to the memory of - learn.susd12.org · to the memory of esperanza ortega muÑoz hernandez elgart,...
TRANSCRIPT
TOTHEMEMORYOF
ESPERANZAORTEGAMUÑOZHERNANDEZELGART,
MIABUELITA.
BASKETSOFGRAPESTOMYEDITOR,
TRACYMACK,FORPATIENTLYWAITING
FORFRUITTOFALL.
ROSESTOOZELLABELL,JESSMARQUEZ,
DONBELL,ANDHOPEMUÑOZBELL
FORSHARINGTHEIRSTORIES.
SMOOTHSTONESANDYARNDOLLSTO
ISABELSCHON,PH.D.,LETICIAGUADARRAMA,
TERESAMLAWER,ANDMACARENASALAS
FORTHEIREXPERTISEANDASSISTANCE.
TableofContentsTitlePage
Dedication
Epigraph
Aguascalientes,Mexico1924
LasUvasGrapesSixYearsLater
LasPapayasPapayas
LosHigosFigs
LasGuayabasGuavas
LosMelonesCantaloupes
LasCebollasOnions
LasAlmendrasAlmonds
LasCiruelasPlums
LasPapasPotatoes
LosAguacatesAvocados
LosEspárragosAsparagus
LosDuraznosPeaches
LasUvasGrapes
Author’sNote
AfterWords
AbouttheAuthor
Q&AwithPamMuñozRyan
MakeYourOwnJamaicaFlowerPunch(HibiscusFlowerPunch)
MakingMama'sYarnDoll
ThoseFamiliarSayings
WhatStoryDoYouHavetoTell?
ASneakPeekatBecomingNaomiLeon
Copyright
Aquelquehoysecae,selevantarámañana.
Hewhofallstodaymayrisetomorrow.
Esmásricoelricocuandoempobrecequeelpobrecuandoenriquece.
Therichpersonisricherwhenhebecomespoor,thanthepoorperson
whenhebecomesrich.
—MEXICANPROVERBS
“Our land is alive,Esperanza,” saidPapa, takingher small hand as theywalked through the gentleslopes of the vineyard.Leafy green vines draped the arbors and the grapeswere ready to drop.
Esperanzawassixyearsoldandlovedtowalkwithherpapathroughthewindingrows,gazingupathimandwatchinghiseyesdancewithlovefortheland.“Thiswholevalleybreathesand lives,”hesaid,sweepinghisarmtoward thedistantmountains that
guarded them.“Itgivesus thegrapesand then theywelcomeus.”Hegently touchedawild tendril thatreached into the row,as if ithadbeenwaiting to shakehishand.Hepickedupahandfulofearthandstudiedit.“Didyouknowthatwhenyouliedownontheland,youcanfeelitbreathe?Thatyoucanfeelitsheartbeating?”“Papi,Iwanttofeelit,”shesaid.“Come.”Theywalkedtotheendoftherow,wheretheinclineofthelandformedagrassyswell.Papalaydownonhisstomachandlookedupather,pattingthegroundnexttohim.Esperanzasmoothedherdressandkneltdown.Then,likeacaterpillar,sheslowlyinchedflatnextto
him,theirfaceslookingateachother.ThewarmsunpressedononeofEsperanza’scheeksandthewarmearthontheother.Shegiggled.“Shhh,”hesaid.“Youcanonlyfeeltheearth’sheartbeatwhenyouarestillandquiet.”Sheswallowedherlaughterandafteramomentsaid,“Ican’thearit,Papi.”“Aguántatetantitoylafrutacaeráentumano,”hesaid.“Waitalittlewhileandthefruitwillfall
intoyourhand.Youmustbepatient,Esperanza.”Shewaitedandlaysilent,watchingPapa’seyes.And then she felt it. Softly at first.A gentle thumping. Then stronger.A resounding thud, thud, thud
againstherbody.Shecouldhearit,too.Thebeatrushinginherears.Shoomp,shoomp,shoomp.ShestaredatPapa,notwantingtosayaword.Notwantingtolosethesound.Notwantingtoforgetthe
feeloftheheartofthevalley.Shepressedclosertotheground,untilherbodywasbreathingwiththeearth’s.AndwithPapa’s.The
threeheartsbeatingtogether.ShesmiledatPapa,notneedingtotalk,hereyessayingeverything.Andhissmileansweredhers.Tellingherthatheknewshehadfeltit.
PapahandedEsperanza theknife.The short bladewas curved like a scythe, its fatwoodenhandlefittingsnuglyinherpalm.Thisjobwasusuallyreservedfortheeldestsonofawealthyrancher,butsinceEsperanzawasanonlychildandPapa’sprideandglory,shewasalwaysgiventhehonor.LastnightshehadwatchedPapasharpentheknifebackandforthacrossastone,sosheknewthetoolwasedgedlikearazor.“Cuídatelosdedos,”saidPapa.“Watchyourfingers.”TheAugustsunpromisedadryafternooninAguascalientes,Mexico.Everyonewholivedandworked
onElRanchodelasRosaswasgatheredattheedgeofthefield:Esperanza’sfamily,thehouseservantsintheir longwhiteaprons, thevaquerosalreadysittingon theirhorses ready to rideout to thecattle,andfiftyorsixtycampesinos,strawhatsintheirhands,holdingtheirownknivesready.Theywerecoveredtop tobottom, in long-sleevedshirts,baggypants tiedat theankleswithstring,andbandanaswrappedaroundtheirforeheadsandneckstoprotectthemfromthesun,dust,andspiders.Esperanza,ontheotherhand,worealightsilkdressthatstoppedabovehersummerboots,andnohat.Ontopofherheadawidesatinribbonwastiedinabigbow,thetailstrailinginherlongblackhair.The clusters were heavy on the vine and ready to deliver. Esperanza’s parents, Ramona and Sixto
Ortega,stoodnearby,Mama,tallandelegant,herhairintheusualbraidedwreaththatcrownedherhead,and Papa, barely taller thanMama, his grayingmustache twisted up at the sides. He swept his handtowardthegrapevines,signalingEsperanza.Whenshewalkedtowardthearborsandglancedbackatherparents, they both smiled and nodded, encouraging her forward. When she reached the vines, sheseparatedtheleavesandcarefullygraspedathickstem.Sheputtheknifetoit,andwithaquickswipe,theheavyclusterofgrapesdroppedintoherwaitinghand.EsperanzawalkedbacktoPapaandhandedhimthefruit.Papakisseditandhelditupforalltosee.“¡Lacosecha!”saidPapa.“Harvest!”“¡Ole!¡Ole!”Acheerechoedaroundthem.Thecampesinos,thefield-workers,spreadoutoverthelandandbeganthetaskofreapingthefields.
EsperanzastoodbetweenMamaandPapa,withherarmslinkedtotheirs,andadmiredtheactivityoftheworkers.“Papi, this ismyfavoritetimeofyear,”shesaid,watchingthebrightlycoloredshirtsof theworkers
slowlymovingamongthearbors.Wagonsrattledbackandforthfromthefieldstothebigbarnswherethegrapeswouldbestoreduntiltheywenttothewinery.“Is the reason becausewhen the picking is done, it will be someone’s birthday and time for a big
fiesta?”Papaasked.
Esperanzasmiled.Whenthegrapesdeliveredtheirharvest,shealwaysturnedanotheryear.Thisyear,shewouldbe thirteen.Thepickingwould take threeweeksand then, likeeveryotheryear,MamaandPapawouldhostafiestafortheharvest.Andforherbirthday.MarisolRodríguez,herbest friend,wouldcomewithher family tocelebrate.Her fatherwasa fruit
rancherandtheylivedontheneighboringproperty.Eventhoughtheirhouseswereacresapart,theymeteverySaturday beneath the holmoak on a rise between the two ranches.Her other friends,Chita andBertina,wouldbeat theparty, too,but theylivedfartherawayandEsperanzadidn’tseethemasoften.Their classesatSt.Francisdidn’t start againuntil after theharvest and shecouldn’twait to see them.Whentheywerealltogether,theytalkedaboutonething:theirQuinceañeras,thepresentationpartiestheywouldhavewhentheyturnedfifteen.Theystillhadtwomoreyearstowait,butsomuchtodiscuss—thebeautifulwhitegownstheywouldwear,thebigcelebrationswheretheywouldbepresented,andthesonsoftherichestfamilieswhowoulddancewiththem.AftertheirQuinceañeras,theywouldbeoldenoughtobecourted,marry,andbecome laspatronas, theheadsof theirhouseholds, rising to thepositionsoftheirmothersbeforethem.Esperanzapreferredtothink,though,thatsheandhersomeday-husbandwouldlivewithMamaandPapaforever.Becauseshecouldn’timaginelivinganywhereotherthanElRanchodelasRosas.Orwithanyfewerservants.Orwithoutbeingsurroundedbythepeoplewhoadoredher.
It had taken every day of three weeks to put the harvest to bed and now everyone anticipated thecelebration.EsperanzarememberedMama’sinstructionsasshegatheredrosesfromPapa’sgarden.“Tomorrow,bouquetsofrosesandbasketsofgrapesoneverytable.”Papahadpromisedtomeetherinthegardenandheneverdisappointedher.Shebentovertopickared
bloom,fullyopened,andprickedherfingeronaviciousthorn.Bigpearlsofbloodpulsedfromthetipofherthumbandsheautomaticallythought,“badluck.”Shequicklywrappedherhandinthecornerofherapronanddismissedthepremonition.Thenshecautiouslyclippedtheblownrosethathadwoundedher.Looking toward the horizon, she saw the last of the sun disappear behind theSierraMadre.Darknesswouldsettlequicklyandafeelingofuneasinessandworrynaggedather.WherewasPapa?Hehad left early thatmorningwith thevaqueros towork the cattle.Andhewas
alwayshomebeforesundown,dustyfromthemesquitegrasslandsandstampinghisfeetonthepatiotogetridofthecrustydirtonhisboots.Sometimesheevenbroughtbeefjerkythatthecattlemenhadmade,butEsperanzaalwayshadtofinditfirst,searchinghisshirtpocketswhilehehuggedher.Tomorrowwasherbirthdayandsheknewthatshewouldbeserenadedatsunrise.Papaandthemen
who lived on the ranch would congregate below her window, their rich, sweet voices singing LasMañanitas,thebirthdaysong.ShewouldruntoherwindowandwavekissestoPapaandtheothers,thendownstairsshewouldopenhergifts.SheknewtherewouldbeaporcelaindollfromPapa.Hehadgiven
her one every year since she was born. AndMamawould give her something she hadmade: linens,camisolesorblousesembroideredwithherbeautifulneedlework.Thelinensalwayswentintothetrunkattheendofherbedforalgúndía,forsomeday.Esperanza’s thumbwouldnot stopbleeding.Shepickedup thebasketof rosesandhurried from the
garden,stoppingonthepatiotorinseherhandinthestonefountain.Asthewatersoothedher,shelookedthroughthemassivewoodengatesthatopenedontothousandsofacresofPapa’sland.EsperanzastrainedhereyestoseeadustcloudthatmeantriderswerenearandthatPapawasfinally
home.Butshesawnothing.Intheduskylight,shewalkedaroundthecourtyardtothebackof thelargeadobeandwoodhouse.ThereshefoundMamasearchingthehorizon,too.“Mama,myfinger.Anangrythornstabbedme,”saidEsperanza.“Badluck,”saidMama,confirmingthesuperstition,butshehalf-smiled.Theybothknewthatbadluck
couldmeannothingmorethandroppingapanofwaterorbreakinganegg.MamaputherarmsaroundEsperanza’swaistandbothsetsofeyessweptoverthecorrals,stables,and
servants’quartersthatsprawledinthedistance.EsperanzawasalmostastallasMamaandeveryonesaidshewouldsomedaylookjustlikeherbeautifulmother.Sometimes,whenEsperanzatwistedherhairontopofherheadandlookedinthemirror,shecouldseethatitwasalmosttrue.Therewasthesameblackhair, wavy and thick. Same dark lashes and fair, creamy skin. But it wasn’t precisely Mama’s face,becausePapa’seyesweretheretoo,shapedlikefat,brownalmonds.“He is just a little late,” saidMama.Andpart ofEsperanza’smindbelievedher.But theotherpart
scoldedhim.“Mama,theneighborswarnedhimjustlastnightaboutbandits.”Mamanoddedandbitthecornerofherlipinworry.Theybothknewthateventhoughitwas1930and
the revolution in Mexico had been over for ten years, there was still resentment against the largelandowners.“Changehasnotcomefastenough,Esperanza.Thewealthystillownmostofthelandwhilesomeofthe
poorhavenotevenagardenplot.Therearecattlegrazingonthebigranchesyetsomepeasantsareforcedtoeatcats.Papaissympatheticandhasgivenlandtomanyofhisworkers.Thepeopleknowthat.”“ButMama,dothebanditsknowthat?”“Ihopeso,”saidMamaquietly.“IhavealreadysentAlfonsoandMigueltolookforhim.Let’swait
inside.”
TeawasreadyinPapa’sstudyandsowasAbuelita.“Come,minieta,mygranddaughter,”saidAbuelita,holdingupyarnandcrochethooks.“Iamstartinga
newblanketandwillteachyouthezigzag.”
Esperanza’sgrandmother,whomeveryonecalledAbuelita,livedwiththemandwasasmaller,older,morewrinkledversionofMama.Shelookedverydistinguished,wearingarespectableblackdress,thesamegoldloopssheworeinherearseveryday,andherwhitehairpulledbackintoabunatthenapeofherneck.ButEsperanza lovedhermoreforhercapriciousways thanforherpropriety.Abuelitamighthost a group of ladies for a formal tea in the afternoon, then after they had gone, be foundwanderingbarefootinthegrapes,withabookinherhand,quotingpoetrytothebirds.AlthoughsomethingswerealwaysthesamewithAbuelita—alace-edgedhandkerchiefpeekingoutfrombeneaththesleeveofherdress—othersweresurprising:aflowerinherhair,abeautifulstoneinherpocket,oraphilosophicalsayingsaltedintoherconversation.WhenAbuelitawalkedintoaroom,everyonescrambledtomakehercomfortable.EvenPapawouldgiveuphischairforher.Esperanza complained, “Mustwe always crochet to take ourminds offworry?”She sat next to her
grandmotheranyway,smellingherever-presentaromaofgarlic,facepowder,andpeppermint.“Whathappenedtoyourfinger?”askedAbuelita.“Abigthorn,”saidEsperanza.Abuelitanoddedandsaidthoughtfully,“Nohayrosasinespinas.Thereisnorosewithoutthorns.”Esperanzasmiled,knowingthatAbuelitawasn’ttalkingaboutflowersatallbutthattherewasnolife
without difficulties. Shewatched the silver crochet needle dance back and forth in her grandmother’shand.Whenastrandofhairfellintoherlap,Abuelitapickeditupandhelditagainsttheyarnandstitcheditintotheblanket.“Esperanza, in thiswaymy love and goodwisheswill be in the blanket forever.Nowwatch. Ten
stitchesuptothetopofthemountain.Addonestitch.Ninestitchesdowntothebottomofthevalley.Skipone.”EsperanzapickedupherowncrochetneedleandcopiedAbuelita’smovementsandthenlookedather
owncrocheting.Thetopsofhermountainswerelopsidedandthebottomsofhervalleyswereallbunchedup.Abuelita smiled, reachedover, andpulled theyarn, unraveling all ofEsperanza’s rows. “Donot be
afraidtostartover,”shesaid.Esperanzasighedandbeganagainwithtenstitches.Softlyhumming,Hortensia,thehousekeeper,cameinwithaplateofsmallsandwiches.Sheofferedone
toMama.“No,thankyou,”saidMama.HortensiasetthetraydownandbroughtashawlandwrappeditprotectivelyaroundMama’sshoulders.
Esperanza couldn’t remember a timewhenHortensia had not taken care of them. Shewas a ZapotecIndianfromOaxaca,withashort,solidfigureandblue-blackhairinabraiddownherback.Esperanzawatchedthetwowomenlookoutintothedarkandcouldn’thelpbutthinkthatHortensiawasalmosttheoppositeofMama.
“Don’tworrysomuch,”saidHortensia.“AlfonsoandMiguelwillfindhim.”Alfonso,Hortensia’shusband,waseljefe,theboss,ofallthefield-workersandPapa’scompañero,his
close friendandcompanion.Hehad the samedark skinandsmall statureasHortensia, andEsperanzathoughthisroundeyes,longeyelids,anddroopymustachemadehimlooklikeaforlornpuppy.Hewasanythingbutsad,though.HelovedthelandasPapadidandithadbeenthetwoofthem,workingsidebyside,whohadresurrectedtheneglectedrosegardenthathadbeeninthefamilyforgenerations.Alfonso’sbrotherworkedintheUnitedStatessoAlfonsoalwaystalkedaboutgoingtheresomeday,buthestayedinMexicobecauseofhisattachmenttoPapaandElRanchodelasRosas.MiguelwasAlfonsoandHortensia’sson,andheandEsperanzahadplayedtogethersincetheywere
babies.Atsixteen,hewasalreadytaller thanbothofhisparents.HehadtheirdarkskinandAlfonso’sbig,sleepyeyes,andthickeyebrowsthatEsperanzaalwaysthoughtwouldgrowintoone.Itwastruethatheknew the farthest reachesof the ranchbetter thananyone.SinceMiguelwasayoungboy,PapahadtakenhimtopartsofthepropertythatevenEsperanzaandMamahadneverseen.Whenshewasyounger,Esperanzausedtocomplain,“Whydoeshealwaysgettogoandnotme?”Papawouldsay,“Becauseheknowshowtofixthingsandheislearninghisjob.”MiguelwouldlookatherandbeforeridingoffwithPapa,hewouldgiveheratauntingsmile.Butwhat
Papasaidwastrue,too.Miguelhadpatienceandquietstrengthandcouldfigureouthowtofixanything:plowsandtractors,especiallyanythingwithamotor.Severalyearsago,whenEsperanzawasstillayounggirl,MamaandPapahadbeendiscussingboys
from“goodfamilies”whomEsperanzashouldmeetsomeday.Shecouldn’t imaginebeingmatchedwithsomeoneshehadnevermet.Sosheannounced,“IamgoingtomarryMiguel!”Mamahadlaughedatherandsaid,“Youwillfeeldifferentlyasyougetolder.”“No,Iwon’t,”Esperanzahadsaidstubbornly.Butnowthatshewasayoungwoman,sheunderstoodthatMiguelwasthehousekeeper’ssonandshe
was the ranchowner’s daughter andbetween them ran a deep river.Esperanza stoodonone side andMiguel stood on the other and the river could never be crossed. In a moment of self-importance,EsperanzahadtoldallofthistoMiguel.Sincethen,hehadspokenonlyafewwordstoher.Whentheirpathscrossed,henoddedandsaidpolitely,“Mireina,myqueen,”butnothingmore.Therewasnoteasingorlaughingortalkingabouteverylittlething.Esperanzapretendednottocare,thoughshesecretlywishedshehadnevertoldMiguelabouttheriver.Distracted,Mamapacedatthewindow,eachstepmakingahollowtappingsoundonthetilefloor.Hortensialitthelamps.Theminutespassedintohours.“Ihearriders,”saidMama,andsheranforthedoor.ButitwasonlyTíoLuisandTíoMarco,Papa’solderstepbrothers.TíoLuiswasthebankpresident
andTíoMarcowasthemayorofthetown.Esperanzadidn’tcarehowimportanttheywerebecauseshe
didnotlikethem.Theywereseriousandgloomyandalwaysheldtheirchinstoohigh.TíoLuiswastheeldest and Tío Marco, who was a few years younger and not as smart, always followed his olderbrother’s lead, likeunburro, adonkey.Even thoughTíoMarcowas themayor,hedideverythingTíoLuistoldhimtodo.Theywerebothtallandskinny,withtinymustachesandwhitebeardsonjustthetipsoftheirchins.EsperanzacouldtellthatMamadidn’tlikethemeither,butshewasalwayspolitebecausetheywerePapa’sfamily.MamahadevenhostedpartiesforTíoMarcowhenheranformayor.NeitherhadevermarriedandPapasaiditwasbecausetheylovedmoneyandpowermorethanpeople.Esperanzathoughtitwasbecausetheylookedliketwounderfedbillygoats.“Ramona,”saidTíoLuis.“Wemayhavebadnews.Oneofthevaquerosbroughtthistous.”HehandedMamaPapa’s silverbeltbuckle, theonlyoneof itskind,engravedwith thebrandof the
ranch.Mama’sfacewhitened.Sheexaminedit,turningitoverandoverinherhand.“Itmaymeannothing,”
shesaid.Then,ignoringthem,sheturnedtowardthewindowandbeganpacingagain,stillclutchingthebeltbuckle.“Wewillwaitwithyouinyourtimeofneed,”saidTíoLuis,andashepassedEsperanza,hepattedher
shoulderandgaveitagentlesqueeze.Esperanzastaredafterhim.Inherentirelife,shecouldn’trememberhimevertouchingher.Heruncles
werenotlikethoseofherfriends.Theyneverspoketoher,playedoreventeasedher.Infact,theyactedasifshedidn’texistatall.Andforthatreason,TíoLuis’ssuddenkindnessmadehershiverwithfearforPapa.AbuelitaandHortensiabeganlightingcandlesandsayingprayersforthemen’ssafereturn.Mama,with
herarmshuggingherchest,swayedbackandforthatthewindow,nevertakinghereyesfromthedarkness.They tried to pass the timewith small talk but theirwords dwindled into silence.Every sound of thehouseseemedmagnified,theclockticking,someonecoughing,theclinkofateacup.Esperanzastruggledwithherstitches.Shetriedtothinkaboutthefiestaandallthepresentsshewould
receivetomorrow.Shetriedtothinkofbouquetsofrosesandbasketsofgrapesoneverytable.ShetriedtothinkofMarisolandtheothergirls,gigglingandtellingstories.Butthosethoughtswouldonlystayinhermindforamomentbeforetransformingintoworry,becauseshecouldn’tignorethethrobbingsorenessinherthumbwherethethornhadleftitsunluckymark.Itwasn’tuntil thecandelabraheldnothingbut short stubsof tallow thatMama finally said, “I seea
lantern.Someoneiscoming!”They hurried to the courtyard and watched a distant light, a small beacon of hope swaying in the
darkness.Thewagoncameintoview.AlfonsoheldthereinsandMiguelthelantern.Whenthewagonstopped,
Esperanzacouldseeabodyinback,completelycoveredwithablanket.“Where’sPapa?”shecried.
Miguel hung his head. Alfonso didn’t say a word but the tears running down his round cheeksconfirmedtheworst.Mamafainted.AbuelitaandHortensiarantoherside.Esperanzafeltherheartdrop.Anoisecamefromhermouthandslowly,herfirstbreathofgriefgrew
intoatormentedcry.Shefelltoherkneesandsankintoadarkholeofdespairanddisbelief.
E
“EstassonlasmañanitasquecantabaelReyDavidalasmuchachasbonitas;selascantamosaquí.ThesearethemorningsongswhichKingDavidusedtosingtoalltheprettygirls;wesingthemheretoyou.”
speranzaheardPapaandtheotherssinging.Theywereoutsideherwindowandtheirvoiceswereclearandmelodic.Beforeshewasaware,shesmiledbecauseherfirst thoughtwas that todaywasherbirthday.IshouldgetupandwavekissestoPapa.Butwhensheopenedhereyes,sherealizedshewasinherparents’bed,onPapa’ssidethatstillsmelledlikehim,andthesonghadbeeninherdreams.Whyhadn’tshesleptinherownroom?Thentheeventsoflastnightwrenchedhermindintoreality.Hersmilefaded,herchesttightened,andaheavyblanketofanguishsmotheredhersmallestjoy.Papaandhisvaqueroshadbeenambushedandkilledwhilemendingafenceonthefarthestreachesof
theranch.Thebanditsstoletheirboots,saddles,andhorses.AndtheyeventookthebeefjerkythatPapahadhiddeninhispocketsforEsperanza.Esperanzagotoutofbedandwrappedunchalaroundhershoulders.Theshawlfeltheavierthanusual.
Wasittheyarn?Orwasherheartweighingherdown?Shewentdownstairsandstoodinlasala,thelargeentryhall.Thehousewasemptyandsilent.Wherewaseveryone?ThensherememberedthatAbuelitaandAlfonsoweretakingMamatoseethepriestthismorning.BeforeshecouldcallforHortensia,therewasaknockingatthefrontdoor.“Whoisthere?”calledEsperanzathroughthedoor.“ItisSeñorRodríguez.Ihavethepapayas.”Esperanzaopenedthedoor.Marisol’sfatherstoodbeforeher,hishatinhishand.Besidehimwasabig
boxofpapayas.“Yourfatherorderedthesefrommeforthefiestatoday.Itriedtodeliverthemtothekitchenbutnoone
answered.”ShestaredatthemanwhohadknownPapasincehewasaboy.Thenshelookedatthegreenpapayas
ripening to yellow. She knew why Papa had ordered them. Papaya, coconut, and lime salad wasEsperanza’sfavoriteandHortensiamadeiteveryyearonherbirthday.Her facecrumbled. “Señor,” she said, chokingback tears. “Haveyounotheard?My…mypapa is
dead.”SeñorRodríguezstaredblankly,thensaid,“¿Quépasó,niña?Whathappened?”Shetookaquiverybreath.Asshetoldthestory,shewatchedthegrieftwistSeñorRodríguez’sfaceand
overtakehimashe satdownon thepatiobench, shakinghishead.She felt as if shewere in someoneelse’sbody,watchingasadscenebutunabletohelp.HortensiawalkedoutandputherarmaroundEsperanza.ShenoddedtoSeñorRodríguez,thenguided
Esperanzabackupthestairstothebedroom.“Heorderedthepa…papayas,”sobbedEsperanza.“Iknow,”whisperedHortensia,sittingnexttoheronthebedandrockingherbackandforth.“Iknow.”
Therosaries,masses,andfunerallastedthreedays.PeoplewhomEsperanzahadneverseenbeforecametotheranchtopaytheirrespects.Theybroughtenoughfoodtofeedtenfamilieseveryday,andsomanyflowersthattheoverwhelmingfragrancegavethemallheadachesandHortensiafinallyputthebouquetsoutside.Marisol came with Señor and Señora Rodríguez several times. In front of the adults, Esperanza
modeledMama’srefinedmanners,acceptingMarisol’scondolences.Butassoonastheycould,thetwogirlsexcusedthemselvesandwenttoEsperanza’sroomwheretheysatonherbed,heldhands,andweptasone.The house was full of visitors and their polite murmurings during the day.Mamawas cordial and
attentivetoeveryone,asifentertainingthemgaveherapurpose.Atnight,though,thehouseemptied.TheroomsseemedtoobigwithoutPapa’svoicetofillthem,andtheechoesoftheirfootstepsdeepenedtheirsadness.Abuelita sat byMama’sbed everynight and strokedher headuntil she slept; then shewouldcomearound to theothersideanddo thesameforEsperanza.Butsoonafter,Esperanzaoftenwoke toMama’s soft crying. OrMama woke to hers. And then they held each other, without letting go, untilmorning.Esperanzaavoidedopeningherbirthdaygifts.Every timeshe lookedat thepackages, they reminded
her of thehappy fiesta shewas supposed to have.Onemorning,Mama finally insisted, saying, “Papawouldhavewantedit.”AbuelitahandedEsperanzaeachgiftandEsperanzamethodicallyopenedthemandlaidthembackon
thetable.AwhitepurseforSundays,witharosaryinsidefromMarisol.AropeofbluebeadsfromChita.Thebook,DonQuijote,fromAbuelita.AbeautifulembroidereddresserscarffromMama,forsomeday.Finally,sheopenedtheboxsheknewwas thedoll.Shecouldn’thelp thinkingthat itwas the last thingPapawouldevergiveher.Handstrembling,sheliftedthelidandlookedinsidethebox.Thedollworeafinewhitebatistedress
and awhite lacemantilla over her black hair.Her porcelain face lookedwistfully at Esperanzawithenormouseyes.“Oh,shelookslikeanangel,”saidAbuelita,takingherhandkerchieffromhersleeveandblottingher
eyes.Mamasaidnothingbutreachedoutandtouchedthedoll’sface.Esperanza couldn’t talk. Her heart felt so big and hurt somuch that it crowded out her voice. She
huggedthedolltoherchestandwalkedoutoftheroom,leavingalltheothergiftsbehind.
TíoLuisandTíoMarcocameeverydayandwentintoPapa’sstudyto“takecareofthefamilybusiness.”At first, they stayed only a few hours, but soon they became like la calabaza, the squash plant inAlfonso’s garden, whose giant leaves spread out, encroaching upon anything smaller. The uncleseventuallystayedeachdayuntildark,takingalltheirmealsattheranchaswell.EsperanzacouldtellthatMamawasuneasywiththeirconstantpresence.Finally,thelawyercametosettletheestate.Mama,Esperanza,andAbuelitasatproperlyintheirblack
dressesastheuncleswalkedintothestudy.Alittletooloudly,TíoLuissaid,“Ramona,grievingdoesnotsuityou.Ihopeyouwillnotwearblack
allyear!”Mamadidnotanswerbutmaintainedhercomposure.TheynoddedtoAbuelitabut,asusual,saidnothingtoEsperanza.Thetalkbeganaboutbankloansandinvestments.ItallseemedsocomplicatedtoEsperanzaandher
mindwandered.Shehadnotbeenin thisroomsincePapadied.She lookedaroundatPapa’sdeskandbooks, Mama’s basket of crocheting with the silver crochet hooks that Papa had bought her inGuadalajara, the table near the door that held Papa’s rose clippers and beyond the double doors, hisgarden.Heruncles’paperswerestrewnacrossthedesk.Papaneverkepthisdeskthatway.TíoLuissatinPapa’schairasifitwerehisown.AndthenEsperanzanoticedthebeltbuckle.Papa’sbeltbuckleonTíoLuis’sbelt.Itwaswrong.Everythingwaswrong.TíoLuisshouldnotbesittinginPapa’schair.HeshouldnotbewearingPapa’sbeltbucklewiththebrandoftheranchonit!Forthethousandthtime,shewiped the tears that slippeddownher face, but this time theywere angry tears.A lookof indignationpassedbetweenMamaandAbuelita.Weretheyfeelingthesame?“Ramona,”saidthelawyer.“Yourhusband,SixtoOrtega,leftthishouseandallofitscontentstoyou
and your daughter. You will also receive the yearly income from the grapes. As you know, it is notcustomarytoleavelandtowomenandsinceLuiswasthebankerontheloan,Sixtoleftthelandtohim.”“Whichmakesthingsratherawkward,”saidTíoLuis.“Iamthebankpresidentandwouldliketolive
accordingly.Now that I own this beautiful land, Iwould like to purchase the house from you for thisamount.”HehandedMamaapieceofpaper.Mamalookedatitandsaid,“Thisisourhome.Myhusbandmeantforustolivehere.Andthehouse…
itisworthtwentytimesthismuch!Sono,Iwillnotsell.Besides,wherewouldwelive?”“I predicted you would say no, Ramona,” said Tío Luis. “And I have a solution to your living
arrangements.Aproposalactually.Oneofmarriage.”Whoishetalkingabout?thoughtEsperanza.Whowouldmarryhim?Heclearedhisthroat.“Ofcourse,wewouldwaittheappropriateamountoftimeoutofrespectformy
brother.Oneyeariscustomary,isitnot?Evenyoucanseethatwithyourbeautyandreputationandmy
positionatthebank,wecouldbeaverypowerfulcouple.DidyouknowthatI,too,havebeenthinkingofentering politics? I am going to campaign for governor. And what woman would not want to be thegovernor’swife?”Esperanzacouldnotbelievewhatsheheard.MamamarryTíoLuis?Marryagoat?Shelookedwide-
eyedathim,thenatMama.Mama’sfacelookedasifitwereinterriblepain.Shestoodupandspokeslowlyanddeliberately.“I
havenodesiretomarryyou,Luis,noworever.Frankly,yourofferoffendsme.”TíoLuis’sfacehardenedlikearockandthemusclestwitchedinhisnarrowneck.“Youwillregretyourdecision,Ramona.Youmustkeepinmindthatthishouseandthosegrapesareon
myproperty.Icanmakethingsdifficultforyou.Verydifficult.Iwillletyousleeponthedecision,foritismorethangenerous.”TíoLuisandTíoMarcoputontheirhatsandleft.Thelawyerlookeduncomfortableandbegangatheringdocuments.“Vultures!”saidAbuelita.“Canhedothis?”askedMama.“Yes,”saidthelawyer.“Technically,heisnowyourlandlord.”“Buthecouldbuildanotherhouse,biggerandmorepretentiousanywhereontheproperty,”saidMama.“Itisnotthehousethathewants,”saidAbuelita.“Itisyourinfluencehewants.Peopleinthisterritory
lovedSixtoandrespectyou.Withyouashiswife,Luiscouldwinanyelection.”Mamastiffened.Shelookedatthelawyerandsaid,“PleaseofficiallyrelaythismessagetoLuis.Iwill
never,ever,changemymind.”“Iwilldothat,Ramona,”saidthelawyer.“Butbecareful.Heisadevious,dangerousman.”ThelawyerleftandMamacollapsedintoachair,putherheadinherhandsandbegantocry.Esperanzarantoher.“Don’tcry,Mama.Everythingwillbeallright.”Butshedidn’tsoundconvincing,
eventoherself.BecauseallshecouldthinkaboutwaswhatTíoLuishadsaid,thatMamawouldregretherdecision.
That evening, Hortensia and Alfonso sat withMama and Abuelita discussing the problem. EsperanzapacedandMiguelquietlylookedon.“Willtheincomefromthegrapesbeenoughtosupportthehouseandtheservants?”saidMama.“Maybe,”saidAlfonso.“ThenIwillstayinmyhome,”saidMama.“Doyouhaveanyothermoney?”askedAlfonso.“Ihavemoneyinthebank,”announcedAbuelita.Andthenmorequietlysheadded,“Luis’sbank.”
“Hewouldpreventyoufromtakingitout,”saidHortensia.“Ifweneedhelp,wecouldborrowmoneyfromourfriends.FromSeñorRodríguez,”saidEsperanza.“Yourunclesareverypowerfulandcorrupt,”saidAlfonso.“Theycanmakethingsdifficultforanyone
whotriestohelpyou.Remember,theyarethebankerandthemayor.”The conversation continued to go in circles. Esperanza finally excused herself. She walked out to
Papa’sgardenandsatonastonebench.Manyoftheroseshaddroppedtheirpetals,leavingthestemandtherosehip,thegreen,grapelikefruitoftherose.Abuelitasaidtherosehipcontainedthememoriesoftherosesandthatwhenyoudrankteamadefromit,youtookinallthebeautythattheplanthadknown.TheseroseshaveknownPapa,shethought.ShewouldaskHortensiatomakerosehipteatomorrow.Miguelfoundherinthegardenandsatbesideher.SincePapadied,hehadbeenpolitebutstillhadnot
talkedtoher.“Anza,” he said, using her childhood name. “Which rose is yours?” In recent years, his voice had
becomeadeepthrottle.Shehadn’trealizedhowmuchshemissedhearingit.Thesoundbroughttearstohereyesbutshequicklyblinkedthemaway.Shepointedtotheminiaturepinkbloomswithdelicatestemsthatclimbedupthetrellises.“Andwhere ismine?”askedMiguel,nudgingher likehedidwhentheywereyoungerand toldeach
othereverything.Esperanzasmiledandpointedtotheorangesunburstnexttoit.Theyhadbeenyoungchildrentheday
Papahadplantedoneforeachofthem.“Whatdoesitallmean,Miguel?”“Thereare rumors in town thatLuis intends to takeover the ranch,onewayoranother.Now that it
seemstrue,wewillprobablyleavefortheUnitedStatestowork.”Esperanzashookherheadasiftosayno.ShecouldnotimaginelivingwithoutHortensia,Alfonso,and
Miguel.“MyfatherandIhavelostfaithinourcountry.Wewerebornservantshereandnomatterhowhardwe
workwewillalwaysbeservants.Yourfatherwasagoodman.Hegaveusasmallpieceoflandandacabin. But your uncles… you know their reputation. They would take it all away and treat us likeanimals.Wewillnotworkforthem.TheworkishardintheUnitedStatesbutat leasttherewehaveachancetobemorethanservants.”“ButMamaandAbuelita…theyneed…weneedyou.”“Myfathersayswewon’tleaveuntilitisnecessary.”Hereachedoverandtookherhand.“I’msorry
aboutyourpapa.”His touchwaswarmandEsperanza’sheartskipped.Shelookedatherhandinhisandfelt thecolor
rushingtoherface.Surprisedatherownblush,shepulledawayfromhim.Shestoodandstaredat theroses.Anawkwardsilencebuiltawallbetweenthem.
Sheglancedquicklyathim.Hewasstill lookingather,witheyes fullofhurt.BeforeMiguel lefther there,hesaidsoftly,“You
wereright,Esperanza.InMexicowestandondifferentsidesoftheriver.”
Esperanzawentup toherroom, thinking thatnothingseemedright.Shewalkedslowlyaroundherbed,runningherhandoverthefinelycarvedposts.Shecountedthedollslineduponherdresser:thirteen,oneforeachbirthday.WhenPapawasalive,everythingwasinorder,likethedollslinedupinarow.Sheputona longcottonnightgownwithhand-sewn lace,pickedup thenewdoll andwalked to the
open window. Looking out over the valley, she wondered where they would go if they had to livesomewhereelse.TheyhadnootherfamilyexceptAbuelita’ssistersandtheywerenunsinaconvent.“Iwon’teverleavehere,”shewhispered.Asuddenbreezecarrieda familiar,pungent smell.She lookeddown into thecourtyardand saw the
woodenboxstillsittingonthepatio.Itheld thepapayasfromSeñorRodríguez, theonesthatPapahadordered, thatshouldhavebeenservedonherbirthday.Theiroverripesweetnessnowpervaded theairwitheachbreathofwind.Shecrawledintobedbeneaththelinensedgedwithlace.Huggingthedoll,shetriedtosleepbuther
thoughtskeptreturningtoTíoLuis.ShefeltsickatthethoughtofMamamarryinghim.Ofcourseshehadtoldhimno!Shetookadeepbreath,stillsmellingthepapayasandPapa’ssweetintentions.WhydidPapahavetodie?WhydidheleavemeandMama?Sheclosedhereyestightanddidwhatshetriedtodoeachnight.Shetriedtofindthedream,theone
wherePapawassingingthebirthdaysong.
Thewindblewhardthatnightandthehousemoanedandwhistled.Insteadofdreamingofbirthdaysongs,Esperanza’ssleepwasfilledwithnightmares.Anenormousbearwaschasingher,gettingcloserandcloserandfinallyfoldingherinatightembrace.Itsfurcaughtinhermouth,makingithardtobreathe.Someone tried to pull the bear away but couldn’t. The bear squeezed harder until it was smotheringEsperanza.Thenwhenshethoughtshewouldsuffocate,thebeargrabbedherbytheshouldersandshookheruntilherheadwaggedbackandforth.Hereyesopened,thenclosedagain.Sherealizedshewasdreamingandforaninstant,shefeltrelieved.
Buttheshakingbeganagain,harderthistime.Someonewascallingher.“Esperanza!”Sheopenedhereyes.“Esperanza!Wakeup!”screamedMama.“Thehouseisonfire!”Smokedriftedintotheroom.“Mama,what’shappening?”“Getup,Esperanza!WemustgetAbuelita!”EsperanzaheardAlfonso’sdeepvoiceyellingfromsomewheredownstairs.“SeñoraOrtega!Esperanza!”“Here! We are here!” called Mama, grabbing a damp rag from the washbowl and handing it to
Esperanza toputoverhermouthandnose.Esperanza swungaround in a circle looking for something,anything, to save. She grabbed the doll. Then she andMamahurried down the hall towardAbuelita’sroom,butitwasempty.“Alfonso!”screamedMama.“Abuelitaisnothere!”“Wewillfindher.Youmustcomenow.Thestairsarebeginningtoburn.Hurry!”Esperanzaheldthetoweloverherfaceandlookeddownthestairs.Curtainsflamedupthewalls.The
housewasenvelopedinafogthatthickenedtowardtheceiling.MamaandEsperanzacroucheddownthestairswhereAlfonsowaswaitingtoleadthemoutthroughthekitchen.Inthecourtyard,thewoodengateswereopen.Nearthestables,thevaqueroswerereleasingthehorses
fromthecorrals.Servantsscurriedeverywhere.Whereweretheygoing?“Where’sAbuelita?Abuelita!”criedMama.Esperanzafeltdizzy.Nothingseemedreal.Wasshestilldreaming?Wasthisherownimaginationgone
wild?Miguelgrabbedher.“Where’syourmotherandAbuelita?”Esperanzawhimperedand looked towardMama.He lefther, stoppedatMama, then ran toward the
house.Thewind caught the sparks from the house and carried them to the stables. Esperanza stood in the
middleof it all,watching theoutlineofherhome silhouetted in flames against thenight sky.Someonewrappedablanketaroundher.Wasshecold?Shedidnotknow.Miguel ranoutof theburninghouse carryingAbuelita inhis arms.He laidherdownandHortensia
screamed.Thebackofhisshirtwasonfire.Alfonsotackledhim,rollinghimoverandoveronthegrounduntilthefirewasout.Miguelstoodupandslowlytookofftheblackenedshirt.Hewasn’tbadlyburned.MamacradledAbuelitainherarms.“Mama,”saidEsperanza,“Isshe…?”“No,sheisalive,butweakandherankle…Idon’tthinkshecanwalk,”saidMama.Esperanzakneltdown.“Abuelita,wherewereyou?”Her grandmother held up the cloth bag with her crocheting and after some minutes of coughing,
whispered,“Wemusthavesomethingtodowhilewewait.”The fire’sangercouldnotbecontained. It spread to thegrapes.The flames ranalong thedeliberate
rowsofthevines,likelongcurvedfingersreachingforthehorizon,lightingthenightsky.EsperanzastoodasifinatranceandwatchedElRanchodelasRosasburn.
Mama,Abuelita, and Esperanza slept in the servants’ cabins. They really didn’t sleepmuch, but theydidn’tcryeither.Theywerenumb,as ifencased ina thickskin thatnothingcouldpenetrate.Andtherewasnopointintalkingabouthowithappened.Theyallknewthattheuncleshadarrangedthefire.Atdawn,stillinhernightgown,Esperanzawentoutamongtherubble.Avoidingthesmolderingpiles,
shepickedthroughtheblackwood,hopingtofindsomethingtosalvage.Shesatonanadobeblocknearwhatusedtobethefrontdoor,andlookedoveratPapa’srosegarden.Flowerlessstemswerecoveredinsoot.Dazedandhuggingherself,Esperanzasurveyedthesurvivingvictims:thetwistedformsofwrought-ironchairs,unharmedcast-ironskillets,andthemortarsandpestlesfromthekitchenthatweremadefromlavarockandrefusedtoburn.Thenshesawtheremainsofthetrunkthatusedtositatthefootofherbed,themetal strapsstill intact.Shestoodupandhurried toward it,hoping forunmilagro, amiracle.Shelookedclosely,butallthatremainedwereblackcinders.Therewasnothingleftinside,forsomeday.
Esperanzasawherunclesapproachingonhorsebackandrantotelltheothers.Mamawaitedonthesteps
of the cabinwithher arms crossed, looking like a fierce statue.Alfonso,Hortensia, andMiguel stoodnearby.“Ramona,”saidTíoMarco,remainingonhishorse.“Anothersadnessinsoshortatime.Wearedeeply
sorry.”“Ihavecometogiveyouanotherchance,”saidTíoLuis.“Ifyoureconsidermyproposal,Iwillbuilda
bigger,morebeautifulhouseandIwillreplanteverything.Ofcourse,ifyouprefer,youcanliveherewiththeservants,aslongasanothertragedydoesnothappentotheirhomesaswell.Thereisnomainhouseorfieldswheretheycanwork,soyouseethatmanypeople’slivesandjobsdependuponyou.AndIamsureyouwantthebestforEsperanza,doyounot?”Mamadidnotspeakforseveralmoments.Shelookedaroundattheservantswhohadgathered.Now,
herfacedidnotseemsofierceandhereyesweredamp.EsperanzawonderedwheretheservantswouldgowhenMamatoldTíoLuisno.MamalookedatEsperanzawitheyesthatsaid,“forgiveme.”Thenshedroppedherheadandstaredat
theground.“Iwillconsideryourproposal,”saidMama.TíoLuissmiled.“Iamdelighted!Ihavenodoubtthatyouwillmaketherightdecision.Iwillbeback
inafewdaysforyouranswer.”“Mama,no!”saidEsperanza.SheturnedtoTíoLuisandsaid,“Ihateyou!”TíoLuisignoredher.“AndRamona,ifEsperanzaistobemydaughter,shemusthavebettermanners.In
fact,todayIwilllookintoboardingschoolswheretheycanteachhertoactlikealady.”Thenheturnedhishorse,dughisspursintotheanimal,androdeaway.Esperanzabegantoweep.ShegrabbedMama’sarmandsaid,“Why?Whydidyoutellhimthat?”ButMamawasnotlisteningtoher.Shewaslookingup,asifconsultingtheangels.Finally,shesaid,“Alfonso.Hortensia.WemusttalkwithAbuelita.EsperanzaandMiguel,comeinside,
youareoldenoughtohearthediscussions.”“ButMama…”MamatookEsperanzabytheshouldersandfacedher.“Mija,mydaughter,donotworry.IknowwhatI
amdoing.”
Theyallcrowded intoHortensiaandAlfonso’s tinybedroomwhereAbuelitawas resting,her swollenankleproppedonpillows.EsperanzasatonAbuelita’sbedwhileMamaandtheothersstood.“Alfonso,whataremyoptions?”saidMama.“If youdon’t intend tomarryhim,Señora, you cannot stayhere.Hewouldburndown the servants’
quartersnext.Therewillbeno incomebecause therearenograpes.Youwouldhave todependon thecharityofothers,andtheywouldbeafraidtohelpyou.YoucouldmovetosomeotherpartofMexico,but
inpoverty.Luis’sinfluenceisfar-reaching.”Theroomwasquiet.Mamalookedoutthewindowandtappedherfingersonthewoodensill.HortensiawenttoMama’ssideandtouchedherarm.“Youshouldknowthatwehavedecidedtogoto
theUnited States.Alfonso’s brother has beenwriting to us about the big farm inCaliforniawhere heworksnow.Hecanarrangejobsandacabinforus,too.Wearesendingthelettertomorrow.”MamaturnedandlookedatAbuelita.Withnowordsspoken,Abuelitanodded.“WhatifEsperanzaandIwentwithyou?TotheUnitedStates,”saidMama.“Mama,wecannotleaveAbuelita!”AbuelitaputherhandonEsperanza’s.“Iwouldcomelater,whenIamstronger.”“Butmyfriendsandmyschool.Wecan’tjustleave!AndPapa,whatwouldhethink?”“Whatshouldwedo,Esperanza?DoyouthinkPapawouldwantmetomarryTíoLuisandlethimsend
youtoaschoolinanothercity?”Esperanza felt confused. Her uncle said he would replace everything as it was. But she could not
imagineMamabeingmarried toanyonebutPapa.She lookedatMama’sfaceandsawsadness,worry,and pain.Mamawould do anything for her. But ifMamamarried Tío Luis, she knew that everythingwould not really be as it was. Tío Luis would send her away and she andMamawouldn’t even betogether.“No,”shewhispered.“Youaresurethatyouwanttogowithus?”saidHortensia.“Iamsure,”saidMama,hervoicestronger.“Butcrossingtheborderismoredifficultthesedays.You
haveyourpapersbutourswerelostinthefireandtheyforbidanyonetoenterwithoutavisa.”“Iwillarrangeit,”saidAbuelita.“Mysisters,intheconvent.Theycandiscreetlygetyouduplicates.”“Noonecouldknowaboutthis,Señora,”saidAlfonso.“Wewouldallhavetokeepitasecretifyou
come.ThiswillbeagreatinsulttoLuis.Ifhefindsout,hewillpreventyoufromleavingtheterritory.”AtinysmileappearedonMama’stiredface.“Yes,itwouldbeagreatinsulttohim,wouldn’tit?”“InCaliforniathereisonlyfieldwork,”saidMiguel.“Iamstrongerthanyouthink,”saidMama.“Wewillhelpeachother.”HortensiaputherarmaroundMama.AbuelitasqueezedEsperanza’shand.“Donotbeafraidtostartover.WhenIwasyourage,IleftSpain
withmymother,father,andsisters.AMexicanofficialhadofferedmyfatherajobhereinMexico.Sowecame.We had to take several ships and the journey lastedmonths.Whenwe arrived, nothingwas aspromised.Thereweremanyhardtimes.Butlifewasalsoexciting.Andwehadeachother.Esperanza,doyourememberthestoryofthephoenix,thelovelyyoungbirdthatisrebornfromitsownashes?”Esperanzanodded.Abuelitahadreadittohermanytimesfromabookofmyths.“Wearelikethephoenix,”saidAbuelita.“Risingagain,withanewlifeaheadofus.”Whensherealizedshewascrying,Esperanzawipedhereyeswithhershawl.Yes,shethought.They
couldhaveahomeinCalifornia.Abeautifulhome.AlfonsoandHortensiaandMiguelcouldtakecareofthem and they’d be rid of the uncles. And Abuelita would join them, as soon as she was well. Stillsnifflingandcaughtupintheiraffectionandstrength,Esperanzasaid,“And…andIcouldwork,too.”Theyalllookedather.AndforthefirsttimesincePapadied,everyonelaughed.
The next dayAbuelita’s sisters came for her in awagon. The nuns, dressed in their black andwhitehabits,gentlyliftedAbuelitaintotheback.TheypulledablanketunderherchinandEsperanzawenttoher and held her hand. She remembered the night that Alfonso andMiguel brought Papa home in thewagon.Howlongagowas that?Sheknewthat ithadonlybeena fewweeks,but it seemed likemanylifetimesago.EsperanzatenderlyhuggedandkissedAbuelita.“Minieta,wewon’tbeabletocommunicate.ThemailisunpredictableandI’msureyouruncleswill
bewatchingmycorrespondence.ButIwillcome,ofthatyoucanbecertain.Whileyouarewaiting,finishthisforme.”ShehandedEsperanzathebundleofcrocheting.“Lookatthezigzagoftheblanket.Mountainsandvalleys.Rightnowyouareinthebottomofthevalleyandyourproblemsloombigaroundyou.Butsoon,youwillbeat thetopofamountainagain.Afteryouhavelivedmanymountainsandvalleys,wewillbetogether.”ThroughhertearsEsperanzasaid,“Pleasegetwell.Pleasecometous.”“Ipromise.AndyoupromisetotakecareofMamaforme.”NextitwasMama’sturn.Esperanzacouldnotwatch.SheburiedherheadinHortensia’sshoulderuntil
sheheardthewagonpullingaway.ThenshewenttoMamaandputherarmsaroundher.Theywatchedthewagondisappeardownthepathuntilitwasaspeckinthedistance,untileventhedustwasgone.That’swhenEsperanzanoticedtheoldtrunkwiththeleatherstrapsthatthenunshadleft.“Whatisinthetrunk?”sheasked.“Ourpaperstotravel.Andclothesfromthepoorboxattheconvent.”“Thepoorbox?”“Peopledonatethem,”saidMama,“forotherswhocannotaffordtobuytheirown.”“Mama,atatimelikethis,mustweworryaboutsomepoorfamilywhoneedsclothes?”“Esperanza,”saidMama.“WehavelittlemoneyandHortensia,Alfonso,andMiguelarenolongerour
servants.Weareindebtedtothemforourfinancesandourfuture.Andthattrunkofclothesforthepoor?Esperanza,itisforus.”
SeñorRodríguezwas theonlyperson theycould trust.Hecameafterdark for secretmeetings, alwayscarryingabasketof figs for thegrieving family todisguisehis real reason forvisiting.Esperanza fellasleepeachnightonablanketon thefloor, listeningto theadults’hushedvoicesandmysteriousplans.Andsmellingtheplentifulpilesofwhitefigsthatsheknewwouldneverbeeaten.AttheendoftheweekEsperanzawassittingonthesmallsteptoHortensiaandAlfonso’scabinwhen
TíoLuisrodeup.HeremainedonhishorseandsentAlfonsotobringMama.Inafewmoments,Mamawalkedtowardthem,dryingherhandsonherapron.Sheheldherheadhigh
andlookedbeautiful,evendressedintheoldclothesfromthepoorbox.“Luis,IhaveconsideredyourproposalandintheinterestoftheservantsandEsperanza,Iwillmarry
you, in due time.But youmust begin replanting and rebuilding immediately, as the servants need theirjobs.”Esperanzawasquietandstaredatthedirt,hidingthesmirkonherface.Tío Luis could not contain his grin. He sat up straighter. “I knew youwould come to your senses,
Ramona.Iwillannouncetheengagementatonce.”Mamanodded,almostbowing.“Onemorething,”shesaid.“WewillneedawagontovisitAbuelita.
SheisattheconventinLaPurísima.Imustseetohereveryfewweeks.”“Iwillsendoneoverthisafternoon,”saidTíoLuis,smiling.“Anewone.Andthoseclothes,Ramona!
They are not fitting for a woman of your stature, and Esperanza looks like a waif. I will send adressmakernextweekwithnewfabrics.”Inthenicestwaypossible,Esperanzalookedupandsaid,“Thankyou,TíoLuis.Iamhappythatyou
willbetakingcareofus.”“Yes,ofcourse,”hesaid,notevenglancingather.Esperanzasmiledathimanyway,becausesheknewshewouldneverspendanightinthesamehouse
withhimandhewouldneverbeherstepfather.Shealmostwishedshewouldbeabletoseehisfacewhenherealizedthattheyhadescaped.Hewouldn’tbegrinninglikeaproudroosterthen.
The night before the dressmakerwas scheduled to come,MamawokeEsperanza in themiddle of thenight,andtheyleftwithonlywhattheycouldcarry.Esperanzaheldavalisefilledwithclothes,asmallpackageoftamales,andherdollfromPapa.SheandMamaandHortensiawerewrappedindarkshawlstoblendinwiththenight.They could not take a chance ofwalkingon the roads, soMiguel andAlfonso led them through the
graperows,weavingacrossPapa’slandtowardtheRodríguezranch.Therewasenoughmoonlightsothattheycouldseetheoutlinesofthetwistedandcharredtrunks,theburnt-outvinesrollinginparallellinestowardthemountains.Itlookedasifsomeonehadtakenagiantcomb,dippeditinblackpaint,andgently
swirleditacrossahugecanvas.TheyreachedthefigorchardthatseparatedPapa’slandfromSeñorRodríguez’s.Alfonso,Hortensia,
andMiguelwalkedahead.ButEsperanzaheldback,andpulledonMama’shandtokeepherthereforamoment.TheyturnedtolookatwhatusedtobeElRanchodelasRosasinthedistance.Sadness and anger tangled in Esperanza’s stomach as she thought of all that she was leaving: her
friendsandherschool,herlifeasitoncewas,Abuelita.AndPapa.Shefeltasthoughshewasleavinghim,too.Asifreadinghermind,Mamasaid,“Papa’sheartwillfinduswhereverwego.”ThenMamatooka
determinedbreathandheadedtowardthesprawlingtrees.Esperanzafollowedbuthesitatedeveryfewsteps,lookingback.Shehatedleaving,buthowcouldshe
stay?Witheachstride,Papa’slandbecamesmallerandsmaller.ShehurriedafterMama,knowingthatshe
mightnevercomebacktoherhomeagain,andherheartfilledwithvenomforTíoLuis.Whensheturnedaroundone last time, shecould seenothingbehindherbuta trailof splattered figs shehad resentfullysmashedbeneathherfeet.
They emerged from the fig orchard and continued through a pear grove. When they came into aclearing,theysawSeñorRodríguezwaitingwithalanternbythebarndoors.Theyhurriedinside.Pigeonsflutteredintherafters.Theirwagonwaswaiting,surroundedbycratesofgreenguavas.“DidMarisolcome?”askedEsperanza,hereyessearchingthebarn.“Icouldtellnooneaboutyourdeparture,”saidSeñorRodríguez.“Whenthetimeisright,Iwilltellher
thatyoulookedforherandsaidgood-bye.Nowwemusthurry.Youneedtheprotectionofdarkness.”Alfonso,Miguel,andSeñorRodríguezhadbuiltanotherfloorinthewagon,higherthantherealoneand
open at theback,withbarely enough roombetween forMama,Esperanza, andHortensia to lie down.Hortensialineditwithblankets.Esperanzahadknownabouttheplan,butnowshehesitatedwhenshesawthesmallspace.“Please,canIsitwithAlfonsoandMiguel?”“Mija,itisnecessary,”saidMama.“There are toomany bandits,” saidAlfonso. “It is not safe forwomen to be on the roads at night.
Besides,youruncleshavemanyspies.Remember?ThatiswhywemusttakethewagontoZacatecasandcatchthetrainthere,insteadoffromAguascalientes.”“Luishasbraggedabout theengagement to everyone,” saidHortensia. “Thinkhowangryhewillbe
whenhediscoversyouhavegone.Wecannottakethechanceofyoubeingseen.”MamaandHortensiasaidgratefulgood-byes toSeñorRodríguez, thenslidbetweenthefloorsof the
wagon.Esperanzareluctantlyscootedonherbackbetweenthem.“Whencanwegetout?”“Everyfewhours,wewillstopandstretch,”saidMama.Esperanzastaredatthewoodplanksjustafewinchesfromherface.ShecouldhearAlfonso,Miguel,
andSeñorRodríguezdumpingcrateaftercrateofguavasontothefloorabovethem,thealmost-ripefruitrollingandtumblingasitwaspiledon.Theguavassmelledfreshandsweet,likepearsandorangesallinone.ThenshefelttheguavasrollinaroundherfeetasAlfonsoandMiguelcoveredtheopening.Ifanyonesawthewagonontheroad,itwouldlooklikeafarmerandhisson,takingaloadoffruittomarket.“Howareyou?”Alfonsoasked,soundingfaraway.“Wearefine,”calledHortensia.Thewagonpulledoutofthebarnandtheguavasshifted,thensettled.Itwasdarkinsideanditfeltlike
someonewas rocking them in a bumpy cradle, sometimes side to side and sometimes back and forth.Esperanzabegantofeelfrightened.Sheknewthatwithafewkicksofherfeetshecouldgetout,butstillshefelttrapped.Suddenly,shethoughtshecouldn’tbreathe.“Mama!”shesaid,gaspingforair.
“Righthere,Esperanza.Everythingisfine.”“Doyouremember,”saidHortensia,takingherhand,“whenyouwereonlyfiveyearsoldandwehid
fromthethieves?Youweresobraveforsuchalittlegirl.YourparentsandAlfonsoandtheotherservantshadgonetotown.ItwasjustyouandmeandMiguelinthehouse.WewereinyourbedroomandIwaspinning the hemof your beautiful blue silk dress.Do you remember that dress?Youwanted it pinnedhighersoyournewshoeswouldshow.”Esperanza’s eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness and to the pitch and roll of the wagon.
“Miguel ran into the house because he had seen bandits,” said Esperanza, exhaling. She rememberedstandingonachairwithherarmsoutstretchedlikeabirdreadyforflightwhileHortensiafittedthesidesofthedress.Andsherememberedthenewshoes,shinyandblack.“Yes,” said Hortensia. “I looked out the window to see six men, their faces covered with
handkerchiefs, and they all held rifles.Theywere renegadeswho thought theyhadpermission to stealfrom the rich andgive to the poor.But they didn’t always give to the poor and they sometimes killedinnocentpeople.”“Wehidunderthebed,”saidEsperanza.“Andwepulleddownthebedcoverssotheycouldn’tseeus.”
Sherememberedstaringstraightupatthebedboards.Muchliketheboardsenclosingtheminthewagonnow.Shetookanotherlongbreath.“Whatwedidn’tknowwasthatMiguelhadabigfieldmouseinhispocket,”saidHortensia.“Yes.Hewasgoingtoscaremewithit,”saidEsperanza.Thewagon creaked and swayed. They could hearAlfonso andMiguelmurmuring above them. The
persistentsmelloftheguavasfilledtheirnoses.Esperanzarelaxedalittle.Hortensiacontinued. “Themencame into thehouseandwecouldhear themopeningcupboardsand
stealing thesilver.Thenweheard themclimb thestairs.Twomencame into thebedroomandwesawtheirbigbootsthroughacrackinthebedcover.Butwedidn’tsayaword.”“UntilapinpokedmeandImovedmylegandmadeanoise.”“Iwassofrightenedtheywouldfindus,”saidHortensia.“ButMiguel pushed themouse out from under the bed and it ran around the room. Themen were
startledbutstartedlaughing.Andthenoneofthemsaid,‘Itisjustaratón.We’vegotplenty.Let’sgo,’andtheyleft,”saidEsperanza.Mamasaid,“Theytookalmostallofthesilver,butPapaandIonlycaredthatallofyouweresafe.Do
yourememberhowPapasaidthatMiguelwasverysmartandbraveandaskedhimwhathewantedforprotectingyou,hismostprizedpossession?”Esperanzaremembered.“Miguelwantedtogoonatrainride.”HortensiastartedtohumsoftlyandMamaheldEsperanza’shand.Miguel’sreward,thatday-longtrainridetoZacatecas,seemedlikeyesterday.Miguelhadbeeneight
and Esperanza five. Shewore the beautiful blue silk dress and could still seeMiguel standing at the
station,wearing a bow tie andpractically shining, as ifHortensia had cleaned and starchedhis entirebody.Evenhishairwasslickeddownsmoothandhiseyesgleamedwithexcitement.Hewasmesmerizedbythelocomotive,watchingitslowlypullin.Esperanzahadbeenexcited,too.Whenthetrainarrived,allsputteringandblustery,portershadhurriedtoescortthem,showingthemthe
way to theircar.Papa tookherhandandMiguel’sand theyboarded,wavinggood-bye toAlfonsoandHortensia.Thecompartmenthadseatsofsoftleather,andsheandMiguelhadbouncedhappilyuponthem.Later, theyate in thediningcar at little tables covered inwhite linensand setwith silver andcrystal.Whenthewaitercameandaskediftherewasanythinghecouldbringthem,Esperanzasaid,“Yes,pleasebring lunch,now.”Themenandwomendressed in theirhatsandfancyclothessmiledandchuckledatwhatmusthavelookedlikeadotingfatherandtwoprivilegedchildren.WhentheyarrivedinZacatecas,awomanwrappedinacolorfulrebozo,ablanketshawl,boardedthetrainsellingmangoesonastick.Themangoeswerepeeledandcarvedtolooklikeexoticflowers.Papaboughtoneforeachofthem.Onthereturnride,sheandMiguel,withtheirnosespressedagainstthewindow,andtheirhandsstillstickyfromthefreshmango,hadwavedtoeverypersontheysaw.Thewagonjostledthemnowasithitaholeintheroad.EsperanzawishedshecouldgettoZacatecas
asfastasshehadthatdayonthetraininsteadoftravelingonbackroads,hiddeninaslowwagon.Butthistime,shewasburiedbeneathamountainofguavasandcouldnotwavetoanyone.Therewasnocomfort.AndtherewasnoPapa.
Esperanzastoodat the station inZacatecas, tuggingat the second-handdress. Itdidn’t fitproperlyandwas themost awfulyellow.Andeven though theyhadbeenoutof thewagon for somehours, she stillsmelledlikeguavas.IthadtakenthemtwodaystoarriveinZacatecas,butfinally,thatmorning,theyleftthewagonhiddenin
athicketofshrubsandtreesandwalkedintotown.Afterthediscomfortofthewagon,shewaslookingforwardtothetrain.Thelocomotivearrivedpullingalineofcarsandhissingandspewingsteam.Buttheydidnotboardthe
fancycarwiththecompartmentsandleatherseatsorthediningcarwiththewhitelinens.Instead,Alfonsoled them toacarwith rowsofwoodenbenches, likechurchpews facingeachother,alreadycrowdedwithpeasants.Trashlitteredtheflooranditreekedofrottingfruitandurine.AmanwithasmallgoatonhislapgrinnedatEsperanza,revealingnoteeth.Threebarefootchildren,twoboysandagirl,crowdedneartheirmother.Theirlegswerechalkywithdust,theirclotheswereintatters,andtheirhairwasgrimy.Anold, frail beggarwomanpushedby them to thebackof the car, clutching apictureofOurLadyofGuadalupe.Herhandwasoutstretchedforalms.Esperanzahadneverbeensoclose tosomanypeasantsbefore.Whenshewent toschool,allofher
friendswerelikeher.Whenshewenttotown,shewasescortedandhurriedaroundanybeggars.Andthepeasantsalwayskepttheirdistance.Thatwassimplythewayitwas.Shecouldn’thelpbutwonderiftheywouldstealherthings.“Mama,”saidEsperanza,stoppinginthedoorway.“Wecannottravelinthiscar.It…itisnotclean.
Andthepeopledonotlooktrustworthy.”EsperanzasawMiguelfrownasheedgedaroundhertositdown.MamatookherhandandguidedhertoanemptybenchwhereEsperanzaslidovernexttothewindow.
“PapawouldneverhavehadussithereandAbuelitawouldn’tapprove,”shesaid,stubbornly.“Mija, it is all we can afford,” said Mama. “We must make do. It is not easy for me either. But
remember,wearegoingtoaplacethatwillbebetterthanlivingwithTíoLuis,andatleastwewillbetogether.”The trainpulledoutandsettled intoasteadymotion.HortensiaandMama tookout theircrocheting.
Mamawasusingasmallhookandwhitecottonthreadtomakecarpetas,lacedoilies,toputunderalamporavase.SheheldupherworktoEsperanzaandsmiled.“Wouldyouliketolearn?”Esperanzashookherhead.WhydidMamabothercrochetinglace?Theyhadnovasesorlámparas to
putontopofthem.Esperanzaleanedherheadagainstthewindow.Sheknewshedidnotbelonghere.Shewas Esperanza Ortega from El Rancho de las Rosas. She crossed her arms tight and stared out thewindow.Forhours,Esperanzawatchedtheundulatinglandpassinfrontofher.Everythingseemedtoremindher
ofwhat she had left behind: thenopales reminded her ofAbuelitawho loved to eat the prickly pearcactus slicedandsoaked invinegarandoil; thedogs fromsmallvillages thatbarkedand ranafter thetrain remindedher ofMarisol,whose dog,Capitán, chased after trains the sameway.And every timeEsperanzasawashrinedecoratedwithcrosses,flowers,andminiaturestatuesofsaintsnexttotherails,shecouldn’thelpbutwonderifithadbeensomeone’sfatherwhohaddiedonthetracksandifsomewheretherewasanothergirlwhomissedhim,too.Esperanza opened her valise to check on the doll, lifting it out and straightening her clothes. The
barefootpeasantgirlranover.“Mona,”shesaid,andreacheduptotouchthedoll.Esperanzaquicklyjerkeditawayandputitbackin
thevalise,coveringitwiththeoldclothes.“¡Mona!¡Mona!”saidthelittlegirl,runningbacktohermother.Andthenshebegantocry.MamaandHortensiabothstoppedtheirneedlesandstaredatEsperanza.Mamalookedacrossatthegirl’smother.“Iamsorryformydaughter’sbadmanners.”Esperanza looked atMama in surprise.Whywas she apologizing to these people? She andMama
shouldn’tevenbesittinginthiscar.Hortensialookedfromonetotheotherandexcusedherself.“IthinkIwillfindAlfonsoandMigueland
seeiftheyboughttortillasatthestation.”
MamalookedatEsperanza.“Idon’tthinkitwouldhavehurttoletherholditforafewmoments.”“Mama,sheispooranddirty…”saidEsperanza.ButMamainterrupted.“Whenyouscornthesepeople,youscornMiguel,Hortensia,andAlfonso.And
youembarrassmeandyourself.Asdifficultasitistoaccept,ourlivesaredifferentnow.”The child kept crying.Her facewas so dirty that her tearswashed clean streaks down her cheeks.
Esperanza suddenly felt ashamedand the color rose in her face, but she still pushed thevalise fartherundertheseatwithherfeetandturnedherbodyawayfromMama.Esperanzatriednottolookbackatthelittlegirlbutshecouldn’thelpit.Shewishedshecouldtellthe
littlegirl’smotherthatshehadalwaysgivenheroldtoystotheorphanage,butthatthisdollwasspecial.Besides,thechildwouldhavesoileditwithherhands.Mamareached inherbagandpulledoutaballofblanketyarn.“Esperanza,holdoutyourhandsfor
me.”Sheraisedhereyebrowsandnoddedtowardthegirl.EsperanzaknewexactlywhatMamaintendedtodo.Theyhaddoneitmanytimesbefore.MamawrappedtheyarnaroundEsperanza’soutstretchedhandsaboutfiftytimesuntiltheywerealmost
covered.Thensheslippeda stringofyarn through themiddleof the loopsand tieda tightknotbeforeEsperanzaremovedherhands.Afewinchesbelowtheknot,Mamatiedanothersnugknotaroundalltheyarn,formingahead.Thenshecutthebottomloops,separatedthestrandsintosections,andbraidedeachsectionintowhatlookedlikearmsandlegs.Sheheldtheyarndollup,offeringittothelittlegirl.SherantoMama,smiling,tookthedoll,andranbacktoherownmother’sside.Themotherwhisperedintothegirl’sear.Shyly,shesaid,“Gracias.Thankyou.”“Denada.You’rewelcome,”saidMama.Thewomanandthechildrengotoffthetrainatthenextstop.Esperanzawatchedthelittlegirlstopin
frontoftheirwindow,wavetoMama,andsmileagain.Beforeshewalkedaway,shemadetheyarndollwavegood-bye,too.Esperanzawasgladthegirlgotoffthetrainandtookthesillyyarndollwithher.Otherwise,shewould
havebeenremindedofherownselfishnessandMama’sdisapprovalformilestocome.
Clicketta,clicketta,clicketta.Thesongofthelocomotivewasmonotonousastheytravelednorth,andthehoursseemedlikeMama’snever-endingballofthreadunwindinginfrontofthem.EachmorningthesunpeekedoveronespuroftheSierraMadre,sometimesshiningthroughpinetrees.Intheevening,itsetontheleft,sinkingbehindanotherpeakandleavingpinkcloudsandpurplemountainsagainstthedarkeningsky.Whenpeoplegotonandoff,Esperanzaand theotherschanged theirseats.Whenthecar filledup,theysometimesstood.Whenthecarwaslesscrowded,theyputtheirvalisesundertheirheadsandtried
tosleeponthebenches.Ateverystop,MiguelandAlfonsohurriedoffthetrainwithapackage.Fromthewindow,Esperanza
watchedthemgotoawatertrough,unwrapanoilcloth,anddampenthebundleinside.Thentheywouldwrapitintheoilclothagain,boardthetrain,andputitcarefullybackintoAlfonso’sbag.“Whatisinthere?”EsperanzafinallyaskedAlfonso,asthetrainpulledawayfromyetanotherstation.“Youwillseewhenwegetthere.”HesmiledandaknowinglookpassedbetweenhimandMiguel.Esperanzawas annoyedwithAlfonso for taking the packageon andoff the trainwithout telling her
what was inside. She was tired of Hortensia’s humming and weary of watchingMama crochet, as ifnothingunusualwerehappeningtothem.ButmostofallshewasboredwithMiguel’sconstanttalkabouttrains.Hechattedwiththeconductors.Hegotoffateverystopandwatchedtheengineers.HestudiedthetrainscheduleandwantedtoreportitalltoEsperanza.HeseemedashappyasEsperanzawasirritable.“WhenIgettoCalifornia,Iamgoingtoworkfortherailroad,”saidMiguel,lookinganxiouslytoward
thehorizon.Theyhadspreadpiecesofbrownpaper in their lapsandwereeatingpepinos, cucumberssprinkledwithsaltandgroundchiles.“I’mthirsty.Aretheysellingjuiceintheothercar?”askedEsperanza.“IwouldhaveworkedattherailroadinMexico,”continuedMiguel,asifEsperanzahadnottriedto
changethesubject.“ButitisnoteasytogetajobinMexico.Youneedunapalanca,alever,togetajobattherailroads.Ihadnoconnectionsbutyourfatherdid.SinceIwasasmallboy,hegavemehiswordthathewouldhelpme.Andhewouldhavekepthispromise.He…healwayskepthispromisestome.”At thementionofPapa,Esperanza felt that sinking feeling again. She looked atMiguel.Hequickly
turnedhisheadawayfromherandlookedhardoutthewindow,butshesawthathiseyesweredamp.ShehadneverthoughtabouthowmuchherpapamusthavemeanttoMiguel.ItdawnedonherthateventhoughMiguelwasaservant,Papamayhavethoughtofhimasthesonheneverhad.ButPapa’sinfluencewasgone.WhatwouldhappentoMiguel’sdreamsnow?“AndintheUnitedStates?”sheaskedquietly.“IhearthatintheUnitedStates,youdonotneedunapalanca.Thateventhepoorestmancanbecome
richifheworkshardenough.”
Theyhadbeenonthetrainforfourdaysandnightswhenawomangotonwithawirecagecontainingsixred hens. The chickens squawked and cackled andwhen they flapped theirwings, tiny russet feathersfloated around the car.Thewoman sat oppositeMama andHortensia andwithinminutes she had toldthemthathernamewasCarmen,thatherhusbandhaddiedandleftherwitheightchildren,andthatshehadbeenatherbrother’shousehelpinghisfamilywithanewbaby.“Wouldyoulikedulces,sweets?”sheaskedEsperanza,holdingopenabag.
EsperanzalookedatMama,whosmiledandnoddedherapproval.Esperanzahesitantlyreachedinsideandtookoutasquareofcoconutcandy.Mamahadneverpermitted
hertotakecandyfromsomeoneshedidn’tknowbefore,especiallyfromapoorperson.“Señora,whydoyoutravelwiththehens?”askedMama.“Iselleggstofeedmyfamily.Mybrotherraiseshensandhegavethesetome.”“Andyoucansupportyourlargefamilythatway?”askedHortensia.Carmensmiled.“Iampoor,butIamrich.Ihavemychildren,Ihaveagardenwithroses,andIhavemy
faithandthememoriesofthosewhohavegonebeforeme.Whatmoreisthere?”Hortensia andMama smiled, nodding their heads. And after a few thoughtfulmoments,Mamawas
blottingawaystraytears.The three women continued talking as the train passed fields of corn, orange orchards, and cows
grazingonrollinghills.Theytalkedasthetraintraveledthroughsmalltowns,wherepeasantchildrenranafterthecaboose,justforthesakeofrunning.Soon,MamawasconfidinginCarmen,tellingherallthathadhappenedwithPapaandTíoLuis.Carmenlistenedandmadecluckingnoiseslikeoneofherhens,asif she understood Mama’s and Esperanza’s problems. Esperanza looked from Mama to Carmen toHortensia. She was amazed at how easily Carmen had plopped herself down and had plunged intointimateconversation.Itdidn’tseemcorrectsomehow.Mamahadalwaysbeensoproperandconcernedaboutwhatwassaidandnotsaid.InAguascalientes,shewouldhavethought itwas“inappropriate”totellaneggwomantheirproblems,yetnowshedidn’thesitate.“Mama,”whisperedEsperanza,takingonatoneshehadheardMamausemanytimes.“Doyouthinkit
iswisetotellapeasantourpersonalbusiness?”Mamatriednottosmile.Shewhisperedback,“Itisallright,Esperanza,becausenowwearepeasants,
too.”Esperanza ignoredMama’s comment.Whatwaswrongwith her?Had all ofMama’s rules changed
sincetheyhadboardedthistrain?When they pulled intoCarmen’s town,Mama gave her three of the beautiful lace carpetas she had
made.“Foryourhouse,”shesaid.CarmengaveMamatwochickens,inanoldshoppingbagthatshetiedwithstring.“Foryourfuture,”
shesaid.ThenMama,Hortensia,andCarmenhuggedasiftheyhadbeenfriendsforever.“Buenasuerte,goodluck,”theysaidtooneanother.AlfonsoandMiguelhelpedCarmenwithherpackagesandthecageofchickens.WhenMiguelgotback
onthetrain,hesatnexttoEsperanza,nearthewindow.TheywatchedCarmengreetherwaitingchildren,severalofthelittleonesscramblingintoherarms.Infrontofthestation,acrippledIndianwomancrawledonherknees,herhandoutstretchedtowarda
group of ladies and gentlemen who were finely dressed in clothes like the ones that used to hang in
Esperanza’s and Mama’s closets. The people turned their backs on the begging woman but Carmenwalkedoverandgaveheracoinandsome tortillas fromherbag.Thewomanblessedher,makingthesignofthecross.ThenCarmentookherchildren’shandsandwalkedaway.“She has eight children and sells eggs to survive.Yetwhen she can barely afford it she gave your
mother twohensandhelpedthecrippledwoman,”saidMiguel.“Therich takecareof therichandthepoortakecareofthosewhohavelessthantheyhave.”“ButwhydoesCarmenneed to take care of the beggar at all?” saidEsperanza. “Look.Only a few
yardsawayisthefarmer’smarketwithcartsoffreshfood.”MiguellookedatEsperanza,wrinkledhisforehead,andshookhishead.“ThereisaMexicansaying:
‘FullbelliesandSpanishbloodgohandinhand.’”Esperanzalookedathimandraisedhereyebrows.“Have you never noticed?” he said, sounding surprised. “Thosewith Spanish blood,who have the
fairestcomplexionsintheland,arethewealthiest.”Esperanzasuddenlyfeltguiltyanddidnotwanttoadmitthatshehadnevernoticedorthatitmightbe
true.Besides,theyweregoingtotheUnitedStatesnowanditcertainlywouldnotbetruethere.Esperanzashrugged.“Itisjustsomethingthatoldwivessay.”“No,”saidMiguel.“Itissomethingthepoorsay.”
TheyreachedtheborderatMexicaliinthemorning.Finally,thetrainstoppedmovingandeveryonedisembarked. The land was dry and the panorama was barren except for date palms, cactus, and anoccasionalsquirrelor roadrunner.Theconductorsherdedeveryone intoabuildingwhere theystood inlonglineswaitingtopass throughimmigration.Esperanzanoticedthat thepeople in thefirstcarswereescortedtotheshortestlinesandpassedthroughquickly.Inside, theairwasstagnantand thickwith thesmellofbodyodor.EsperanzaandMama, their faces
shinywithgrimeandperspiration,lookedtiredandwiltedandtheyslumpedwitheventheslightweightoftheirvalises.ThecloserEsperanzagottothefront, themorenervousshebecame.Shelookedatherpapersandhopedtheywereinorder.Whatiftheofficialsfoundsomethingwrong?Wouldtheysendherbacktoheruncles?Wouldtheyarrestherandputherinjail?Shereachedthedeskandhandedoverthedocuments.Theimmigrationofficialseemedangryfornoreason.“Whereareyoucomingfrom?”ShelookedatMamawhowasbehindher.“WearefromAguascalientes,”saidMama,steppingforward.“AndwhatisyourpurposeforenteringtheUnitedStates?”Esperanzawasafraidtospeak.Whatifshesaidthewrongthing?“Towork,”saidMama,handinghimherdocumentsaswell.“Whatwork?”demandedtheman.Mama’s demeanor changed. She stood up straight and tall and deliberately blotted her face with a
handkerchief.Shelookeddirectlyintotheofficial’seyesandspokecalmlyasifsheweregivingsimpledirectionstoaservant.“Iamsureyoucanseethateverythingis inorder.Thenameoftheemployeriswrittenthere.Peopleareexpectingus.”ThemanstudiedMama.Helookedattheirfaces,thenthepages,thentheirfacesagain.Standingtallandproud,Mamanevertookhereyesfromhisface.Whywasittakingsolong?Finally,hegrabbedthestampandpoundedeachpagewiththewords“MexicanNational.”Heshoved
their papers at them and waved them through. Mama took Esperanza’s hand and hurried her towardanothertrain.Theyboardedandwaitedanhourforallthepassengerstogetthroughimmigration.Esperanzalooked
out the window. Across the tracks, several groups of people were being prodded onto another trainheadedbacktowardMexico.“Myheartachesforthosepeople.Theycameallthiswayjusttobesentback,”saidMama.“Butwhy?”askedEsperanza.
“Many reasons. They had no papers, false ones, or no proof of work. Or theremight have been aproblemwithjustonememberofthefamilysotheyallchosetogobackinsteadofbeingseparated.”EsperanzathoughtaboutbeingseparatedfromMamaandgratefullytookherhandandsqueezedit.AlmosteveryonehadboardedexceptAlfonso,Hortensia,andMiguel.Esperanzakeptlookingforthem,
andshebecamemoreanxiouswitheachpassingminute.“Mama,wherearethey?”MamasaidnothingbutEsperanzacouldseeworryinhereyes,too.Finally,Hortensiagoton.Thetrain’senginesbegantochug.Hervoicetense,Esperanzasaid,“WhathappenedtoAlfonsoandMiguel?”Hortensiapointedoutthewindow.“Theyhadtofindsomewater.”Alfonso was running toward the train with Miguel close behind, waving the secret package and
grinning.Thetrainslowlystartedmovingastheyhoppedon.Esperanzawantedtobeangryatthemformakingheranxious.Shewantedtoyellatthemforwaiting
until the very last minute just so they could find water for their package that was probably nonsenseanyway.Butlookingfromonetotheother,shesatback,limpwithrelief,happytohavethemalltogethersurroundingher,andsurprisedthatshecouldbesogladtobebackonthetrain.
“Anza,we’rehere.Wakeup!”Shesatupgroggily,barelyopeninghereyes.“Whatdayisthis?”sheasked.“You’vebeenasleepforhours.Wakeup!ItisThursday.AndwearehereinLosAngeles!”“Look, there they are!” saidAlfonso, pointingout thewindow. “Mybrother, Juan, and Josefina, his
wife.Andhischildren,Isabelandthetwins.Theyhaveallcome.”Acampesinofamilywavedtothem.JuanandJosefinaeachheldababyaboutayearoldintheirarms.
Itwaseasytoseethat themanwasAlfonso’sbrother,eventhoughhedidn’thaveamustache.Josefinawasplumpwitha round faceandacomplexion thatwas fairer thanEsperanza’s.Shewassmilingandwavingwithherfreehand.Nexttoherstoodagirlabouteightyearsold,wearingadressthatwastoobigandshoeswithnosocks.Delicateandfrail,withbigbrowneyes,longbraids,andskinnylegs,shelookedlikeayoungdeer.Esperanzacouldn’thelpbutthinkhowmuchshelookedlikethedollPapahadgivenher.Therewasmuchhuggingamongalltherelatives.Alfonsosaid,“Everyone,thisisSeñoraOrtegaandEsperanza.”“Alfonso,pleasecallmeRamona.”“Yes,ofcourse,Señora.Myfamilyfeelsliketheyknowyoubecausewehaveallwrittenlettersabout
youforyears.”MamahuggedJuanandJosefinaandsaid,“Thankyouforallyouhavedoneforusalready.”
Miguelteasedhiscousin,pullingherbraids.“Esperanza,thisisIsabel.”IsabellookedatEsperanza,hereyeswidewithwonder,andinavoicethatwassoftandwhisperysaid,
“Wereyoureallysoverywealthy?Didyoualwaysgetyourway,andhaveallthedollsandfancydressesyouwanted?”Esperanza’smouthpressedintoanirritatedline.ShecouldonlyimaginethelettersMiguelhadwritten.
HadhetoldIsabelthatinMexicotheystoodondifferentsidesoftheriver?“Thetruckisthisway,”saidJuan.“Wehavealongride.”EsperanzapickeduphervaliseandfollowedIsabel’sfather.Shelookedaroundandwasrelievedto
see that compared to the desert, LosAngeles had lush palms and green grass and even though itwasSeptember,roseswerestillbloomingintheflowerbeds.Shetookadeepbreath.Thearomaoforangesfromanearbygrovewasreassuringandfamiliar.Maybeitwouldn’tbesodifferenthere.Juan,Josefina,Mama,andHortensiacrowdedontothefrontseatofthericketytruck.Isabel,Esperanza,
Alfonso,andMiguelsatinthetruckbedwiththebabiesandthetworedhens.Thevehiclelookedlikeitshouldbehaulinganimalsinsteadofpeople,butEsperanzahadsaidnothingtoMama.Besides,aftersomanydaysonthetrain,itfeltgoodtostretchoutherlegs.TheoldjalopyrockedandswayedasitclimbedoutoftheSanFernandoValley,weavingupthrough
hillscoveredwithdried-outshrubs.Shesatwithherbackagainstthecabandthehotwindwhippedherloosehair.Alfonsotiedablanketacrossthewoodenslatstomakeacanopyofshade.Thebabies,LupeandPepe,agirlandaboy,weredark-eyedcherubs,withthickmopsofblackhair.
Esperanzawassurprisedathowmuchtheylookedalike;theonlydifferencewasthetinygoldearringsinLupe’sears.PepecrawledintoEsperanza’slapandLupeintoIsabel’s.WhenthebabyfellasleepagainstEsperanza,hisheadsliddownherarm,leavingastreamofperspiration.“Isitalwayssohothere?”sheasked.“Mypapasaysitisthedryairthatmakesitsohotandsometimesitisevenhotter,”saidIsabel.“Butit
isbetterthanlivinginElCentrobecausenowwedonothavetoliveinatent.”“Atent?”“LastyearweworkedforanotherfarminElCentrointheImperialValley,nottoofarfromtheborder.
Wewerethereduringthemelons.Welivedinatentwithadirtfloorandhadtocarrywater.Wecookedoutside.But thenwemoved north toArvin. That’swherewe’re going now.A big company owns thecamp.Wepay sevendollars amonthandmypapa says it isworth it tohavepiped-in coldwater andelectricityandakitcheninside.Hesaysthefarmissixthousandacres.”IsabelleanedtowardEsperanzaandgrinnedasifsheweretellingabigsecret.“Andaschool.Nextweek,Igettogotoschool,andIwilllearntoread.Canyouread?”“Ofcourse,”saidEsperanza.“Willyougotoschool?”askedIsabel.“Iwent toprivate school and startedwhen Iwas four so Ihavealreadypassed through level eight.
Whenmygrandmothercomes,maybeIwillgotohighschool.”“Well,whenIgotoschool,IwilllearninEnglish,”saidIsabel.Esperanzanoddedandtriedtosmileback.Isabelwassohappy,shethought,aboutsuchlittlethings.Thebrown,barrenmountainsrosehigherandared-tailedhawkseemedtofollowthemformiles.The
truckrattledupasteepgradepastsparse,drycanyonsandEsperanza’searsbegantofeelfullandtight.“Howmuchlonger?”“Wewillstopforlunchsoon,”saidIsabel.Theywove through thegoldenhills, softly sculptedwith rounded tops,until Juan finally slowed the
truckandturneddownasideroad.Whentheycametoanareashadedbyasingletree,theypiledoutofthe truckandJosefinaspreadablanketon theground, thenunwrappedabundleofburritos,avocados,andgrapes.Theysatintheshadeandate.Mama,Hortensia,andJosefinachattedandwatchedthebabieswhileIsabellaydownontheblanketbetweenAlfonsoandJuan.Shewassoonasleep.Esperanzawanderedawayfromthegroup,gratefulnottoberockinginatruckoratrain.Shewalkedto
anoverlook.Below,canyonsplungedtoanarroyo,asilverlineofwaterfromanunknownriver.Itwasquietandpeacefulhere,thesweetsilencebrokenonlybytheswishofdriedgrassesfromthewind.Withherfeetsolidonthegroundforthefirsttimeinmanydays,EsperanzarememberedwhatPapahad
taughtherwhen shewas little: If she layon the land, andwasvery still andquiet, shecouldhear theheartbeatofthevalley.“CanIhearitfromhere,Papa?”She stretched out on her stomach and reached her arms to the side, hugging the earth. She let the
stillnesssettleuponherandlistened.Sheheardnothing.Bepatient,sheremindedherself,andthefruitwillfallintoyourhand.She listenedagain,but theheartbeatwasnot there.She triedonemore time,desperatelywanting to
hearit.Buttherewasnoreassuringthumprepeatingitself.Nosoundoftheearth’sheartbeat.OrPapa’s.Therewasonlythepricklysoundofdrygrass.Determined,Esperanzapressedherearhardertotheground.“Ican’thearit!”Shepoundedtheearth.
“Letmehearit.”Tearsburstfromhereyesasifsomeonehadsqueezedanoverripeorange.Confusionanduncertaintyspilledforthandbecameanarroyooftheirown.Sherolledonherback,hertearswormingdownherfaceintoherears.Seeingnothingbutthevastsky
indizzyingswirlsofblueandwhite,shebegantofeelasifshewerefloatinganddriftingupward.Sheliftedhigherandpartofherlikedthesensationbutanotherpartofherfeltuntetheredandfrightened.Shetriedtofindtheplaceinherheartwhereherlifewasanchored,butshecouldn’t,sosheclosedhereyesandpressed thepalmsofherhandsagainst theearth,makingsure itwas there.She feltas if shewerefalling,careeningthroughthehotair.Herskinperspiredandshefeltcoldandnauseous.Shetookshortbreaths,heavinginandout.
Suddenly,theworldwentblack.Someonehoveredoverher.Shesatupquickly.Howlonghadshebeeninthedarkness?Sheheldherpoundingchestandlookedup
atMiguel.“Anza,areyouallright?”Shetookadeepbreathandbrushedoffherdress.Hadshereallyfloatedabovetheearth?HadMiguel
seenher?Sheknewherfacewasredandblotchy.“I’mfine,”shesaidquickly,wipingthetearsfromherface.“Don’ttellMama.Youknow…sheworries…”Miguelnodded.Hesatdownclosetoher.Withoutaskinganyquestions,hetookherhandandstayed
withher,thequietinterruptedonlybyheroccasionalstaccatobreaths.“Imisshim,too,”Miguelwhispered,squeezingherhand.“ImisstheranchandMexicoandAbuelita,
everything.AndIamsorryaboutwhatIsabelsaidtoyou.Imeantnothingbyit.”Shestaredatthedarkbrownandpurpleridgesstaggeredinthedistanceandlettheripetearscascade
downhercheeks.Andthistime,EsperanzadidnotletgoofMiguel’shand.
TheywereheadingdownasteepgradeonHighway99whenIsabelsaid,“Look!”Esperanzaleanedaroundthesideofthetruck.Astheyroundedacurve,itappearedasifthemountains
pulledawayfromeachother,likeacurtainopeningonastage,revealingtheSanJoaquinValleybeyond.Flatandspacious,itspreadoutlikeablanketofpatchworkfields.Esperanzacouldseenoendtotheplotsofyellow,brown,andshadesofgreen.Theroadfinally leveledouton thevalley floor,andshegazedback at themountains fromwhere they’d come.They looked likemonstrous lions’ paws resting at theedgeoftheridge.AbigtruckblewitshornandJuanpulledovertoletitpass,itsbedbulgingwithcantaloupes.Another
truckandanotherdidthesame.Acaravanoftruckspassedthem,allpiledhighwiththeroundmelons.Ononesideofthehighway,acresofgrapevinesstretchedoutinsoldieredrowsandswallowedupthe
arbors.Ontheotherside,fieldsandfieldsofdarkgreencottonplantsbecameaseaofmilk-whitepuffs.ThiswasnotagentlyrollinglandscapelikeAguascalientes.Forasfarastheeyecouldtravel,thelandwasunbrokenbyevenahillock.Esperanzafeltdizzylookingattherepeatedstraightrowsofgrapesandhadtoturnherheadaway.They finally turnedeastoff themainhighway.The truckwent slowernowandEsperanzacould see
workersinthefields.PeoplewavedandJuanhonkedthetruckhorninreturn.Thenhepulledthetrucktothe side of the road and pointed to a field that had been cleared of its harvest.Dried, rambling vinescoveredtheacreandleftovermelonsdottedtheground.“Thefieldmarkersaredown.Wecantakeasmanyaswecancarry,”hecalledbacktothem.
Alfonsojumpedout,tossedadozencantaloupestoMiguel,thensteppedupontherunningboardandslapped the topof the truck for Juan to start again.Themelons,warmedby thevalley sun, rolled andsomersaultedwitheachbumpofthetruck.TwogirlswalkingalongtheroadwavedandJuanstoppedagain.Oneofthemclimbedin,agirlabout
Miguel’sage.Herhairwasshort,black,andcurlyandherfeaturesweresharpandpointed.Sheleanedbackagainstthesideofthetruck,herhandsbehindherhead,andshestudiedEsperanza,hereyesdartingatMiguelwhenevershecould.“ThisisMarta,”saidIsabel.“Shelivesatanothercampwheretheypickcottonbutit isownedbya
differentcompany.Herauntanduncleliveatourcampsoshestayswiththemsometimes.”“Whereareyoufrom?”askedMarta.“Aguascalientes.ElRanchodelasRosas,”saidEsperanza.“IhaveneverheardofElRanchodelasRosas.Isthatatown?”“Itwastheranchtheylivedon,”saidIsabelproudly,hereyesroundandshining.“Esperanza’sfather
owneditandthousandsofacresofland.Shehadlotsofservantsandbeautifuldressesandshewenttoprivateschool,too.Miguelismycousinandheandhisparentsworkedforthem.”“Soyou’reaprincesswho’scometobeapeasant?Where’sallyourfinery?”Esperanzastaredatherandsaidnothing.“What’sthematter,silverspoonstuckinyourmouth?”Hervoicewassmartandbiting.“Afiredestroyedeverything.Sheandhermotherhavecometowork,liketherestofus,”saidMiguel.Confused,Isabeladded,“Esperanza’snice.Herpapadied.”“Well,my father died, too,” saidMarta. “Before he came to this country, he fought in theMexican
revolutionagainstpeoplelikeherfatherwhoownedalltheland.”EsperanzastaredbackatMarta,unblinking.Whathadshedonetodeservethisgirl’sinsults?Through
grittedteeth,shesaid,“Youknownothingofmypapa.Hewasagood,kindmanwhogavemuchofhispropertytohisservants.”“Thatmightbeso,”saidMarta.“Buttherewereplentyoftherichwhodidnot.”“Thatwasnotmypapa’sfault.”Isabelpointedtooneofthefields,tryingtochangethesubject.“ThosepeopleareFilipinos,”shesaid.
“Theyliveintheirowncamp.Andseeoverthere?”Shepointedtoafielddowntheroad.“ThosepeoplearefromOklahoma.TheyliveinCamp8.There’saJapanesecamp,too.Weallliveseparateandworkseparate.Theydon’tmixus.”“Theydon’twantusbanding together forhigherwagesorbetterhousing,”saidMarta.“Theowners
thinkifMexicanshavenohotwater,thatwewon’tmindaslongaswethinknoonehasany.Theydon’twantustalkingtotheOkiesfromOklahomaoranyoneelsebecausewemightdiscoverthattheyhavehotwater.See?”“DotheOkieshavehotwater?”askedMiguel.
“Notyet,butiftheygetit,wewillstrike.”“Strike?”saidMiguel.“Youmeanyouwillstopworking?Don’tyouneedyourjob?”“OfcourseIneedmyjob,butifalltheworkersjointogetherandrefusetowork,wemightallgetbetter
conditions.”“Aretheconditionssobad?”askedMiguel.“Somearedecent.Theplaceyouaregoingtoisoneofthebetterones.Theyevenhavefiestas.There’s
ajamaicathisSaturdaynight.”IsabelturnedtoEsperanza.“Youwilllovethejamaicas.WehavethemeverySaturdaynightduringthe
summer.Thereismusicandfoodanddancing.ThisSaturdayisthelastforthisyearbecausesoonitwillbetoocold.”EsperanzanoddedandtriedtopayattentiontoIsabel.MartaandMigueltalkedandgrinnedbackand
forth.Anunfamiliar feelingwascreepingup insideofEsperanza.Shewanted to tossMartaoutof themovingtruckandscoldMiguelforeventalkingtoher.Hadn’theseenherrudeness?Shebroodedastheyrodepastmilesofyoungtamarisktreesthatseemedtobetheborderofsomeone’s
property.“BeyondthosetreesistheMexicancamp,”saidIsabel,“wherewelive.”MartasmirkedatEsperanzaandsaid,“Justsoyouknow.Thisisn’tMexico.Noonewillbewaitingon
youhere.”Thenshegaveheraphonysmileandsaid,“¿Entiendes?Understand?”Esperanza stared back at her in silence.Theone thing she did understandwas that she did not like
Marta.
“We’rehere,”saidIsabel,asthetruckturnedintocampandslowedtoacrawl.Esperanzastoodupandlookedoverthecab.
Theywere in a large clearing, surroundedbygrape fields.Rowupon rowofwhitewooden cabinsformedlonglines,connectedlikebunkhouses.Eachcabinhadonesmallwindowandtwowoodenstepsthatledtothedoor.Shecouldn’thelpbutthinkthattheyweren’tevenasniceastheservants’cabinsinAguascalientes.TheyremindedEsperanzamoreofthehorsestallsontheranchthanofaplaceforpeopletolive.Abigmountainloomedintheeast,framingonesideofthevalley.Martajumpedoutandrantowardsomegirlsstandingtogethernearthecabins.Esperanzacouldhear
themtalkinginEnglish,thewordshardandclipped,asiftheywerespeakingwithsticksintheirmouths.They all looked at her and laughed. She turned away, thinking that if Isabel could learn English, thenmaybesomedayshecouldlearnit,too.A lineof flatbed truckspulled into a clearing andcampesinos hopped down, home from the fields.
Peoplecalled tooneanother.Children ran to their fathersyelling,“Papi!Papi!”Esperanza feltadeeppang.Shewatchedandwonderedhowshewouldfitintothisworld.Isabelpointedtoawoodenbuildingofftotheside.“That’swheretheyhaveallthetoilets.”Esperanzacringedasshetriedtoimaginehavingnoprivacy.“We’relucky,”saidIsabelsolemnly.“Insomecamps,wehadtogoinditches.”Esperanzalookeddownather,swallowed,andnodded,suddenlythankfulforsomething.AforemancameoverandshookhandswithJuanandAlfonsoandpointedtothecabininfrontofthe
truck.Thewomengotout,tookthebabies,andhelpedMiguelwiththebags.MamaandEsperanzawalkedintothecabin.Ithadtwosmallrooms.Onehalfofthefrontroomwasthe
kitchenwith a stove, sink, and counter, and a table and chairs.Apile ofwoodwaitednear the stove.Across the roomwas amattresson the floor.Theback roomhadanothermattressbig enough for twopeopleandatinycot.Inbetweensatawoodenfruitcrate,tobeusedasanighttable,itssidestouchingeachbed.Abovewasanothersmallwindow.MamalookedaroundandthengaveEsperanzaaweaksmile.“IsthisourcabinorHortensia’sandAlfonso’s?”askedEsperanza,hopingthathersandMama’smight
bebetter.“Wearealltogetherinthiscabin,”saidMama.“Mama,wecan’tpossiblyallfit!”“Esperanza,theywillonlygiveonecabinforeachmanwithafamily.Thereisnohousingforsingle
women.Thisisafamilycampsowemusthaveamaleheadofhouseholdtoliveandworkhere.AndthatisAlfonso.”Mamasanktothebed.Hervoicesoundedtired.“Hehastoldthemwearehiscousinsandif
anyoneasksus,wemustsayit’strue.Otherwisewecannotstay.WearenextdoortoJuanandJosefinasowe can adjust the sleeping arrangements.Miguelwill sleep next doorwith them and the babies.AndIsabelwillsleepherewithAlfonso,Hortensia,andus.”Miguelcameinandsetdowntheirvalises,thenleft.EsperanzacouldhearAlfonsoandHortensiainthe
nextroom,talkingaboutthecampoffice.Mamagotuptounpackandbegantosing.Esperanza felt anger crawling up her throat. “Mama,we are living like horses!Howcan you sing?
Howcanyoubehappy?Wedon’tevenhavearoomtocallourown.”Thetalkingsuddenlystoppedintheotherroom.MamagaveEsperanzaalong,hardlook.Shecalmlywalkedoverandshutthedoortothesmallroom.“Sitdown,”shesaid.Esperanzasatonthetinycot,itsspringsscreeching.Mamasatonthebedoppositeher,theirkneesalmosttouching.“Esperanza,ifwehadstayedinMexico
andIhadmarriedTíoLuis,wewouldhavehadonechoice.Tobeapartandmiserable.Here,wehavetwochoices.Tobe togetherandmiserableor tobe togetherandhappy.Mija,wehaveeachother andAbuelita will come. Howwould she want you to behave? I choose to be happy. So which will youchoose?”SheknewwhatMamawantedtohear.“Happy,”shesaidquietly.“Doyouknowhowluckyweare,Esperanza?Manypeoplecometothisvalleyandwaitmonthsfora
job.Juanwenttoalotoftroubletomakesurewehadthiscabinwaitingforuswhenwegothere.Pleasebegratefulforthefavorsbestoweduponus.”Mamabentoverandkissedher,thenlefttheroom.Esperanzalaiddownonthecot.Afewminuteslater,Isabelcameinandsatonthebed.“Willyoutellmewhatitwasliketobesovery
rich?”ShelookedatIsabel,hereyesanticipatingsomewonderfulstory.Esperanzawasquietforamoment,clingingtoonepossiblethought.Thenshesaid,“Iamstill rich, Isabel.WewillonlybehereuntilAbuelita iswellenough to travel.
Thenshewillcomewithhermoneyandwewillbuyabighouse.Ahouse thatPapawouldhavebeenproudforustolivein.MaybewewillbuytwohousessothatHortensia,Alfonso,andMiguelcanliveinoneandworkforusagain.Andyoucanvisitus,Isabel.Yousee,thisisonlytemporary.Wewillnotbehereforlong.”“¿Deveras?”askedIsabel.“Yes,itisthetruth,”saidEsperanza,staringattheceilingthatsomeonehadcoveredwithnewspaper
andcardboard.“Mypapawouldneverhavewantedustoliveinaplacelikethis.”SheclosedhereyesandheardIsabeltiptoeoutoftheroomandshutthedoor.Thewearinessfromthedaysoftravelfloodedoverher,andhermindwanderedfrompeoplepeeingin
ditches,toMarta’srudeness,tothehorsestallsatElRanchodelasRosas.Howcouldshebehappyorgratefulwhenshehadneverbeenmoremiserableinherlife?
WhenEsperanzaopenedhereyesagain,itwasalmostlightandsheheardMama,Hortensia,andAlfonsotalkinginthenextroom.Shehadsleptthroughdinnerandtheentirenight.Shesmelledcaféandchorizo.The coffee and sausagemade her stomach growl and she tried to rememberwhen she had last eaten.IsabelwasstillasleepinthebednexttoherssoEsperanzaquietlypulledonalongwrinkledskirtandwhiteblouse.Shebrushedherhairandwentintotheotherroom.“Goodmorning,”saidMama.“Sitdownandeatsomething.Youmustbestarved.”Atthetable,Hortensiapattedherhand.“Youmissedgoingtotheforeman’sofficelastnight.Wesigned
thepaperstolivehere.Wealreadyhaveworktoday.”Mamaputaplateoftortillas,eggs,andsausageinfrontofher.“Wheredidallthefoodcomefrom?”askedEsperanza.“Josefina,”saidHortensia.“Shebroughtsomegroceriesuntilwecangotothestorethisweekend.”“Esperanza,” saidMama, “you and Isabel will be watching the babies while the rest of us work.
Alfonso and Juanwill be picking grapes andHortensia, Josefina, and Iwill be packing grapes in thesheds.”“ButIwanttoworkwithyouandHortensiaandJosefina!”“You’renotoldenoughtoworkinthesheds,”saidMama.“AndIsabelisnotoldenoughtowatchthe
babies by herself. If you watch the babies, then Josefina can work and that is one more paying jobbetweenus.Wemustalldoourpart.Youwillhaveacampjob,too,sweepingthewoodenplatformeveryafternoon,forwhichtheywilldeductalittlefromourrenteachmonth.Isabelcanshowyouwhattodolater.”“What’stheplatform?”Esperanzaasked.“It’s thebigwoodenfloor,outside, in themiddleof thecamp.Juansaid theyuseit formeetingsand
dances,”saidMama.Esperanzastaredatherfood.Shedidnotwanttobestuckincampwiththechildren.“Where’sMiguel?”shesaid.“HealreadyleftforBakersfieldwithsomeothermentolookforworkattherailroad,”saidAlfonso.Isabelcameoutofthebedroomrubbinghereyes.“Misobrina,my niece,” saidHortensia, hugging Isabel. “Go say goodmorning to yourmother and
fatherbeforeweallleaveforwork.”Isabelhuggedherandrannextdoor.EsperanzastudiedMamaas shemadeunburritode frijoles for lunchandwrapped the soft tortilla
filledwithpintobeansinpaper.Shelookeddifferent.Wasitthelongcottondressandthebigfloweredaprontiedatherwaist?No,itwasmorethanthat.“Mama,”saidEsperanza.“Yourhair!”Mama’shairrandownherbackinasinglelongbraid,almosttouchingherwaist.Esperanzahadnever
seenMamawearherhairthatway.Itwasalwaysdoneupinherbeautifulplaitedbun,orwhenshewasready for bed, brushed out and flowing. Mama looked shorter and, somehow, not herself. Esperanzadidn’tlikeit.Mamareachedupandstrokedthebackofherhead.Sheseemedembarrassed.“I…IfiguredoutthatI
can’twearahatwithmyhairontopofmyhead.Andthismakesmoresense,doesitnot?Afterall,Iamgoingtoworktoday,nottoafiesta.”ThenshehuggedEsperanza.“Wemustgonow.Thetrucksleaveat6:30totakeustothesheds.TakegoodcareofthebabiesandstaywithIsabel.Sheknowsthecamp.”As the three of themwalked out, Esperanza noticedMama reaching up, hesitantly touching her hair
again.WhenEsperanzafinishedeating,shewentoutsideandstoodonthefrontstep.Insteadoffacinganother
rowofcabins,theircabinwasinthelastrowfacingthefields.Straightahead,acrossadirtroad,wereseveralchinaberrytreesandamulberrytreethatprovideddeepshadeoverawoodentable.Beyondtherowoftreesweregrapefields,stilllush.Totheright,acrossagrassyfield,wasthemainroad.Atruckpiledhighwithproducedroveby,losingacloudofdebris.After itpassed, thesharpsmell toldher theywereonions, thedryouterskinsbeingshreddedby the
wind.Anothertruckfollowed.Againthesmellbitintohersenses.Itwasstillearlysotheairwascool,butthesunwasbrightandsheknewitwouldbehotsoon.The
henspeckedandpokedaroundthefrontsteps.Theymusthavebeenhappytobeoffthetrain.Esperanzashooedthemoutofherwayassheturnedandwalkednextdoor.The babieswere still in their pajamas. Isabelwas struggling to feedLupe her oatmealwhile Pepe
crawledonthefloor.Splotchesofhiscerealstillstucktohischeeks.AssoonashesawEsperanza,hereachedupforher.“Let’scleanthemup,”saidIsabel.“AndthenI’llshowyouthecamp.”First,IsabeltookEsperanzatotheplatformshewastosweepandshowedherwherethebroomswere
stored.Thentheywalkedthroughtherowsofcabins,eachwithababyonherhip.Astheypassedopendoors, Esperanza could already smell the beans and onions that someone had started simmering fordinner.Womenweredraggingbigmetalwashtubsbeneaththeshadetrees.Agroupofyoungboyskickedaballupanddownthedirtroad,stirringupdust.Alittlegirl,wearingaman’sundershirtasadress,ranuptoIsabelandtookherhand.“ThisisSilvia.Sheismybestfriend.Nextweek,wewillgotoschooltogether.”SilviaswitchedaroundandgrabbedEsperanza’sfreehand.EsperanzalookeddownatSilvia’sdirtyhands.SilviagrinnedupatherandEsperanza’sfirstthought
wastopullherhandawayandwashitassoonaspossible.ThensherememberedMama’skindnesstothepeasantgirlonthetrain—andherdisappointmentinEsperanza.Shedidn’twantSilviatostartcryingifsheweretopullaway.Shelookedaroundatthedustycampandthoughtthatitmustbehardtostaycleaninsuchaplace.ShesqueezedSilvia’shandandsaid,“Ihaveabestfriend,too.HernameisMarisolandshelivesinAguascalientes.”Isabel introducedEsperanza to IreneandMelina, twowomenwhowerehangingclothes todryona
long linestretchedbetween thecabinsanda tree. Irenehad longgrayhair tied ina tail.Melinadidn’tlookmucholderthanMiguelandshealreadyhadababyofherown.“WeheardthestoryofhowyoucamefromAguascalientes,”saidMelina.“Myhusbandisfromthere.
HeusedtoworkforSeñorRodríguez.”Esperanza’sfacelitupatthisnews.“Heknewmyfathersincehewasaboy.Doyouthinkyourhusband
knewMarisol,SeñorRodríguez’sdaughter?”Melina laughed. “No, no. I’m sure he didn’t.Hewasuncampesino, a field servant.Hewould not
knowthefamily.”Esperanza felt awkwardanddidn’tmean tomakeMelinaadmit thatherhusbandwasa servant.But
Melina didn’t seem bothered and began recalling other farms her husband had worked on inAguascalientes.IsabelpulledonEsperanza’sarm.“Weneedtochangethebabies.”Astheywalkedbacktothecabin,shesaid,“Theyaremotheranddaughter.Theycomeovertotalkand
crochetwithmymotherallthetime.”“Howdotheyknowallaboutusalready?”Isabelraisedherhandandmadeherfingerstapupanddownonherthumbasifamouthwastalking.
“Everyoneincampknowseachother’sbusiness.”
“Doyouknowhowtochangeadiaper?”askedEsperanzawhentheygotbacktothecabin.“Certainly,”saidIsabel.“Iwillchange themandyoucanrinseout thediapers.Weneed todosome
laundry,too.”Esperanzawatchedastheyounggirllaidthebabiesdownoneatatime,unpinnedtheirdiapers,wiped
theirbottomsclean,andpinnedonfreshdiapers.IsabelhandedEsperanzathesmellybundlesandsaid,“TakethemtothetoiletsanddumpthemandI’ll
fillthewashtub.”Esperanzaheldthematarm’slengthandalmostrantothetoilets.Severalmoreoniontruckspassedby,
their smell accosting her eyes and nose asmuch as the diapers. By the time she got back, Isabel hadalready filled twowashtubswithwater fromanoutsidepipe andwas swirling soap around in oneof
them.Awashboardwasproppedinside.Esperanzawenttothewashtubandhesitated,staringintothewater.Bitsofonionskinsfloatedonthe
surfaceof thesoapywater.Sheheldacornerofoneof thediapers, lightlydipping it inandoutof thewater, her hand never gettingwet.After a few seconds, she gingerly lifted the diaper from thewater.“Nowwhat?”shesaid.“Esperanza!Youmustscrubthem!Likethis.”Isabelwalkedover,tookthediapers,andplungedthem
into thewater up to her elbows.Thewater quickly becamemurky.She rubbed the diaperswith soap,vigorously scrubbed themback and forth on thewashboard, andwrung themout.Then she transferredthemtothenexttub,rinsingandwringingagain.Isabelshookoutthecleandiapersandhungthemonthelinestretchedbetweenthechinaberryandmulberrytrees.Thenshestartedontheclothes.Esperanzawasamazed.ShehadneverwashedanythinginherlifeandIsabel,whowasonlyeightyearsold,madeitlooksoeasy.Puzzled,IsabellookedatEsperanza.“Don’tyouknowhowtowashclothes?”“Well,Hortensia tookeverythingout to the laundryquarters.And the servants, theyalways…”She
lookedatIsabelandshookherheadno.Isabel’seyesgotbiggerandshelookedworried.“Esperanza,whenIgotoschoolnextweek,youwill
beherealonewiththebabiesandwillhavetodothelaundry.”Esperanzatookadeepbreathandsaidweakly,“Icanlearn.”“Andlatertoday,youmustsweeptheplatform.You…youdoknowhowtosweep?”“Ofcourse,”saidEsperanza.Shehadseenpeoplesweepmanytimes.Many,manytimes,sheassured
herself.Besides,shewasalreadytooembarrassedaboutthewashingtoadmitanythingelsetoIsabel.
Isabel satwith thebabieswhileEsperanzawent to sweep theplatform.Thecampwasquiet andeventhough it was late in the day, the sun was unrelenting. She retrieved the broom and stepped onto thewoodenfloor.Driedandbrittleonionskinswereeverywhere.Inherentirelife,Esperanzahadneverheldabroominherhand.ButshehadseenHortensiasweepand
shetriedtovisualizethememory.Itcouldn’tpossiblybethathard.Sheputbothhandsnearthemiddleofthebroomstickandmoveditbackandforth.Itswungwildly.Themotionseemedawkwardandthefinedirtonthewoodenplanksliftedintoacloud.OnionjacketsflewintotheairinsteadofgatheringtogetherinaneatpilelikeHortensia’s.Esperanza’selbowsdidnotknowwhattodo.Neitherdidherarms.Shefeltstreamsofperspirationslidingdownherneck.Shestoppedforamomentandstaredatthebroom,asifwillingittobehave.Determined,shetriedagain.Shehadn’tnoticedthatseveraltruckswerealreadyunloadingworkersnearby.Thensheheardit.Firstasmalltitteringandthenlouder.Sheturnedaround.Agroupofwomenwerelaughingather.AndinthemiddleofthegroupwasMarta,pointing.
“¡LaCenicienta!Cinderella!”shelaughed.Burningwithhumiliation,Esperanzadroppedthebroomandranbacktothecabin.Inherroom,shesatontheedgeofthecot.Herfaceflushedagainatthethoughtoftheridicule.Shewas
stillsittingthere,staringatthewall,whenIsabelfoundher.“IsaidIcouldwork.ItoldMamaIcouldhelp.ButIcannotevenwashclothesorsweepafloor.Does
thewholecampknow?”Isabelsatdownonthebednexttoherandpattedherback.“Yes.”Esperanzagroaned.“Iwillneverbeable toshowmyface.”Sheputherhead inherhandsuntil she
heardsomeoneelsecomeintotheroom.EsperanzalookeduptoseeMiguel,holdingabroomandadustpan.Buthewasn’tlaughing.Shelooked
downandbitherlipsoshewouldn’tcryinfrontofhim.Heshutthedoor,thenstoodinfrontofherandsaid,“Howwouldyouknowhowtosweepafloor?The
onlythingthatyoueverlearnedwashowtogiveorders.Thatisnotyourfault.Anza,lookatme.”Shelookedup.“Payattention,”hesaid,hisfaceserious.“Youholdthebroomlikethis.Onehandhereandtheother
here.”Esperanzawatched.“Thenyoupushlikethis.Orpullittowardyoulikethis.Here,youtry,”hesaid,holdingoutthebroom.Slowly,Esperanzagotupand took thebroomfromhim.Hepositionedherhandson thehandle.She
triedtocopyhimbuthermovementsweretoobig.“Smallerstrokes,”saidMiguel,coaching.“Andsweepallinonedirection.”Shedidashesaid.“Now,whenyougetallthedirtintoapile,youholdthebroomdownhere,nearthebottom,andpush
thedirtintothepan.”Esperanzacollectedthedirt.“See,youcandoit.”Miguelraisedhisthickeyebrowsandsmiled.“Someday,youjustmightmakea
verygoodservant.”Isabelgiggled.Esperanzacouldnotyetfindhumorinthesituation.Somberlyshesaid,“Thankyou,Miguel.”Hegrinnedandbowed.“Atyourservice,mireina.”Butthistime,hisvoicewaskind.Sherememberedthathehadgonetolookforworkattherailroad.“Didyougetajob?”Hissmilefaded.Heputhishandsinhispocketsandshruggedhisshoulders.“Itisfrustrating.Icanfix
anyengine.ButtheywillonlyhireMexicanstolaytrackanddigditches,notasmechanics.I’vedecidedtoworkinthefieldsuntilIcanconvincesomeonetogivemeachance.”Esperanzanodded.After he left the room, Isabel said, “He calls youmi reina!Will you tell me about your life as a
queen?”Esperanzasatonthemattressandpattedthespotnexttoher.Isabelsatdown.“Isabel, Iwill tell you all about how I used to live.About parties andprivate school andbeautiful
dresses. Iwill even showyou thebeautiful dollmypapaboughtme, if youwill teachmehow topindiapers,howtowash,and…”Isabelinterruptedher.“Butthatissoeasy!”Esperanzastoodupandcarefullypracticedwiththebroom.“Itisnoteasyforme.”
“Ay,myneckhurts,”saidMamaasshemassaged thebackofherheadwithherhand.“It isnotmyneck.It’smyarmsthataresore,”saidHortensia.
“Itisthesameforeveryone,”saidJosefina.“Whenyoufirststartinthesheds,thebodyrefusestobend,butintime,youwillgetusedtothework.”Everyonehadcomehomethatnighttiredandwithvariousachesandpains.Theygatheredinonecabin
for dinner, so it was crowded and noisy. Josefina warmed a pot of beans and Hortensia made freshtortillas. Juan and Alfonso talked about the fields while Miguel and Isabel played with the babies,making themsquealwith laughter.Mamacookedarroz, andEsperanzawas surprised thatMamaknewjusthow tobrown it first inoilwithonionsandpeppers.Esperanzachopped tomates for a salad andhopednoonewouldmentionthesweeping.Shewasgladthisdaywasover.Herbruiseshadbeentoherpride.Isabel took a fresh tortilla, sprinkled itwith salt, rolled it up like a cigar andwaved it atMiguel.
“HowcomeyouandTíoAlfonsowon’tletmegobehindthecabinwithyou?”“Shhh,”hesaid.“It’sasurprise.”“Whyareyousofullofsecrets?”askedEsperanza.ButneitherAlfonsonorMiguelanswered.Theysimplysmiledwhiletheypreparedtheirplates.Theyatedinner,butbeforetheycouldsliceacantaloupefordessert,AlfonsoandMigueldisappeared,
withinstructionsnottofollowthem.“Whataretheydoing?”demandedIsabel.Hortensiashruggedasifsheknewnothing.Miguelcamebackjustbeforesunset.“SeñoraandEsperanza,wehavesomethingtoshowyou.”Esperanza looked atMama. Itwas obviousMamawas as confused as shewas. They all followed
MigueltowhereAlfonsowaswaiting.Behindthecabinwasanoldovalwashtubwithoneendcutoff.Ithadbeensetonitsside,forminga
littleshrinearoundaplasticstatueofOurLadyofGuadalupe.Someonehadbuiltagrottoofrocksaroundthebaseofthetub.Aroundit,alargeplotofearthhadbeenfencedinbysticksandropeandplantedwiththornystems,eachwithonlyafewbranches.Isabelgasped.“It’sbeautiful.Isthatourstatue?”Josefinanodded.“Buttherosescomefromfaraway.”EsperanzasearchedMiguel’sface,hereyeshopeful.“Papa’s?”“Yes,theseareyourpapa’sroses,”saidMiguel,smilingather.Alfonsohaddug circlesof earth around eachplant,casitas, little houses, thatmademoats for deep
watering.JustlikehehaddoneinAguascalientes.
“Buthow?”Esperanzarememberedtherosegardenasablackenedgraveyard.“Afterthefire,myfatherandIdugdowntotheroots.Manywerestillhealthy.Wecarriedthecuttings
fromAguascalientes.Andthat’swhywehadtokeepthemwet.Wethinktheywillgrow.Intime,wewillseehowmanybloom.”Esperanzabentclosertolookatthestemsrootedinmulch.Theywereleaflessandstubby,butlovingly
planted.Sherememberedthenightbeforethefire,whenshehadlastseentherosesandhadwantedtoaskHortensiatomakerosehiptea.Butshe’dneverhadthechance.Now,iftheybloomedshecoulddrinkthememoriesof the roses thathadknownPapa.She lookedatMiguel,blinkingback tears.“Whichone isyours?”Miguelpointedtoone.“Whichoneismine?”Hesmiledandpointedtotheonethatwasclosesttothecabinwallandalreadyhadamakeshifttrellis
proppedagainstit.“Soyoucanclimb,”hesaid.Mamawalkedupanddown,carefullytouchingeachcutting.ShetookAlfonso’shandsinherownand
kissedhimoneachcheek.ThenshewenttoMiguelanddidthesame.“Muchasgracias,”shesaid.MamalookedatEsperanza.“Didn’tItellyouthatPapa’sheartwouldfinduswhereverwego?”
The nextmorning, Hortensia put a piece of fabric over the window and sent Alfonso next door withMiguel,Juan,andthebabies.Hortensia,Mama,andJosefinabroughtinthebigwashtubsandfilledthemhalffullwithcoldwater.Thentheyheatedpotsofwateronthestoveandwarmedthebaths.Esperanzawasexcitedattheideaofgettingintoatub.Alltheyhaddonesincetheyarrivedwaswashtheirfacesandarmswith coldwater in the sink.Shehadn’t had a real bath since she leftAguascalientes.But itwasSaturdayandtonightwasthejamaica,sotheentirecampwasgettingcleanedup.Bathswerebeingtaken,shirtsironed,andhairwashedandcrimped.Hortensia hadgivenEsperanzaher baths since shewas a baby and theyhad an established routine.
EsperanzastoodnearthetubwithherarmsoutstretchedwhileHortensiaundressedher.Thenshegotinthe tuband triednot towigglewhileHortensiawashedher.She’d tiltherheadback,keepinghereyesclosed,whileHortensiarinsedherhair.Finally,shestoodupandnodded,whichwasHortensia’ssignaltowrapthetowelaroundher.Esperanzawenttooneofthewashtubs,putherhandsouttohersides,andwaited.Josefinalookedat
Hortensiaandraisedhereyebrows.Isabelsaid,“Esperanza,whatareyoudoing?”MamawalkedovertoEsperanzaandsaidsoftly,“I’vebeenthinkingthatyouareoldenoughtobathe
yourself,don’tyouthink?”
EsperanzaquicklydroppedherarmsandrememberedMarta’stauntingvoicesaying,“Noonewillbewaitingonyouhere.”“Yes,Mama,” she said, and for the second time in two days, she felt her face burning as everyone
staredather.Hortensiacameover,putherarmaroundEsperanzaandsaid,“Weareaccustomed todoing thingsa
certainway,aren’twe,Esperanza?ButIguessIamnottoooldtochange.Wewillhelpeachother.IwillunbuttonthebuttonsyoucannotreachandyouwillhelpIsabel,yes?Josefina,weneedmorehotwaterinthesetubs.Ándale,hurry.”AsHortensiahelpedherwithherblouse,Esperanzawhispered,“Thankyou.”IsabelandEsperanzawentfirst,bathinginthetubs,thenbendingtheirheadsovertowashtheirhair.
MamaandJosefinapouredcupsofwaterover themtorinseoff thesoap.Thewomen took turnsgoingbackandforthtothestoveforhotwater.Esperanzalikedbeingwithalloftheminthetinyroom,talkingandlaughing,andrinsingeachother’shair.JosefinaandHortensiatalkedaboutallthegossipinthecamp.Mamasat inherslipandcombedoutIsabel’s tangles.Thewomentooktheir turnsandwhenHortensianeededhotwater,Esperanzarushedtogetitforherbeforeanyoneelsecould.Cleananddressed,withstill-wethair,EsperanzaandIsabelwentoutsidetothewoodentableunderthe
trees. Josefina had given them a burlap bag of almonds that shewanted shelled. Isabel bent over andbrushedherhairinthedryair.“Areyoucomingtothejamaicatonight?”sheasked.Esperanza didn’t answer at first. She had not left the cabin since she had made a fool of herself
yesterday.“Idon’tknow.Maybe.”“Mymamasaiditisbesttogetitoverwithandfacepeople.Andthatiftheyteaseyou,youshouldjust
laugh,”saidIsabel.“Iknow,”saidEsperanza,fluffingherownhairthatwasalreadyalmostdry.Shedumpedthenutsonto
thetableandpickedupanalmondstillinitsflattenedpod.Thesoftandfuzzyoutsidehulllookedliketwohands pressed together, protecting something inside. Esperanza popped it open and found the almondshell.Shesnappedtheedgeoftheshellandprieditapart,thenpulledthemeatfromitsdefensesandateit.“IsupposeMartawillbetheretonight?”“Probably,”saidIsabel.“Andallofherfriends,too.”“HowdoessheknowEnglish?”“Shewas born here andhermother, too.They are citizens,” said Isabel, helping shell the almonds.
“HerfathercamefromSonoraduringtherevolution.TheyhaveneverevenbeentoMexico.There’slotsof kidswho live in our campwho have never been toMexico.My father doesn’t like itwhenMartacomestoourjamaicas,though,becausesheisalwaystalkingtopeopleaboutstriking.Therewasalmostastrikeduringalmondsbutnotenoughpeopleagreed tostopworking.Mymamasays that if therehadbeenastrike,wewouldhavehadtogointotheorchardandshakethetreesourselvesforthesealmonds.”“Thenwe’relucky.Whatisyourmothermakingwiththesenuts?”
“Flandealmendra,”saidIsabel.“Shewillsellslicesatthejamaicatonight.”Esperanza’s mouth watered. Almond flan was one of her favorite sweets. “Then I’ve made my
decision.Iwillcome.”
Theplatformwaslitupwithbiglights.Menfromthecamp,instarchedandpressedshirtsandcowboyhats,satinchairstuningtheirguitarsandviolins.Longrowsoftableswerecoveredinbrighttableclothswherewomensoldtamales,desserts,andthespecialty,AguadeJamaica,HibiscusFlowerWaterpunchmadewiththeredMexicanjamaicabloom.Therewasbingoonwoodentablesandalonglineofchairscirclingthedanceareaforthosewhowantedtowatch.That’swhereMamaandHortensiasat,talkingtootherwomen.Esperanzastayedclosetothem,watchingthegrowingcrowd.“Wheredoall thepeoplecomefrom?”sheasked.Theothernight,shehadheardJuansaythatabout
twohundredpeoplelivedintheircamp,butthereweremanymorethanthatnow.“These fiestas are popular. People come fromother camps,” said Josefina. “And fromBakersfield,
too.”Whenthemusicstarted,everyonecrowdedaroundtheplatform,clappingandsinging.Peoplestarted
dancingintheareaaroundthestage.Childrenraneverywhere,chasingandhiding.Menheldyoungboyson their shoulders, andwomen swaddled their infants, all of them swaying to the sounds of the smallband.Afterawhile,EsperanzaleftMamaandtheothersandwanderedthroughthenoisycrowd,thinkinghow
strangeitwasthatshecouldbeinthemiddleofsomanypeopleandstillfeelsoalone.Shesawagroupof girls who seemed about her age but they were huddled together. More than anything, she wishedMarisolwerehere.Isabelfoundherandpulledonherhand.“Esperanza,comeandsee.”Esperanzaletherselfbeledthroughthecrowd.Someonefromtownhadbroughtalitterofkittens.A
groupofgirlswerecrowdednexttothecardboardbox,cooingandcradlingthem.ItwasclearthatIsabeldesperatelywantedone.Esperanzawhispered toher, “Iwill goaskyourmother.”Shewoveback through thecrowd to find
Josefina,andwhensheagreed,EsperanzapracticallyranbacktothespottotellIsabel.Butwhenshegotthere,abiggercrowdhadgatheredandsomethingelsewasgoingon.Martaandsomeofherfriendsstoodinthebedofatruckthatwasparkednearby,eachofthemholding
uponeofthetinykittens.“This iswhatweare!” sheyelled.“Small,meekanimals.And that ishow they treatusbecausewe
don’tspeakup.Ifwedon’taskforwhatisrightfullyours,wewillnevergetit!Isthishowwewanttolive?”Sheheld thekittenby thebackof theneck,waving ithigh in theair. Ithunglimpinfrontof the
crowd.“Withnodecenthomeandatthemercyofthosebiggerthanus,richerthanus?”Isabeltrembled,hereyesinapanic.“Willshedropit?”Amancalledout,“Maybeallthatcatwantstodoisfeeditsfamily.Maybeitdoesn’tcarewhatallthe
othercatsaredoing.”“Señor, does it not bother you that some of your compadres live better than others?” yelled one of
Marta’sfriends.“Wearegoingtostrikeintwoweeks.Atthepeakofthecotton.Forhigherwagesandbetterhousing!”“Wedon’tpickcottononthisfarm!”yelledanothermanfromtheircamp.“Whatdoesitmatter?”yelledMarta.“Ifweallstopworking,ifalltheMexicansarejuntos, together
…”Shemadeafistandhelditintheair,“…thenmaybeitwillhelpusall!”Heyelledback,“Thatisachancewecannottake.Wejustwanttowork.That’swhywecamehere.Get
outofourcamp!”Acheerroseuparoundhim.PeoplestartedshovingandEsperanzagrabbedIsabel’shandandpulled
heraside.Ayoungmanjumpedintothetruckandstartedtheengine.Martaandtheotherstossedthekittensinto
thefield.Thentheypulledsomeoftheirsupportersintothebackofthetruckwiththemandraisedtheirarms,chanting,“¡Huelga!¡Huelga!Strike!Strike!”
“Whyisshesoangry?”askedEsperanza,asshewalkedbacktothecabinafewhourslaterwithJosefina,Isabel,andthebabies,leavingtheotherstostaylater.Isabelcarriedthesoft,mewingorangekitteninherarms.“Sheandhermothermovearound to findwork, sometimes all over the state,” said Josefina. “They
workwhereverthereissomethingtobeharvested.Thosecamps,themigrantcamps,aretheworst.”“LikewhenwewereinElCentro?”saidIsabel.“Worse,”saidJosefina.“Ourcampisacompanycampandpeoplewhoworkheredon’tleave.Some
livehereformanyyears.Thatiswhywecametothiscountry.Towork.Totakecareofourfamilies.Tobecomecitizens.Weareluckybecauseourcampisbetterthanmost.Therearemanyofuswhodon’twanttoget involved in the strikebecausewecan’t afford to loseour jobs, andweare accustomed tohowthingsareinourlittlecommunity.”“Theywanttostrikeforbetterhouses?”askedEsperanza.“Thatandmoremoneyforthosewhopickcotton,”saidJosefina.“Theyonlygetsevencentsapound
forpickingcotton.Theywanttencentsapound.Itseemslikesuchasmallpricetopay,butinthepast,thegrowerssaidno.Andnow,morepeoplearecomingtothevalleytolookforwork,especiallyfromplaceslikeOklahoma,wherethereislittlework,littlerain,andlittlehope.IftheMexicansstrike,thebigfarms
willsimplyhireothers.Thenwhatwouldwedo?”EsperanzawonderedwhatwouldhappenifMamadidnothaveajob.Wouldtheyhavetogobackto
Mexico?Josefinaputthebabiestobed.ThenshekissedIsabelandEsperanzaontheirforeheadsandsentthem
nextdoor.Isabel and Esperanza lay in their beds listening to the music and the bursts of laughter in the
background. The kitten, after drinking a bowl of milk, curled up in Isabel’s arms. Esperanza tried toimagineconditionsthatweremoreshabbythanthisroomthatwascoveredinnewspapertokeepoutthewind.Couldthingspossiblybeworse?Sleepily,Isabelsaid,“DidyouhavepartiesinMexico?”“Yes,”whisperedEsperanza,keepingherpromisetotellIsabelaboutheroldlife.“Bigparties.Once,
mymama hosted a party for one hundred people.The tablewas setwith lace tablecloths, crystal andchina, and silver candelabras. The servants cooked for aweek…” Esperanza continued, reliving theextravagantmoments, butwas relievedwhen she knew that Isabelwas asleep. For some reason, afterhearingaboutMartaandherfamily,shefeltguiltytalkingabouttherichnessofherlifeinAguascalientes.Esperanza was still awake whenMama came to bed later. A stream of light from the other room
allowedjustenoughbrightnessforhertowatchMamaunbraidherhairandbrushitout.“Didyouliketheparty?”Mamawhispered.“Imissmyfriends,”saidEsperanza.“Iknowitishard.DoyouknowwhatImiss?Imissmydresses.”“Mama!”Esperanzasaid,laughingthatMamawouldadmitsuchathingtoher.“Shhh,”saidMama.“YouwillwakeIsabel.”“Imissmydresses,too,butwedon’tseemtoneedthemhere.”“Thatistrue.Esperanza,doyouknowthatIamsoproudofyou?Forallthatyouarelearning.”Esperanzasnuggledclosetoher.Mamacontinued.“TomorrowwearegoingtoachurchinBakersfield.Afterchurch,wearegoingto
unatienda,calledCholita’s.Josefinasaidshesellseverytypeofsweetroll.AndMexicancandies.”Theywerequiet,listeningtoIsabel’sbreathing.“Inchurch,whatwillyouprayfor,Esperanza?”askedMama.Esperanzasmiled.SheandMamahaddonethismanytimesbeforetheywenttosleep.“Iwill light a candle for Papa’smemory,” she said. “Iwill pray thatMiguelwill find a job at the
railroad.IwillaskOurLadytohelpmetakecareofLupeandPepewhileIsabelisatschool.AndIwillprayforsomewhitecoconutcandywitharedstripeonthetop.”Mamalaughedsoftly.“Butmostofall,IwillpraythatAbuelitawillgetwell.Andthatshewillbeabletogethermoneyfrom
TíoLuis’sbank.Andthatshewillcomesoon.”
MamastrokedEsperanza’shair.“Whatwillyouprayfor,Mama?”“Iwillprayforallthethingsyousaid,Esperanza,andonemorethingbesides.”“What’sthat?”Mamahuggedher.“Iwillprayforyou,Esperanza.Thatyoucanbestrong.Nomatterwhathappens.”
As theywalkedto thebusstop,Isabelreciteda listofconcerns toEsperanza,soundingexactlyasJosefinaandMamahadsoundedearlierthatmorning.“PutPepedownforanapfirst,andwhenhefallsasleep,putLupedown.Otherwisetheywillplayand
nevergotosleep.AndLupewillnoteatbananas…”“Iknow,”saidEsperanza,repositioningPepeonherhip.IsabelhandedherLupeandclimbedthestepsoftheyellowbus.Shefoundaseatandwavedfromthe
window.Esperanzawonderedwhowasmoreworried,sheorIsabel?Esperanzastruggledtocarrybothbabiesbacktothecabin.ThankgoodnessIsabelhadalreadyhelped
herfeedanddressthem.Shesettledthemonablanketonthefloorwithsometincupsandwoodblocks,thenputthebeansintoabigpotonthestove.Hortensiahadpreparedthemearlierwithabigonionandafewclovesofgarlicand instructedEsperanza tostir themoccasionallyand let themcookon lowheat,addingmorewater throughout the day. She stirred the beans andwatchedLupe andPepe play. IwishAbuelitacouldseeme,shethought.Shewouldbeproud.Later,Esperanza lookedforsomething to feed thebabies for lunch.Abowlof ripeplumssaton the
table.Theyshouldbesoftenoughtoeat,shethought.Shetookseveral,removedthepitandmashedthemwitha fork.Bothbabies loved them, reaching formoreaftereachspoonful.Esperanzamashedanotherthreeplumsandtheygobbledeverybite.Sheletthemhavetheirfilluntiltheystartedfussingandreachingfortheirbottlesofmilk.“Enoughof lunch,”saidEsperanza,cleaning their facesandgratefully thinking that itwouldsoonbe
naptime.Sheslowlychangedtheirwetdiapers,rememberingallofJosefina’sandIsabel’sinstructions.SheputPepedownfirstwithhisbottle,asdirected,andwhenhefellasleep,sheputLupenexttohim.Esperanzalaydown,too,wonderingwhyshewassotired,andshedozed.She woke up to Lupe’s whimpering and an atrocious smell. Brown liquid leaked from her diaper.
Esperanzapickedherupandcarriedheroutoftheroomsoshewouldn’twakePepe.Shechangedherintoadrydiaperandrolledthesoiledoneintoaballandputitbythedooruntilshecouldtakeittothetoilets.WhensheputLupebackdown,Pepewassittingupinbed,inthesamecondition.Sherepeatedthediaperchanging.Withbothbabiesclean,shelefttheminthebedanddashedtothetoiletstorinsethediapers.Thensheranbacktothecabin.Adifferentsmellgreetedher.Thebeans!Shehadforgottentoaddmorewater.Whenshecheckedthe
pot,theyappearedtobescorchedonlyonthebottom,soshepouredinwaterandstirredthem.Thebabiescriedandneverwentbacktosleep.Bothdirtiedtheirdiapersagain.Thewaddedpileby
thedoorgrew.Theymustbeill,worriedEsperanza.Didtheyhavethefluorwasitsomethingtheyate?No one else had been sick recently.What had they eaten today?Only theirmilk and the plums. “The
plums,”shegroaned.Theymusthavebeentoohardontheirstomachs.WhatdidHortensiagiveherwhenshewasachildandwassick?Shetriedtoremember.Ricewater!
Buthowdidshemakeit?Esperanzaputapotonthestoveandaddedacupofrice.Shewasn’tsurehowmuchwater to add but she remembered that when rice didn’t come out soft Hortensia always said itneededmorewater.Sheaddedplentyandboiledtherice.Thenshepouredoffthewaterandletitcool.She sat on the floorwith the babies and fed them teaspoons of ricewater all afternoon, counting theminutesuntilIsabelwalkedthroughthedoor.“Whathappened?”saidIsabelwhenshearrivedandsawthepileofdiapersbythedoor.“Theyweresickfromtheplums,”saidEsperanza,noddingtowardtheplatestillonthetablewhereshe
hadmashedthem.“Oh,Esperanza, they are too young for rawplums!Everyone knows that plumsmust be cooked for
babies,”saidIsabel.“Well,Iamnoteveryone!”yelledEsperanza.Shedroppedherheadandputherhandsoverherface.
Pepecrawledintoherlap,makinghappygurglingnoises.ShelookedatIsabel,alreadysorryforscreamingather.“Ididn’tmeantoyell.Itwasalongday.Igave
themsomericewaterandtheyseemtobefinenow.”Soundingsurprised,Isabelsaid,“Thatwasexactlytherightthingtodo!”Esperanzanoddedandletoutalongsighofrelief.Thatnight,noonementionedthenumberofrinsedandwrungdiapersinthewashtuboutsidethedoor.
Orthebeansthatwereobviouslyburntorthepanofriceinthesink.AndnoonequestionedEsperanzawhenshesaidthatshewasexhaustedandwantedtogotobedearly.
Thegrapeshadtobefinishedbeforethefirstfallrainsandhadtobepickedrápido,quickly,sonowtherewerenoSaturdaysorSundaysintheweek,justworkdays.Thetemperaturewasstilloverninetyeachday,soassoonas Isabel’sbus left forschool,Esperanza took thebabiesback to thecabin.Shefixed theirbottlesofmilkandletthemplaywhileshemadethebeds.ThenshefollowedHortensia’sinstructionsforstartingdinnerbeforeturningtothelaundry.Shewasamazedatthehot,dryair.Often,bythetimeshehadfilledtheclotheslinesthatwerestrungbetweenthetrees,shehadonlyminutestorestbeforethevalleysundriedtheclothescrispandtheywerereadytofold.IreneandMelinacameoverafterlunchandEsperanzaspreadablanketintheshade.Esperanzaliked
Melina’s company. In someways, shewas a young girl, sometimes playingwith Isabel andSilvia, ortellingEsperanzagossipasiftheywereschoolfriends.Inotherways,shewasgrownup,withanursingbabyandahusband,andpreferringtocrochetwiththeolderwomenintheevenings.“Doyoucrochet?”Melinaasked.
“Iknowa little, butonly a few stitches,” saidEsperanza, rememberingAbuelita’sblanketof zigzagrowsthatshehadbeentoopreoccupiedtounpack.Melinalaidhersleepingbabygirlontheblanketandpickedupherneedlework.Irenecutapartafifty-
poundfloursackthatwasprintedwithtinyflowers,touseasfabricfordresses.EsperanzatickledPepeandLupeandtheylaughed.“Theyadoreyou,”saidMelina.“TheycriedyesterdaywhenIwatchedthemforthefewminutesittook
youtosweeptheplatform.”It was true. Both babies smiled when Esperanza walked into the room, always reaching for her,
especiallyPepe.Lupewasgood-naturedandlessdemanding,butEsperanzalearnedtowatchherclosely,assheoftentriedtowanderaway.Ifsheturnedherbackforaminute,EsperanzafoundherselffranticallysearchingforLupe.EsperanzarubbedLupe’sandPepe’sbacks,hopingtheywouldgotosleepsoon,buttheywererestless
andwouldn’t settle even though they had their bottles. The afternoon sky looked peculiar, tingedwithyellow,andtherewassomuchstaticintheairthatthebabies’softhairstuckout.“Todayisthedayofthestrike,”saidMelina.“Iheardthattheyweregoingtowalkoutthismorning.”“Everyonewas talkingabout it lastnightat the table,”saidEsperanza.“Alfonsosaidhe isglad that
everyonefromourcampagreedtocontinueworking.Heisproudthatwewon’tstrike.”Irene continued working on the flour sack and shaking her head. “So many Mexicans have the
revolutionstillintheirblood.Iamsympathetictothosewhoarestriking,andIamsympathetictothoseofuswhowanttokeepworking.Weallwantthesamethings.Toeatandfeedourchildren.”Esperanzanodded.Shehaddecided that if sheandMamawere togetAbuelitahere, theycouldnot
affordtostrike.Notnow.Notwhentheysodesperatelyneededmoneyandaroofovertheirheads.Sheworriedaboutwhatmanyweresaying:Iftheydidn’twork,thepeoplefromOklahomawouldhappilytaketheirjobs.Thenwhatwouldtheydo?AsuddenblastofhotwindtookthefloursackfromIrene’shandandcarriedittothefields.Thebabiessatup,frightened.Anotherhotblasthitthem,butkepton,andwhentheedgesoftheblanket
blewup,LupereachedforEsperanza,whining.Irenestoodupandpointedtotheeast.Theskywasdarkeningwithambercloudsandseveralbrown
tumbleweedsbouncedtowardthem.Aroilofbrownloomedoverthemountains.“¡Unatormentadepolvo!Duststorm!”saidIrene.“Hurry!”Theypickedupthebabiesandraninside.Ireneclosedthedoorandbeganshuttingthewindows.“What’shappening?”askedEsperanza.“Aduststorm,likenothingyouhaveseenbefore,”saidMelina.“Theyareawful.”“WhataboutMamaandHortensiaandtheothers?AlfonsoandMiguel…theyareinthefields.”“Theywillsendtrucksforthem,”saidIrene.
Esperanza looked out the window. Thousands of acres of tilled soil were becoming food for latormentaandtheskywasturningintoabrownswirlingfog.Already,shecouldnotseethetreesjustafewyardsaway.Thenthesoundbegan.Softlyatfirst,likeagentlerain,thenharderasthewindblastedthetinygrainsofsandagainstthewindowsandmetalroofs.Thedirtshoweredagainstthecabin,pittingeverythinginitspath.“Getawayfromthewindow,”warnedIrene.“Thedirtandwindcanbreaktheglass.”Thefinerdustseepedinsideandtheytriedtosealthedoorbystuffingragsunderit.Esperanzacouldn’t
stop thinking about the others. Isabelwas at school. The teacherswould take care of her. ButMama,Hortensia, and Josefinawere in the open shed. She hoped the truckswould bring them soon.And thefields.Shecouldonlyimagine.AlfonsoandJuanandMiguel,couldtheybreathe?Irene,Melina,andEsperanzasatonthemattressinthefrontroomtryingtocalmthebabies.Therewas
norelieffromtheheatintheclosedroomandsoontheairwashazy.Irenedampenedsometowelssotheycouldwipethebabies’andtheirownfaces.Whentheytalkedtooneanother,theytastedtheearth.“Howlongdoesitlast?”askedEsperanza.“Sometimeshours,”saidIrene.“Thewindwillstopfirst.Andthenthedust.”Esperanzaheardameowingfromthedoor.Sherantoitand,pushinghardagainstthewind,openedita
crack.Isabel’skitten,Chiquita,dartedin.Therewasnotraceofherorangefur.Thecatwaspowderedbrown.Thebabiesfinallyfellasleep,drowsyfromtheheavyair.Irenewasright.Thewindstopped,butthe
duststillswirledas ifpropelledby itsownpower. IreneandMelina leftwithMelina’sbaby,coveredbeneathablanket,andrushedtotheircabin.Esperanzawaited,nervouslypacingtheroomandworryingabouttheothers.Theschoolbuscamefirst.Isabelburstintothecabin,crying,“¡Migata,Chiquita!”Esperanzahuggedher.“Sheisfinebutverydirtyandhidingunderthebed.Areyouallright?”“Yes,” said Isabel. “Wegot to sit in the cafeteria all afternoon andplaygameswith erasers onour
heads.ButIwasworriedaboutChiquita.”The door opened again and Mama walked into the cabin, her skin covered with an eerie brown
chalkiness,andherhairdusted,likethecat’sfur.“Oh,Mama!”“Iamfine,mija,”shesaid,coughing.HortensiaandJosefinafollowedandIsabelputherhandsonhercheeksinworriedsurprise.“You…
youlooklikeraccoons,”shesaid.Alloftheirfaceshadcirclesofpinkaroundtheireyeswheretheyhadsquintedagainstthedust.“Thetruckscouldnotfindtheirwaytotheshedsoallwecoulddowassitandwait,”saidHortensia.
“Wehidbehindsomecratesandburiedourheadsbutitdidnothelpmuch.”
Josefina took the babies next door andMama andHortensia beganwashing their arms in the sink,makingmuddywater.Mamacontinuedtocough.“WhataboutAlfonsoandJuanandMiguel?”askedEsperanza.“Ifthetruckscouldnotgettous,theycouldnotgettothefields.Wewillhavetowait,”saidHortensia,
exchangingaworriedlookwithMama.A few hours later, Juan, Alfonso, and Miguel arrived, their clothes stiff and brown, all of them
coughingandclearing their throatseveryfewminutes.Their facesweresoencrustedwithdrydirt thattheyremindedEsperanzaofcrackedpottery.Theytookturnsrinsinginthesink, thepileofbrownclothesgrowinginthebasket.WhenEsperanza
lookedoutside,shecouldalmostseethetrees,butthedustwasstillthickintheair.MamahadacoughingspasmandHortensiatriedtosettleherwithaglassofwater.Whentheadultsallfinallysatdownatthetable,Esperanzaasked,“Whathappenedwiththestrike?”“Therewasnostrike,”saidAlfonso.“Weheardthattheywereallready.Andthattherewerehundreds
ofthem.Theyhadtheirsigns.Butthestormhit.Thecottonisnexttothegroundandthefieldsarenowburiedindirtandcannotbepicked.Tomorrow,theywillhavenojobsbecauseofanactofGod.”“Whatwillwedotomorrow?”askedEsperanza.“Thegrapesarehigherofftheground,”saidAlfonso.“Thetrunksofthevinesarecoveredbutthefruit
wasnotaffected.Thegrapesarereadyandcannotwait.Somañana,wewillgobacktowork.”Thenextmorning,theskywasblueandcalmandthedusthadlefttheair.Ithadsettledontheworld,
coveringeverything likeasuedeblanket.Everyonewho livedat thecampshookout thepowderysoil,wentbacktowork,andcamehomeagain,asifnothinghadhappened.In aweek, they finished cutting the grapes. Thenwhile they finished packing the grapes, theywere
alreadytalkingaboutpreparingforpotatoes.Thecamproutinerepeateditselfliketheregimentedrowsinthe fields.Very little seemed to change, thought Esperanza, except the needs of the earth.AndMama.Mamahadchanged.Becauseafterthestorm,sheneverstoppedcoughing.
“Mama,you’resopale!”saidEsperanza.Mamacarefullywalked into thecabinas if shewere trying tokeepherbalanceand slumped intoa
chairinthekitchen.Hortensiawasbustlingbehindher.“Iamgoingtomakeherchickensoupwithlotsofgarlic.Shehadto
sitdownatworktodaybecauseshefeltfaint.Butitisnowonderbecausesheisnoteating.Lookather,shehaslostweight.Shehasnotbeenherselfsincethatstormandthatwasamonthago.Ithinksheshouldgotothedoctor.”“Mama,listentoher,”pleadedEsperanza.
Mamalookedatherweakly,“Iamfine.Justtired.I’mnotusedtothework.AndI’vetoldyou,doctorsareveryexpensive.”“IreneandMelinaare comingover afterdinner to crochet,” saidEsperanza.She thought thatwould
cheerMama.“You sit with them,” saidMama. “I’m going to lie down until the soup is ready because I have a
headache.Thenafterdinner,I’llgostraighttobedandgetagoodrest.I’llbefine.”Shecoughed,gotup,andslowlywalkedfromtheroom.HortensialookedatEsperanza,shakingherhead.Afewhourslater,EsperanzastoodoverMama.“Yoursoupisready,Mama.”But she didn’tmove. “Mama, dinner,” saidEsperanza, reaching for her arm and gently shaking her.
Mama’sarmwasburning,hercheekswereflushedred,andshewasn’twaking.Esperanzafeltpanicsqueezingherandshescreamed,“Hortensia!”
Thedoctorcame.HewasAmerican,lightandblond,buthespokeperfectSpanish.“Helooksveryyoungtobeadoctor,”saidHortensia.“Hehascometothecampbeforeandpeopletrusthim,”saidIrene.“Andtherearenotmanydoctors
whowillcomeouthere.”Alfonso,Juan,andMiguelsatonthefrontsteps,waiting.Isabelsatonthemattress,hereyesworried.
Esperanzacouldnotsitstill.Shepacednearthebedroomdoor,tryingtohearwhatwasgoingoninside.Whenthedoctorfinallycameout,helookedgrim.Hewalkedovertothetablewhereallthewomen
sat.Esperanzafollowedhim.Thedoctorsignaledforthemenandwaiteduntileveryonewasinside.“ShehasValleyFever.”“Whatdoesthatmean?”askedEsperanza.“It’sadiseaseofthelungsthatiscausedbydustspores.Sometimes,whenpeoplemovetothisareaand
aren’tusedtotheairhere,thedustsporesgetintotheirlungsandcauseaninfection.”“Butwewereallintheduststorm,”saidAlfonso.“Whenyouliveinthisvalley,everyoneinhalesthedustsporesatonetimeoranother.Mostofthetime,
thebodycanovercometheinfection.Somepeoplewillhavenosymptomsatall.Somewillfeelliketheyhavethefluforafewdays.Andothers,forwhateverreason,cannotfighttheinfectionandgetverysick.”“Howsick?”askedHortensia.Esperanzasatdown.“Shemayhaveafeveronandoffforweeksbutyoumusttrytokeepitdown.Shewillcoughandhave
headachesandjointaches.Shemightgetarash.”
“Canwecatchitfromher?Thebabies?”askedJosefina.“No,”saidthedoctor.“Itisn’tcontagious.Andthebabiesandyoungchildrenhaveprobablyhadamild
formofitalready,withoutyouevenknowing.Oncethebodyfightsofftheinfection,itdoesn’tgetitagain.For thosewho live heremost of their lives, they are naturally immunized. It is hardest on adultswhomovehereandarenotaccustomedtotheagriculturaldust.”“Howlonguntilsheiswell?”askedEsperanza.Thedoctor’sfacelookedtired.Heranhishandthroughhisshortblondhair.“Therearesomemedicinesshecantake,buteventhen,ifshesurvives,itmighttakesixmonthsforher
togetherfullstrengthback.”EsperanzafeltAlfonsobehindher,puttinghishandsonhershoulders.Shefelttheblooddrainfromher
face.ShewantedtotellthedoctorthatshecouldnotloseMama,too.ThatshehadalreadylostPapaandthatAbuelitawastoofaraway.Hervoicestrangledwithfear.Allshecoulddowaswhisperthedoctor’suncertainwords,“Ifshesurvives.”
EsperanzaalmostneverleftMama’sside.Shespongedherwithcoolwaterandfedherteaspoonsofbroththroughouttheday.Miguelofferedtotakeoverthesweepingjobforher,butEsperanzawouldn’tlethim.IreneandMelinaarrivedeachmorning,tocheckonMamaandtotakethebabies.AlfonsoandJuanputupextralayersofnewspaperandcardboardinthebedroomtokeepouttheNovemberchillandIsabeldrew pictures to hang on thewalls because she did not think the newspaper looked pretty enough forMama.The doctor came back a fewweeks laterwithmoremedicine. “She is not gettingworse,” he said,
shakinghishead.“Butsheisnotgettingbetter,either.”Mamadrifted in andout of fitful sleep and sometimes she calledout forAbuelita.Esperanza could
barelysitstillandoftenpacedaroundthesmallroom.Onemorning,Mamasaidweakly,“Esperanza…”Esperanzarantoherandtookherhand.“Abuelita’sblanket…”shewhispered.Esperanzapulledhervalisefromunderthebed.Shehadnotopeneditsincebeforetheduststormand
sawthatthefinebrownpowderhadevenfounditswaydeepinside.AsithadfounditswayintoMama’slungs.SheliftedoutthecrochetingthatAbuelitahadstartedthenightPapadied.Itseemedlikealifetimeago.
Haditonlybeenafewmonths?Shestretchedoutthezigzagrows.TheyreachedfromonesideofMama’sbedtotheother,butwereonlyafewhandswide,lookingmorelikealongscarfthanthebeginningsofablanket.EsperanzacouldseeAbuelita’shairswovenin,sothatallherloveandgoodwisheswouldgowiththemforever.Sheheldthecrochetingtoherfaceandcouldstillsmellthesmokefromthefire.Andthefaintestscentofpeppermint.EsperanzalookedatMama,breathinguneasily,hereyesclosed.ItwasclearsheneededAbuelita.They
bothneededher.ButwhatwasEsperanzatodo?ShepickedupMama’slimphandandkissedit.ThenshehandedthestripofzigzagrowstoMama,whoclutchedittoherchest.WhathadAbuelitatoldherwhenshe’dgivenherthebundleofcrocheting?Andthensheremembered.
Shehadsaid,“Finishthisforme,Esperanza…andpromisemeyou’lltakecareofMama.”AfterMamafellasleep,EsperanzapickeduptheneedleworkandbeganwhereAbuelitahadleftoff.
Tenstitchesuptothetopofthemountain.Addonestitch.Ninestitchesdowntothebottomofthevalley,skipone.Herfingersweremorenimblenowandherstitchesweremoreeven.Themountainsandvalleysintheblanketwereeasy.Butassoonasshereachedamountain,shewasheadedbackdownintoavalleyagain.Wouldsheeverescapethisvalleyshewaslivingin?ThisvalleyofMamabeingsick?WhatelsehadAbuelitasaid?Aftershehadlivedmanymountainsandvalleystheywouldbetogether
again.Shebentoverherwork,intent,andwhenherhairfellintoherlap,shepickeditupandwoveitintotheblanket.Shecriedwhenshethoughtofthewishesthatwouldgointotheblanketforever.BecauseshewaswishingthatMamawouldnotdie.Theblanketgrewlonger.AndMamagrewmorepale.Womeninthecampbroughtherextraskeinsof
yarn and Esperanza didn’t care that they didn’t match. Each night when she went to bed, she put thegrowingblanketbackoverMama,coveringherinhopefulcolor.Lately, it seemedEsperanzacouldnot interestMama inanything.“Please,Mama,”shebegged,“you
musteatmoresoup.PleaseMama,youmustdrinkmorejuice.Mama,letmecombyourhair.Itwillmakeyoufeelbetter.”ButMamawaslistlessandEsperanzaoftenfoundherweepinginsilence.Itwasasifafterallherhard
workingettingthemthere,herstronganddeterminedmotherhadgivenup.
ThefieldsfrostedoverandMamabegantohavetroublebreathing.Thedoctorcameagain,withworsenews. “She shouldbe in thehospital.She’sveryweakbutmore than that, she isdepressedandneedsnursingaround theclock if she is toget stronger. It isacountyhospital soyouwouldnothave topay,exceptfordoctorbillsandmedicines.”Esperanzashookherheadno.“Thehospitaliswherepeoplegotodie.”Shebegantocry.Isabelrantohercrying,too.Hortensiawalkedoverandfoldedthembothintoherarms.“No,no,sheisgoingtothehospitaltoget
better.”Hortensia wrapped Mama in blankets and Alfonso drove them to Kern General Hospital in
Bakersfield.ThenurseswouldletEsperanzastaywithMamaonlyafewminutes.AndwhenEsperanzakissedhergood-bye,Mamadidn’tsayaword,butjustshuthereyesanddriftedofftosleep.Ridinghomein the truck thatevening,Esperanzastaredstraight into thealleyof lightmadefromthe
truck’sheadlamps,feelingasifshewereinatrance.“Hortensia,whatdidthedoctormeanwhenhesaidthatMamawasdepressed?”“Inonlyafewmonths,shehaslostherhusband,herhome,hermoney.Andsheisseparatedfromher
mother.Itisalotofstrainonherbodytocopewithsomanyemotionsinsuchashorttime.Sometimessadnessandworrycanmakeapersonsicker.Yourmotherwasverystrongthroughyourfather’sdeathandher journey here. For you.Butwhen she got sick, everything became toomuch for her. Think of howhelplessshemustfeel.”Hortensiatookoutherhandkerchiefandblewhernose,tooupsettocontinue.EsperanzafeltlikeshehadfailedMamainsomewayandwantedtomakeituptoher.Mamahadbeen
strong forher.Now itwasher turn tobe strong forMama.Shemust showher that shedidn’tneed toworryanymore.Buthow?“Abuelita.ImustwritetoAbuelita.”
Hortensiashookherhead.“I’msureyourunclesarestillwatchingeverythingthatgoesinandoutoftheconventandprobablythepostoffice,too.ButmaybewecanfindsomeonegoingtoAguascalienteswhocancarryaletter.”“Ihavetodosomething,”saidEsperanza,holdingbacktears.HortensiaputherarmaroundEsperanza.
“Don’tworry,” she said. “Thedoctors andnursesknowwhat sheneeds andwewill take careof oneanother.”Esperanzadidn’tsaywhatshereallythought,thatwhatMamareallyneededwasAbuelita.Becauseif
sadnesswasmakingMama sicker, thenmaybe somehappinesswouldmakeherbetter.She just had tofigureoutawaytogetherhere.Whenshegotbacktocamp,shewentbehindthecabintoprayinfrontofthewashtubgrotto.Someone
had knit a shawl and draped it over Our Lady’s shoulders and the sweetness of the gesture madeEsperanzacry. “Please,” she said throughher tears. “IpromisedAbuelita Iwould takecareofMama.ShowmehowIcanhelpher.”
Thenextday,EsperanzapulledaheavyshawlaroundhershouldersandwaitedforMigueltocomehomefromthefields.Shepacedintheareawherethetrucksunloaded,andwrappedthewooltighteragainsttheearlywintercold.Shehadbeenthinkingalldayaboutwhattodo.EversinceMamahadfirstbecomesickoveramonthago,theyhadnomoneycomingin.Thedoctor’sbillsandmedicineshadusedupmostofwhatthey’dsaved.Nowthereweremorebills.AlfonsoandHortensiaofferedtohelpbuttheyhaddonesomuchalreadyandtheydidnothavemuchtospare.Besides,shecouldnotaccepttheircharityforever.Abuelita’sanklewasprobablyhealedbynow,butifshehadn’tbeenabletogethermoneyoutofTío
Luis’sbank,thenshewouldhavenomoneywithwhichtotravel.IfEsperanzacouldsomehowgetmoneytoAbuelita,thenmaybeshecouldcomesooner.WhenMigueljumpedoffoneofthetrucks,shecalledtohim.“WhathaveIdonetodeservethishonor,mireina?”hesaid,smilingandwalkingtowardher.“Please,Miguel,noteasing.Ineedhelp.IneedtoworksoIcanbringAbuelitatoMama.”HewasquietandEsperanzacouldtellhewasthinking.“Butwhatcouldyoudo?Andwhowouldtake
careofthebabies?”“IcouldworkinthefieldsorintheshedsandMelinaandIrenehavealreadyofferedtowatchPepeand
Lupe.”“It’sonlymeninthefieldsrightnow,andyou’renotoldenoughtoworkinthesheds.”“Iamtall.I’llwearmyhairup.Theywon’tknow.”“The problem is that it’s thewrong time of year. They aren’t packing anything right now.Not until
asparagus in the spring.Mymotherand Josefinaaregoing tocutpotatoeyes for thenext threeweeks.
Maybeyoucangowiththem?”“Butitisjustthreeweeks,”saidEsperanza.“Ineedmoreworkthanthat!”“Anza,ifyou’regoodatcuttingpotatoeyes,theywillhireyoutotiegrapes.Ifyouaregoodattying
grapes,theywillhireyouforasparagus.That’showitworks.Ifyou’regoodatonething,thentheyhireyouforanother.”Shenodded.“Canyoutellmeonemorething,Miguel?”“Claro.Certainly.”“Whatarepotatoeyes?”
EsperanzahuddledwithJosefina,Hortensia,andasmallgroupofwomenwaitingforthemorningtrucktotakethemtothesheds.Athicktulegroundfogthathuggedtheearthsettledinthevalley,surroundingthem,asiftheystoodwithinadeepgraycloud.Therewasnowind,onlysilenceandpenetratingcold.Esperanzabundledinalltheclothingthatshecouldputon,oldwoolpants,asweater,araggedjacket,
awool cap, and thick gloves over thin gloves, all borrowed from friends in the camp.Hortensia hadshownherhowtoheatabrickintheovenandbundleitinnewspaper,andshehuggedittoherbodytokeepwarmastheyrodeonthetruck.Since thedrivercouldonlyseeafewyardsahead, the truckrumbledslowlyonthedirt roads.They
passedmilesofnakedgrapevines,strippedoftheirharvestandbereftoftheirleaves.Fadingintothemist,thebrownandtwistedtrunkslookedfrigidandlonely.The truck stopped at the big packing shed. It was really one long building with different open-air
sections,aslongassixtraincars.Therailroadtracksranalongoneside,anddocksfortrucksranalongthe other. Esperanza had heardMama and the others talk about the sheds. How they were busy withpeople;womenstandingatlongtables,packingthefruit;truckscomingandgoingwiththeirloadsfreshfromthefields;andworkersstockingthetraincarsthatwouldlaterbehookedtoalocomotivetotakethefruitallovertheUnitedStates.Butcuttingpotatoeyeswasdifferent.Sincenothingwasbeingpacked,therewasn’ttheusualactivity.
Onlytwentyorsowomengatheredinthecavernousshed,sittinginacircleonupturnedcrates,protectedfromthewindbyonlyafewstacksofemptyboxes.TheMexicansupervisortooktheirnames.Withalltheclothingtheywerewearing,hebarelylookedat
their faces. Josefina had toldEsperanza that if shewas a goodworker, the bosseswould not concernthemselveswithherage,sosheknewshewouldhavetoworkhard.Esperanza copied everything that Hortensia and Josefina did. When the women put the hot bricks
between their feet to keep themwarmwhile theyworked, so did she.When they took off their outerglovesandworkedinthincottonones,shedidthesame.Everyonehadametalbinsittingbehindthem.
Thefield-workersbroughtcoldpotatoesandfilleduptheirbins.Hortensiatookapotatoandthen,withasharpknife,shecutitintochunksaroundthedimples.Shetappedherknifeononeofthedimples.“Thatisaneye,”shewhisperedtoEsperanza.“Leavetwoeyesineverypiecesotherewillbetwochancesforittotakeroot.”Thenshedroppedthechunksintoaburlapsack.Whenthesackwasfull,thefield-workerstookitaway.“Wheredotheytakethem?”sheaskedHortensia.“Tothefields.Theyplanttheeyepiecesandthenthepotatoesgrow.”Esperanzapickedupaknife.Nowsheknewwherepotatoescamefrom.Thewomenbeganchatting.Somekneweachotherfromcamp.AndoneofthemwasMarta’saunt.“Isthereanymoretalkofstriking?”askedJosefina.“Thingsarequietnow,buttheyarestillorganizing,”saidMarta’saunt.“Thereistalkofstrikinginthe
springwhenitistimetopick.Weareafraidtherewillbeproblems.Iftheyrefusetowork,theywilllosetheircabinsinthemigrantcamps.Andthenwherewilltheylive?Orworse,theywillallbesentbacktoMexico.”“Howcantheysendallofthemback?”askedHortensia.“Repatriation,”saidMarta’saunt.“LaMigra—theimmigrationauthorities—rounduppeoplewho
causeproblemsandcheck theirpapers. If theyarenot inorder,or if theydonothappen tohave theirpaperswiththem,theimmigrationofficialssendthembacktoMexico.Wehaveheardthattheyhavesentpeoplewhosefamilieshavelivedhereforgenerations,thosewhoarecitizensandhaveneverevenbeentoMexico.”Esperanza remembered the train at the border and the people being herded on to it. She had been
thankfulforthepapersthatAbuelita’ssistershadarranged.Marta’sauntsaid,“ThereisalsosometalkaboutharmingMexicanswhocontinuetowork.”Theotherwomen sitting around the circlepretended to concentrateon their potatoes, butEsperanza
noticedworriedglancesandraisedeyebrows.ThenHortensia cleared her throat and said, “Are you saying that ifwe continue towork during the
spring,yournieceandherfriendsmightharmus?”“We are praying that does not happen.My husband sayswewill not join them.We have toomany
mouths to feed.Andhehas toldMarta shecannot staywithus.Wecan’t riskbeingasked to leave thecamporlosingourjobsbecauseofourniece.”Headsnodded in sympathy and the circlewas silent, except for the soundsof theknives cutting the
crisppotatoes.“Is anyone going toMexico for LaNavidad?” asked another woman, wisely changing the subject.
Esperanza kept cutting the potato eyes but listened carefully, hoping someone would be going toAguascalientesforChristmas.Butnooneseemedtobetravelinganywherenearthere.A worker refilled Esperanza’s metal bin with another load of cold potatoes. The rumbling noise
broughther thoughtsback towhatMarta’s aunthad said. If itwas true that the strikerswould threatenpeoplewhokeptworking,theymighttryandstopher,too.EsperanzathoughtofMamainthehospitalandAbuelitainMexicoandhowmuchdependedonherbeingabletowork.Ifshewasluckyenoughtohaveajobinthespring,noonewasgoingtogetinherway.
AfewnightsbeforeChristmas,EsperanzahelpedIsabelmakeayarndollforSilviawhiletheotherswenttoacampmeeting.EversinceEsperanzahadtaughtIsabelhowtomakethedolls,itseemedtherewasanewoneborneachday,andmonasofeverycolornowsatinalineontheirpillows.“Silviawillbesosurprised,”saidIsabel.“Shehasneverhadadollbefore.”“We’llmakesomeclothesforit,too,”saidEsperanza.“WhatwasChristmaslikeatElRanchodelasRosas?”IsabelnevertiredofEsperanza’sstoriesabout
herpreviouslife.Esperanzastaredupattheceiling,searchinghermemories.“MamadecoratedwithAdventwreathsand
candles.Papasetupthenativityonabedofmossinthefronthall.AndHortensiacookedfordays.Therewere empanadas filled with meat and sweet raisin tamales. You would have loved how Abuelitadecoratedhergifts.Sheuseddriedgrapevinesand flowers, insteadof ribbons.OnChristmasEve, thehousewas always filledwith laughter and people calling out, ‘FelizNavidad.’ Later,wewent to thecatedralandsatwithhundredsofpeopleandheldcandlesduringmidnightmass.Thenwecamehomeinthemiddleofthenight,stillsmellingofincensefromthechurch,anddrankwarmatoledechocolate,andopenedourgifts.”Isabelsuckedinherbreathandgushed,“Whatkindofgifts?”“I… I can’t remember,” said Esperanza, braiding the yarn doll’s legs. “All I remember is being
happy.” Then she looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time.One of the table legswasunevenandhadtobeproppedbyapieceofwoodso itwouldn’twiggle.Thewallswerepatchedandpeeling.The floorwaswoodplank and splintery andnomatter howmuch she swept, it never lookedclean. The disheswere chipped and the blankets frayed and no amount of beating could remove theirmusty smell.Herother life seemed likea story shehad read inabooka long timeago,un cuentodehadas,afairytale.Shecouldseetheillustrationsinhermind:theSierraMadre,ElRanchodelasRosas,andacarefreeyounggirlrunningthroughthevineyard.Butnow,sittinginthiscabin,thestoryseemedasifitwereaboutsomeothergirl,someoneEsperanzadidn’tknowanymore.“WhatdoyouwantforChristmasthisyear?”askedIsabel.“IwantMamatogetwell.Iwantmorework.And…”Shestaredatherhandsandtookadeepbreath.
Afterthreeweeksofpotatoeyes,theyweredriedandcrackedfromthestarchthathadsoakedthroughhergloves.“…Iwantsofthands.Whatdoyouwant,Isabel?”
Isabellookedatherwithherbigdoeeyesandsaid,“That’seasy.Iwantanything!”Esperanzanoddedandsmiled.Admiring thecompleteddoll, shehanded it to Isabel,whoseeyes,as
usual,wereexcited.Theywent to bed, Isabel in her cot, andEsperanza in the bed that she andMamahad slept in. She
turnedtowardthewall,yearningfortheholidaysofherpast,andrepeatedwhatwasbecominganightlyritualofsilenttears.Shedidn’tthinkanyoneeverknewthatshecriedherselftosleep,untilshefeltIsabelpattingherback.“Esperanza,don’tcryagain.Wewillsleepwithyou,ifyouwant.”We?SheturnedtowardIsabel,whowasholdingthefamilyofyarndolls.Esperanza couldn’t help but smile and lift the covers. Isabel slid in beside her, arranging the dolls
betweenthem.Esperanzastaredintothedark.Isabelhadnothing,butshealsohadeverything.Esperanzawantedwhat
shehad.Shewantedsofewworriesthatsomethingassimpleasayarndollwouldmakeherhappy.
OnChristmasDayEsperanzawalkedupthefrontstepsofthehospitalwhileAlfonsowaitedinthetruck.Acouplepassedhercarryinggiftswrapped in shinypaper.Awomanhurriedby, carryingapoinsettiaplant and wearing a beautiful red wool coat with a rhinestone Christmas tree pinned to the lapel.Esperanza’seyesrivetedonthecoatandthejewelry.ShewishedshecouldgiveMamaawarmredcoatandapin thatsparkled.She thoughtof thegift shehad inherpocket. Itwasnothingmore thanasmallsmoothstonethatshehadfoundinthefieldswhileweedingpotatoes.ThedoctorhadmovedMamatoawardforpeoplewithlong-termillnesses.Therewereonlyfourother
peopleon the floorand thepatientswerespreadout, theiroccupiedbedsscatteredamong the rowsofbaremattressesinthelongroom.Mamasleptanddidn’twakeeventosayhello.Nevertheless,Esperanzasatnext toher,crochetedafewrowsontheblanketandtoldMamaabout theshedsandIsabelandthestrikers.She toldher thatLupe andPepe could almostwalknow.And thatMiguel thought thatPapa’srosesshowedsignsofgrowth.Mamadidn’twake to say good-bye either.Esperanza tucked the blanket around her, hoping that the
colorfromtheblanketwouldslowlyseepintoMama’scheeks.SheputthestoneonthenighttableandkissedMamagood-bye.“Don’tworry.Iwilltakecareofeverything.Iwillbelapatronaforthefamilynow.”
Esperanza’sbreathmadesmokyvaporsinfrontofherfaceasshewaitedforthetrucktotakehertotiegrapevines.SheshiftedfromfoottofootandclappedherglovedhandstogetherandwonderedwhatwassonewabouttheNewYear.Italreadyseemedold,withthesameroutines.Sheworkedduringtheweek.She helpedHortensia cook dinner in the late afternoons. In the evenings she helped Josefinawith thebabiesandIsabelwithherhomework.ShewenttoseeMamaonSaturdaysandSundays.Shehuddledinthefieldnearasmudgepottokeepwarmandmentallycountedthemoneyshewould
need tobringAbuelitahere.Everyotherweek,with thesmallamounts shesaved, sheboughtamoneyorder from themarket and put it in her valise. She figured that if she keptworking until peaches, shewouldhaveenoughforAbuelita’stravel.HerproblemthenwouldbehowtoreachAbuelita.Themenwentdown the rowsfirst,pruning the thickgrapevinesand leavinga few longbranchesor
“canes” on each trunk. She followed, alongwith others, and tied the canes on the taut wire that wasstretchedposttopost.Sheachedfromthecoldandhadtokeepmovingalldaylongtostaywarm.Thatnight,asshesoakedherhandsinwarmwater,sherealizedthatshenolongerrecognizedthemas
herown.Cutandscarred,swollenandstiff,theylookedlikethehandsofaveryoldman.“Areyousurethiswillwork?”askedEsperanza,asshewatchedHortensiacutaripeavocadoinhalf.“Of course,” said Hortensia, removing the big pit and leaving a hole in the heart of the fruit. She
scoopedoutthepulp,masheditonaplate,andaddedsomeglycerine.“Youhaveseenmemakethisforyourmothermanytimes.Weareluckytohavetheavocadosthistimeofyear.SomefriendsofJosefinabroughtthemfromLosAngeles.”HortensiarubbedtheavocadomixtureintoEsperanza’shands.“Youmustkeepitonfortwentyminutes
soyourhandswillsoakuptheoils.”EsperanzalookedatherhandscoveredinthegreasygreenlotionandrememberedwhenMamausedto
sit like this, aftera longdayofgardeningorafterhorseback rideswithPapa through thedrymesquitegrasslands.When shewas a little girl, she had laughed atMama’s hands covered inwhat looked likeguacamole.But shehad loved forher to rinse thembecauseafterward,Esperanzawould takeMama’shandsandputthepalmsonherownfacesoshecouldfeeltheirsupplenessandbreatheinthefreshsmell.EsperanzawassurprisedatthesimplethingsshemissedaboutMama.Shemissedherwayofwalking
intoa room,gracefuland regal.Shemissedwatchingherhandscrocheting,her fingersmovingnimbly.Andmostofall,shelongedforthesoundofMama’sstrongandassuredlaughter.Sheputherhandsunderthefaucet,rinsedofftheavocado,andpattedthemdry.Theyfeltbetter,butstill
lookedredandweathered.Shetookanotheravocado,cutitinhalf,swungtheknifeintothepitandpulledit from the flesh. She repeated Hortensia’s recipe and as she sat for the second time with her handssmothered, she realized that itwouldn’tmatterhowmuchavocadoandglycerine sheputon them, they
wouldneverlooklikethehandsofawealthywomanfromElRanchodelasRosas.Becausetheywerethehandsofapoorcampesina.
Itwas at the end of grape-tyingwhen the doctor stoppedEsperanza andMiguel in the hallway of thehospitalbeforetheycouldreachMama’sroom.“Iaskedthenursestoalertmewhentheysawyoucoming.I’msorrytotellyouthatyourmotherhas
pneumonia.”“Howcanthatbe?”saidEsperanza,herhandsbeginningtoshakeasshestaredatthedoctor.“Ithought
shewasgettingbetter.”“Thisdisease,ValleyFever,makesthebodytiredandsusceptibletootherinfections.Wearetreating
herwithmedications.She isweak. I know this is hard for you, butwe’d like to ask that she havenovisitorsforatleastamonth,maybelonger.Wecan’ttakeachancethatshewillcontractanotherinfectionfromanyoutsidegermsthatmightbebroughtintothehospital.”“CanIseeher,justforafewmoments?”Thedoctorhesitated,thennodded,andwalkedaway.EsperanzahurriedtoMama’sbedandMiguelfollowed.Esperanzacouldn’timaginenotseeingherfor
somanyweeks.“Mama,”saidEsperanza.MamaslowlyopenedhereyesandgaveEsperanzathesmallestsmile.Shewasthinandfrail.Herhair
wasstrewnandbedraggled.Andherfacewassowhite that itseemedtofadeinto thesheets,as ifshewouldsinkintothebedanddisappearforever.Mamalookedlikeaghostofherself.“ThedoctorsaidIcan’tcometovisitforawhile.”Mamanodded,hereyelidsslowlyfallingbackdown,asifithadbeenaburdentokeepthemup.EsperanzafeltMiguel’shandonhershoulder.“Anza,weshouldgo,”hesaid.ButEsperanzawouldnotmove.Shewanted todosomething forMama tohelpmakeherbetter.She
noticedthebrushandhairpinsonthebedsidetable.ShecarefullyrolledMamaonhersideandgatheredallofherhairtogether.Shebrusheditandplaited
it intoa longbraid.Wrapping itaroundMama’shead,shegentlypinned it intoplace.ThenshehelpedMamalieonherback,herhairnowframingherfaceagainstthewhitelinens,likeabraidedhalo.Likesheusedtowearit,inAguascalientes.Esperanza bent down close to Mama’s ear. “Don’t worry, Mama. Remember, I will take care of
everything.IamworkingandIcanpaythebills.Iloveyou.”Mamasaidsoftly,“Iloveyou,too.”AndasEsperanzaturnedtoleave,sheheardMamawhisper,“No
matterwhathappens.”
“Youneedtogetawayfromthecamp,Esperanza,”saidHortensiaasshehandedherthegrocerylistandaskedhertogotothemarketwithMiguel.“Itisthefirstofspringandit’sbeautifuloutside.”“IthoughtyouandJosefinaalwayslookedforwardtomarketingonSaturday,”saidEsperanza.“Wedo,buttodaywearehelpingMelinaandIrenemakeenchiladas.Couldyougoforus?”Esperanzaknewtheyweretryingtokeepheroccupied.Mamahadbeeninthehospitalforthreemonths
andEsperanzahadn’tbeenallowedtovisitforseveralweeks.Sincethen,Esperanzahadn’tbeenactinglike herself. She went through the motions of living. She was polite enough, answering everyone’squestionswiththesimplestanswers,butshewastormentedbyMama’sabsence.Papa,Abuelita,Mama.Whowouldbenext?Shecrawledintobedasearlyaspossibleeachnight,curledherbodyintoatightball,anddidn’tmove
untilmorning.SheknewJosefinaandHortensiawereworriedabouther.ShenoddedtoHortensia,tookthelist,and
wenttofindMiguel.“BesureyoutellMigueltogotoMr.Yakota’smarket!”Hortensiacalledafterher.Hortensiahadbeenrightabouttheweather.Thefogandgraynesshadgone.Thevalleyairwascrisp
andcleanfromrecentrains.Theydrovealongfieldsoftall,featheryasparagusplantsthatshewouldsoonbe packing.Citrus groves displayed their leftover fruit like decorations onChristmas trees.And eventhough it was still cool, there was an expectancy that Esperanza could smell, a rich loamy odor thatpromisedspring.“Miguel,whymustwealwaysdrivesofartoshopattheJapanesemarketwhenthereareotherstores
closertoArvin?”“Someoftheothermarketownersaren’taskindtoMexicansasMr.Yakota,”saidMiguel.“Hestocks
manyofthethingsweneedandhetreatsuslikepeople.”“Whatdoyoumean?”“Esperanza,peopleherethinkthatallMexicansarealike.Theythinkthatwearealluneducated,dirty,
poor,andunskilled.ItdoesnotoccurtothemthatmanyhavebeentrainedinprofessionsinMexico.”Esperanzalookeddownatherclothes.SheworeashirtwaistdressthatusedtobeMama’sandbefore
that,someoneelse’s.Overthedresswasaman’ssweaterwithseveralbuttonsmissing,whichwasalsotoobig.Sheleanedupandlookedinthemirror.Herfacewastannedfromtheweeksinthefields,andshehad taken towearingherhair ina longbraid likeHortensia’sbecauseMamahadbeen right—itwasmorepracticalthatway.“Miguel,howcouldanyonelookatmeandthinkIwasuneducated?”Hesmiledatherjoke.“Thefactremains,Esperanza,thatyou,forinstance,haveabettereducationthan
mostpeople’schildreninthiscountry.Butnooneislikelytorecognizethatortakethetimetolearnit.Americansseeusasonebig,browngroupwhoaregoodforonlymanuallabor.Atthismarket,noonestaresatusortreatsuslikeoutsidersorcallsus‘dirtygreasers.’MyfathersaysthatMr.Yakotaisaverysmartbusinessman.Heisgettingrichonotherpeople’sbadmanners.”Miguel’s explanationwas familiar. Esperanza’s contact with Americans outside the camp had been
limitedtothedoctorandthenursesatthehospital,butshehadheardstoriesfromothersabouthowtheywere treated. There were special sections at the movie theater for Negroes and Mexicans. In town,parentsdidnotwanttheirchildrengoingtothesameschoolswithMexicans.Livingawayfromtowninthe company camp had its advantages, she decided. The children all went to school together: white,Mexican, Japanese, Chinese, Filipino. It didn’t seem tomatter to anyone because theywere all poor.Sometimesshefeltasifshelivedinacocoon,protectedfrommuchoftheindignation.Miguelpulledthetruckintotheparkinglotatthemarket.“I’llmeetyou.I’mgoingtotalkaboutrailroad
jobswiththosemengatheredonthecorner.”Esperanzawent inside.Mr.Yakotawas fromTokyoand the storehadall sortsof Japanese cooking
ingredientslikeseaweedandginger,andafreshfishcounterwithfishthatstillhadtheirheads.ButtherewereMexicanproducts, too, likemasadeharina for tamales,chiles for salsa, and big bags of driedbeansforfrijoles.Therewasevencow’s intestine in themeatcaseformenudo.Andotherspecialties,likechorizoandpigs’feet.Esperanza’sfavoritepartofthestorewastheceilingthatwascrowdedwithapeculiarcombinationofJapanesepaperlanternsandpiñatasshapedlikestarsanddonkeys.TherewasasmalltissuedonkeythatEsperanzahadnotnoticedbefore.ItwasliketheoneMamahad
boughtherafewyearsago.Esperanzahadthoughtitsocutethatshehadrefusedtobreakit,eventhoughithadbeenfilledwithsweets.Instead,shehadhungitinherroomaboveherbed.A clerk walked by and impulsively, she pointed to the miniature piñata. “Por favor,” she said.
“Please.”Sheboughttheotherthingssheneeded,includinganothermoneyorder.Thatwasonemorebenefitof
Mr.Yakota’smarket:Shecouldbuymoneyordersthere.ShewaswaitinginthetruckwhenMiguelcameback.“Anothermoneyorder?Whatdoyoudowiththemall?”askedMiguel.“Isavetheminmyvalise.Theyareforsuchsmallamountsbuttogether,they’llbeenoughtosomeday
bringAbuelitahere.”“Andthepiñata?It’snotanyone’sbirthday.”“IboughtitforMama.I’mgoingtoaskthenursestoputitnearherbed,soshe’llknowthatI’mthinking
ofher.Wecanstopbythehospitalonthewayback.WillyoucutaholeinthetopformesoIcanputthecaramelsinside?Thenursescaneatthem.”Hetookouthispocketknifeandmadeanopeninginthepiñata.WhileMigueldrove,Esperanzabegan
feedinginthecaramels.
Notfardownthemainroad,theyapproachedanalmondgrove,thetreesflushwithgray-greenleavesandwhiteblossoms.Esperanzanoticedagirlandawomanwalkinghandinhand,eachwithagrocerybagin her other arm. She couldn’t help but thinkwhat a nice scene itmade,with the twowomen framedagainstsomanyspringblossoms.Esperanzarecognizedoneofthem.“IthinkthatisMarta.”Miguelstoppedthetruck,thenslowlybackedup.“Weshouldgiveheraride.”Esperanza reluctantly nodded, remembering the last time they’d given her a lift, but she opened the
door.“Esperanza andMiguel,quebuena suerte.What good luck,” saidMarta. “This ismymother,Ada.
Thanksfortheride.”Marta’smotherhadthesameshort,curlyblackhairbutherswassprinkledwithgray.Miguelgotoutandputallthegroceriesinthetruckbedsotheycouldsitinthefront.Adasaid,“IheardaboutyourmotherandI’vebeenprayingforher.”Esperanzawassurprisedandtouched.“Thankyou,I’mgrateful.”“Areyoucomingtoourcamp?”askedMiguel.“No,”saidMarta.“Asyouprobablyknow, I’mnotwelcome there.We’regoingamileor soup the
roadtothestrikers’farm.Weweretossedoutofthemigrantworkers’campandweretoldeithertogoback toworkor leave.Sowe left.We aren’t going toworkunder thosedisgusting conditions and forthosepitifulwages.”AdawasquietandnoddedwhenMartatalkedaboutthestrike.Esperanzafeltatwingeofenvywhen
shenoticedthatMartaneverletgoofhermother’shand.“Therearehundredsofustogetheratthisfarm,butthousandsaroundthecountyandmorepeoplejoin
ourcauseeachday.Youarenewhere,butintime,you’llunderstandwhatwe’retryingtochange.Turnleft,”shesaid,pointingtoadirtroadruttedwithtiremarks.Miguel turned down the path bordered in cotton fields. Finally, they reached several acres of land
surroundedby chain-link fencing andbarbedwire, its singleopeningguardedby severalmenwearingarmbands.“Aquí.Righthere,”saidAda.“Whataretheguardsfor?”askedEsperanza.“They’reforprotection,”saidMarta.“Thefarmerwhoownsthelandissympathetictousbutalotof
peopledon’tlikethestrikerscausingtrouble.We’vehadthreats.Thementaketurnsattheentrance.”Miguelpulledthetrucktothesideoftheroadandstopped.TherewereonlytenwoodentoiletstallsforhundredsofpeopleandEsperanzacouldsmelltheeffects
fromthetruck.Somepeoplelivedintentsbutothershadonlyburlapbagsstretchedbetweenpoles.Somewerelivingintheircarsoroldtrucks.Mattresseswereontheground,wherepeopleanddogsrested.Agoatwastiedtoatree.Therewasalongpipethatlayontopofthegroundandalineofwaterspigots
sticking up from it. Near each spigotwere pots and pans and campfire rings, themakings of outdoorkitchens.Inanirrigationditch,womenwerewashingclothes,andchildrenwerebathingatthesametime.Clotheslinesraneverywhere.Itwasagreatjumbleofhumanityandconfusion.Esperanzacouldnotstoplooking.ShefelthypnotizedbythesqualorbutMartaandhermotherdidn’t
seemtheleastbitembarrassed.“Home,sweethome,”saidMarta.Theyallclimbedoutofthetruck,butbeforeMartaandAdacouldretrievetheirgroceries,acampesino
familycomingfromtheoppositedirectionapproachedthem.Thechildrenweredirtyandskinnyandthemotherheldaninfant,whowascrying.“DoyouhavefoodsothatIcanfeedmyfamily?”saidthefather.“Wewerethrownoutofourcamp
becauseIwasstriking.Myfamilyhasnoteatenintwodays.Therearetoomanypeoplecomingintothevalleyeachdaywhowillworkforpennies.YesterdayIworkedalldayandmadelessthanfiftycentsandIcannotbuyfoodforonedaywith that. Iwashopingthathere,withotherswhohavebeenthroughthesame…”“Youarewelcomehere,”saidAda.Esperanzareachedintothetruckbedandopenedthelargebagofbeans.“Handmeyourhat,Señor.”Themanhandedoverhislargesunhatandshefilleditwiththedriedbeans,thengaveitbacktohim.“Gracias,gracias,”hesaid.Esperanzalookedatthetwoolderchildren,theireyeswateryandvacant.Sheliftedthepiñataandheld
itouttothem.Theysaidnothingbuthurriedtowardher,tookit,andranbacktotheirfamily.Martalookedather.“Areyousureyouaren’talreadyonourside?”Esperanzashookherhead.“Theywerehungry, that’sall.EvenifIbelievedinwhatyouaredoing,I
musttakecareofmymother.”AdaputherhandonEsperanza’sarmandsmiled.“Wealldowhatwehavetodo.Yourmotherwould
beproudofyou.”Miguel handed them their bags, and theywalked toward the farmer’s field.Before they reached the
gate,Martasuddenlyturnedandsaid,“Ishouldn’tbetellingyouthis,butthestrikersaremoreorganizedthantheyappear.Inafewweeks,duringasparagus,thingsaregoingtohappenalloverthecounty.We’regoingtoshutdowneverything,thefields,thesheds,therailroad.Ifyouhavenotjoinedusbythen,beverycareful.”Thenshehurriedtocatchupwithhermother.AsMiguel andEsperanza rodeback toArvin, neitherof themsaid aword formanymiles.Marta’s
threatandtheguiltofhavingajobweighedheavilyonEsperanza’smind.“Doyouthinktheyareright?”sheasked.“Idon’tknow,”saidMiguel.“Whatthemansaidistrue.Ihaveheardthattherewillbetentimesthe
peopleherelookingforjobsinthenextfewmonths,fromOklahoma,Arkansas,Texas,andotherplaces,too.Andthattheyarepoorpeoplelikeus,whoneedtofeedtheirfamilies,too.Ifsomanycomeandare
willing toworkforpennies,whatwillhappen tous?Butuntil then,withsomany joining thestrikes, Imightbeabletogetajobattherailroad.”Esperanza’smindwrestledwithMiguel’swords.Forhim,thestrikewasanopportunitytoworkatthe
jobhelovedandtomakeitinthiscountry,butforher,itwasathreattoherfinances,Abuelita’sarrival,and Mama’s recuperation. Then there was the matter of her own safety. She thought of Mama andAbuelita,andsheknewtherewasonlyonethingforhertodo.
EsperanzastudiedherhandsafewnightslaterasshewalkedtowardthecabinandhopedHortensiahadafewmoreavocados. Itwas later thanusual.Shehadbeenweedingasparagus ina far fieldsoshehadbeen on the last truck.When she arrived at the cabin, everyonewas crowded around the small table.TherewerefreshtortillasonaplateandHortensiawasstirringapanofmachaca,scrambledeggswithshreddedmeat,onions,andpeppers.ItwasMiguel’sfavoritebuttheyusuallyateitforbreakfast.“Whatistheoccasion?”askedEsperanza.“Igotajobinthemachineshopattherailroad.”“Oh,Miguel!That’sgoodnews!”“Somanyrailroadworkershavejoinedthestrikers.Iknowitmightbetemporarybut ifIdoagood
job,maybetheywillkeepme.”“Thatisright,”saidAlfonso.“Youdogoodwork.Theywillseeit.Theywillkeepyou.”Esperanza sat down and listened toMiguel tell the others about the job, but shewasn’t hearing his
words.Shewasseeinghiseyes,dancinglikePapa’swhenheusedto talkabout the land.ShewatchedMiguel’sanimatedface,thinkingthatatlast,hisdreamwascomingtrue.
Martawas right.The strikersweremore organized than ever.They handed out flyers in front ofeverystore.Theypaintedthesidesofoldbarnswiththeirslogansandheldbigmeetingsatthefarm.Forthosewhocontinuedtowork,therewerestilljobs,butEsperanzacouldhearthetightnessandworryinherneighbors’voices.Sheworried,too,aboutwhatwouldhappenifshedidn’thaveajob.Asparaguswouldbealongseason,sometimesuptotenweeks.Butithadtobepickedbeforethehigh
temperaturestouchedthevalleyinJune.Thestrikersknewthatiftheycouldslowdowntheworkers,itwouldaffectthegrowers,sowhenthetenderstalkswereready,thestrikerswereready,too.Esperanza got on the flatbed truck with Hortensia and Josefina for the first day of packing. The
companyhadsentamanwithaguntorideonthetruckwiththem,forprotectiontheysaid,but thegunfrightenedEsperanza.Whentheyarrivedatthesheds,acrowdofwomeneruptedintoshoutingandbooing.Theycarriedsigns
thatsaid,“¡Huelga!Strike!”AmongthemwereMartaandherfriends.Andtheywereyelling.“Helpusfeedourchildren!”“Wemustalljointogetherifwearealltoeat!”“Saveyourcountrymenfromstarving!”When Esperanza saw their menacing faces, she wanted to run back to the safety of the camp, do
laundry,cleandiapers,anythingbutthis.Shewantedtotellthemthathermotherwassick.Thatshehadtopaythebills.ShewantedtoexplaintothemaboutAbuelitaandhowshehadtofindawaytogetsomemoneytohersoshecouldtravel.Thenmaybethey’dunderstandwhysheneededherjob.Shewantedtotellthemthatshedidnotwantanyone’schildrentostarve.Butsheknewitwouldnotmatter.Thestrikersonlylistenedifyouagreedwiththem.She reached forHortensia’s hand and pulled her close. Josefinamarched toward the shed, looking
straightahead.HortensiaandEsperanzastayedclosebehind,neverlettinggoofeachother.Oneof thewomenfromtheircampcalledout.“Wemake lessmoneypackingasparagus thanyoudo
whenyoupickcotton.Leaveusalone.Ourchildrenarehungry,too.”Whentheguardwasn’tlooking,oneofthestrikerspickeduparockandthrewitatthewoman,barely
missingherhead,andtheworkersallhurriedtowardtheshed.Thestrikersstayedneartheroad,butEsperanza’sheartwasstillbeatingwildlyassheandthewomen
tooktheirplacestopacktheasparagus.Allday,asshesortedandbundledthedelicatespears,sheheardtheirchantingandtheirthreats.That night at dinner Alfonso and Juan told how they had the same problems in the fields. Strikers
waited for them and they had to cross picket lines to get towork.Once in the fields, theywere safe,protectedbyguardsthecompanyhadsent.Butthelugsofasparagusthatweresentbacktotheshedshad
tobetakenacrossthepicketlinesandthestrikersoftenslippedsurprisesbeneaththeharvest.Thestrikecontinuedfordays.Oneafternoon,asJosefinatookahandfulofasparagusfromacrate,a
largeratjumpedoutather.Afewdayslater,Esperanzaheardaterriblescreamfromoneofthewomenandseveralwrithinggophersnakesslitheredoutofacrate.Theyfoundrazorbladesandshardsofglassinthefieldbinsandthewomen,usuallyefficientandquicktounpacktheasparagus,sloweddownandwerehesitanttograbthevegetablesfromtheirboxes.Whenseveralofthemheardarattlingfrombeneathapileofstalks,thesupervisorstooktheentirecrateouttotheyard,dumpedit,andfoundanangryrattlesnakeinside.“Itwasamiraclethatnoonewasbittenbythatsnake,”saidHortensiathatnightatdinner.Theywere
allgatheredinonecabin,eatingcaldodealbóndigas,meatballsoup.“Didyouseeit?”askedIsabel.“Yes,”saidEsperanza.“Weallsawit. Itwasfrighteningbut thesupervisorcut itsheadoffwith the
hoe.”Isabelcringed.“Can’ttheydoanythingtothestrikers?”askedHortensia.“It’safreecountry,”saidMiguel.“Besides,thestrikersarecareful.Aslongastheystayneartheroad
andtheguardsdon’tactuallyseethemdoanythingaggressive,thenno,there’snotmuchanyonecando.It’sthesameattherailroad.Ipassthepicketlineseveryday,andlistentotheyellingandtheinsults.”“It’stheyellingalldaylongthatbothersme,”saidHortensia.“Remember,donotrespondtothem,”saidAlfonso.“Thingswillgetbetter.”“Papa,”saidMiguel.“Thingswillgetworse.Haveyouseen thecarsand truckscoming through the
passinthemountains?Everyday,moreandmorepeople.Someofthemsaytheywillpickcottonforfiveandsixcentsapound,andwillpickproduceforless.Peoplecannotsurviveonsuchlowwages.”“Wherewillitend?”saidJosefina.“Everyonewillstarveifpeopleworkforlessandlessmoney.”“Thatisthestrikers’point,”saidEsperanza.Noonesaidanything.Forksclinkedontheplates.Pepe,whowassittinginEsperanza’slap,droppeda
meatballonthefloor.“Arewegoingtostarve?”askedIsabel.“No,mija,”saidJosefina.“Howcouldanyonestarveherewithsomuchfoodaroundus?”
Esperanzahadgrownsoaccustomedtothestrikers’chantingwhileshepackedasparagusthatthemomentitstopped,shelookedupfromherworkasifsomethingwaswrong.“Hortensia,doyouhearthat?”“What?”
“Thesilence.Thereisnomoreyelling.”Theotherwomenonthelinelookedateachother.Theycouldn’tseethestreetfromwheretheystood
sotheymovedtotheotherendoftheshed,cautiouslylookingouttowherethestrikersusuallystood.Inthedistance,acaravanofgraybusesandpolicecarsheadedfasttowardtheshed,dustflyingintheir
wakes.“Immigration!”saidJosefina.“Itisasweep.”Thepicketsignslayontheground,discarded,andlikeamassofmarblesthathadalreadybeenhit,the
strikers scattered into the fields and toward the boxcars on the tracks, anywhere they could hide. Thebusesandcarsscreechedtoastopandimmigrationofficialsandpolicecarryingclubsjumpedoutandranafterthem.Thewomeninthepackingshedhuddledtogether,protectedbythecompany’sguard.“Whataboutus?”saidEsperanza,hereyesrivetedontheguardswhocaught thestrikersandshoved
thembacktowardthebuses.TheywouldsurelycomeintotheshednextwithsomanyMexicansworkinghere.HerfingersdesperatelyclenchedHortensia’sarm.“IcannotleaveMama.”Hortensiaheardthepanicinhervoice.“No,no,Esperanza.Theyarenothereforus.Thegrowersneed
theworkers.Thatiswhythecompanyguardsus.”Severalimmigrationofficialsaccompaniedbypolicebegansearchingtheplatform,turningoverboxes
anddumpingoutfieldbins.Hortensiawasright.Theyignoredtheworkersintheirstainedaprons,theirhands still holding the green asparagus. Finding no strikers on the dock, they jumped back down andhurriedtowhereacrowdwasbeingloadedontothebuses.“¡Americana! ¡Americana!” yelled one woman and she began to unfold some papers. One of the
officialstookthepapersfromherhandandtorethemintopieces.“Getonthebus,”heordered.“Whatwilltheydowiththem?”askedEsperanza.“TheywilltakethemtoLosAngeles,andputthemonthetraintoElPaso,Texas,andthentoMexico,”
saidJosefina.“Butsomeofthemarecitizens,”saidEsperanza.“Itdoesn’tmatter.Theyarecausingproblemsforthegovernment.Theyaretalkingaboutformingafarm
workers’unionandthegovernmentandthegrowersdon’tlikethat.”“Whatabouttheirfamilies?Howwilltheyknow?”“Wordgetsout.Itissad.Theyleavethebusesparkedatthestationuntillateatnightwiththosethey
capturedonboard.Familiesdon’twanttobeseparatedfromtheirlovedonesandusuallygowiththem.Thatistheidea.Theycallitavoluntarydeportation.Butitisnotmuchofachoice.”Two immigration officials positioned themselves in front of the shed. The others left on the buses.
Esperanzaandtheotherwomenwatchedthedespondentfacesinthewindowsdisappear.Slowly, the women reassembled on the line and began to pack again. It had all lasted only a few
minutes.
“Whathappensnow?”askedEsperanza.“LaMigra will keep their eyes open for any strikers that might be back,” said Josefina, nodding
towardthetwomenstationednearby.“Andwegobacktoworkandfeelthankfulitisnotusonthatbus.”Esperanza took a deep breath and went back to her spot. She was relieved, but still imagined the
anguishofthestrikers.Troubledthoughtsstayedinhermind.Somethingseemedverywrongaboutsendingpeopleawayfromtheirown“freecountry”becausetheyhadspokentheirminds.Shenoticedsheneededmorebandstowraparoundtheasparagusbundlesandwalkedtothebackof
thedocktogetthem.Withinamazeoftallcrates,shesearchedforthethickrubberbands.Someoftheboxeshadbeen tossedoverby the immigrationofficials and as shebent down to set one straight, shesuckedinherbreath,startledbywhatwasinfrontofher.Martawashuddledinacorner,holdingherfingertoherlips,hereyesbeggingforhelp.Shewhispered,
“Please,Esperanza.Don’ttell.Ican’tgetcaught.Imusttakecareofmymother.”Esperanzastoodfrozenforamoment,rememberingMarta’smeannessthatfirstdayinthetruck.Ifshe
helpedherandsomeonefoundout,Esperanzawouldbeonthenextbusherself.Shecouldn’triskitandstartedtosayno.But thenshethoughtaboutMartaandhermotherholdinghands,andcouldn’t imaginethembeingseparatedfromeachother.Andbesides,theywerebothcitizens.Theyhadeveryrighttobehere.Sheturnedaroundandheadedbacktowheretheotherswereworking.Noonepaidanyattentiontoher.
Theywereallbusytalkingaboutthesweep.Shepickedupabundleofasparagus,severalburlapsacksfromastack,andadirtyapronthatsomeonehadleftonahook.ShequietlywanderedbacktoMarta’shidingplace.“LaMigraisstilloutfront,”shesaidinahushedvoice.“Theywillprobablyleaveinanhourwhentheshedcloses.”ShehandedtheapronandtheasparagustoMarta.“Whenyouleave,putontheapronandcarrytheasparagussoyou’lllooklikeaworker,justincaseanyonestopsyou.”“Gracias,”whisperedMarta.“I’msorryImisjudgedyou.”“Shhh,” said Esperanza, repositioning the crates and draping the burlap sacks across their tops so
Martacouldn’tbeseen.“Esperanza,”calledJosefina,“whereareyou?Weneedtherubberbands.”Esperanza stuck her head around the corner and saw Josefinawith her hands on her hips, waiting.
“Coming,”shecalled.Shegrabbedabundleofbandsandwentbacktoworkasifnothinghadhappened.
Esperanzalayinbedthatnightandlistenedtotheothersinthefrontroomtalkaboutthesweepsandthedeportations.“Theywenttoeverymajorgrowerandputhundredsofstrikersonthebuses,”saidJuan.“Somesaytheydidittocreatemorejobsforthosecomingfromtheeast,”saidJosefina.“Wearelucky
thecompanyneedsusrightnow.Iftheydidn’t,wecouldbenext.”“Wehavebeenloyaltothecompanyandthecompanywillbeloyaltous!”saidAlfonso.“I’mjustgladit’sover,”saidHortensia.“It isnotover,”saidMiguel.“Intime, theywillbeback,especiallyif theyhavefamilieshere.They
willreorganizeandtheywillbestronger.Therewillcomeatimewhenwewillhavetodecidealloveragainwhethertojointhemornot.”Esperanzatriedtogotosleepbut thedayspuninhermind.Shewasgladshehadkeptworkingand
thankful thathercamphadvotednot tostrike,butsheknewthatunderdifferentcircumstances, itcouldhavebeenheronthatbus.AndthenwhatwouldMamahavedone?Herthoughtsjumpedbackandforth.Some of those people did not deserve their fate today.Howwas it that theUnited States could sendpeopletoMexicowhohadneverevenlivedthere?Shecouldn’tstopthinkingaboutMarta.Itdidn’tmatterifEsperanzaagreedwithhercauseornot.No
one should have to be separated fromher family.HadMartamade herwayback to the strikers’ farmwithoutgettingcaught?Hadshefoundhermother?Forsomereason,Esperanzahadtoknow.
Thenextmorning,shebeggedMigueltodrivebythefarm.Thefieldwasstillsurroundedbythechain-linkfence,butnoonewasprotectingtheentrancethistime.
All theevidenceofpeopleshehadseenbeforewas there,butnotonepersonwas tobeseen.Laundrywavedontheclothesline.Plateswithriceandbeanssatoncratesandswarmedwithbusyflies.Shoeswerelinedupinfrontoftents,asifwaitingforsomeonetostepintothem.Thebreezepickeduploosenewspapersandfloatedthemacrossthefield.Itwasquietanddesolate,exceptforthegoatstilltiedtothetree,bleatingforfreedom.“Immigrationhasbeenhere, too,”saidMiguel.Hegotoutof the truck,walkedover to the tree,and
untiedthegoat.Esperanza looked out over the field that used to be crawling with people who thought they could
change things — who were trying to get the attention of the growers and the government to makeconditionsbetterforthemselvesandforher,too.Morethananything,EsperanzahopedthatMartaandhermotherweretogether,butnowtherewouldbe
nowayforhertofindout.MaybeMarta’sauntwouldhear,eventually.Somethingcolorfulcaughthereye.Danglingfromatreebranchweretheremnantsofthelittledonkey
piñatathatshehadgiventhechildren,itstissuestreamersflutteringinthebreeze.Ithadbeenbeatenwithastick,itsinsidestornout.
Now,alongwithherprayersforAbuelitaandMama,EsperanzaprayedforMartaandhermotheratthewashtubgrotto.Papa’sroses,althoughstillshortandsquat,hadpromisingtightbuds,buttheyweren’ttheonlyflowersthere.Sheoftenfoundthatsomeonehadputaposyofsweetalyssuminfrontofthestatue,orasingleiris,orhaddrapedahoneysucklevineoverthetopofthetub.Lately,shehadseenIsabelthereeveryeveningafterdinner,kneelingonthehardground.“Isabel, areyou sayinganovena?”askedEsperanzawhen she foundher at the statue,yet againone
night.“Itseemsyouhavebeenprayingforatleastninedays.”IsabelgotupfromherdedicationandlookedupatEsperanza.“ImightbeQueenof theMay.Intwo
weeks,onMayDay,thereisafestivalatmyschoolandadancearoundapolewithcoloredribbons.Theteacherwillchoosethebestgirlstudentinthethirdgradetobequeen.Andrightnow,IamtheonlyonewhohasstraightAs.”“Thenitmightbeyou!”saidEsperanza.“Myfriendstoldmethatit isusuallyoneoftheEnglishspeakersthatischosen.Theoneswhowear
nicerdresses.SoI’mgoingtoprayeveryday.”Esperanza thoughtaboutall thebeautifuldresses shehadoutgrown inMexico.Howshewishedshe
couldhavepassedthemontoIsabel.Esperanzabegantoworrythatshewouldbedisappointed.“Well,evenifyouarenotthequeen,youwillstillbeabeautifuldancer,right?”“Oh,butEsperanza.Iwantsomuchtobethequeen!Iwanttobelareina,likeyou.”Shelaughed.“Butregardless,youwillalwaysbeourqueen.”Esperanzaleftherthere,devoutlypraying,andwentintothecabin.“HasaMexicangirleverbeenchosenQueenoftheMay?”sheaskedJosefina.Josefina’s face tookonadisappointed lookandshesilentlyshookherheadno.“Ihaveasked.They
alwaysfindawaytochooseablonde,blue-eyedqueen.”“Butthat’snotright,”saidEsperanza.“Especiallyifitisbasedongrades.”“There is always a reason.That is theway it is,” said Josefina. “Melina toldme that last year the
Japanesegirlhadthebestmarksinthethirdgradeandstilltheydidnotchooseher.”“Thenwhatisthepointofbasingitonmarks?”askedEsperanza,knowingtherewasnoanswertoher
question.HerheartalreadyachedforIsabel.
AweeklaterEsperanzaputyetanotherbundleofasparagusonthetableafterwork.Thetallandfeatheryasparagus plants seemed to be as unrelenting as Isabel’s desire to be queen. Theworkers picked the
spearsfromthefieldsandafewdayslater,thesamefieldshadtobepickedagainbecausenewshootswerealreadyshowingtheirheads.AndIsabeltalkedofnothingelse,exceptthepossibilityofwearingthewinner’scrownofflowersonherhead.“Ihateasparagus,”saidIsabel,barelylookingupfromherhomework.“Duringgrapes,youhategrapes.Duringpotatoes,youhatepotatoes.Andduringasparagus,youhate
asparagus.Isupposethatduringpeaches,youwillhatepeaches.”Isabellaughed.“No,Ilovepeaches.”HortensiastirredapotofbeansandEsperanzatookoffthestainedapronsheworeintheshedsandput
onanother.Shebeganmeasuringtheflourtomake tortillas.Inafewminutes,shewaspattingthefreshdoughthatleftherhandslookingasifsheworewhitegloves.“MyteacherwillchoosetheQueenoftheMaythisweek,”saidIsabel.Herentirebodywiggledwith
excitement.“Yes,youhavetoldus,”saidEsperanza,teasingher.“Doyouhaveanythingnewtotellus?”“TheyaremakinganewcampforpeoplefromOklahoma,”saidIsabel.EsperanzalookedatHortensia.“Isthattrue?”Hortensianodded.“Theyannounceditatthecampmeeting.Theownerofthefarmboughtsomearmy
barracksfromanoldmilitarycampandismovingthemontothepropertynottoofarfromhere.”“Theyget inside toiletsandhotwater!Andaswimmingpool!”said Isabel.“Our teacher toldusall
aboutit.Andwewillallbeabletoswiminit.”“One day aweek,” saidHortensia, looking at Esperanza. “TheMexicans can only swim on Friday
afternoons,beforetheycleanthepoolonSaturdaymornings.”Esperanzapoundedthedoughalittletoohard.“Dotheythinkwearedirtierthantheothers?”Hortensiadidnot answerbut turned to the stove to cooka tortilla on the flat blackcomal over the
flame.ShelookedatEsperanzaandheldherfingertohermouth,signalinghernottodiscusstoomuchinfrontofIsabel.Miguelwalkedin,kissedhismother,thenpickedupaplateandafreshtortillaandwenttothepotof
beans.Hisclotheswerecoveredinmudthathaddriedgray.“Howdidyougetsodirty?”askedHortensia.Miguelsatdownatthetable.“AgroupofmenshowedupfromOklahoma.Theysaidtheywouldwork
forhalfthemoneyandtherailroadhiredallofthem.”Helookedintohisplateandshookhishead.“Someofthemhaveneverevenworkedonamotorbefore.Mybosssaidthathedidn’tneedme.Thattheyweregoingtotrainthenewmen.HesaidIcoulddigditchesorlaytracksifIwanted.”Esperanzastaredathim,herflouredhandsinmidair.“Whatdidyoudo?”“Canyounottellfrommyclothes?Idugditches.”Hisvoicewassharpbuthecontinuedeating,asif
nothingwerewrong.“Miguel,howcouldyouagreetosuchathing?”saidEsperanza.
Miguelraisedhisvoice.“Whatwouldyouhavemedoinstead?Icouldhavewalkedout.ButIwouldhavenopayfortoday.ThosemenfromOklahomahavefamilies,too.Wemustallworkatsomethingorwewillallstarve.”AtemperEsperanzadidnotrecognizeragedtothesurface.Then,liketheirrigationpipesinthefields
whenthewaterisfirst turnedon,herangerburstforth.“Whydidn’tyourbosstell theotherstodigtheditches?!”Shelookedatthedoughshewasholdinginherhandandthrewitat thewall.Itstuckforaninstant,andthenslowlysliddownthewall,leavingadarkenedtrail.Isabel’sseriouseyesdartedfromMigueltoEsperanzatoHortensia.“Arewegoingtostarve?”“No!”theyallansweredatthesametime.Esperanza’seyeswereonfire.Shestampedoutofthecabin,slammingthedoor,andwalkedpastthe
mulberryandthechinaberrytreestothevineyard.Shehurrieddownarow,thencutovertoanother.“Esperanza!”SheheardMiguel’svoiceinthedistancebutshedidn’tanswer.Whenshegottotheendofonerow,she
moveduptoanother.“Anza!”Shecouldhearhimrunningdowntherows,catchingupwithher.Shekepthereyesonthetamarisktreesinthefardistanceandwalkedfaster.Migueleventuallycaughtherarmandpulledheraround.“Whatisthematterwithyou?”“IsthisthebetterlifethatyouleftMexicofor?Isit?Nothingisrighthere!Isabelwillcertainlynotbe
queennomatterhowbadlyshewantsitbecausesheisMexican.YoucannotworkonenginesbecauseyouareMexican.Wehavegonetoworkthroughangrycrowdsofourownpeoplewhothrewrocksatus,andI’mafraidtheymighthavebeenright!TheysendpeoplebacktoMexicoeveniftheydon’tbelongthere,justforspeakingup.Weliveinahorsestall.Andnoneofthisbothersyou?Haveyouheardthattheyarebuilding a new camp for Okies, with a swimming pool? The Mexicans can only swim in it on theafternoonbefore theyclean it!Haveyouheard theywillbegiven inside toiletsandhotwater?Whyisthat,Miguel?Isitbecausetheyarethefairestintheland?Tellme!IsthislifereallybetterthanbeingaservantinMexico?”Miguellookedoutoverthegrapeswherethesunsetlowonthehorizon,castinglongshadowsinthe
vineyard.Heturnedbacktoher.“InMexico,Iwasasecond-classcitizen.Istoodontheothersideoftheriver,remember?AndIwould
havestayedthatwaymyentirelife.Atleasthere,Ihaveachance,howeversmall,tobecomemorethanwhatIwas.You,obviously,canneverunderstandthisbecauseyouhaveneverlivedwithouthope.”Sheclenchedherfistsandclosedhereyestightinfrustration.“Miguel,doyounotunderstand?Youare
still a second-class citizenbecauseyouact likeone, letting them takeadvantageofyou like that.Whydon’tyougotoyourbossandconfronthim?Whydon’tyouspeakupforyourselfandyourtalents?”“Youarebeginningtosoundlikethestrikers,Esperanza,”saidMiguelcoldly.“Thereismorethanone
waytogetwhatyouwantinthiscountry.MaybeImustbemoredeterminedthanotherstosucceed,butIknowthatitwillhappen.Aguántatetantitoylafrutacaeráentumano.”Thewordsstoppedherasifsomeonehadslappedherface.Papa’swords:Waitalittlewhileandthe
fruitwillfallintoyourhand.Butshewastiredofwaiting.ShewastiredofMamabeingsickandAbuelitabeing far away and Papa being dead.As she thought about Papa, tears sprang from her eyes and shesuddenly feltweary, as if she had been clinging to a rope but didn’t have the strength to hold on anylonger.Shesobbedwithhereyesclosedandimaginedshewasfalling,withthewindwhooshingpastherandnothingbutdarknessbelow.“Anza.”CouldIfallallthewaybacktoMexicoifIneveropenedmyeyesagain?ShefeltMiguel’shandonherarmandopenedhereyes.“Anza,everythingwillworkout,”hesaid.Esperanzabackedawayfromhimandshookherhead,“Howdoyouknowthese things,Miguel?Do
youhavesomeprophecythatIdonot?Ihavelosteverything.EverysinglethingandallthethingsthatIwasmeant tobe.See theseperfect rows,Miguel?Theyare likewhatmy lifewouldhavebeen.Theserowsknowwheretheyaregoing.Straightahead.NowmylifeislikethezigzagintheblanketonMama’sbed.IneedtogetAbuelitahere,butIcannotevensendhermypitifulsavingsforfearmyuncleswillfindoutandkeepherthereforever.IpayMama’smedicalbillsbutnextmonththerewillbemore.Ican’tstandyourblindhope.Idon’twanttohearyouroptimismaboutthislandofpossibilitywhenIseenoproof!”“Asbadasthingsare,wehavetokeeptrying.”“Butitdoesnogood!Lookatyourself.Areyoustandingontheothersideoftheriver?No!Youare
stillapeasant!”Witheyesashardasgreenplums,Miguelstaredatherandhisfacecontortedintoadisgustedgrimace.
“Andyoustillthinkyouareaqueen.”
Thenextmorning,Miguelwasgone.HehadtoldhisfatherhewasgoingtonorthernCaliforniatolookforworkontherailroad.Hortensia
wasconfusedandworriedthathewouldleavesosuddenly,butAlfonsoreassuredher.“Heisdetermined.Andheisseventeennow.Hecantakecareofhimself.”Esperanza was too ashamed to tell anyone what was said in the vineyard and she secretly knew
Miguel’sleavingwasherfault.WhenshesawHortensia’sanxiety,Esperanzafelttheheavyresponsibilityforhissafety.ShewenttoPapa’srosesandwhenshesawthefirstbloom,herheartachedbecauseshewishedshe
could run and tellMiguel.Please,OurLady, sheprayed, don’t let anything happen to him or Iwill
neverbeabletoforgivemyselfforthethingsIsaid.
EsperanzakepthermindoffMiguelbyworkinghardandconcentratingonIsabel.WhenEsperanzasawalugofearlypeachescomeinto theshed,shesetasideabagtobringhometoher.Shejusthadtohavethem,especiallytoday.Asshewalkeddowntherowofcabinsafterwork,shecouldseeIsabelinthedistance,waitingforher.
Isabelsatupstraight,primly,withhersmallhandsfoldedinherlap,hereyessearchingtherow.WhenshesawEsperanza,shejumpedupandrantowardher.Asshegotcloser,Esperanzacouldseethetearstreaksonhercheeks.IsabelthrewherarmsaroundEsperanza’swaist.“IdidnotwinQueenoftheMay!”shesaid,sobbing
intothefoldsofherskirt.“Ihadthebestgradesbuttheteachersaidshechoseonmorethanjustgrades.”Esperanzawanteddesperatelytomakeituptoher.Shepickedherupandheldher.“I’msorry,Isabel.
I’msosorrythattheydidnotchooseyou.”Sheputherdownandtookherhandandtheywalkedbacktothecabin.“Haveyoutoldtheothers?Yourmother?”“No,”shesniffed.“Theyarenothomeyet.IwassupposedtogotoIreneandMelina’sbutIwantedto
waitforyou.”Esperanzatookherintothecabinandsatonthebednexttoher.“Isabel,itdoesnotmatterwhowon.
Yes,youwouldhavemadeabeautifulqueenbutthatwouldhavelastedforonlyoneday.Adaygoesbyfast,Isabel.Andthenitisover.”Esperanzabentdown,pulledhervalisefromunderthebed,andopenedit.Theonlythingleft inside
wastheporcelaindoll.ShehadshownittoIsabelmanytimes,tellingherthestoryofhowPapahadgivenittoher.Althoughalittledusty,thedollstilllookedlovely,itseyeshopefullikeIsabel’susuallywere.“Iwantyou tohavesomething thatwill lastmore thanoneday,” saidEsperanza.She lifted thedoll
fromthevaliseandhandedittoIsabel.“Tokeepasyourown.”Isabel’seyeswidened.“Ohn…no,Esperanza,”shesaid,hervoicestillshakyandherfacewetwith
tears.“Yourpapagavehertoyou.”EsperanzastrokedIsabel’shair.“Doyouthinkmypapawouldwantherburiedinsideavaliseallthis
timewithnooneplayingwithher?Lookather.Shemustbelonely.Sheisevengettingdusty!Andlookatme.Iammuchtoooldfordolls.PeoplewouldmakefunofmeifIcarriedheraround,andyouknowhowIhateitwhenpeoplelaughatme.Isabel,youwouldbedoingmeandmypapaafavorifyouwouldloveher.”“Really?”saidIsabel.“Yes,”saidEsperanza.“AndIthinkthatyoushouldtakehertoschooltoshowallyourfriends,don’t
youagree?I’msurenoneofthem,noteventheQueenoftheMay,haseverownedanythingasbeautiful.”Isabelcradledthedollinherarms,hertearsdryingonherface.“Esperanza,Iprayedandprayedabout
beingQueenoftheMay.”“OurLadyknewthatbeingqueenwouldnotlast,butthatthedollwouldbeyoursforalongtime.”Isabelnodded,asmallsmilebeginning.“Whatwillyourmamasay?”Esperanzahuggedher,“Ihaveameetingwiththedoctorthisweeksoifheletsme,Iwillaskher.ButI
think thatMamawouldbeveryproud that shebelongs toyou.”Then,grinning, sheheldout thebagofpeaches.“Ihateasparagus,too.”
EsperanzaandHortensiawaitedinthedoctor’soffice.Hortensiasatandtappedherfoot,andEsperanzapaced,lookingatthediplomasonthewall.Finally,thedoorswungopenandthedoctorwalkedin,thenscootedbehindhisdeskandsatdown.“Esperanza,Ihavegoodnews,”hesaid.“Yourmother’shealthhasimprovedandshe’llbewellenough
toleavethehospitalinaweek.SheisstillalittledepressedbutIthinksheneedstobearoundallofyou.Pleaseremember,though,thatonceshegoeshome,shewillhavetoresttobuildupherstrength.Thereisstillachanceofarelapse.”Esperanzastartedlaughingandcryingatthesametime.Mamawascominghome!Forthefirsttimein
thefivemonthssinceMamahadenteredthehospital,Esperanza’sheartfeltlighter.Thedoctorsmiled.“Shehasbeenaskingforhercrochetneedlesandyarn.Youcanseehernowfora
fewminutesifyoulike.”EsperanzarandownthehospitalhallswithHortensiabehindhertoMama’sbedside,wheretheyfound
hersittingupinbed.Esperanzaflungherarmsaroundherneck.“Mama!”Mamahuggedher thenheldheratarm’s lengthandstudiedher.“Oh,Esperanza,howyou’vegrown.
Youlooksomature.”Mamastilllookedthinbutnotsoweak.Esperanzafeltherforeheadandtherewasnofever.Mamalaughedather.Itwasn’tastronglaughbutEsperanzalovedthesound.Hortensiapronouncedthathercolorwasgoodandpromisedtopurchasemoreyarnsothatitwouldbe
waitingwhenshecamehome.“Youwouldnotbelieveyourdaughter,Ramona.Shealwaysgetscalledtoworkinthesheds,shecooksnow,andtakescareofthebabiesaswellastheirownmother.”Mamareachedup,pulledEsperanzatoherchest,andhuggedher.“Iamsoproudofyou.”EsperanzahuggedMamaback.Whenthevisitinghourwasover,shehatedtoleavebutkissedMama
andsaidhergood-byes,promisingtotellhereverythingassoonasshecamehome.
AllweektheypreparedforMama’shomecoming.HortensiaandJosefinascrubbedthelittlecabinuntilitwasalmostantiseptic.Esperanzawashedall theblanketsandproppedthepillowsinthebed.JuanandAlfonsocushionedachairandseveralcratesunder theshade treesso thatMamacouldreclineoutsideduringthehotafternoons.OnSaturday, as soon asEsperanzahelpedMama from the truck, shewanted aquick tour ofPapa’s
rosesandshegotweepywhenshesawtheblooms.Visitorscameallafternoon,butHortensiawouldonlyletpeoplestayafewminutes,thensheshooedthemawayforfearMamawouldn’tgetherrest.Thatnight,IsabelshowedMamathedollandhowshewastakingcareofitandMamatoldherthatshe
thought Isabeland thedollbelonged together.When itwas timeforbed,Esperanzacarefully laydownnext to Mama, hoping she wouldn’t disturb her, but Mama moved closer and put her arms aroundEsperanza,andheldhertightly.“Mama,Miguelisgone,”shewhispered.“Iknow,mija.Hortensiatoldme.”“ButMama,itwasmyfault.Igotangryandtoldhimhewasstillapeasantandthenheleft.”“Itcouldnothavebeenallyourfault.I’msureheknowsyoudidn’tmeanit.He’llcomebacksoon.He
couldn’tbeawayfromhisfamilyforlong.”Theywerequiet.“Mama,we’vebeenawayfromAbuelitaforalmostayear,”saidEsperanza.“Iknow,”saidMamaquietly.“Itdoesnotseempossible.”“ButI’vesavedmoney.Wecanbringhersoon.Doyouwanttoseehowmuch?”BeforeMamacould
answer,Esperanzaturnedonthelight,checkingtomakesureshehadn’twokenIsabel.Shetiptoedtotheclosetandtookouthervalise.ShegrinnedatMama,knowinghowproudshewouldbeofallthemoneyorders.Sheopenedthebagandhermouthdroppedopen.Shecouldn’tbelievewhatshesaw.Shetippedthevaliseupsidedownandshookithard.Itwasempty.Themoneyordersweregone.
Miguelwas the only onewho could have taken themoneyorders.Noone doubted that.Alfonsoapologized toEsperanza, butMamagraciously said thatMiguelmust haveneeded themoney to get tonorthernCalifornia.Alfonsopromisedthemoneywouldbepaidback,onewayoranother,andEsperanzaknewitwouldbe,butshewasangrywithMiguel.Howdarehegointohervaliseandtakewhatwasnothis.Andafterallherhardwork.Mamaseemedtogetalittlestrongereveryday,althoughshestilltookmanynaps.Hortensiawashappy
thatshewaseatingwell,andeverydayEsperanzabroughthomejust-pickedfruittotempther.A fewweeks later, Esperanza stood on the shed dock in themorning andmarveled at the peaches,
plums,andnectarinesthatpouredintotheshed.“Howwillweeversortthemall?”sheasked.Josefinalaughed.“Onepieceatatime.Itgetsdone.”TheystartedwiththesmallwhiteclingstonepeachesandthenthelargeryellowElbertas.Mamaloved
thewhitepeachessoEsperanzasetasideabagforher.Thenafter lunch, theysorted theFlamingGoldnectarines.Laterthatafternoontheywouldstillhavetosortafewbushelsofplums.Esperanza loved the elephant-heart plums.Mottledgreenon theoutside andbloodredon the inside,
theyweretangyandsweetatthesametime.Shestoodinthemidsummersunduringherlunchbreakandateone,bentoversothejuicewouldn’trundownherchin.Josefinacalledtoher.“Mira,”shesaid.“Look.There’sAlfonso.Whatishedoinghere?”Alfonsowastalkingtooneofthesupervisors.Hehadneverleftthefieldsinthemiddleofthedayand
cometothesheds.“Somethingmustbewrong,”saidEsperanza.“Maybeitisthebabies?”saidJosefinaandshehurriedtowardhim.Esperanzacouldseethemtalkingandslowlybeganwalkingtowardthem,leavingthelineofwomen
andthestacksof lugsandplums.Shetried toreadfromJosefina’sexpressionswhethersomethingwaswrong.ThenJosefinaturnedtolookather.EsperanzafelttheblooddrainfromherfaceandshesuddenlyknewwhyAlfonsowashere.Ithadtobe
Mama.Thedoctorhadsaidshecouldhavearelapse.Somethingmusthavehappenedtoher.Esperanzasuddenlyfeltweakbutshekeptwalking.“IsitMama?”“No,no.Ididn’tmeantoalarmyou,Esperanza,butIneedyoutocomewithme.Hortensia is in the
truck.”“Butit’ssoearly.”“It’sokay,Italkedtothesupervisor.”She followedhim to the truck.Hortensiawaswaiting inside. “Wegot amessage fromMiguel,” she
said.“WearetomeethimatthebusstationinBakersfieldatthreeo’clock.HesaidheiscomingfromLosAngelesandthatweshouldbringyou.That’sallweknow.”“Butwhywouldhewantmetocome?”askedEsperanza.“Icanonlyhopethatit’stoapologizeforhisactions,”saidHortensia.It was over a hundred degrees. Hot wind whipped inside the cab. Esperanza felt the perspiration
slidingdownherskinbeneathherdress.Itfeltstrangetoberidingtotownonaworkday,breakingherroutine in the sheds. She kept thinking of all the elephant hearts that the others would have to packshorthanded.Hortensiasqueezedherhand.“Ican’twaittoseehim,”shesaid.Esperanzaofferedatightsmile.They arrived at the bus station and sat on a bench in front. The clerks all spoke to one another in
English, their hard, sharpwordsmeaning nothing toEsperanza. It always startled herwhen she heardEnglishandshehatednotknowingwhatpeopleweresaying.Somedayshewouldlearnit.Shestrainedtoheareachannouncementthatwasmade,finallyhearingthewordsshewaswaitingfor,“LosAngeles.”Asilverbusturnedthecornerandpulledintothebayinfrontofthestation.Esperanzasearchedthrough
thepassengersseatedonthebusbutcouldn’tseeMiguel.SheandHortensiaandAlfonsostoodupandwatched everyone get off.And then, finally, therewasMiguel standing in the doorwayof the bus.Helookedtiredandrumpledbutwhenhesawhisparents,hejumpedfromthesteps,grabbinghismotherandhuggingher,thenhisfather,clappinghimontheback.HelookedatEsperanzaandsmiled.“Ihavebroughtyouproofthatthingswillgetbetter,”hesaid.Shelookedathim,tryingtobeangry.Shedidn’twanthimtothinkshewasgladtoseehim.“Didyou
bringbackwhatyouhavestolen?”“No,butIbroughtyousomethingbetter.”Thenhe turned tohelp the lastpassenger fromthebus,asmall,olderwoman trying togetdown the
steepsteps.Thesun,reflectingofftheshinybus,glintedinEsperanza’seyes.Sheshadedthemwithherhand,tryingtoimaginewhatMiguelwastalkingabout.Foramoment,shesawunfantasma,aghostofAbuelitawalkingtowardher,withonearmreachingout
toherandtheotherpressingonawoodencane.“Esperanza,”saidtheghost.SheheardHortensiasuckinherbreath.Suddenly,Esperanzaknewthathereyeswerenotdeceivingher.Herthroattightenedandshefeltasif
shecouldn’tmove.Abuelitacamecloser.Shewassmallandwrinkled,withwispsofwhitehairfallingoutofherbunat
the back of her head. Her clothes looked mussed from travel, but she had her same white lacehandkerchieftuckedintothesleeveofherdressandhereyesbrimmedwithtears.Esperanzatriedtosayher name but couldn’t. Her throatwas cramping from her emotions. She could only reach out for her
grandmotherandburyherheadinthefamiliarsmelloffacepowder,garlic,andpeppermint.“Abuelita,Abuelita!”shecried.“Aquíestoy.Iamhere,minieta.HowIhavemissedyou.”Esperanzarockedherbackandforth,daringtobelievethatitwastrue,lookingatherthroughtearsto
makesureshewasnotdreaming.Andlaughingfinally.Laughingandsmilingandholdingherhands.ThenHortensiaandAlfonsotooktheirturns.EsperanzalookedatMiguel.“How?”sheasked.“IneededtohavesomethingtodowhileIwaitedforwork.SoIwentforher.”After theypulled intocamp, theyescortedAbuelita into theircabinwhere theyfoundJosefina,Juan,
andthebabieswaiting.“Josefina,where’sMama?”“Itwaswarmsowesettledherintheshade.Shefellasleep.Isabelissittingwithher.Iseverythingall
right?”Hortensia introducedAbuelita to Juanand Josefina,whose faces litup.Esperanza thenwatchedher
grandmother lookaround the tiny room thatnowheldpiecesof theirnew life. Isabel’spictureson thewall,abowlofpeachesonthetable,thebabies’toysunderfoot,Papa’srosesinacoffeecan.EsperanzawonderedwhatAbuelitathoughtofthesadconditions,butshejustsmiledandsaid,“Pleasetakemetomydaughter.”Esperanza tookAbuelita’s hand and led her toward the trees. She could seeMama reclining in the
shadenearthewoodentable.Aquiltwasspreadonthegroundnearbywherethebabiesusuallyplayed.Isabel was running back from the vineyard, her hands full of wildflowers and grapevines. She sawEsperanzaandrantowardherandAbuelita.Isabelstoppedinfrontofthem,herfaceflushedandsmiling.“Isabel,thisisAbuelita.”Isabel’s eyeswidened andhermouthpoppedopen in surprise. “Doyou reallywalkbarefoot in the
grapesandcarrysmoothstonesinyourpockets?”Abuelitalaughed,reacheddeepintothepocketofherdress,pulledoutaflat,slickstoneandgaveitto
Isabel.Shelookedatitinamazement,thenhandedAbuelitathewildflowers.“IthinkyouandIwillbegoodfriends,Isabel,yes?”IsabelnoddedandsteppedasidesoAbuelitacouldgotoherdaughter.TherewasnowaytoprepareMama.Esperanza watched Abuelita walk to whereMama slept, resting on the makeshift lounge. She was
framedbythevineyard,thegrapesripeandreadytodrop.AbuelitastoppedafewfeetfromMamaandlookedather.A stack of lace carpetas was at Mama’s side as well as her crochet needle and thread. Abuelita
reachedoutandstrokedherhair,gentlypullingtheloosestrandsawayfromMama’sfaceandsmoothingthemagainstherhead.Softly,Abuelitasaid,“Ramona.”Mamadidnotopenhereyes,butsaidasifshewasdreaming,“Esperanza,isthatyou?”“No,Ramona,itisme,Abuelita.”Mamaslowlyopenedhereyes.ShestaredatAbuelitawithnoreaction,asifshewasnotreallyseeing
heratall.Thensheliftedherhandandreachedouttotouchhermother’sface,makingsurethatthevisionwastrue.Abuelitanodded,“Yes,itisme.Ihavecome.”AbuelitaandMamautterednowordsthatanyonecouldunderstand.Itwastheirownlanguageofhappy
exclamations and overwhelming emotions. Esperanzawatched them cry and shewondered if her ownheartwouldburstfromsomuchjoy.“Oh,Esperanza!”saidIsabel,jumpingupanddownandclapping.“Ithinkmyheartisdancing.”Esperanzabarelychokedoutthewhisper,“Mine,too.”ThenshepickedupIsabelandspunheraround
inherarms.MamawouldnotletgoofAbuelita.ShescootedoverandmadeAbuelitasitnexttoherandheldonto
herarmsasifshemightdisappear.Suddenly,Esperanzarememberedherpromise,ranbacktothecabinandreturned,carryingsomething
inherarms.“Esperanza,”saidAbuelita,“Couldthatpossiblybemyblanket?Didyoufinishit?”“Notyet,”shesaid,unfoldingtheblanket.Mamaheldoneend,andEsperanzapulledtheotherend.It
reachedfromthechinaberrytreetothemulberry.Itcouldhavecoveredthreebeds.Theyalllaughed.Theyarnwasstillconnected,waitingforthelastrowtobefinished.Theyallgatheredonthequiltandatthetable.Esperanzasatdownandpulledthemassiveblanketnext
toher,tooktheneedle,andbegancrochetingthefinalstitches.WhenMamacouldfinallyspeak,shelookedatAbuelitaandaskedthesamethingEsperanzahadasked,
“Howdidyougethere?”“Miguel,” saidAbuelita. “He came forme. Luis andMarco have been impossible. If Iwent to the
market, one of their spieswould followme. I think they thought youwere still in the area andwouldeventuallycomebackforme.”Tenstitchesuptothetopofthemountain.EsperanzalistenedtoAbuelitatellMamaabouthowinfuriatedTíoLuishadbeenwhenhefoundout
theyweregone.He’dbecomeobsessedwithfindingthemandquestionedalloftheirneighbors,includingSeñorRodríguez.Theyhadevencometotheconventtoquestionhersisters.Butnoonetoldhimanything.Addonestitch.A fewmonths after they left, she’d had a premonition that something was wrong withMama. The
feelingwouldnotletgoofhersoshelitcandleseverydayformonthsandprayedfortheirsafety.Ninestitchesdowntothebottomofthevalley.Thenoneday,whenshehadalmostgivenuphope,shefoundaninjuredbirdinthegardenthatshedid
notthinkwouldflyagain,butthenextmorningwhensheapproachedit, thebirdliftedintothesky.Sheknewitwasasignthatwhateverhadbeenwrong,wasbetter.Skiponestitch.Thenoneofthenunsbroughtheranotethatsomeonehadleftinthepoorboxaddressedtoher.Ithad
beenfromMiguel.Hesuspected thatAbuelitawasbeingwatchedsohedeliveredhisnotesafterdark,tellingherofhisplan.Tenstitchesuptothetopofthemountain.MiguelandSeñorRodríguezcameinthemiddleofthenightandtookhertothetrainstation.Itwasall
veryexciting.AndMigueldidn’t leavehersideonceduring theentire trip.Hebroughtherall thewayhere.Addonestitch.HesaidthatRamonaandEsperanzaneededher.“Hewasright,”saidMama,hereyestearyagain,gratefullylookingatMiguel.Mountainsandvalleys.Mountainsandvalleys.Somanyofthem,thoughtEsperanza.Whenastrandof
herhairfell intoherlap,shepickeditupandwoveit intotheblanket,sothatallof thehappinessandemotionshefeltatthismomentwouldgowithitforever.WhenEsperanzatoldAbuelitatheirstory,aboutallthathadhappenedtothem,shedidn’tmeasuretime
bytheusualseasons.Instead,shetolditasafield-worker,inspansoffruitsandvegetablesandbywhatneededtobedonetotheland.Theyhadarrivedinthevalleyattheendofthegrapes:Thompsonseedless,RedMalagas,andtheblue-
blackRibiers.Mamabreathedinthedustattheendofthegrapesandthat’swhenshegotsick.Thenithadbeentimetoprunethegrapesandgetreadyforpotatoes.Workingpotatoeswastheheartofwinterandthecoldthatdampenedthebones.Andduringpotatoeyes,Mamahadgonetothehospital.Therehadbeennomonthswith names, only the time of tying canes amidst the ghosts of grapes and gray days that neverwarmed. But afterward came the anticipation of spring and a valley pregnant with needs: gracefulasparagus,ripeningvineyards,andgroaningtrees.Thenearlypeachescalled,cricketsinthefieldsstartedtheir nightly symphonies, andMama came home.Abuelita arrived during plums.And now, the grapesweredeliveringanotherharvestandEsperanzawasturninganotheryear.
A fewdays before her birthday,Esperanza beggedMiguel to drive her to the foothills before sunrise.Therewassomethingshewantedtodo.Shewokeinthedarkandtiptoedfromthecabin.
Theyfollowedthedirtroadthatheadedeastandparkedwhentheycouldgonofarther.Inthegraylight,theycouldseeasmallfootpathtoaplateau.Whentheygottothetop,Esperanzalookedoutoverthevalley.Thecool,almost-morningairfilledher
senses.Below,shecouldseethewhiteroofsofthecabinsinstraightrows,thefieldsbeginningtotakeform,andovertheeasternmountains,ahopefulbrightening.Shebentoverandtouchedthegrass.Itwascoolbutdry.Shelaydownonherstomachandpattedthe
groundnexttoher.“Miguel,didyouknowthatifyoulieonthegroundandstayverystill,youcanfeeltheearth’sheartbeating?”Helookedatherskeptically.Shepattedthegroundagain.Thenhelaydownasshewas,facingher.“Willthishappensoon,Esperanza?”“Aguántate tantitoy la frutacaeráen tumano.Wait a littlewhile and the fruitwill fall intoyour
hand.”Hesmiledandnodded.Theywerestill.ShewatchedMiguelwatchingher.Andthenshefeltit.Beginningsoftly.Agentlethumping,repeatingitself.Thenstronger.Sheheardit,
too.Shoomp.Shoomp.Shoomp.Theearth’sheartbeat.JustlikeshehadfeltitthatdaywithPapa.Miguelsmiledandsheknewthathefeltit,too.Thesunpeekedovertherimofadistantridge,burstingthedawnontothewaitingfields.Shefeltits
warmthwashingoverherand turnedonherbackand faced thesky, staring into thecloudsnow tingedwithpinkandorange.As the sun rose,Esperanza began to feel as if she rosewith it. Floating again, like that day on the
mountain,whenshefirstarrivedinthevalley.Sheclosedhereyes,andthistimeshedidnotcareenoutofcontrol.Instead,sheglidedabovetheearth,unafraid.Sheletherselfbeliftedintothesky,andsheknewthatshewouldnotslipaway.SheknewthatshewouldneverlosePapaorElRanchodelasRosas,orAbuelitaorMama,nomatterwhathappened.ItwasasCarmen,theeggwoman,hadsaidonthetrain.Shehadherfamily,agardenfullofroses,herfaith,andthememoriesofthosewhohadgonebeforeher.Butnow,shehadevenmorethanthat,anditcarriedherup,asonthewingsofthephoenix.Shesoaredwiththeanticipationofdreamssheneverknewshecouldhave,oflearningEnglish,ofsupportingherfamily,ofsomedaybuyingatinyhouse.Miguelhadbeenrightaboutnevergivingup,andshehadbeenright, too,aboutrisingabovethosewhoheldthemdown.Shehoveredhighabovethevalley, itsbasinsurroundedbythemountains.SheswoopedoverPapa’s
roseblooms,buoyedbyrosehipsthatrememberedallthebeautytheyhadseen.ShewavedatIsabelandAbuelita,walking barefoot in the vineyards,wearing grapevinewreaths in their hair. She sawMama,
sittingonablanket,acacophonyofcolor thatcoveredanacre inzigzagrows.ShesawMartaandhermotherwalkinginanalmondgrove,holdinghands.Thensheflewoverariver,athrustingtorrentthatcutthroughthemountains.Andthere,inthemiddleofthewilderness,wasagirlinabluesilkdressandaboywithhishair slickeddown, eatingmangoesona stick, carved to look likeexotic flowers, sittingonagrassybank,onthesamesideoftheriver.Esperanza reached forMiguel’shandand found it, andeven thoughhermindwassoaring to infinite
possibilities,histouchheldherhearttotheearth.
“EstassonlasmañanitasquecantabaelReyDavidalasmuchachasbonitas;selascantamosaquí.Despierta,mibien,despierta.Miraqueyaamaneció.Yalospajaritoscantan,lalunayasemetió.ThesearethemorningsongswhichKingDavidusedtosingtoalltheprettygirls;wesingthemheretoyou.Awake,mybeloved,awake.See,itisalreadydawn.Thebirdsarealreadysinging,themoonhasalreadygone.”
On themorning of her birthday, Esperanza heard the voices coming from outside her window. ShecouldpickoutMiguel’s,Alfonso’s,andJuan’s.Shesatup inbedand listened.Andsmiled.Esperanzaliftedthecurtain.Isabelcameovertoherbedandlookedoutwithher,clutchingherdoll.Theybothblewkissestothemenwhosangthebirthdaysong.ThenEsperanzawavedtheminside,nottoopengifts,butbecauseshecouldalreadysmellcoffeecomingfromthekitchen.Theygatheredforbreakfast:MamaandAbuelita,HortensiaandAlfonso,JosefinaandJuan,thebabies
andIsabel.IreneandMelinacame,too,withtheirfamily.AndMiguel.Itwasn’texactlylikethebirthdaysofherpast.But itwouldstillbeacelebration,under themulberryandchinaberry trees,withnewbornrosebudsfromPapa’sgarden.Althoughtherewerenopapayas,therewascantaloupe,lime,andcoconutsalad.Andmachacaburritos toppedwith lotsof laughterand teasing.At theendof themeal,Josefinabroughtoutaflandealmendras,Esperanza’sfavorite,andtheysangthebirthdaysongtoheragain.Isabel sat next toAbuelita at thewooden table. They each held crochet hooks and a skein of yarn.
“Nowwatch,Isabel.Tenstitchesuptothetopofthemountain.”AbuelitademonstratedandIsabelcarefullycopiedhermovements.Theneedlerockedawkwardlyandattheendofherbeginningrows,Isabelheldupherworktoshow
Esperanza.“Mineisallcrooked!”Esperanzasmiledandreachedoverandgentlypulledtheyarn,unravelingtheunevenstitches.Thenshe
lookedintoIsabel’strustingeyesandsaid,“Donoteverbeafraidtostartover.”
Icanstillseemygrandmothercrochetingblanketsinzigzagrows.Shemadeoneforeachofhersevenchildren,manyofhertwenty-threegrandchildren(Iamtheeldestofthegrandchildren),andforthegreat-grandchildrenshelivedtosee.Mygrandmother,EsperanzaOrtega,wastheinspirationforthisbook.WhenIwasayounggirl,Grandmausedtotellmewhatherlifewaslikewhenshefirstcametothe
United States from Mexico. I had heard stories about the company farm camp where she lived andworked,andthelifelongfriendsshemadethere.Whenshetalkedaboutthosepeopleandhowtheyhadhelpedherthroughdesperate,tryingtimes,shesometimescriedatthememories.Itwasn’tuntilIhadchildrenofmyownthatmygrandmothertoldmeaboutherlifeinMexico,abouta
fairy-taleexistencewithservants,wealth,andgrandeur,whichhadprecededherlifeinthecompanyfarmcamp.Iwrotedownsomeofherrecollectionsfromherchildhood.HowIwishIhadwrittendownmorebeforeshediedbecauseIcouldneverstopwonderingabouthertransitionfromMexicotoCaliforniaandwhatitmusthavebeenlike.Eventually,Istartedtoimagineastorybasedonthegirlwhomighthavebeenher.This fictional story parallels her life in some ways. She was born and raised in Aguascalientes,
Mexico.HerfatherwasSixtoOrtegaandhermother,Ramona.TheylivedonElRanchodelaTrinidad(which I changed to El Rancho de las Rosas) and her uncles did hold prominent positions in thecommunity.Aseriesofcircumstances,includingherfather’sdeath,eventuallyforcedmygrandmothertoimmigrate to the United States to a company-owned farm labor camp in Arvin, California. UnlikeEsperanza in the story, my grandmother had already married my grandfather, JesúsMuñoz, when sheimmigrated to California. LikeMiguel, he had been her father’smechanic. In the segregatedMexicancamp,withmygrandfather, she livedmuch like the characters in the story. Shewashed her clothes incommunaltubs,wenttojamaicasonSaturdaynights,andcaredforherfirstthreedaughters.That’swheremymother,EsperanzaMuñoz,wasborn.During the early 1930s thereweremany strikes in theCalifornia agricultural fields.Often, growers
evicted the strikers from their labor camps, forcingmany to live together inmakeshift refugee camps,sometimesonfarmsontheoutskirtsoftowns.Thegrowerswerepowerfulandcouldsometimesinfluencelocal governments. In Kern County, sheriffs arrested picketers for obstructing traffic, even though theroadsweredeserted.InKingsCounty,oneMexicanmanwasarrestedforspeakingtoacrowdinSpanish.Sometimes the strikes failed, especially in areas that were flooded with people from states likeOklahoma, who were desperate for work at any wage. In other instances, the strong voices of manypeoplechangedsomeofthepitifulconditions.TheMexicanRepatriationwasveryrealandanoftenoverlookedpartofourhistory.InMarchof1929,
thefederalgovernmentpassedtheDeportationActthatgavecountiesthepowertosendgreatnumbersof
Mexicansback toMexico.Governmentofficials thought thiswouldsolve theunemploymentassociatedwiththeGreatDepression(itdidn’t).CountyofficialsinLosAngeles,California,organized“deportationtrains”andtheImmigrationBureaumade“sweeps”intheSanFernandoValleyandLosAngeles,arrestinganyone who lookedMexican, regardless of whether or not they were citizens or in the United Stateslegally.Many of those sent toMexicowere native-bornUnited States citizens and had never been toMexico.Thenumbers ofMexicansdeportedduring this so-called “voluntary repatriation”wasgreaterthan the Native American removals of the nineteenth century and greater than the Japanese-AmericanrelocationsduringWorldWarII. Itwas the largest involuntarymigration in theUnitedStatesup to thattime. Between 1929 and 1935 at least 450,000Mexicans andMexican Americans were sent back toMexico.Somehistoriansthinkthenumberswereclosertoamillion.Eventhoughmygrandmotherlivedinthiscountryforoverfiftyyears,Icanstillrememberherbreaking
outinnervousperspirationandtremblingasherpassportwascheckedattheborderwhenwereturnedtotheUnitedStatesfromashoppingtripinTijuana.Shealwayscarriedthefearthatshecouldbesentbackonawhim,eventhoughrepatriationhadlongbeenover.My father, Don Bell, came to California during the Dust Bowl from the Midwest and, ironically,
workedforthesamecompanyfarmwheremymotherwasborn.Bythattime,mygrandmotherhadmovedherfamilytoasmallhouseinBakersfieldat1030PStreet.MomandDadweren’tdestinedtomeetquiteyet.Dadwas twelveyearsoldwhenhepickedpotatoesduringWorldWar IIwith the“DiaperCrew,”children paid to pick the fields because of the great shortage ofworkers due to thewar.He says thechildrenweren’t always themost diligent employees and admits hemoreoften threwdirt clods at hisfriends than he picked potatoes.Later,when hewas sixteen, he spent a summerworking for the samefarm,drivingtrucksbackandforthfromthefieldsanddeliveringworkers.Muchofournation’sproducecomesfromthisoneareainCalifornia.Itishotinthesummerandcoldin
thewinter.Therearedust stormsand tule fogand somepeopledocontractValleyFever.Before Igotmarried, I took the required blood test in SanDiegowhere I had lived duringmy college years. Thedoctor calledbecauseof an “urgent finding”onmy lab results. Iworried that somethingdramatic hadbeenfound,untilthedoctorsaid,“YoutestedpositiveforValleyFever.”I letoutasighof relief. Igrewupseeing lugsofgrapesonkitchen tables. Ipickedplums,peaches,
apricots, nectarines, persimmons, almonds, walnuts, and pecans from backyard trees. Every year inAugust,Isawthegrapeslaiddownonthegroundtomakeraisinsthesamewaythey’vebeenmadeforgenerations.Lemons,tomatoes,orsquashappearedonourdoorstepfromneighbors’ormygrandmothers’gardens.I’dneverbeenconsciousofhavinganysymptomsofValleyFever.TheonlyfeverIrecollectedwasmyburningaffectionformybeginningsandbelongings.“OfcourseItestedpositive,”Isaidtothedoctor.“IgrewupintheSanJoaquinValley.”IknewthatI
hadbeennaturally immunized to the actualdiseasebymerely living there, from the air I hadbreathedgrowingup.
Myfamily’sfeelingsforthecompanycamparedeep-rootedandstillfilledwithloyaltyfortheirstartinthiscountryandforthejobstheyhadatatimewhensomanyhadnone.MostofthepeopleIinterviewedwholivedinthesamecampwithmygrandmotherheldnogrudgesagainsttheOklahomansorotherswhocompetedfortheirjobsatthattime.OnemanIinterviewedsaid,“Wewereallsopoor.TheOkies,theFilipinos, theywerepoor, too.Weallknewthefeelingofwanting toworkandfeedourfamilies.Thatwaswhyitwassohardforsomanyofustostrike.”WhenIaskedaboutprejudiceIwastold,“Suretherewasprejudice,horribleprejudice,butthat’show
thingswerethen.”Manystruggledjusttoputfoodonthetableandsometimesseemedtoberesignedtothesocialissuesof
the time. They focused only on survival and put their hopes and dreams into their children’s andgrandchildren’sfutures.That’swhatGrandmadid.Shesurvived.AllofherchildrenlearnedEnglishandsodidshe.Someof
herchildrenwenttocollege.Onebecameaprofessionalathlete,anotheramemberoftheUnitedStatesForeignService;othersbecamesecretaries,awriter,anaccountant.Andhergrandchildren:newscasters,socialworkers,florists,teachers,filmeditors,lawyers,smallbusinessowners,andanotherwriter:me.Ouraccomplishmentswereheraccomplishments.Shewishedthebestforallofusandrarelylooked
backonthedifficultiesofherownlife.ItisnowonderthatinSpanish,esperanzameans“hope.”
AbouttheAuthor
PamMuñozRyanwasbornand raised inCalifornia’sSanJoaquin (pronouncedwah-keen)Valley.Shegrew up with many of her aunts and uncles and her grandparents nearby and considers herself trulyAmericanbecauseherculturalbackgroundisanethnicsmorgasbord.SheisSpanish,Mexican,Basque,Italian,andOklahoman.Asakid,Pamspentmanylong,hotvalleysummersridingherbiketothepubliclibrary.Itbecameher
favoritehangoutbecauseher familydidn’thavea swimmingpooland the librarywasair-conditioned!That’showshegothookedonreadingandbooks.Whenshewasn’treadingsheusuallycouldbefounddaydreamingorputtingonplaysinherbackyard.Pam didn’t always know she wanted to be a writer. Before graduating from college she was a
babysitter,anexerciseinstructor,asalesgirlinabridalstore,acashieratahardwarestore,asecretary,anda teacher’s assistant.After college, sheknew that shewanteda job thathad something todowithbooks,soshebecameateacher.SheworkedasabilingualHeadStartteacherinEscondido,California.AfterPamwasmarriedandhadfourchildren,shewentbacktoschool togethermaster’sdegreein
education.Oneday,outoftheblue,aprofessoraskedifshe’deverthoughtaboutwritingprofessionally.Then,aboutthreeweekslater,acolleagueaskedifPamwouldhelpherwriteabook.Beforethatpoint,Pamhadneverconsideredwritingasacareer.After that, shecouldn’t stop thinkingabout it and that’swhenshefinallyknewwhatshereallywantedtodo.Pamisalsotheauthoroftheaward-winningnovelsRidingFreedom,withdrawingsbyBrianSelznick,
andBecomingNaomiLeón,aswellasnumerouspicturebooksincludingMiceandBeans,illustratedbyJoeCepeda,andAmeliaandEleanorGoforaRideandWhenMarianSang,both illustratedbyBrianSelznick.FormoreinformationaboutPamMuñozRyan,youcanvisitherWebsiteat:www.pammunozryan.com.
Q&AwithPamMuñozRyan
Q:Whatdidyouwanttobewhenyougrewup?A: Iwanted tobe theboss.Athome Iwas theoldest of three sisters, andnext door tous there livedanotherthreegirls,allyoungerthanme,too.Wheneverweplayedtogether,Iwasinchargeofwhatwedid.Iwasthedirectoroftheplay,theconductorofthetrain,theMominapretendfamily,ortheheroinewhosavedtheday.Iwasalsotheoldestofthetwenty-threecousinsonmymother’ssideofthefamily.Whenwe had a get-together atmy grandmother’s house, Iwas the self-appointed coordinator again. Iwouldsay,“Let’spretendthisisacircusoraschoolorajungle.”ThenIwouldtelleveryonewhattodoandwhattosay.Ididn’tknowitatthetime,butIwasalreadycreatingstorieswithacastofcharacters.
Q:Haveyoualwaysbeenawriter,evenasachild?A: As a schoolgirl, I never kept a journal, made a book in class, or had an author visit my school.Curriculumwasdifferent thenand Ineverknew thatanauthorwassomething Icouldbe someday.So,whenstudentsaskme,“Didyouwriteasachild?” theanswer is,notexactly.But Icould imagine justaboutanything.Iwasabenevolentqueen,anexplorer,oradoctorsavingpeoplefromprecariousdeaths.Itneveroccurredtometowriteastoryonpaper,butIpretendedmany,rightinmyownbackyard.Also,Icomefromafamilythatlikestotalk.Itwasn’tunusualtositaroundafterabigSaturdaymiddaymealand“visit”forhours,tellingstories.Thiswasallagreatfoundationforwriting.
Q:Asachild,whattypesofbooksdidyouread?A:Idon’trememberallofthebooksIreadasachildbutsomearememorable.IreadtheLittleHouseonthe Prairie books. I read (and reread) Sue Barton, Student Nurse and other series-type stories. IrememberreadingTreasureIsland,TheSwissFamilyRobinson,andGonewiththeWindinjuniorhighschool.
Q:Howwouldyoudescribeyourbooks?A: Iwritebooksaboutdreams,discoveries,anddaringwomen. Iwriteshort storiesabouthard times,picture books about mice and beans, and novels about journeys. I write fiction, nonfiction, historicalfiction, andmagical realism. That’s part of the enchantment of writing and creating characters— thevariety.ThemostwonderfulthingaboutbeingawriterhasbeenthatIcan“tryon”manylivesthatmightbe different from my own. Part of the appeal of writing (and reading, too) is the well of strengths,weaknesses,andidiosyncrasiesthatIcansampleandthenkeep,discard,orconsiderformycharacters,andultimatelyformyself.
Q:ThegirlsandwomeninEsperanzaRisingarestrong-mindedandvibrant,andtheirbondsarethethreadsthatbindthestory.Howdoesthisreflectyourownexperiences?Whatwomen—personallyorhistorically—haveinspiredyouthemost?A:Itiseasytoseehowmyfamily,especiallymygrandmother,influencedmywriting.Icomefromaverymatriarchalfamilywithmygrandmotheratthehelm.EsperanzaRisingisbasedonherimmigrationstory.PerhapstherecurringthemeoffeministdeterminationhaditsimpetusinmyfamilyhistorybecauseIdoseeminterestedinstorieswherethecharactersucceedsdespitecircumstancesthatsocietystackedagainsther. The quirky, preoccupied Rosa Maria in my picture bookMice and Beans is also based on mygrandmother.Ironically,JoeCepedaagreedtoillustratethebookbecausehethoughtthegrandmotherinthestorywassomuchlikehismother.CertainlynotallMexicangrandmothersarelikethischaracter,butIthinkthereisacertainHispanicveritythatiscapturedwithinthesestories—anadorationofchildren,bigfamilycelebrations,proverbstoliveby,andofcourse,food.ThewomenwhohaveinspiredmearetheonesaboutwhomIhavewritten:CharlotteParkhurst,AmeliaEarhart,EleanorRoosevelt,andmyowngrandmother.
Q:WhydidyounamethechaptersinEsperanzaRisingafterfruitsandvegetables?A:Thatwasn’tsomethingthatcameaboutearlyintheplanningofthebook.Itcameaboutlater.IstartedtofeelthatEsperanza’slifewastakingontherhythmoftheharvest,soIcalledmyeditorandsaid,“WhatifInamedthechaptersaftertheharvestthatshe’sexperiencingineachchapter?”ShesaidIshouldgiveitatry,anditworked.ThenIwentbackandreworkedthechaptersalittletopullthatthreadalittletighterandtomakethosechapterheadingsmoresymbolic.
Q:Howdidyoulearnaboutlifeinthecompanycamps?Diditrequirealotofresearch?A:Ilearnedaboutthecampsfrommygrandmotherwhenshewasalive.ButIbeganthisbookmanyyearsafter she died, so of course when I startedwriting, I hadmany detailed questions to which I neededanswers.Didtheyhaveelectricityinthecabins?Werethecabinswoodandplasterorjustwoodwalls?Did they use gas stoves or wood stoves? How many rooms did the cabins have? Did people plantgardens? Did they go to town for church or did a priest come to the camp? What did they do forentertainment?Howdidpeoplefeelaboutstriking?Andonandon.Aftermanyphonecalls,IfoundJessMarquez who moved to the camp when he was eleven years old. He lived there for five years andactuallyrememberedmygrandmotherandherfamily.Severalmembersofmyfamilyhadworkedintheshedssothat’showIgotthatinformation,andoneofmyauntstoldmeaboutpotatoeyesbecauseshehadcutpotatoeyesforseveralyears.WhenIcamehometoBakersfieldwhileIwasworkingonthebook,mydaddrovemeouttotheactualsiteoftheshedsandtherailroadtracks.Ididn’thavetoresearchthelandortheareabecauseIgrewupthereandwewenttoLamontandArvinalmosteverySaturdayduringmy
childhood.
Q:Martaisapassionategirlwhobelievesinfightingforhercauses.Isshemodeledaftersomeoneyouknoworadmire?A:No,atleastnotconsciously.Martacametomefullyrealizedwithallofherdeterminationandvigor.IneededacharactertoantagonizeEsperanza,togoadhertowardsgrowth,andMartasimplywalkedintomymindandsaid,“Putmeonpaper!”
Q:Yourcharactersseesigns ineverydaylife:Esperanzapricksher fingerandworries itwillbringbadluck;Abuelitaseesaninjuredbird’sflightasasignthateverythingisokay.Doyoubelieveinandseethesekindsofsignsinyourlife?A:Ithinkthatthecoincidencesweexperienceinoureverydaylifesometimeshavemeaning.Howmuchimportanceapersongivesthesesignshastodowithherownpersonalbeliefs.Oursubconsciousisfarmoredevelopedthanwethink.We’veallhad“gutfeelings”orhavedone“whatourhearttellsus.”Wehaveassimilatedmanysubconsciouscuesandtrustedourselvestomakedecisionsbasedonthosecues.Sometimesa“sign”simplyvalidateswhatwealreadyknowtobemostlikelytrue.
Q:Whatadvicedoyouhaveforyoungpeoplewhoareinterestedinwritingorfindingoutabouttheirownculturalbackgroundandfamilyhistory?A:Well,theobvious,ofcourse,istointerviewyourgrandparentsandparents.Ithinkthatoneofthebestways is to keep things. Keep old photos, save date books and calendarswhere you’vewritten downevents.Ifyouknowthatyourfamilyisfromaparticulartowninanothercountryorthiscountry,goontheweb and find out about the town. Look at family picture albums or home videos to solidify yourmemories. Be curious and ask questions so that you store up lots of memories. That way, thoserecollectionswillbetherewhenyou’rereadytoreflectorwriteaboutthem,ifyou’resoinclined.
Q:Whatdoyoudowhenyou’renotwriting?Doyoucrochet?A:Iread,goforwalks,gotothemovies,andgettogetherwithfriendsandfamily.Idonormalthingslikeshoppingforgroceriesandpayingbills.Idocrochetbutit’susuallysimplethingslikescarvesorbabyblanketsforagiftforsomeone.
Q:Doyouhaveafavoriteobjectinyourhouse?Whatisitandwhatmakesitspecial?A:Mydadrestoresoldtrunks—theantiquesteamertypeoftrunks.Hetakesthemapart,piecebypiece,polishes,paints,andlinesthemwithcedarandold-fashionedwallpaper.They’respectacular.Ihavefour
inmyhomeandallofmychildrenhavetheirown.Whatmakesthemspecialisthetimeheputintothemforus.
Q:Doyouhaveawritingroutine?Ifso,whataresomeofyourwritinghabits?A:WhenI’mworkingonabook,especiallyanovel,I’llgetupearly,makecoffee,eatbreakfast,andheadstraightforthecomputer.Myofficeisinanextrabedroomofourhome.I’lloftenworkstraightthroughuntilabout2:00,withseveraltripstothekitchenforsnacksanddrinks.Ialwaysfeelmorecreativeandenergetic during the early part of the day and feel less so in the afternoons. I’m definitely amorningperson. Ihearotherauthors talkaboutstayingupuntil2:00or3:00 in themorningandIcan’t imaginedoing that. I almost always take a walk at some point during the day, either at the beach or in theneighborhood.
Q:Wheredoyourideascomefrom?A:Ideascomefromaconfluenceofriversthatmeetinaroilingwhitewaterinmymind.
MakeYourOwnJamaicaFlowerPunch(HibiscusFlowerPunch)
RecipefromPamMuñozRyan
Ingredients30 single red hibiscus blooms, rinsed well. (If you can’t find hibiscus flowers, try using 6 hibiscus
flavoredteateabags)½oz.freshgingerroot(rinsed,patteddry,andthengrated)3quartsofwaterjuicefrom6limessugarforsweetening
Boilthegingerinonequartofwaterforabout2minutes.Addthehibiscusblooms(orteabags),removefromheatandcover.When the liquid iscool, strain it intoapitcheror largebowl.Add the remainingwaterandlimejuice.Sweetentosuityourtaste.Chillandserve.
MakingMama’sYarnDoll
Mamamadeayarndollforthechildonthetrain(muchtoEsperanza’schagrinatthetime).Youcancreateone,too!You’llneedaballofyarn, scissors,a ruler,andabook(at least thesizeof thisone,nosmaller) to
wraptheyarnaround.
1.Cut712"-longpiecesofyarnandsetthemaside.You’llusetheselater.
2.Holdingtheballofyarninonehandandthebookintheother,wraptheyarnaroundthebookfromtoptobottom50times.Thencuttheyarntoseparateitfromtheball.
3.Useoneofthe12"piecesofyarnandplaceitbetweenthebookandtheyarn.(Imagineyouareputtingtheyarnthroughthecenterofadoughnut.)Tightlytietogetherthe50strandsofyarnwrappedaroundthebook.
4.Pulltheyarnoffthebook.Holdtheyarnloopsothetieisatthetop.Thiswillbethetopofyourdoll’shead.Tieanother12"pieceofyarnaninchortwobelowthefirstone,gatheringall100strandsofyarntocreatearoundhead.Tieittightlywithadoubleknot.
5.Cuttheyarnloopsapartattheendoppositethehead.Thesestrandsofyarnwillbeusedtomakethedoll’sbodyandlimbs.
6.Separatetheyarnbelowtheheadintothreesections—twoarms(12strandseach)andthetorso(26strands).Tiea12"pieceofyarnaroundthemiddlesection,2inchesbelowthehead,toformthedoll’storso.Remembertoleavethearmsfree.
7.Separatethebottomyarnbelowthetorsointotwolegs.Braideacharmandlegandusethe4remaining12"piecesofyarntotieateachend.Leaveatleastaninchoflooseyarnattheendsashandsandfeet.Trimanystrayyarn.
ThoseFamiliarSayings
Esperanza’sfathersaystoher,“Aguántatetantitoylafrutacaeráentumano.Waitalittlewhileandthefruit will fall into your hand.” This is a proverb, a saying that guides or advises.Most proverbs arepasseddownverbally,andtheoriginsofmanyproverbsareunknown.Almosteverycultureandcountryhasproverbsorsayingsthatareusedonaregularbasis.Haveyoueverheard:“Peopleinglasshousesshouldn’tthrowstones”or“Likefather,likeson”?Theseareproverbs,too.PamMuñozRyanoffersafewMexican proverbs at the beginning of this book, and below is an additional sampling fromMexicanSayings:TheTreasureofaPeoplebyOctavioA.Ballesteros,Ed.D.andMaríadelCarmenBallesteros,M.Ed.WhetheryourfamilyisfromAguascalientes,Mexico,orFlorence,Italy,orTulsa,Oklahoma,thereare probably proverbs to be found, considered, and talked about. Some may be funny, others morethoughtful.Whatproverbsdoyouknow?
Nohayrosasinespinas.Thereisnotarosewithoutthorns.
Quienadelantenomira,atrássequeda.Thepersonwhodoesnotlookaheadstaysbehind.
Elsabiomudaconsejo,elnecio,no.Thewisemanchangeshisopinion,thefoolishmandoesnot.
WhatStoryDoYouHavetoTell?
Even though Pam Muñoz Ryan was born and raised in the San Joaquin Valley, the same place hercharacterEsperanzamigratesto,itisn’twhereherstorybegins.Pam’slife,likeEsperanza’s,wasshapedby thosewho came before her.Asmembers of a family—big or small—our stories startwith thehistoryofourparentsandgrandparentsandgreat-grandparents.EsperanzatraveledfromMexicotoSouthernCaliforniaandAbuelitafromSpaintoMexico.Ifyoulook
atamapyoucantracktheirjourneysandseeforyourselfthedistancestheytraveled.Didyourfamily’sstorystartinanothercountry,state,ortown?Talktoyourparentsorgrandparents,learnwherethey(andyou)comefrom,andtrackyourownfamily’sjourney.Andwhileyou’vegotyour family talking, reminiscing, and remembering, ask them to tellyouabout
theirexperiences(maybeeventakenotes!).ThenjustasPamMuñozRyandid,buildonthatinformation—investigateyourfamily,findoldfamilyphotographs,hoponthewebtodiguptidbitsaboutthecitiesortownswherefamilymembershavelived.Andwhenyouhavevariouspiecestoplaywith,begintotellyourstory.
FromBecomingNaomiLeónbyPamMuñozRyan
arabbleofyesterdays
Ialwaysthoughtthebiggestprobleminmylifewasmyname,NaomiSoledadLeónOutlaw,butlittle
didIknowthatitwastheleastofmytroubles,orthatsomedayIwouldliveuptoit.
IthadbeenadoublemonthofSundayssinceGram,Owen,andIwereknittedtogethersnugasanew
mitten.Icanpointastick,though,attheexacteveningwestartedtounravel,attheprecisemoment
when I felt like that dog in an old Saturdaymorning cartoon. The onewhere themuttwears a big
woolysweaterandafoxrunsupandpullsahanging-downpieceofyarn.Thenthefoxracesoffwith
it,undoingthetidystitchesonebyone.Prettysoonthepoordogisbaretoitsskin,shivering,andall
thathadkeptitwarmisnothingmorethanabedraggledstring.
apaddlingofducks
Therewewere,mindingourliveswiththesameobedienceasaclockticking.Afewweeksearlierthesunhadswitched to itswinterbedtime, soeven though itwasearlyevening, theskywasdarkaspinepitch.ThatmeantthatGram,Owen,andIcouldn’tsitoutsideonthewhiterockpatio.Insteadwehadtocrowd around the drop-down table in the living room/kitchen of Baby Beluga. That was what GramcalledourAirstreamtrailer.Shewastheabsoluteexpertatcallingthingswhattheyresembledandthoughtitlookedlikeaminiaturewhalenexttoallthedouble-widesatAvocadoAcresTrailerRancho.Thetrailerparkwascalledthisbecauseitwassurroundedonthreesidesbythelargestavocadoranch
inLemonTree,California.ThenameLemonTreedidnotappealtoGram’ssenseofdescriptionbecause,asshepointedout,therewasn’tastickofcitrusinsight.AgiantplasticlemondidsitonapedestalattheSpray’nPlay,acombinationcarwash–deli–playgroundandoneofourfavoriteplaces.ThatlemonwasatributetothefactthatthereusedtobefruitorchardsinSanDiegoCounty,beforethebuilderscameandputahouseoneveryscratchofsparedirt.Exceptfortheavocadogrove,whichwassmackinthemiddleoftownandthelastcountrifiedlandinLemonTree.Wehad already put away the dinner dishes fromWednesday chicken bake andOwen started racing
throughhissecond-gradehomeworklikeahorseonatear.Peoplewereusuallyfooledbyhislooksandthoughthewaslowinschoolduetobeingbornwithhisheadtiltedtoonesideandscruncheddownnexttohisshoulder.IthadstraightenedalittleafterthreesurgeriesatChildren’sHospital,buthestilltalkedwithapermanentfrogvoicebecauseofsomethinginsidebeingpinched.Oneofhislegswasshorterthantheothersohewalkedlikearockinghorse,butotherthanthat,hewasjustfine.Contrarytopeople’sfirstopinions,hegotthebestgradesinhisclass.Gram, inherusualpolyesterpantsuitandrunningshoes,wasdoingherweeklyhairset, rollingwhat
littlebluehairshehadonthosenewbristlecurlersthatrequirenohairpins.(Iwasnotbeingmeanaboutherhair.Itreallylookedblueinthesunlight.)AndImulledovermysorrysituationatschool,whichwasthreeboysinmyfifth-gradeclasswhohaddecidedthatOutlawwasthefunniestlastnameintheuniverse.Theydidnotgivemeanounceofpeace.“Haveyourobbedanybankslately?”wasoneoftheirfavoritesayings,alongwithjumpingoutatme,
throwingtheirarmsintheair,andyelling,“Isthisastickup?”Myteacher,Ms.Morimoto,saidtoignorethem,butIhadtriedanditdidnogood.Iwasfedup,soI
wasmakingalistofwhatIcouldsaybacktothemthatmightbeembarrassing.Iwroteacrossthetopofmynotebookpage,“HowtoGetBoystoStopMakingFunofMyName.”IscootedmybookinfrontofGramtoseeifshehadanyideas.“Naomi,IhavelivedwiththatnamesinceImarriedyourgreat-grandpa,resthissoul,almostfiftyyears
ago,andIamdueproud.Besides,thereareworsethingsinlife.”
“Butyoudon’tgotoBuenaVistaElementary,”Isaid.She laughed.“That’s true,but I can tellyou thatboyshavenotchangedan iotaand theyarehard to
humble.Youknowmytruefeelingsonthesubject.Howaboutwriting,‘Thoseboyswillnotbotherme’?”Gramsaid thatwhenyouthoughtpositive,youcouldmakethingshappen,andwhenitdidhappen, it
wascalledaself-prophecy.Ifyouwantedtobethebestspellerintheclass,yousaidtoyourselfoverandover,“Iamthebestspellerintheclass,”andthenbeforeyouknewit,youwerepracticingandbecomingit. Itwas sort of likemagic, andGrambelieved it to her bones.But it didn’t alwayswork theway Ihoped.AtonetimeOwenandIweretheonlychildreninthetrailerpark.IthoughtpositiveeverydayforamonthformorekidsatAvocadoAcresbutallthatmovedinwasafamilywithateenagerandabrand-newbaby.Graminsistedmypositivethinkinghadsucceeded,butIhadbeengreatlydisappointed.Before I could write down Gram’s suggestion, Owen sneezed, and it was a big one, the kind that
sprinkledspittleandlefthiseyesallteary.“Owen,yougotitonmypage!”Isaid,smoothingmypaper,whichonlysmearedthewetspots.“Sorry,”hesaid,andthenhesneezedagain.“Company’scomin’twice,”saidGram,matter-of-fact.ItwasanotherofherOklahomanotions,andshe
hadamillionofthemthatshebelievedwholeheart.Thisonebeingifabodysneezed,someonewouldpayavisit.“WealreadyknowforsurethatFabiola’scomingover,”saidOwen.FabiolaMorales livedwith her husband, Bernardo, just a stone’s throw away in themiddle of the
avocadogrove.Bernardotookcareofthethreehundredtrees,andinreturnhedidn’thavetopayrentontheirtinyhouse.FabiolaandGramwerenewlyretiredfromWalkerGordondepartmentstore,wheretheyhadworkedforthirty-fiveyearsasseamstresses,doingalterationswiththeirsewingtablesface-to-face.Ifthatwasn’tenoughfamiliarity,Fabiolacameovereverynight,MondaythroughFriday,towatchWheelofFortune.Sofar,GramandFabiolahadwatched743during-the-weekepisodeswithoutmissingonce.Itwastheirclaimtofame.“Well then, Fabiola counts for one,” saidGram, patting a curler in place. “Iwonderwho’ll be the
other?”IlookedatOwenandrolledmyeyes.AflyzoominginwouldfulfillGram’sprediction.“MaybeMrs.Maloney?”saidOwen.Mrs.Maloneywaseighty-eightandlivedinthedouble-widenextdoor.Shecameouteveryafternoon
towaterhercactuses,rocks,andcementbunnies,andonlythendidsheevercomeoverforavisit.Gramsaidwe could count onMrs.Maloney for two things in life: onewaswearing the samepink-checkedcottonrobeeveryday(Isuspectedshehadadozenhanginginhercloset),andtheotherwasgoingtobedatsixintheevening.“Nope,itwon’tbeMrs.Maloney,”Isaid.“It’spastsix.”Chewingontheendofmypencil,Igotbacktomylist,whichGramsaidwasoneofthethingsIdid
best.Ihadallkindsoflistsinmynotebook,theshortestbeing“ThingsIAmGoodAt”whichconsistedof1)Soapcarving,2)Worrying,and3)Makinglists.Therewasmy“RegularandEverydayWorries”list,whichincluded1)Gramwasgoingtodiebecause
shewasold,2)Owenwouldneverberight,3)IwillforgetsomethingifIdon’tmakealist,4)Iwilllosemylists,and5)Abominations.Imadelistsofsplendidwords,typesofrocks,booksIread,andunusualnames.NottomentionthelistsIhadcopied,including“BabyAnimalNames,”“BreedsofHorses,”andmycurrent favorite,“AnimalGroups fromTheCompleteandUnabridgedAnimalKingdomwithover200Photographs.”Mr.Marble, the librarianand theabsolutebestpersonatBuenaVistaElementary,gaveme thebook
yesterdaywhenIwalkedintothelibraryatlunchtime.Hesaid,“NaomiOutlaw(healwayscallsmebothnames),todayisyourluckyday.IhaveatreasureforyouandI’vealreadycheckeditoutonyourcard.Igivethistoyouwithaflourish.”Thenhescoopedthebookintohispalms,kneltdownononeknee,andhelditouttomeasifitwasaboxofjewels.(Iaddedflourishtomy“SplendidWords”list.)Mr.Marbleallowedmeandtwootherstudentstoeatlunchatoneoftheovallibrarytableseveryday.
Itwasbreakingschoolrulestoeatthere,butMr.Marbledidn’tmind.Hejustsmiledatus,straightenedhisbowtie,andsaid,“Welcometothesanctuary.”(Sanctuaryalsowentstraightto“SplendidWords.”)John Lee was one of the library lunch students. His parents owned Lemon Tree Donuts. He was theroundest boy atBuenaVistaElementary, and one of the nicest.The otherwasMimiMessmaker. (Hername was on my “Unusual Names” list, along with Delaney Pickle, Brian Bearbrother, and PhoebeLively.)Mimi didn’t hang out with all the other girls in our grade either, the oneswhowere alwayscomparingmakeupandgoingtosleepovers.Shewasnobodyspecialatschool,justlikeme,butshedidn’tknowit.Shehadnouseformeandoncewhispered,“trailertrash”whenIwalkedby.AfterthatIneversaidawordtoher,andthatsuitedusboth.“Naomi,”saidGram,“isthereapageinyournotebooktitled‘WaystoAnnoyMyGram’?Becauseif
thereis,I’dappreciateitifyou’daddyourunrulybangstothatlist.”Iquickly reachedupandcorralleda triangleofhairhanging inmyeyes. Iwas trying to letmyhair
growallonelength,butinordertokeepmybangspinnedbackIneededthreeclipsoneachside.Gramhadtakentocallingme“brownshaggydog”becauseofmywildmopandmypredispositiontobrown-ness(eyes,hair,andskin).ItookaftertheMexicansideofthefamily,orsoI’dbeentold,andeventhoughOwenwasmyfull-bloodedbrother,hetookaftertheOklahomalot.Hedidhavebrowneyeslikeme,butwithfairskinandblondhairinabowlhaircutthatGramcalledaDutchboy.Duetomycoloring,Owencalledmethecenterofapeanutbuttersandwichbetween twopiecesofwhitebread,meaninghimandGram.“Thankyouformakingyouroldgrannyhappy,”saidGram,tuckingastraylockofhairbehindmyear.“You’renotthatold,”Isaid.Shelaughed.“Naomi,Iamyourgreat-grandmaandaccordingtomostfolks,Ihadnobusinessraising
youandOwen.ThosewhocarriedgossipsaidIhadonefootinthegraveandshould’veknownbetter,butItookyouonlikespringcleaninganyhow.ThejokewasoneveryoneelsebecauseIgottheprizes.ThatwasmyluckydaywhenIgotyoutwo.”Owen lookedup fromhis binder. “Today’smy lucky day.Guesswhat’s one ofmy spellingwords?
Bicycle!”AnycoincidenceinOwen’slife,suchaswantinganewbicycleandhavingthewordshowuponhis
spellinglist,madehimfeellucky.Whistling,hestartedwritingbicycleoverandoveronapieceofpaper.Gramfinishedrollingherhair,leavinglinesofwhitescalpstaringatus.“Myclownheadison,”sheannounced.Owen and I never arguedwith that description because the yellow and purple curlers did give that
effect.Gramclickedthetelevisionremotetofindthetailendofthenightlynews.Iclosedmynotebook,givingupfornowonmylistandknowingfullwellIwouldn’tbeabletosaybootothoseboysanyway.Ireachedintothebuilt-incabinetabovemyheadandpulledouttheplasticsaladbowlholdingmylatestsoapcarving.WhenOwenandIfirstcametolivewithGram,Ihadslippedintobeingsilentandmyhandsshookall
thetime.Iwastooyoungtorememberwhatcauseditall,butGram’spracticalsolutionwastokeepmymindandhandsbusy.SoapcarvinghadbeenBernardo’s idea,andhesaid Iwasborn to it.Hewouldworkinhissheddoinghishobby,makingwoodboxesandlittleminiaturebookshelves,thenpaintingthemeverybrightcolorwithscenesoflittletownsandsunsets.Itwasartfromhiscity,Oaxaca,farawayinMexico.AndIwouldsitnexttohimwithabarofsoapandacarvingtool.Gramwasnervoustodeathaboutme using a knife, so Bernardo startedme out with a bent paper clip. As I provedmyworth, Igraduatedtoaplasticknife,abutterknife,andfinally,aparingknife.Ipickedupthepartiallycarvedduckandmyknifefromthepileofslipperyshavingsinthebottomof
thebowl.Ihadalreadyfinishedtwootherducks,eachalittlesmallerthantheother,butIwantedathirdfortheshelfabovethekitchensink.Iwasnevercontenttocarveoneofanything,preferringatleasttwoorthreeforacompanionshipoflionsoracircleofbears.IpulledtheknifeacrossthebarofNature’sPureWhite.Thesoapsloughedoffeasyintothebowl,lookinglikeshreddedwhitecheese.Iscrapedinanarc,finishingoffthecurveofthebackanduptothetail.Thedryfilmonmyhandsfeltlikeathinglove,andeveryfewminutesIputmypalmsuptomynosetotakeawhiffofasmellthatremindedmeofbeingababy.“Donewithspelling!”saidOwen,closinghisbooks.Hecameoverandstoodnext tome,watching.
“Naomi,howdoyouknowwhattocarve?”“Iimaginewhat’sinsideandtakeawaywhatIdon’tneed,”Isaid,notlookingup.Slowly,Iaddedthe
finishing touches on the duckling, scratching out the appearance of featherswith the pointy end of theknife.Ilovedthispartofcarving,theetchingandthegroovesthatmadethefigurelooktruetolife.Iwasgettingreadytolevelthebottom,soitwouldsitflatandnotwobbleontheshelf,butIdidn’tgetonemore
MexicanproverbsonpageixfromMexicanSayings:TheTreasureofaPeoplebyOctavioA.BallesterosandMariadelCarmenBallesteros.ReprintedcourtesyofEakinPress.
Copyright©2000byPamMuñozRyan.Allrightsreserved.
PublishedbyScholasticInc.SCHOLASTIC,APPLEPAPERBACKS,AFTERWORDS,andassociatedlogosaretrademarksand/orregisteredtrademarksofScholasticInc.
Thiseditionfirstprinting,June2007
IllustrationsbyJoeCepeda•BookdesignbyMarijkaKostiwCoverart©2000byJoeCepedaCoverdesignbyMarijkaKostiw
e-ISBN978-0-545-53234-1
AllrightsreservedunderInternationalandPan-AmericanCopyrightConventions.Nopartofthispublicationmaybereproduced,transmitted,downloaded,decompiled,reverseengineered,orstoredinor
introducedintoanyinformationstorageandretrievalsystem,inanyformorbyanymeans,whetherelectronicormechanical,nowknownorhereafterinvented,withouttheexpresswrittenpermissionofthe
publisher.Forinformationregardingpermission,writetoScholasticInc.,Attention:PermissionsDepartment,557Broadway,NewYork,NY10012.