Chapter Thirty-Five, Part One

Sophie didn’t see Mateo at school the next morning, but she had been running late and didn’t have time to ask anyone where he was. Ms. Garduño only frowned and marked something in her attendance book, which told Sophie nothing at all.

At recess, Sophie asked a few of the other boys if they knew where Mateo was. Most of them simply shrugged, but one of older boys gave a derisive snort. “His old man probably roughed him up again.”

“What?”

“His dad. He beats him sometimes. Usually he remembers not to do it to his face, but there have been a few times he gave Mateo a black eye or a busted lip.”

“That’s horrible!”

“Yep.” Bill shrugged. “But what are you going to do about it?”

Sophie knew that the correct answer was “nothing” but she was in no mood for playing by the rules. She went to the edge of the schoolyard where there was a grove of trees. And when no one was looking, she slipped away and started running up Second Street. When she got to Willow, she stopped to catch her breath and look around. She didn’t know the town very well, but it was quite small and she had heard that Mateo lived on the poorer eastern side, at the end of Long Branch. How hard could this be, right?

Several minutes later she was standing near the end of Long Branch, thinking that this errand could indeed be harder than she had anticipated. The homes here filled a weed-choked lot and were all of a very old style, low and flat-roofed, shored up in some places with boards, sheet metal or even adobe to compensate for their rusting metal frames. She had once heard an older person refer to one of these homes as “mobile,” but that made no sense, since they clearly were in no condition to go anywhere.

But which of these ramshackle dwellings was where Mateo lived? She looked around cautiously, it only just now occurring to her that if her friend’s father could commit violence against his own son, what might he do to a stranger coming to look for him? Sophie hesitated. Maybe she should go to the store and see if her father was there. He would know what to do. Then again, he would be unhappy with her for leaving school on an errand like this.

Sophie considered. The wisest course of action would be to leave and make a plan, preferably with an adult. But what if Mateo had already seen her and couldn’t come to the door? He might think she was abandoning him if she left. No, her mother had been a brave soldier during the civil war. Sophie would be a bad daughter if she ran away from something as simple as knocking on a few doors. So she began cautiously moving among the houses, looking for Baltazar or some other sign that she had found the right place. And sure enough, she did soon find a place that looked promising. There was no donkey, but Sophie recognized the frayed blue and yellow striped saddle blanket that lay draped over a sagging chain link fence. She took a deep breath, walked up to the front door, and knocked.

It was a long time before anyone came to the door, but she could hear sounds from inside, so she knew someone was home. She knocked again and finally the door opened a crack. One dark eye peered out. “What are you doing here?”

Of all the things she had expected Mateo to say, this wasn’t one of them. “Looking for you. Why aren’t you at school? Are you sick?”

“No. You should go away. My dad could wake up any minute, or my mom might come home.”

Sophie didn’t know why either of those things should be a problem, but she lowered her voice. “What’s the matter? Do they not want other kids coming around the house or something?”

Mateo sighed and unlatched the chain from inside the door. Then he slipped outside and pulled the door closed behind him, a finger on his lips for silence. Sophie stared. Just as Bill had predicted, his right eye was ringed with a great blackening bruise, and his nose and upper lip were swollen and tinged with blue and purple.

“It’s nothing,” Mateo said.

“Like hell it is,” Sophie said, forgetting in the moment that she had promised her father to never swear like the Northwind stable hands. “Is it true what they said at school – that your father did this?”

Mateo shrugged.

“But what for? You go to school, you do your homework, you have a job and earn food for your family. And you take good care of Baltazar. You don’t do anything bad enough to even get grounded, and—”

“He can’t help it sometimes,” the boy said. “It’s hard to explain. Bad things happened to him during the civil war. Sometimes he just goes crazy.”

“That’s no excuse. You didn’t cause his problems.”

Mateo looked away. “I know, but that’s how it is. And I’m not old enough yet to live on my own, so I just have to deal with it for now.” He put a hand on the doorknob, dismissing her. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back at school in a few days. And maybe we can have that hot apple cider when I return.”

“Yeah,” Sophie said these words to no one, staring at the closed door after Mateo had gone back inside. But already she was turning over a number of new thoughts and ideas in her mind.