Petra was already in junior high school. Next term, Nilda was going to the same school and was excited about the change. She had spoken to Petra and asked her all about it. Her friend had already gotten her period and was beginning to develop. She has to wear a brassiere, Nilda thought, impressed. She wondered when she would get her period, and what it would feel like. The thought that she would have to bleed every month scared her. She had heard different stories about it from her friends in the street. One girl had told her that it was very painful, and another said that sometimes the blood ran down one's legs, leaving a trail on the sidewalk.

She shuddered, frightened by the whole idea. Her mother had assured her that it was a perfectly normal function in a woman's body, and not to pay attention to such nonsense, but she had her doubts. Trying not to think about this, Nilda concentrated on her homework and began to write her assignment.

I
t was cold out and Nilda stood apart from a larger group of people gathering near the platform. There were amplifiers being set up and signs posted all over the stand and on the sound truck:

WAR BOND RALLY.…

BUY A WAR BOND.…

SAVE A LIFE. BUY A WAR BOND.…

KEEP THEM WINNING.…

KEEP AMERICA STRONG.…

BUY WAR BONDS AND STAMPS TODAY.…

SUPPORT OUR BOYS ALL THE WAY.

Snow flurries sprinkled wet snow on everything. Nilda stood by the fire burning in a large trash can. There were several kids who lived on the block standing with her. On her way to the rally, she had stopped to call for Benji and Petra, and they had told her they hoped to come. Now and then she looked eagerly toward Madison Avenue, hoping to see her friends. Music began to blare out; a chorus sang, “Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition, Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition, Praise …”

A tall dark-skinned boy walked up to Nilda; she recognized Indio. He was almost her brother Paul's age and she was surprised to see him approach her.

“Hi, Nilda,” he said.

“Hi, Indio,” Nilda smiled. “Those dummies are real good, Indio. You did a nice job.”

“Oh, thanks,” he said. “Hey, Nilda, you seen Petra? You know if she's coming tonight?”

“She said maybe she could come. But she didn't know for sure,” Nilda answered.

“Oh, okay, man.” He paused. “Look,” Indio lowered his voice, “if she comes by, tell her I wanna see her, okay?”

“Sure,” she said. Indio turned and walked away. Nilda looked at him, bewildered. He likes Petra? she wondered. He is way older. Petra had not said anything about Indio, and Nilda did not know whether her friend liked Indio or not. Feeling hurt, she realized that her friend often had excuses about not being able to go out to play anymore and, at times, Nilda felt that Petra was avoiding her and Benji.

Nilda shifted from one foot to the other, trying to keep warm near the fire. Some of the cold wet snow traveled swiftly into her nose and mouth, and she leaned forward toward the flames in the trash can, feeling a prickling sensation as the drops of snow melted and the warmth penetrated her face. The music continued and more people started to come into the street. A microphone was being set up.

“Don't sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me … anyone else but me … Oh … don't sit under the apple tree with anyone …” The Andrews Sisters sang out over the loudspeakers.

A wooden scaffold had been built right next to the platform, and each dummy was suspended from a rope tied around its neck. There was a huge pile of old wooden crates, broken lumber, battered cardboard and old newspapers, ready for burning. She saw Benji coming toward her.

“Hey, Benji, over here!” she called.

“Nilda? Man, what a time I had getting out. You know how Papi is. But we convinced him it was for the war effort, so he let me go. I came with my brothers, Manuel and Chucho, over there,” he pointed. “See? But he didn't let my sisters come out
nohow. We have to be home in one hour anyway. I hope I don't have to miss anything.”

“They're already getting everything for the burning. You won't miss it, Benji, don't worry. Did you see Petra?” she asked.

“No. Are they coming? Marge and her?”

“I told them on my way to here. She said she would try.” Pausing, she whispered to Benji, “You know what? I think that guy Indio likes Petra.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. He asked me to tell her, if she comes, that he wants to see her.” Nilda nodded her head.

“Wow,” Benji said, “he's way older, ain't he?”

“I know. Petra never told me nothing about him, and I'm her best friend,” Nilda said.

“Maybe she don't even like him,” Benji said. There was a long silence and he said, “It sure is cold. I wish it was summer again, Nilda. You?”

“Oh, yeah, I wish it was, too. I'm going back to that camp again, you know, Bard Manor.” She had told Benji all about her secret garden and all about camp when she had returned home last summer. “I wish you could come with me, Benji; if it was a boys' camp, you would have a real good time. I swear.”

“Don't matter anyway. What's the difference? The way Papi is, everything is a big sin all the time.”

They saw Petra and Marge walking toward them. “Over here. Hey!” Nilda called out, waving her arms at the girls.

The two girls smiled. “Hi,” they said. “What a freezing night,” Marge said.

Nilda noticed that even though Marge's hair was getting darker, she still had it fixed with lots of curls covering her entire head. She don't look like Shirley Temple no more, Nilda thought. She looked at Petra and said, “Petra, I have something to tell you.”

“What?” asked Petra.

“Over there; I'll tell you alone.”

“Secrets, secrets,” Marge said.

“Mind your own business,” snapped Nilda.

“Who cares!” Marge said, shrugging her shoulders.

Nilda and Petra walked away from the group and stood by themselves. “What is it?” asked Petra.

“Well.” Nilda paused. “That guy Indio came over to me before.”

Petra's eyes widened. “Yeah?” she asked.

“He said that … to tell you he wants to see you.”

“How long ago?” asked Petra.

“Oh, when I got here before.”

“Where is he? Did he say where he would be?” she asked quickly.

“No, but he was over there near the platform.” Petra turned quickly in that direction. “Petra!” Nilda called. “Do you like him?” she asked.

Petra looked at her. “He's my boyfriend, Nilda.”

“He is? Since how long?”

Petra looked down at the ground shyly. “For a while now. But it's a secret; you know how strict my father is.”

“I wouldn't say nothing,” Nilda said.

“Well, anyway, sooner or later I was gonna tell you.”

“Ain't he way older than you?” asked Nilda.

“You see,” Petra snapped. “That's what I mean! I'm not a baby anymore, Nilda. You don't understand that. You and Benji still playing kids' games! And you, Nilda, you're such a tomboy!”

Nilda looked at Petra angrily. “Go ahead! What do I care? Be his girl. No skin off my nose. I'd rather be doing what I'm doing than be going with any of them guys.”

The two girls stared at each other. Finally Petra lowered her eyes and said, “I'll see you, Nilda.”

“See you,” said Nilda, and she walked back to Benji. Marge had left with her sister.

People were beginning to gather in front of the platform. The speakers were beginning to climb onto the small stage. Local politicians were stepping out of their limousines. A voice over the loudspeaker said, “Testing, 1-2-3-4,” and a loud whistling sounded as they adjusted the microphone. Nilda saw the most popular politician in the neighborhood step onto the platform. People began to clap.

“Hi, Vito. Here's Victory!” someone called out.

“¡Viva Vito y la patria! ¡Arriba la libertad!” people yelled. Some held up their hands, making a fist; others extended their index and middle fingers, making the sign of V for Victory. The politician began to speak.

“Ladies and gentlemen, fellow Americans. We are fighting a war not just to defend our homeland, but to wipe out Fascism.” People clapped and cheered. “We have to pull together and show the world that we care about ending this menace to all mankind. Buy a war bond! Make it a regular part of your life, every week at payday. Buy a war stamp—even twenty-five cents—anything.…”

He went on speaking and Nilda half listened. She thought, I don't care if I am a tomboy. I'd rather be that than go with any of them dopey guys. She remembered how some of the girls in her neighborhood became pregnant and had to leave school, and thought of her mother's constant lectures. “You wanna be grown-up and fool around with boyfriends, eh? Let me warn you. If you think it is hard now, Nilda, with the welfare people, ah hah! You don't like charity; you wish we didn't have to take that kinda treatment, do you? Just get yourself in trouble with one of those lazy guys, those títeres. Go ahead, get a big belly. And he goes off with another woman and leaves you. Or if he stays and tries, what can he make? What kinda job can be get? When he himself still has dirty underdrawers? Don't bother
coming here for sympathy, Nilda, because you must go with your husband; that is your duty. Then he can order you around. You who complain about your brothers being bossy all the time, and about your rights! Some rights you're gonna get. Well, what you have here to complain about is nothing, Miss, because I am here to protect you. But you try that with one of those no-good bums! First one baby, then two, three, four, a whole bunch. ¡Dios mío! I was stupid, Nilda. Ignorant! What did I know? I had no mother, only a mean stepmother who beat me. If I could have had your opportunity for school and your privileges, never—lo juro por mi madre—never in a million years would I have had so many kids.”