The Girl Who Could Silence the Wind (5 page)

Sonia stared into her porridge guiltily. “Well, I might have exaggerated a little.”

Rafael’s eyebrows shot up in proud surprise. His mouth dropped open as he laughed in disbelief. “And they say
I’m
reckless!”

“
Ay, por favor,
Rafael. You spend your whole life telling white lies to Papi.”

“True enough,” he admitted. “Just watch your step, though. Abuela was never one to let things slide.”

Felix blared the horn, calling Rafael to work.

Sonia left for school, whistling replies to the birds along the way and trying to feel happy. It was bad enough to have lied, but there was one regret she hadn’t confessed to anyone.

Pancho.

How would she tell him?

She’d found herself thinking of him since the taxi ride. They had suffered together for years inside the one-room building, listening to the monotony of Irina Gomez’s voice. Both were basically friendless — Sonia, because the other girls were afraid she already knew their secrets, and besides, she was too important to befriend, and Pancho because he was not important enough. He had no parents to protect him, no last name that mattered. He was simply an orphan who had found a roof over his head thanks to the kind help of Señor Pasqual, whose wife had a soft heart for abandoned cats and boys.

She thought of all the times he’d regaled her with stories composed during lonely nights lying on the floor of his employer’s kitchen. She liked that he had dreams in his head, beyond stealing kisses or getting drunk. She liked how his stories left her hopeful when they were finished.

“You’ll be a poet one day,” she’d told him. “You can recite them for the president. I bet he’ll give you a medal.”

Pancho had only smiled in his typical close-lipped way.

“I’d rather recite them for you,” he’d said.

It made her secretly love him on the spot, though neither of them had ever spoken such things. What was the point? Rafael could dally with any girl he pleased, but Felix placed a whole other set of limitations on his virtuous daughter. No blouses that might hint at her curves. No modern hairdos or lipstick, however pale. No boys, period. Still, Sonia found herself thinking of Pancho often.

She glanced nervously around the school grounds, trying to decide if she felt more relieved or disappointed to find Pancho missing. A tangle of girls her age under the acacia tree caught her attention. They were gossiping as always, and if she wasn’t imagining things, glancing in her direction.

She was about to join them when, as if materializing from her thoughts, Pancho stepped out of the shadows. “Is it true what people are saying?” he asked.

Sonia jumped in surprise. “
Por Dios,
Pancho! You frightened me.” He was wearing his old clothes again, his pants patched at the knees. Still, his legs were muscular, and he’d grown almost as tall as Rafael. His voice was low and even.

“Forgive me.”

“You shouldn’t stalk like a panther!”

He bowed his head and took a step closer than he had ever dared before. Standing this close, she noticed his long eyelashes, the green specks in his eyes, and how the corners of his mouth were turned down the way they did when Irina Gomez ignored his raised hand. His expression looked darker than she ever remembered.

“You haven’t answered me, though. Are you leaving with Ramona’s girls?” he asked. “To the capital?”

Sonia chewed her lip, already feeling the sting of his hurt. “I was going to tell you, Pancho.”

“Oh.” He studied his dusty feet.

She shifted uneasily. His closeness made her stomach lurch in a way that was thrilling and terrifying all at once.

“It’s just that I can’t stay here, Pancho,” she said at last.

Pancho’s fingertips brushed against hers. “Why not? Your family is here, your friends.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “The people who love you.”

Sonia did not dare move an inch as he raised his eyes to hers. Pancho had no idea she was a fraud, she thought. A boy like this deserved more than lies.

“Please don’t ask me to explain why I’m leaving, Pancho.”

“But, Sonia —” He reached for her hand and pulled her closer still.

Suddenly, the school bell rang out. Irina Gomez frowned in their direction.

“Let’s go,” Sonia said quickly, pulling free. “We’ll be late.”

It was a well-known fact that Irina Gomez despised her students. In her opinion, the younger ones were unruly and talkative, and the older ones disappeared for distant jobs whenever the opportunity presented itself. As a result, no one knew much of anything that she, “the most promising student of pedagogy at the university,” tried to teach them.

When she announced their failing grades from her record book, she was fond of saying, “With scores like these, you will be laborers. Nothing more. We all have a place in life.”

“Ignore her,” Rafael said whenever Sonia complained about the teacher’s dreariness. He’d left the teacher and her pronouncements behind forever two years earlier. “Irina Gomez has never known passion in her heart, mind, or loins. How can she fan a flame of hope in anyone else?”

Sonia found her seat and looked around for what she knew would be the last time. Then someone slipped in beside her and tapped her on the shoulder.

Eva Catá had round blue eyes and glossy lips. She was the ambassador of the older girls and a regular employee of Casa Masón. A pleasant scent of rosewater and talcum powder lingered all around her.

“
Ay,
dear Sonia. Is it true? Are you coming with us this year?” Eva, whose mother arranged successful marriages all over the mountainside, prided herself on keeping current on everyone’s personal affairs.

The village, it seemed, was shocked by the news of her upcoming departure. She was as much a part of the mountain as the metals that formed in its belly. Everyone was buzzing with the news.

“Yes,” Sonia said, motioning toward the girl with a bandaged hand. “Cuca was hurt by her horse.”

Eva clapped.

“Sonia Ocampo coming with us! I can scarcely believe it! What a blessing — although we’ll miss Cuca, naturally!”

“I hope I’ll be a help,” Sonia said cautiously. She noticed other girls watching and listening to their conversation.

“I have no doubt at all. And just wait until you see the estate; it’s a mansion. And, in case you don’t know, the city is full of handsome workers.”

Sonia’s eyes flitted to Pancho; she hoped he had not heard. He had found his seat and was at least pretending not to listen from his spot ahead of Sonia.

Eva followed the look in an instant. She reached over and blew on Pancho’s neck.

“Then again, I suspect some handsome boys here will miss you, too.”

She walked back to her seat at the rear, unconcerned by Pancho’s shame burning through the air.

Irina Gomez took her place beneath the crooked portrait of the president and opened her lesson book.

“Wait for me after school,” Pancho whispered over his shoulder. “I have something important to tell you.”

Sonia looked over the top of her book curiously. “What is it?”

He did not reply. Sonia nudged his back with the tip of her eraser. “Tell me.”

He turned his head slowly and lifted his grave eyes. “I wanted to tell you myself,” he said a little pointedly. “I, too, am leaving school. This is my final day.”

Sonia’s eyes widened, and she leaned forward. “What are you saying?”

He turned completely in his chair. “Señor Pasqual thinks I would make a fine taxi boy. I’ve got strong legs, and I’ve apprenticed long enough on weekends to make a good salary. Who knows? One day I might take over his business. There’s nothing here for me anymore. I’ve learned as much as Irina Gomez will ever be able to teach me.”

Sonia felt her teacher’s icy stare. The room had fallen silent all around them.

“Is that so?” Irina Gomez said, eyeing Pancho critically. “Well, I certainly haven’t been able to teach you to be quiet, have I? Get to work.”

Giggles erupted from the back row. Pancho’s whole face burned brightly as he bowed his head in apology and turned back to his lessons.

Sonia bent over her book, but soon she was daydreaming while gazing at the portrait above her teacher’s head.
No more schooling, Pancho? What about your dream of becoming a poet for
el presidente
?
she wanted to ask him. She knew he liked to read and learn as much as she did.
What about the poems you long to write?

But she never got the chance. In the afternoon Irina Gomez gave her a long lecture about venturing on as a decent young woman among city vipers. When she dismissed Sonia at last, Eva was waiting outside. She grabbed Sonia by the arm for the first time in her life, chattering excitedly about their plans for the trip and the farewell party that would be held in her honor that evening. Sonia listened as if in a happy dream. She forgot all about Pancho, who waited for her loyally in the deep shade of their favorite reading tree.

It was when she was putting away her tattered schoolbooks later that she realized her thoughtlessness. She tried not to think of his serious eyes, the formal way he held back his shoulders when they spoke, and the funny stories he had always invented simply to amuse her. Their friendship would never have blossomed into anything more — thanks to the watchful eye of her father, she reasoned. Besides, as much as she wanted to apologize, she knew it would be wrong to lie about why she was leaving.

Forgive me for keeping secrets, Pancho,
she thought glumly.
But it’s for the best this way.

T
HE CLEARING BEHIND
Sonia’s house blazed with a bonfire, and tree branches were strung with tin-can lanterns that illuminated the long table laden with treats. Pork tamales and vegetables would accompany the chickens and hogs that were roasting on coals nearby.

The old miners were singing as her father plucked on his guitar. The varnish had worn away, but the sound was still lovely. He led the men in an old rhyme as their wives joined them, clapping and laughing behind their backs.

Mi papá se fue al puerto y me dejo una navaja,

con un letrero que dice, “Si quieres comer, trabaja.”

My father went to the harbor and he left me a carved knife —

Sonia wandered along the table and hummed the last line: “If you want to eat, then you’ll have to work in this life.”

Excitement left her with no appetite. She nibbled on a meat pie and tried to make polite conversation, but all the while she watched from the corner of her eye for Pancho, who had not arrived.

All their other neighbors had come with heartfelt good-byes and carnations to throw at her feet.

“I promise you that she will carry your prayers on her journey,” Blanca assured them as she collected the tiny metal shapes in a pouch that the tanner had made especially for the occasion. Sonia barely looked at them.

“What will we do without you?” asked Inez, rubbing her sore knees. The rancher’s wife had been bent in prayer over exaggerated confessions at the church ruins since her daughter’s accident. Cuca stood beside her wearing her bandage mitten, damning proof of some supposed hidden guilt.

“We’ve had too many tears these days, Inez,” Tía Neli said kindly. “Tonight is a night to forget. Bad times, happy face; let’s try to celebrate.”

Cuca stepped forward and kissed Sonia on each cheek. “We’ll be counting the days until God brings you home.”

“Thank you.” Sonia pointed at Cuca’s mitten. “Does it hurt very much?”

Cuca shrugged. “Not too much anymore. But here —” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a tattered map. “I’ve brought a present for you. It’s the capital.”

Sonia studied the streets and squiggles. It was hard to imagine herself in a place so large. There were train stations and hospitals, a university and a grid of streets with impressive names.

“What does
X
mean?” she asked. A large section of streets were crossed off.

“The slum.” Cuca shook her head and whispered. “Don’t find yourself there.”

Inez turned from Tía Neli and reached out for Sonia’s hand.

“Won’t you say a prayer for us to be safe until your return?” she asked.

Before Sonia could refuse, the women huddled close and joined hands. Sonia bowed her head, but she did not pray. Instead she let her mind wander to the grid of winding streets. It was hard to believe that this would be her last night in Tres Montes — at least for a long while. As much as she wanted to go to the capital, she knew she’d miss the things she loved: the start of the rains, the bullfrogs clinging to the walls, napping to the sound of rain hitting the roof. Nine months suddenly seemed an eternity to be without her parents, Rafael, and Tía Neli. It was also long enough, she realized, for someone like Pancho to forget her entirely.
Where on earth could he be?
she wondered.