sat on the edge of my bed and shook off each shoe without bothering with the shoelaces. Gravity pulled my socks off along with my shoes.
My mom paused in front of my bedroom doorway and took a few steps toward me. “Can I come in?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said. I lay back into my bed.
My mom crossed the length of the room and sat on my desk chair. “I see Colonel Franco’s been working you kids hard.”
“I don’t mind. I like helping.”
“I know you do. I have something so you don’t wake up sore tomorrow,” she said. She left the room and returned with a small white can. She pried it open and showed me the kiwi-colored balm. She dipped her fingers into the goop and dabbed the stuff along the outside of my arms in a circular car waxing motion. My skin tingled.
“This isn’t going to be easy,” she said.
“I don’t mind. It’s okay so far.”
My mom sighed—deep and profound. It dawned on me that maybe she wasn’t just talking about the bakery or the pyramid. What was she talking about then? And what was it with everyone? My dad had it right, belting out a song when things got tough. The man was more animated than one of those classic Disney movies these days.
“It’s okay,” I repeated to my mom. But I wasn’t sure it was okay. I lay my head on her shoulder for a minute. I put my hand over my mouth and yawned. “I need to change. I have to finish my chores so I can go to bed and get up early again tomorrow.”
“Leave the chores tonight if you’re too tired. I’ll take care of them.”
“Don’t do that. I just need a minute.” I pulled my pillow over my head until I heard the door close. My body would be fine. I didn’t know about the rest of me. I was hallucinating. Josefina was ready to jump ship. Now something was up with my mom.
I tried to think about something—anything—else. I stood up and channeled all my energy into my bakery chores. I washed the dishes, wiped the counters, swept the floor.
When there was no more cleaning left to do, I went back to my room and barricaded myself in. I drew the blinds in an already dark room. I braided my hair, washed my face, took off my jeans, and lay back down on my bed.
I picked up a magazine, flipped through it, and threw it aside.
I thought back and counted the loads of brick we sent to the park in my head. One, two, three, four, five... We would finish in no time at that rate. I couldn’t help myself. My thoughts shifted to the boy from the park. I’d only seen him from afar. He was sort of a blur by now, but I hoped that he was as real as me. The presence of a newcomer would mean things were actually turning around. And, honestly, with everything else, it felt nice to think of him.
My eyelids dropped like ten-pound sacks of flour.
Chapter 7
The heat of the sun seeped between the slats of the blinds, warming my face. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. The sun was high enough to leak through my window, which meant I was late—very late.
I threw on my jeans and ran across the street.
Our group huddled in the center of the park. I pushed my way in. Casey Sanchez stood at the center. She wore a cut up styrofoam bowl tied around her neck with a belt. The homemade neck brace pushed the meat of her cheeks up like two bulging slabs of menudo. “What happened?” I asked. “Did you fall down the stairs at home or something?”
Casey grimaced and moaned.
Colonel Franco shook his head from side to side. “She got hurt yesterday. The boys will finish what we were doing with the bricks. You girls come with me to the Chamber of Commerce office,” he said.
Josefina was a red-faced beast ready to strike.
“I’m pulling you out of the field. It’s not safe,” Colonel Franco continued.
I couldn’t tell if he was serious. It didn’t seem like Casey had lifted a finger the day before. Besides, if it came down to a safety issue, everyone needed to go. Not just the girls.
“But—” I started and stopped. I shut my mouth. Banishment to the Chamber office was still a step up from being sent home.
I followed Josefina to the Pig Park Chamber of Commerce office, which was located in Colonel Franco’s basement. Stacey grabbed hold of the wheelbarrow, and Casey squeezed her body inside it. The wheelbarrow’s wheels squealed in protest. Stacey pushed hard and kept up the pace. She panted, but held her head up high like she was doing something very important.
“They’re like two great big toads on parade,” Josefina snarled under her breath.
I smothered a smile with my hand. Casey did look like a great big toad. At least they were wearing regular jeans and T-shirts this time.
Colonel Franco’s basement was dark and humid. A fluorescent bulb and two small windows didn’t brighten the room. The small oscillating fan blew air with all the power of a pinwheel.
It was just how a person might imagine. There were medals—commendations for service in several wars—all along one wall.
Colonel Franco ripped a dartboard from the opposite wall and took a case of beer out of the refrigerator—I assume to keep it out of reach. He carried everything away and returned with a large whiteboard. He hung it on the wall in place of the dartboard.
Casey and Stacey collapsed on the sagging couch in the corner. Josefina and I sat on the leftover stools around a card table.
“We need permits to build. You will help me fill out the paperwork. You’ll fill out applications to file,” Colonel Franco said. I swallowed and heard the saliva making its way down my throat. It was that quiet. I looked to Josefina. Her face was a perfect emoticon of anger. Her lips pursed tight until they curved downward into a downward parenthesis.
“We don’t even know how we’re building it yet,” I said.
“I suppose that would be a problem. I’m about done drawing up the plans. You can write letters to government officials so they know that we’re real people asking for real things, meanwhile. This is just as important as lugging bricks. I won’t ask you to like it, but that’s what you’ll do,” Colonel Franco said. He cracked his neck.
He moved to his desk. He pushed the big button on his computer. The fat screen hummed and vibrated, struggling to reanimate. Several minutes passed. He pulled out a box of pencils, paper, and a list of names and addresses and slid them across the table in front of us. “There is only one computer anyway.”
“Can we at least get a radio or a TV?” I asked. We needed something to cut the tension.
“Please.” Josefina finally opened her mouth.
“Please. Please,” Casey and Stacey joined in.
“We’ll see,” he grumbled. He disappeared. He reappeared after a minute with one of those antique televisions
